#(however that works out) it will be a woman ending a harmful relationship

[manmuncher777]

How the Targaryen men fuck you

with Daemon, Aemond and Aegon

contains - breeding kink, voyerism kink, mild power play with aegon

Daemon:

- Daemon loves sex, that is quite clear, in his younger years before he met you, many of his nights ended in frequenting a brother or two.

- His sex drive is increasingly high, you could make one small move and he would be bending you over then and there, not caring who walks in.

- Daemon wants you constantly, at every waking moment he is hungry for you, craving your touch, your scent. anything you will allow him.

- Sex is a release for Daemon also, in many ways. He loves to be the dominant one, he is a very masculine man and clearly has some control/authority issues, so when you submit to him so perfectly and do exactly as he wishes, its so relaxing for him after a long day, to see that you are there to please him just makes him want you more.

- However, despite him loving how well you submit, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like it when you choose to push his buttons. Whether it be by speaking to certain lords for a bit to long at banquets or playfully avoiding his touch and making him wait to have you until later that day

- Yes he absolutely loves to put you in your place as well, because he knows how much you love it yourself

- He loves to watch how good he makes you feel, for selfish reasons as well as him loving to please you, but it also boosts his ego to know that its his name your screaming out every night. “That’s it love, say it louder”

- He would fuck you over and over just to see that look on your face, the glazed eyes that sparkle whenever he spoke to you, your mouth slightly parted in a smile, the glow of your skin and the way your hair framed you perfectly

- Daemon loves to have you screaming for him, he fucks you with an intensity every time, each movement of his hips will illicit some form of moan from you, the louder the better in his opinion.

- Daemon sees you as his, and everyone must know that. everyone. so to have your screams echoing through the castle works in his favour. at least no one will be forgetting his name any time soon.

- Daemon also likes to remind you of this, whispering deeply in your ear, because he knows how much you like it, about how his cock is the only one you will ever take.

- He absolutely relishes in the feeling of seeing the jealous old lords who watch in envy and he walked arm in arm with you around the castle, he would purposely smile at them whilst his harm travelled to your waist as he pulled you in for a bruising kiss. He was definitely smug about your relationship, after all he married the most beautiful woman in kings landing

- With this possessiveness also comes a breeding kink, he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and parading you around so everyone can see who’s been fucking you, as if they didn’t already know. The idea of filling you up with his seed brings out a carnal lust in him, the second he sees you interacting with a child in a motherly sense, hes dragging you away and fucking you until you are dripping with his cum. “cant wait to see you swollen with my child” “take it all my love, good girl”

Aemond:

- Aemond was more restrained in his younger years, of course he paid his visits to brothels now and again, but nothing compared to his brother or uncle.

- While Aemonds lust may be less, he finds sex far more intimate and takes its more seriously. Every time he fucks you, hes giving you his all.

- When your relationship first started he was more reserved when you were having sex, he was very gentle with you, you could tell he was holding back, you could see it in his eyes.

- Aemond loves to initiate sex, he loves letting you know that you looked so good that hes struggling to contain himself, often at times he will retire from dinners early just to get a taste of you “you looked fucking ravishing at that table tonight princes” “i need to have you now”

- While Aemond still likes to take on the dominant role, he isnt afraid to let you know how much he wants you, he would beg for you, only to completely destroy you seconds later when you allow him

- Aemond is a considerate lover, he pays very close attention to everything that you like, any little move he makes that causes your cheeks to flush or maybe a small smile appear or those beautiful eyes of yours widen, he will remember.

- So sex with Aemond is always amazing, this man has you memorised, every single part of you, he knows exactly how to touch you that leaves you shaking, he views you as someone he cares deeply about, so its a way of him showing how much he loves you.

- He is a very giving love so you best believe when he gets in the mood hes seating you on the nearest table and getting on his knees, he wont stand again until your crying from how good it feels

- When it comes to sex he loves to see you, to see how good hes making you feel. Missionary will always be a go to for him, he loves looking into your eyes while he fucks you. “eyes on me princess” he is most definetly going to hold your face until you look at him

- at least missionary was his go to until maids moves a mirror near his bed… that night he discovered something new.

- You best believe he had you bent over, back arched, pulling your hair and making you watch as he fucked into you from behind in this mirror. His thrusts would be punishing, part of him wanting your stare to faulter just so he could tug on your hair and tell you to be good for him and keep watching how beautiful you look.

- the next day he had you in his lap spread out in front of the mirror, running his fingers through your soaked folds, once again, making you watch how good he made you feel. “thats it, watch. eyes on me love”

Aegon:

-Aegon is a slut, lets just start with that okay

- This man is insatiable, he fucking loves sex, like a lot.

-now Aegon as we all know can be demanding, he is a newly turned king on a power high, so he loves to be bossy. “oh darling, you cannot deny your king such a pleasure”

- He absolutely cannot wait for sex, you have plans? sex first, red keep meeting? sex first. he is late to most things due to fucking you beforehand. It’s all he can think about when he sees you, his favourite part of your marriage is that you both make each other feel good, and how far youre willing to go to please him

- even if the timing isn’t exactly convenient Aegon will be dragging you somewhere near by so he can have his way with you, he will have been staring at you, not at all listening to whoever is speaking to him

- Similar to Daemon with the power issues, he loves to have everyone know that you are his, but this does make him reckless with where he fucks you.

- hes taken you into an empty corridor while a feast is being held to pin you up against a wall and quickly hike up your dress so he can fuck you. Anyone can walk past at any point but that doesn’t slow his thrusts, and you try your best to cover your mouth while he pounds into you but part of Aegon wants to tell you to let them listen.

- A personal favourite of his has been to take you out on his balcony, the rush of the fact that anyone would be able to see him fucking you so good just makes him fuck you harder, making it even more difficult for you to stay silent. Aegon just wishes someone might walk past and see how much of a whore you were being for your king

- he has been known to continue to fuck you if you guys have ever been barged in on, a knight or a maid will have been left a stuttering, apologising mess, but at least Aegon didn’t stop fucking you.

- Aegon once managed to convince to give him head under the desk of one of the study rooms, once again anyone could’ve walked in but you still got on your knees like a good girl because anything for your king

-Aegon likes to play into the title a bit, he would go feral whenever you call him king, it flicks a switch inside of him. “thats it darling, beg your king to fuck you.” “tell your king how good he is making you feel”

[un-pearable]

further extremely opinionated take but how on earth does that make sally weaker. sally is too intelligent to willingly engage in a relationship that would have put percy in physical or emotional danger, especially given we know she was communicating with at least grover if not chiron himself about keeping him safe from monsters - characterizing gabe as cartoonishly violent and evil does not work with her agency and characterization!!! if anything this makes her MORE believable if this was a man she genuinely did have stuff in common with, that they could have plausibly fallen in love. there’s a tendency to characterize abusers as horrifically, obviously evil masterminds or incessantly violent, but that’s not how actual abuse and domestic violence works*. it grows over time. they have to have actually seen something in each other. i think the show’s changes REALLY sell the idea that sally and gabe could have been together for genuine reasons once, and that she’s clinging after its changed for percy’s sake (the NormalTM vibes to ward off monsters) (assuming that’s still canon)

making gabe that level of cartoonishly horrible in a show - which takes us out of percy’s first person POV - would make sally seem irresponsible or, worse, stupid for not seeing that he could be harmful. he HAS to be realistically garbage for her to feel like a real woman with real agency and not just a prop for the narrative. sally is inherently fridged for the plot of The Lightning Thief to occur, reframing her major relationship is key to making her feel like a real person and begin to compensate for that. gabe (and thus, the discussion of abuse) hasn’t been turned into a joke, it’s how actual abusive relationships start: as relationships.

already seen plenty of stuff re: tolerable-ization of gabe and sincerely i think it’s good. this version of gabe undeniably sucks but in a realistic, i-can-see-why-these-two-would-get-together way. kid’s media has a tendency to create abusive characters who are exaggerated to make it obvious to kids, but the show is targeted at both kids and the original readers who grew up, so it can afford to have a little more nuance and make sally and gabe behave like people who DID have a real reason to get together (once)

[pretty-little-mind33]

fluff ✿ angst ✮ hurt & comfort ✷ smut (nsfm) ♥︎

main masterlist

~ REQUESTS CLOSED ~

most popular - DON'T BLAME ME ♥︎ - You've been the Twins' handler for years now, and when Tangerine blows up at you one evening after a mission, he apologizes in an unconventional way.

author's favorite - YOU BELONG WITH ME ✮✿ - Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

latest work - THE 1 ✿ - You want to trim your boyfriend's mustache

~ BLURB MASTERLIST ~

~ HEADCANONS ~

fem!reader with an abusive ex

fem!reader in a relationship with him

fem!reader who likes to party

fem!reader pulling on his tie

~ FICS ~

Seeing Tangerine gradually lose clothing items on the train.

Not saying I love you back prank.

You, Tangerine, and Lemon play monopoly.

MASTERMIND ✿ - Since the mission in Tokyo, you wanted Tangerine out of your life as soon as possible. Instead, he stormed back in to save you from yourself.

DRESS ✿✮ - Your best friends promised never to tell you about their dangerous job. However, all goes to shit when you find out another way.

NO BODY, NO CRIME ✿✷ - You meet a sexy, dangerous, stranger on a train. And he somehow ends up kidnapping you?

HITS DIFFERENT ♥︎ - You and Tangerine discover you love sucking on his fingers.

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT ✿✷ - After accidentally killing your kidnappers, the Twins—especially Tangerine—seem determined to keep you away from harm.

LABYRINTH ✿ - When you go to steal a silver case from the Twins, they quickly realize you're under duress.

VIGILANTE SHIT ✿ - Tangerine wants to teach you some important self-defense skills.

DELICATE ✷ - Tangerine and Lemon care for the kidnapped girl they were paid a lot of money to save.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM ✿✷ - Tangerine protects you at a fundraiser and then Lemon learns about the two of you - Epilogue to Don't Blame Me

TWO IS BETTER THAN ONE ♥︎ - Your fiancé wants to fuck you raw.

ALL TOO WELL ✮ - You never told Tangerine he has a daughter in the hopes of never seeing him again.

GUILTY AS SIN? ♥︎ - Tangerine is infatuated with you and when you happen to be at the same hotel he's in, his need for you grows.

LONG STORY SHORT ✿✷ - When your sister's new mystery fiancé is someone you know from university, your husband isn't very happy.

NEW YEAR'S DAY ✷ - After losing your job and being falsely imprisoned, you turn to the Twins for help—which eventually stirs up unspoken feelings.

OURS ✿ - You've always loved your boyfriend's tattoos but panic when he offers to have you choose his next one.

THE ARCHER ✷ - Tangerine and Lemon learn more about the young woman they'd been hired to save and things become complicated. pt. 2 to Delicate

STYLE ♥︎ - No matter how hard Tangerine tries, he can't resist your sweetness.

MIDNIGHT RAIN ♥︎ - Your boyfriend punishes you.

TOO SWEET ✿ - Tangerine falls in love with his pretty neighbor.

YOU BELONG WITH ME ✮✿ - Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

THE 1 ✿ - You want to trim your boyfriend's mustache.

[scoonsalicious]

7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place. 

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger. 

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.” 

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich. 

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things? 

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you  heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.” 

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head  with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement. 

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings. 

And shit, you believed him. 

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin. 

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname. 

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him. 

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans. 

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐕𝐑𝐄

ㅤㅤmarcus pike x art historian!reader

genre: mutual pining, friends to lovers, forced proximity, smut, minors dni,

word count: 6k

summary: when a famous art collector is murdered, circumstances lead you to be temporary roommates with Marcus Pike.

warnings: oral sex (marcus receiving), marcus getting spoiled, some very mild angst, idiots in love

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @sevillagrenada! thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for this delicious idea, I had a blast! ❤️‍🔥

** dividers made my the talented @saradika-graphics 💜💜💜

Another day, another handsome detective at your doorstep.

It’s been a few months since you and Marcus first got acquainted. He had visited you during one of your busiest hours, asking you for information on a recently stolen painting while you were desperately trying to sort out a curated disaster by one of the interns. It didn’t end well. You ended up shouting at him to leave you alone and even though you regretted your choice in showing how distressed you were, it was what it was. What surprised you later, however, was finding him in the early morning hours with two coffees and blueberry muffins. He apologized profusely and asked for a do-over. Something that you were more than eager to oblige. 

And the rest, what most art historians like you would say, was history. 

Now he visits you almost every morning if he can. Thanks to his charm, you were now considered the number one go-to person of the FBI when it came to art theft. A title you didn’t mind having. 

“A bit early even for you, don’t you think?” you say, handing him the folders you’d been carrying. You smile as he lets out an exaggerated “oomph” and go to open the door. “Don’t be a baby, detective.” 

“I just wanted to see you, what’s the harm in that,” he answers, following you inside. “I have the day off tomorrow so I won’t be visiting.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” 

“Good to see that someone appreciates it.” 

He takes a seat as you head for the coffee machine. You’d got it a month ago, saving Marcus the trouble of waiting in line every morning before work. You appreciate having this as an excuse for him to stop by every morning. Luckily, the museum was on his way to work, meaning he was more than happy to visit you. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that this relationship between you two is meant to be nothing other than friendship, a platonic thing. But every day you find your heart swelling more and more at the sight of him. It’s been too long since you felt close to someone. It’s been even longer since you ached for a person you know you shouldn’t ache for. 

“Are you working on something with Remedios Valo?” When you turn you see him hunched over your desk, his eye meet yours, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, all these books were just sprawled here. I couldn’t help but look.” 

The coffee machine comes to life, the aroma mixing in with the scent of books. 

“That’s alright,” you answer, lips feeling numb. “And yeah, Olivier is adding one of her works to his collection so he wanted me to take a look.” 

“Which one is he buying?” 

You know he absolutely despises the idea of art being bought, hidden from the rest of the world to be a decoration. You hear it in the drop of his voice.  

“Les Feuilles Mortes.” His gaze falls back to the table. “Dead leaves. The one with the woman with orange hair and green dress.” 

He hums when he finally sees it on the page, “It’s a nice one.” 

“It is. It’s one of my favorites.” 

You bring the two cups of steaming coffee. His eyes find yours as you place them down, taking a seat. “You must be excited then,” he states. “To be seeing it in person.” 

“I’m just happy it’s going to someone I know will take care of it.” 

“I did meet him once. Seemed like a decent enough guy.” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, “You really hate art collectors don’t you?” 

“With a passion,” a soft smile touches his lips. “But I’ll make an exception for you.” 

You shake your head, smiling into your cup as you bring the steaming liquid to your lips. He’s always like this. Making sure just how much you matter, making you feel cherished, it’s a contrast to how you feel most of the time. Your eyes fall on the painting printed onto the glossy paper. Everyone interprets art differently. In this particular piece, you see loneliness but also a peaceful serenity. The shadow bowing to the woman, them being connected with a piece of blue yarn that she’s holding. The fact that it’s blue and not read also piques your interest. It makes you think it’s not something that is forced, it’s not the fates that brought them together but something else. Something more intimate and free. 

“So, when are you seeing this stunning artwork in person?” 

“Tonight.” 

Marcus already knows that today is going to be a long day. 

He knew it as soon as he entered his office, all fellow agents gathered in one place, murmuring. They parted like the Red Sea when he came through. That’s when the captain told him that extinguished art collector Olivier Balmaceda was found dead. Murdered. 

All he could think of was you. How excited you were to see him, and the painting, tonight. How Olivier was your friend and what would this mean for the investigation? Everyone here knew you, adored you. You being close to the murder victim certainly wasn’t good. He didn’t want you to be involved in any way, not even as a consultant. 

He steps out of the unmarked FBI sedan, his leather shoes echoing against the pavement as he approaches the crime scene. His partner, Tim, follows suit, both agents taking in the scene that awaits them.

The art collector's mansion looms before them, an opulent testament to a life steeped in appreciation for creativity. The air carries a faint scent of antique wood and the unmistakable aura of the art world. As they enter the expansive gallery, it becomes clear that Olivier Balmaceda's passion for art extends far beyond mere aesthetics.

The crime scene, bathed in the soft glow of gallery lights, is surreal. Olivier lies in the heart of his sanctuary, surrounded by the very beauty that defined his existence. The juxtaposition of life and death against the backdrop of artistic brilliance is haunting.

Tim glances at Marcus, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Together, they navigate the intricate dance of art and tragedy. The paintings, sculptures, and tapestries bear witness to the final act of a man whose life was intricately interwoven with the world he cherished.

As Marcus approaches Olivier's lifeless form, he can't help but feel the weight of the art that envelops them.

The art collector's mansion is cloaked in an air of somber anticipation as Marcus's focused gaze is drawn back to Olivier's lifeless form, nestled among the artworks that had once been a source of joy. The forensic team, adorned in pristine white suits, moves with meticulous precision, weaving through the crime scene like careful curators preserving a delicate masterpiece.

"Bullet entry at the back of the head. Looks like a single gunshot," Marcus hears one of them say, his voice a measured cadence amid the artistic silence.

Marcus nods, absorbing the gravity of the information. The team proceeds, each member contributing to the careful orchestration of documentation. His path takes him to the abstract painting, now surrounded by the scrutinizing eyes of forensic experts.

"We're scanning for any hidden messages or anomalies. This painting could hold clues.”

"Keep me posted," Marcus replies.

His attention turns to the delicate sculpture, now cocooned in an evidence bag. Tim approaches, his words a whisper against the backdrop of the gallery.

"Looks like they're treating the whole gallery as a crime scene. Anything stand out to you?" Tim inquires, his voice a muted harmony in the investigative symphony.

"Not yet. We need to dig deeper, find the connections between Olivier and whoever did this," Marcus responds, his words a subtle melody of determination.

The investigation shifts towards Olivier's desk, adorned with sketches and notes – a tableau of potential motives. They meticulously examines the papers, unveiling a narrative hidden within the inked strokes.

"Possible motive here. Let's see if Olivier was working on something that could've angered someone," suggests the expert, their words punctuating the air with a promise of revelation.

Acknowledging their findings, Marcus's thoughts churn with possibilities. Just as the investigation prepares to move to another sector of the mansion, his discerning eyes catch sight of a sketchbook nestled on a nearby shelf. A flicker of curiosity sparks within him, prompting the donning of gloves.

"Hold on a moment," Marcus interjects, a pause that reverberates through the dance of forensic activity.

The team halts, their collective gaze directed towards Marcus as he delicately retrieves the sketchbook. Its presence is unassuming, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. As Marcus flips through its pages, the sketches reveal a familiar artistic style, each stroke a brush with recognition.

"Wait... these look like—" Marcus begins, his words a murmur to the sketches that come to life beneath his fingertips.

Tim glances over, an inkling of recognition in his eyes.

"Isn't that—"

"Yeah. It's hers," Marcus confirms, closing the notebook.

So much for not getting you involved.

“Captain, you can’t be serious.” 

Your eyes are drawn to Marcus, his voice holding the tone of nothing other but disbelief. Your eyes turn to the floor. Olivier is dead. Murdered. And the only proper evidence to connect the dots of what happened is your sketchbook. The sketchbook you could’ve sworn you left in your office. The sketchbook that you only kept to yourself other than Marcus and a couple of more trustworthy people. One of them being Olivier.

You close your eyes. It’s exhausting to breathe. You focus on how your nostrils flare and let it all out through a small gap between your lips. Marcus inches closer, hand firm against the small of your back. 

“I’m dead serious, Agent Pike,” Captain Lana answers, her voice calm yet cold as ice. “Until this entire case is solved, she’s on house arrest and under your care.” 

“Just because we found her sketchbook does not mean she’s a suspect—” 

“Agent Pike,” her voice cuts through the tension in the room. A sharp shudder crawls up your spine, your skin prickling with attention as you open your eyes. Despite her tone, she doesn’t look mad. “You will do what is best for our consultant. As of right now, she is linked to the case of one of the biggest art collectors for reasons we do not know. The best thing we can do is keep an eye on her and protect her.” 

His mouth slams shut, his jaw clenched. His hand deserts your back and in that moment, all you can feel is guilt. Guilt of him being forced to do something he clearly doesn’t want to do. 

To share his home. 

“I understand,” he answers curtly, turning on his heel. “Let’s go get your things.” 

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you, shooting Captain Lana a glance, you follow him out of the office. 

Marcus hasn’t said a single word during the entire drive. Even when you finally parked, he just took your bags and led you up the stairs to his apartment. Your heart felt as if it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. The poor organ was already weighted down by your friend's death, and now one of the closest people to you couldn’t even look at you. 

He drops your bags to the floor and you slowly shut the door. You don’t even have it in you to look around, not that it would matter, you’ve already been here before. You doubt anything changed. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything else. “God, Marcus, I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

His hands are on you in an instant, lifting your downturned gaze. You blink away the tears, breath catching in your throat as you meet his eyes. It’s so easy to get lost in them. You could live an eternity there. “For . . for having to stay here. I know it’s inconvenient.” 

“Oh, sweetheart no, no. You could never be an inconvenience. I’m. . . I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I should’ve checked in on you. None of this is your fault understand. None of it,” his thumbs draw slow circles around your cheeks, the knot in your throat growing by the second. “And for all it’s worth, I’m happy that you’re here. I would be worried sick knowing that you’re alone.” 

Suddenly you’re being pulled into his chest, your senses completely enveloped by his scent. He gingerly cups your head from behind, holding you there, allowing you to disappear from the world for a while. 

The first tear escapes unexpectedly. It’s immediately absorbed into his shirt and the rest follows. He doesn’t try to hush you, doesn’t try to get you to stop. He allows you to break down completely. You cry and cry, until there’s nothing left anymore. Only then does he pull back, lifting your gaze to him once more. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you, Marcus.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m not doing anything you should be thankful for. This…this is what friends do.” 

That’s right. Friends. 

Your eyes sting when you blink, a forced smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah, friends.” 

You’re almost certain that you’re imagining it, but you swear the crease between his brows deepens with your answer. 

The soft glow of the TV screen bathes the room as Marcus settles onto the couch beside you. “Really? That’s what you want to watch?” 

Marcus raises a brow as he looks down at you. You’re wrapped in a blanket, looking as if the two of you have been living together for years. He loves how you’re already comfortable with the living situation. He wished he could have this in better circumstances without an ongoing murder investigation, but he’ll take what he gets. 

“I haven’t started the new season yet, it’ll be fun.” 

“It’s a murder mystery. Are you sure?” 

You snort, “I know the plot of Only Murders In The Building, Marcus. No need to remind me.” 

As the first episode begins, the room is filled with the intriguing soundtrack of the show. Marcus watches the characters unfold on the screen, but his attention keeps drifting back to you. The play of emotions on your face, the way you get caught up in the plot – it's more captivating to him than any murder mystery.

Gradually, you lean into him, seeking comfort in the shared moment. The warmth of your presence seeps into Marcus's consciousness, and he finds himself entranced by the way you become absorbed in the show. Unconsciously, his arm drapes around your shoulder, the gesture protective yet tender.

In the semi-darkness of the room, Marcus grapples with his own emotions. The line between friend and something more blurs as he navigates the uncharted territory of his feelings. As you snuggle closer, he can feel the gentle rhythm of your breath, the subtle rise and fall of your chest.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Marcus's mind. Does this closeness mean the same to you as it does to him? He wonders if you sense the subtle shift in the dynamics between you. The arm around your shoulder, a silent invitation, speaks volumes, but Marcus Pike remains in that delicate space between uncertainty and the unspoken desire for something more. The murder mystery on the screen becomes a mere backdrop to the complex enigma of emotions unfolding between two souls entangled in the intricacies of life and love.

Marcus's heart races as he lets his hand linger on your waist. He can feel the warmth radiating through the fabric of your shirt, and he wonders if you can feel the heat of his touch as well.

He watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but all he sees is the same intensity and focus on the TV. It both thrills and confuses him – is it possible that you can be so oblivious to the way he feels?

But as he watches you, he notices the faint hitch in your breath when his hand moves slightly, as if you're aware of his touch but trying to hide it. It only fuels the growing attraction between them, and Marcus can feel himself getting more and more drawn in.

His mind is filled with images of how he wants to touch you, and he can barely contain the urge to lean in and brush his lips against your neck. He wants to feel your skin against his, to explore every inch of your body.

The tension in the room becomes palpable, and Marcus can feel his heart racing. He looks over at you, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of desire in your eyes. But just as quickly, it disappears, and you go back to watching the movie without a second glance.

His hand moves even closer to yours, brushing against your fingers lightly. He can feel the heat emanating from your body, and he knows that you're just as affected by the electric chemistry between them.

His mind is clouded with desire, and all he can think about is kissing you, touching you. But he knows he needs to be patient. He can’t just make a move and potentially ruin the friendship you have.

But as the episode goes on, Marcus can barely pay attention anymore. All he can focus on is you, and the way your body moves slightly with each scene. He can feel himself getting harder with each passing moment, and he knows he needs to do something to release the tension.

Without thinking, his hand moves to your thigh, tracing small circles on your skin. He can see your breath hitch and your eyes flutter closed for a split second before you regain your composure.

He leans in closer to you, his lips just inches away from your ear. "Is this okay?" he whispers.

Marcus relaxes when you nod, eyes still glued to the screen. He knows you want to turn to him, to witness his feelings lingering in his eyes but he also knows that you can’t for the same reason why he can’t tell you how he feels. Fear. Fear of rejection. Of loss of a friendship.

So, his hand on your thigh is as far as he’ll go. Soothing you with the simplest of touches. 

The credits roll and the episode ends, Marcus can't help but feel a lingering sense of longing. He knows he needs to push these feelings aside and focus on the case, but he also can't deny the strong connection he feels with you.

As you stand up to turn off the TV, Marcus suddenly reaches out and takes your hand in his, surprising both of you. The air between them is heavy with unspoken words and tension, but they both know this isn’t the time or the place.

For now, they'll focus on solving the murder and catching the killer. But Marcus can't shake the feeling that this shared moment was the beginning of something more – something that could change everything.

It’s been almost two weeks now since you moved in with Marcus. And other than Olivier’s murder, things have been. . . peaceful. He’s been doing everything for you. You’ve never been taken care of to this extent before. It made you feel bad in a way, as if you were a burden to him and now he felt inclined to take care of you just because of the circumstances. 

However, you couldn’t ignore the tension either, the chemistry. Almost every night you thought of when the two of you watched TV. How close the two of you were. You often find yourself thinking about how differently that night could’ve ended. Only if you were brave enough, then maybe the friendship could’ve escalated into something more. 

While heating leftovers for the both of you from last night, the door clicks open. You expect to see his smile, the same question on his lips asking how your day was—but all you can see in his eyes is exhaustion. He forces a smile when he sees you, then silently heads to his room. Your lungs cave in on itself. Your body buzzing with worry, you look down at the barely heated leftovers. He deserves something more. Something fresh. 

So, as you quickly head down the hall to check on him, you order his favorites. You come to a halt at the door, heart beating in your throat, you knock. 

“I’ll be right there,” he says, almost apologetically, which makes you feel even worse. 

“I just wanted to check if you’re alright. Can I. . . Can I come in?” 

You’re about to head back to the living room when the door slowly opens. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, the first three buttons of his shirt wide open, exposing skin. You barely manage to tear your gaze away. He looks vulnerable, defeated. 

“I’m okay,” he clears his throat. “I promise.” 

You ignore what he says and take a step forward, forcing the both of you inside the bedroom. It smells of cinnamon. “I ordered us some food from that place you like. We have some time to relax.” 

“Relax?” 

You let out the breath you’ve been holding and trap his face between your hands. You want to make him feel good. You want to pamper him. At least this one time, you want to do something for him instead. You know what his answer is going to be if you ask him about his day—he’ll brush you off, because it’s the case you’re involved in. The murder of your friend. 

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” 

His eyes widen, lashes fluttering, his lips part, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t have to but I want to.” You quickly add when you see the hesitation growing in his eyes. “Please.” 

You notice the hollow in his cheek, the way his jaw moves as he chews on the inside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. After what feels like hours, his head jerks in a small nod, “Okay.” 

Marcus gently falls onto the bed and you drop to your knees, taking a place between his spread legs. You can feel his eyes on you. His gaze intense as you fumble with his belt. You tug down his pants along with his underwear, his hips slightly lifting to make it easier for you. His cock is still soft. It makes a certain type of hunger grow inside you. Placing both hands on his thighs, you dip down, taking him into his mouth. He sharply inhales, cock twitching over your tongue. It doesn’t take him long to grow in your mouth, and suddenly swallowing him down proves to be harder than you thought. 

Your nostrils flare as you attempt to swallow him down, your nose brushing against the soft curls. His hand gently cradles the back of your head, and when you look up you see his head falling back, his brows furrowed as he breathes heavily through his nose. 

Parting away, you suck the base of his cock, your tongue swirling. His hips jerk and a moan rips from his throat. “That—that feels good,” he swallows. 

“You like it slow?” you say, lips moving against sensitive skin. “Tell me how you like it. Show me.” 

“You’re doing great sweetheart, just do it how it’s best for you,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m not picky.” 

Brows knitting together, you pull away and fix him a half-hearted glare. You wrap your fingers around and begin to stroke him, witnessing the flex of his thighs. “I want to do it how you like it,” you state. “Show me or I’ll stop.” 

Your lips curl as you hear him whine. It’s such a beautiful sound. 

“Fine.” 

He drags you back down to his cock, your hand falling away. You open your mouth to take him once more, thinking that he wants to fuck your mouth, but instead, he presses your lips to the side of his cock. You feel the heat of him, the bulging of his veins. 

“Wrap your lips,” he rasps and when you do, he starts to move your head up and down. 

You let out a muffled moan, the vibrations sending shivers down Marcus’ spine. His movements are slow, almost as if he’s fucking himself deep into you—almost as if he’s been thinking about this for months. Your head bobs up and down, your lips pursed around him tightly. You hear him grunt above you, and you can tell that he’s struggling to keep himself in control. 

“Put your hands back on my thighs,” Marcus commands, and you do so without hesitation. “I want to feel the bite of your nails.” His thighs are shaking beneath your touch, and you can feel the coiled tension inside him, just waiting to snap. You do as he asks, digging your nails slightly into the flesh. Another whimper falls for him, a sounds desperate and needy at the same time. He pulls up and finally slips himself into your warm mouth, your eyes water as he pushes you down, taking him whole. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” Marcus grunts, his voice punctuated by the wet sounds of your mouth on his cock. 

You keep up the pace, eager to please him. You can feel his cock growing harder and harder inside your mouth, and you can tell that he’s close. You swirl your tongue around him, pressing your lips even tighter around him. 

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters, his hand gripping your hair tightly. “I’m gonna—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, he releases into your mouth with a deep groan, his hips bucking up into your face. You eagerly take him in, swallowing around him as he spills, hot come trailing down your throat. He lets out a heavy sigh, his body going limp as he comes down from his orgasm. 

You sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Marcus looks at you with admiration and slight embarrassment, his cheeks peppered with a faint shade of red. 

“Sorry, that was quick,” he murmurs, tugging you up and pulling you to his lap. “Now it’s your turn.” 

He leans towards your lips but you stop him by pressing two fingers, they’re soft. “We can think about me later,” you say, despite the inside of your panties being an absolute wet mess. “I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

“I want to make you feel good too,” he objects, nipping at your fingers. “Don’t you. . . I thought you wanted me.” 

The guilt in his eyes is back and your hand drops away from his lips. He’s holding you tight as if you might disappear.  

“I do,” you answer tentatively. “But I don’t want you to jump into this thinking you have to. I don't want you to do anything you might regret.” 

“Regret?” he shakes his head. “What does that even mean? I’m not jumping into anything. I’m not confused if that’s what you’re worried about,” his arms around you tighten, and with that, you know you’ve said the wrong thing. “You just sucked my cock—are you telling me that was out of pity? Gratitude?” 

You cut him off, “N–No. . .” 

“Then what was it?” his voice drops dangerously low, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I’m one hundred percent here. It has nothing to do with the case. And for you to do something just because you felt bad for me. . . I thought we were finally getting somewhere after all of this.” 

“Marcus—”

“I think I want to be alone right now,” he turns his head away from you but doesn’t do anything to push you off of him. Your apology dies in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry. You slowly move away, the taste of his come still in your mouth as you contemplate what to do. What to say. 

But whatever you were planning evaporates with the ring of the doorbell.  

You’re sitting on the couch when Marcus comes home and sits on the armchair right across from you. You’re eyes slowly shift from your phone to meet his gaze, he continues to stare down, his thumbs thrumming over his thighs. 

It’s been an awkward couple of days after the argument you two had. Neither of you were brave enough to broach the subject, However, that didn’t mean what happened didn’t haunt you in the dead of night, both in a bad and a good way. 

“It’s done.” 

His words send a chill down your spine, your muscles tightening, “What’s done?” 

“The case. We found who murdered Olivier. . . and how your notebook got there.” Marcus takes a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours as he begins to unravel the mystery that has been hanging over your heads like a storm cloud.

"Olivier's murder... it was someone close to him. Both rival and friend," Marcus starts, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "Turns out, his friend had been eyeing the same collection for years. When Olivier outbid him for that prized painting, it pushed him over the edge."

You feel a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of shock and sorrow swirling within you. Olivier, with his vibrant personality and passion for art, didn't deserve such a fate.

"And my notebook...?" you prompt, needing to understand how your own belongings ended up tangled in this tragedy.

Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Olivier... he wanted to show your sketches to one of his friends. He thought you had real talent and he was planning on gifting you that painting."

Your heart sinks at the realization. Olivier, you’re going to miss him. Marcus wraps his arms around you, offering comfort and support as the weight of the emotions you've been suppressing finally spills over. You lean into him, the warmth of his embrace a soothing balm for the wounds of the past few days. His touch is both reassuring and grounding, reminding you that you're not alone in this tumultuous journey.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing comforting patterns on your back. "It’s over now. You can return to your life and begin to heal."

“Heal?” you blin at him, lips parting. “Return to my life? What does that even mean? We can’t go back to normal Marcus. Not after everything. . . I—” You swallow, the knot thick in your throat. “I care about you, Marcus. I care about you deeply and I just want you to know that. I don’t want you to think it was a one-time thing. Ot that I did it because of the circumstances. I did it because I wanted to. And I wanted to long before any of this happened.” 

As your heartfelt confession hangs in the air, Marcus's eyes soften, his expression reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. Without hesitation, he leans in, closing the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It's a moment of shared vulnerability, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

The warmth of his touch ignites a spark within you, a reassurance that despite the challenges you've faced, your connection remains unbroken. In this intimate embrace, you find solace and hope for the future, knowing that whatever trials may come, you'll face them together.

As the kiss deepens, the weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewal and possibility.

Marcus's hands move to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he deepens the kiss. You feel his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire within you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair.

His lips move fervently against yours, conveying the unspoken emotions that have been building between you for weeks. You can feel his heart beating against your chest and it's a comforting reminder that you're not alone in this moment.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a tingle in their wake. You let out a soft gasp, arching your neck to give him better access. His hands roam over your body, his touch setting every nerve alight. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

Your fingers move to his shirt, desperate to rid him of the barriers separating your skin.  His lips trail down your neck again, moving to your shoulder, his hands roaming freely over your body. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as his hands reach your waist, pulling your shirt off. The cool air hits your skin but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating between you two.

Marcus and you remove each other's clothes. Your hands roam hungrily over his bare chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He moans softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra and gently sliding it off. Your bare chest presses against his, skin against skin, and the sensation sends sparks of pleasure through your body. Your lips meet again, his tongue moving alongside yours, his hands roaming lower to your waist and down to your hips, pulling you closer.

You push him down to the couch, your hands reaching for his jeans. With ease, you undo the button and slide them off, revealing his toned legs and the bulge in his boxers. Your fingers trail down his stomach, feeling his muscles contract under your touch.

He flips you over, his lips moving down your neck and to your chest. With a flick of his tongue, he takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, causing you to arch your back and let out a soft moan of pleasure. His hands reach down, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them off your legs.

As his lips continue to travel down your body, his fingers slide into your underwear, eliciting a gasp from you. You can feel the heat and wetness building between your legs, the tingling sensation increasing with every touch.

In one swift movement, he removes your underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable to his touch. But with Marcus, you feel anything but vulnerable. In his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and desired.

And you know that is something that will never change. 

[brawltogethernow]

I dreamt the other night that there was an extremely mid live action Murderbot TV show adaptation. That's not my retroactive assessment in the daytime. In the dream I was like, "This has multiple very avoidable or outright comedic flaws. I am going to binge all of it." (I'm aware that this is very meta.)

It had a "life on a starship" structure in the style of Star Trek, though it may have technically been set on one of the satellites orbiting Preservation.

The core relationship was SecUnit and Mensah, which was executed with absolute sincerity that couldn't not be charming, and was also where a lot of the more narmish moments were centered.

SecUnit would hack devices by focusing on them, cuing the camera to zoom in on the relevant machine—then the zoom in would continue with a transition to aggressively average CGI of the inside of the machine, which would animate it...being hacked or whatever. I got the impression that happened at a pivotal moment at least once an episode.

Some of the canon characters were present and were well-cast and characterized. However, the "crew" had also been padded out with a handful of original side characters. There was a gruff ship's doctor type (more Kelso than Bones though), a cook SecUnit had an arbitrary rivalry with, and for some reason two teenage boys who were BFFs. The cook existed to facilitate interpersonal comedy, the teens to have sci-fi concepts explained to them, and the doctor to solve like a third of the one-off plotlines at the end of the episode once whatever emotional arc they'd been facilitating was concluded. The new characters were almost all played by white guys like after they cast the canon characters thoughtfully and considerately they ran out of energy/wanted to work in people who were already on the lot.

I dream-watched three random episodes, but unfortunately the only one I remember specifically is the last one, where the plot was Murderbot getting amnesia (because of sci-fi reasons) to back when the company owned it before it hacked itself. The emotional climax was it deciding to help Mensah even though it didn't remember their friendship, by disabling a machine that was harming her—which it did by triggering the hacking animation by slamming its hands against it several times. Like you do when you hack stuff. The amnesia was fixed after this by the medical doctor administering a liquid for it to drink that reportedly had nanomachines in it. I'm pretty sure the prop was one of those plastic cups dentists give you stuff to swish around your mouth in with water in it.

Murderbot was played by a tall and gloriously buff...enby woman...? I don't exactly recall. —Who in behind the scenes content had a startlingly sweet demeanor and higher vocal register than the character.

10/10 dream I am laughing my socks off. I miss the fake show.

[that-basic-simp]

Pinned Down

Star and Stripe X Fem!Reader CW: N/A WC: 1.2k+ A/N: I need more content for Star and Stripe. I fell in love with her ever since her manga debut.

"Yeah. Yes, I know. You don't need to tell me for a third time. Alright, fine! I'll be there soon."

A frustrated sigh came from behind me before the phone was thrown onto the nightstand, falling onto the ground. A low growl followed before a large set of warm arms wrapped around me tightly, almost crushing me.

"C-Cassie," I breathed out.

"Sorry," she loosened her grip, her face being buried into the top of my back.

I placed my hands on top of her larger ones, sighing myself as I felt myself almost drift off back to sleep.

"I've got to go," she said.

"I know."

"I don't want to."

"I don't want you to go either."

"But, duty calls."

"What now?"

"Drills. As usual."

"You're not in the army anymore. You're a fully fledged hero."

"I know, but remember, I was part of the army first," she got up, taking her warmth with her.

It was best that I get up since I had to get to work in a bit. While Cassie was in the shower getting ready, I was making our morning coffee along with toast, since I knew neither of us were able to sit down and eat together, especially Cassie.

The door to the bathroom opened up and she came rushing out, her army uniform haphazardly put on. She had her pants and boots on, but her black tank top was seen and the top half of her uniform wasn't even on. Her hair was slicked back due to it being wet.

"I've gotta run," she said as I handed her a travel cup full of coffee, just how she likes it, and the golden like piece of toast.

"Here, for the road."

"Thanks," she said and leaned towards me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "I'll see you tonight."

"See you! Be careful, Cassie," I said.

"I'll try, but you know how it is around here," she sighed, opening up the door to our apartment and then closing it. A few seconds passed by and I heard the jangling of keys before the door opened up once more.

"I love you," she said, blowing me a kiss.

"I love you, too," I blew her one back in response.

Once I had gotten finished and ready for work, I drove out to the office building and got into my cubicle. It was a quaint little office, since I had my own room and everything. However, the people I could live without. It was hard keeping our relationship under lock and key. Whenever we were first going out, Cassie had to make sure no one was following her and we'd meet up at places that no one even knew. Of course it wasn't going to be easy with her being America's number one hero. And there would be times where I didn't see her for weeks when we were first dating. It was frustrating, but she'd always make up for it. Either by seeing me for almost a week or planned long dates where it ended up with me staying at her place. She truly was the greatest.

When word got out that we were dating, the entire media went nuts. Every one and their mothers tried to talk to her or me whenever we were out in public. Of course Cassie would always be there to protect me if anyone tried to harm me. With her being that big of a woman, she could easily deck someone and have them out cold on the ground. Not to mention her height was something you don't see every day for a woman. How did I catch her eye? Well, it was more of she caught my eye. Well, more like she caught me. Caught me falling hard and lacking.

My old apartment building was on fire and I was trying to get out. The only way for me to get out was to jump through a window. I was on the fifth floor and there was still a large way for me to go. It was either I get crushed by the building falling in on itself or I take a risk and jump. So I did. And Cassie, or Star and Stripe, caught me. I remember how her strong arms wrapped around me tightly, holding me close to her. She smiled warmly and winked as she landed on the ground. I was forever grateful to her and had tried to meet her several times until she came into my workplace, checking on me to make sure I was alright. It was that day when we became friends and it would be more than that.

I smiled to myself, finding one of the framed photos that sat on my desk. The one by my computer was of us at a dance the army was hosting. It was kind of comical, the photo. Because it was of us together, our foreheads pressed against one another, and Cassie had to lift me up. The other ones were of us and some were just of her. The one that I enjoyed was of me sitting on her shoulders and she was flexing her arms. I was doing the same thing, but my biceps were nothing compared to hers.

The work day had gone and went and before I knew it, I was driving back to our shared apartment. It was more like mine and then she moved in after we celebrated one year of being together. I headed up to our floor and unlocked the door, finding the entire apartment to be lit with only candles. What the?

"Cass?" I asked as I closed the door, slipping my shoes off. "Are you here, babe?"

Nothing. I started to lightly walk around the apartment until I reached our room, entering to find there were more candles. I couldn't see shit. I was about to turn on the light, but someone wrapped their arms around me, lifting me in the air.

"Holy shit!" I turned to find Cassie laughing as she lifted me with ease. "Don't scare me like that, Cass!"

"Sorry, hon," she smiled, setting me down.

"What are you doing here so early? I thought you weren't going to be back until later."

"Well, after I talked to the commander, he said I could go home earlier."

"How did you manage to do it today?"

"If I am remembering correctly," Cassie grabbed one of the candles and walked towards the calendar, illuminating the date.

"Shit!" I smacked my hand against my forehead. "I am so sorry, Cassie. I completely forgot what today was."

"No need to worry," she chuckled, placing the candle down on the desk. "I honestly forgot too until I left this morning."

"Is that why you came back in to say 'I love you'?"

"Yes," she was now in front of me, her hands finding their place on my hips.

"Well, guess we should celebrate," I said, my hand running up her large arm.

"Guess?" she laughed.

"We should celebrate."

"Can I be yours tonight?" she whispered.

"You're always mine," I said. "As long as I am yours."

"Always."

She lifted me up once more and walked over to the bed, pinning me between her and the mattress. I shuddered slightly, never getting used to the fact that I managed to get a woman like her. My right hand slid up her left forearm, over her large bicep, and her broad shoulder. She smirked, knowing how much I loved being pinned down by her.

[tippenfunkaport]

"She-Ra is bad bisexual rep because all the bi/pan characters end up in m/f relationships!"

Not true! Perfuma is bi/pan and she ends up with Scorpia!

"Oh, well I like to headcanon Perfuma as a lesbian."

...so then you understand that's not the show's fault, right? That that's just a problem you made up in your head?

-

Excuse me a second, I need to scream about this...

Because this has come up over and over (esp on Twitter and TikTok) with people who want to claim that every bi/pan SPOP character ends up in a m/f relationship... by conveniently pretending Perfuma is not canonically bi/pan herself. And every time they are asked to elaborate why they are ignoring her canon status, they give the same answer: that they consider Perfuma a lesbian because now that she's with a woman, she's "not bi anymore"

And... yeah... you know that's not how it works, right? That being bi/pan is not just a phase you get over? That a bi/pan woman dating another woman doesn't suddenly make her a lesbian any more than it makes a bi/pan person dating someone of the opposite gender magically straight?

The person you are currently dating does not change your bi/pan status. Ever. And insisting it does, especially just so you can score some points by making up an issue about a show to be mad about, is super GD harm harmful to the real bi/pan people in your life.

(This is the exact same thing The Owl House fandom does with Lumity and why Dana had to make Luz present a whole slideshow in the cartoon reminding everyone she is still very much bi even though Amity is a lesbian. TOH fans kept insisting because Luz is dating Amity now, she's a lesbian. Nope. Her and Amity can be married for a billion years and that wouldn't change Luz's orientation.)

"But I heard that someone's roommate's cousin who worked with someone on the show once liked a fanart that showed Scorfuma with the lesbian flag so it's basically canon!"

First of all, the legend of this grows daily and I think it's really telling that this archival obsessed fandom only talks about this mythical like and yet has never been able to produce a single screenshot of it.

But for the sake of argument, let's say that this really happened and actually exists, that someone related to the show, however distantly, liked fanart once that implied Perfuma was a lesbian somehow. That still doesn't make it canon. People related to the show and even ND himself have liked and reblogged all sorts of stuff that isn't canon, including g/a, and have been very clear that the only canon is what happens within the show itself.

And, in the show, Perfuma is canonically bi/pan. We see her crushing on Bow, She-Ra, Huntara and Scorpia. The fact that people want to pretend the Bow thing never happened when he's the only character we see her actually date over the run of the show AND it's a major Season 1 plot point is wild to me and just shows the lengths people will go for bi/pan erasure.

And I get that some people enjoy using Perfuma to tell a story about comphet or coming out as a lesbian later in life and I am fully in favor of doing your thing with your headcanons in fanworks. But when it reaches the point it has now where fans are attacking other fans for saying Perfuma is bi/pan or attacking the show for not having any bi/pan character in same sex relationships when Perfuma is CANONICALLY bi/pan is ridiculous. 

Keep in mind that your headcanon is literally just something you made up in your head. It's pretend. Fun, yes, but NOT something you can use as justification to attack people over!

Especially when it's something like this that causes real world harm by perpetuating harmful stereotypes about bi/pan people being "just a phase" or a temporary state that changes based on who you date.

[twidara]

NANA Analysis: the bathtub theory, love and self-destruction.

TW: suicide and self-harm

⚠️SPOILERS

This isn’t a topic widely discussed due to the abrupt hiatus of NANA, but our dear Ai Yazawa loves to work with foreshadowing, and we have enough clues to consider that something really bad happened between the two timelines.

Nana is a realistic work, and we can see representations of self-destructive behaviors in many characters. When it comes to Nana Osaki and Nana Komatsu (whom I'll refer to as Hachi to make things easier), we can see these behaviors manifesting with anyone they love.

Due to her abandonment trauma, when Nana feels love for someone this can bring out her worst side: possessiveness, selfishness, jealousy, and envy. Ren is Nana’s first love, and through him, she forms a special connection with music and be singer becomes her dream. However, Nana considers her dreams and her pride more important than anything else.

For Hachi, love is more idealized… she follows the ‘formula’: fall in love > date > get married > have children > happily ever after. But Hachi doesn't just idealize love, she also idealizes who she loves.

So I think that ‘love’ becomes a self-destructive emotion for both of them. When Nana feels abandoned by those she loves (Ren and Hachi < mainly this woman), she experiences mental gaps (forgets about what she done and what happen) and also hyperventilates. Nana briefly talks about her mental gaps when she remembers the memory of her mother left her behind in the snow (while wearing red heels, which Nana realizes may not be a reliable memory). Also, she and Ren have this toxic relationship with no perspective for future, which hurts them a lot.

Then… we have Hachi, who has an insatiable desire to be loved, and this becomes ‘the compass’ for all the bad decisions she’ll make throughout her journey. Groomed by an older man in high school, moves to Tokyo with many dreams and ends up getting cheated on, and meets Takumi. Well, you already know the rest. The problem with this Nana isn’t particularly in how she loves people; she can be selfish at times, but her love is genuine, she’s not the priority. Like Nana Osaki says she’s a ‘puppy’: you kick the puppy, it gets hurt, but then the puppy always comes back to you. Hachi’s problem is that she has no self-love, pride won't be a problem, she's able to see herself as the villain in any situation (even with Takumi).

The relationships between Ren and Nana, and Hachi and Takumi are toxic in different ways. We can see both Nanas struggling with the frustration of these relationships. Nana hurts her pride so she can have some control over Ren, but it doesn’t really work.

Nana: [You can't make people do what you want. Even if you cry... or shout... or cling to them.]

And even though Hachi tries to follow this 'formula', she can’t fill the emptiness inside her, living a life full of regrets.

Hachi: [It's like the jealousy of a woman who wasn't capable of being happy... Always acting on stage, alone, running in circles no matter what she did.]

Let’s get to the point: What happened in the bathtub? I’ll start with the numerous foreshadowings about self-harm and drowning in water. I've lost count of how many times Junko and Kyosuke talked about this:

Kyosuke: [That’s scary… she might even slit her wrists, who knows.]

Junko: [Girl... I was knocking so hard for so long. I was scared you’d slit your wrists with a razor blade! (I could see it all... Blood spurting out...)]

and there's more and more... let's skip

So for some reason, everyone is convinced that Hachi is going to cut her wrists because of a heartbreak, which never even crosses her mind lol, as we can see she had other plans:

Hachi: [That night... If Nana hadn’t been there for me... I would have thrown myself into the Tama river. I’m sure of that.]

The irony is… when it comes to representations of drowning or anything related to water, Nana is the focus. We have this scene in manga, and in anime opening, we see a lot of scenes of Nana drowning.

The bathtub is more symbolic between Nana and Ren; Ren was constantly using the bathtub to ‘drown in drugs’, Reira and Takumi seem aware of this. But again, the bathtub is also extremely symbolic between Nana and Hachi, we can see some intimate moments there. And of course, Ai Yazawa wants to make us freak out. When we are convinced that Nana is the one who got hurt in the bathtub, it relates back to Hachi when she talks to Miu:

Later in the ‘present’ timeline, we’ll also see Nobu worried about Hachi while se prepares a bath for him, but Hachi is someone who could be greatly affected by a possible suicide attempt from Nana. Nana also has that death pact with Ren, in last chapters, we can see that her situation it’s not good, she’s still clinging to love to live, in this case, holding on to Hachi. To be fair, Hachi is also in a terrible situation, she’s pregnant; her hormones are all over the place, and the postpartum it’s cruel.

But I don’t think Ai Yazawa would repeat what’s happened with Shin’s mother, although Hachi is very close to that role now; after all, no matter what others think, ‘I’m his mother’. The situation of Shin’s mother it’s a parallel to Hachi’s pregnancy at certain points, especially since Yazawa wants to keep the mystery of the baby’s paternity.

Anyway, Nana, all we know is that she disappeared and everyone thought she was dead, with rumors like ‘She died at sea’.

Nana: [Any place was fine with me… As long as I could see the sea. I can die whenever I want… As long as I know the sea’s nearby. I came here… Looking for a place to die. So why… am I still here?]

The only doubt in my mind is that the women of the Osaki family are naturally runaways. Nana could have simply run away from the start. But she’s still the strong candidate, since she mentions that Hachi saved her life and since BOTH are named Nana, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hachi was just a misleading clue all this time. Junko and Kyosuke calls Hachi for her name (Nana), but maybe I’m just overthinking.

Is getting long, so to wrap up, I want to talk about the meaning of the name Ren (蓮), especially since we have two characters named Ren in Nana. The lotus flower in Buddhism represents the belief in samsara, the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Also, is often seen as a symbol of purity because it rises and blooms beautifully above the muddy waters from which it grows. This imagery represents the idea of achieving spiritual purity despite difficult circumstances.

Nana’s Ren is dead, and given everything he represented to her, it’s entirely understandable that she feels lost. On the other hand, Hachi’s Ren has yet to be born, and it’ll likely be her greatest point of development. Although Nana seems strong enough to overcome anything, she’s not, while Hachi, who is seen as fragile, manages to persist through difficulties. It’s as if their roles initially invert: Hachi gains strength, and Nana weakens (I'm just making a comparison with the beginning of the story). Nana and Hachi continue to live with the hope that ‘Life is about getting knocked down over and over, but still getting up each time. If you keep getting up, you win’. This is something Nana learned from Ren and taught to Hachi. It’s simply beautiful how, despite everything, their love for each other is what keeps them strong, even when apart; love has become a form of healing for Nana and Hachi.

I've wanted to write about this for a while, now that I’ve read NANA 777 times, I can talk about it with more confidence hehe.

[yanderes-galore]

Runs over and kicks your door open!! Yanyan!! I heard requests are open , would it be alright if I request yandere romantic Macaque hcs who’s falling for a female seer reader (someone who sees the future), the only thing is reader knows his next move.

This is such a cute nickname... I'll try my best 🥺 I did it general as I struggled with a plot? I mention a female darling twice in this and it can easily be ignored. I just felt the request didn't really need to be gendered...?

Yandere! Macaque with Seer! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Mentions of mates, Dubious relationship.

Let's start with this, "Seer" is defined differently depending on definition and universe.

However, for the most part, seer does indeed mean someone who looks into the future to make predictions.

How accurate such predictions are... vary.

I have a feeling you'd already know about you and Macaque's meeting with one another.

Not only that, but you can no doubt sense the misfortune that will come with it.

He's the shadow of the Monkey King, after all. Mischievous yet ruthless.

If you think about it, seers are probably really useful in this universe.

Based on all of the fate stuff that goes on in it.

You no doubt feel a chill come down your spine when you meet Macaque.

Macaque likes to toy with interesting people.

He originally approached you for one reason or another, no doubt out of concern for his own fate.

Afterwards... He's intrigued.

You manage to catch his interest, being able to read his every move and know the endgame.

He both wants to test it... yet is also irritated.

I like to imagine the way you get visions is like small puzzle pieces.

You have ideas on what the endgame is, but don't entirely know everything.

Although, I can see your visions giving you an idea of what he intends to do, like kidnapping plans or potential targets.

Such predictions annoy Macaque once he realizes what he can't do.

He's aware of you being a seer, yet he hates he can't fool you.

You have him figured out, you read his every move, you see right through him.

Originally he's teasing, seeing this as a game.

He's testing you... just wanting to play around.

Then he finds himself drawn to you... the cute seer woman he met by fate.

This must be destiny.

Destiny would be a big part of your bond.

As a seer, you no doubt know how this will end.

Which is much different from most obsessions.

Your abilities allow you to predict what will happen... not prevent the end goal.

You can prevent the fates of some others... but your own?

You'll eventually belong to Macaque.

So I imagine Macaque gets frustrated and jealous like your typical yandere.

He's clingy and for the most part you let him.

Although, the moment his plans get devious, you step in.

For example, you may learn he's going to harm someone close to you, which allows you to step in.

But how I like to view this is much more... hopeless.

Makes this situation more dreadful.

Like... the future is set in stone. Destiny can't be changed.

It makes the story more bittersweet.

You know, deep down, there's no preventing this.

Macaque views you as his mate, his girl, his Seer.

In the end, he'll get you.

The only change?

You know what's going to happen...

There's nothing you can do to stop what you saw.

It's like a... prophecy, somewhat.

You know your eventual role... and just don't want anyone hurt.

So, by the end, when you feel it's time...

You'll let him win.

You'll let Macaque have his way, claim you as his.

This is destiny.

Who knows... maybe your visions will tell you something better?

Maybe it'll work out...

It's not like you can fight any of it.

Macaque is overjoyed when you give in.

His grip on you is tight, he promises not to hurt anyone else.

However... Only your visions will tell you if he's lying.

Your visions have told you what will happen... changing such a fate will be futile...

The only thing you can hope for is making it bearable.

[mildlycursedhistoricalobject]

TW: SA

This is the only thing I’m gonna say about this, but yes, this post is about the Neil Gaiman allegations. Before I write my actual post, I’d like to say that my heart is with the victims and the victims only. I hope they receive both the support and justice they deserve.

Ok. Can we please stop attacking each other? People who are discrediting the stories of the women involved should stop, because surely they can see how the narratives they’re pushing are not only unhelpful but actively harmful. There really shouldn’t be “sides” here, because none us are involved in this situation, but it’s insane to me that some people have been so quick to completely dismiss the stories of each woman. People you like can be shitty.

However, everyone saying I told you so? That is equally NOT helpful. You’re not morally superior for disliking Neil Gaiman first, and again, the narrative that people “should’ve known better” is actively harmful for victims of SA.

In continuation, people are allowed to be upset that a work they’ve found solace in turns out to be created by someone accused of SA. I agree that this shouldn’t overshadow the emotional impact on the woman actually involved in the situation, but people expressing their own feelings about personal links to his work is not harming anyone, and shutting people down for doing that is once again NOT helpful.

I doubt I can seperate the art from the artist in this case, but those are my individual feelings. If someone doesn’t want to read his work anymore, that’s fine. If someone does, that’s also fine. Stop attacking each other, because like I said, the victims need to be put first, and forcing people to cut ties or not with Gaiman’s WORK isn’t doing anything constructive.

Now, in light of what I’ve just said I want to share two things (these are potentially triggering so please feel free to skip):

1. I was sexually assaulted in November last year by someone who I trusted, looked up to, loved, and I am still dealing with the consequences.

2. Do you know what novel helped me through this experience? Neil Gaiman’s “The Ocean at the End of the Lane.”

That book became very impactful in my life, very recently. So yes, as I said, I doubt I’ll be able to have the same relationship with it, or with Gaiman’s work, but I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that this whole thing has brought stuff up for me.

There are people like me all across various fandoms conected to Neil Gaiman. Stop assuming that you’re helping victims of SA by telling us we can’t feel upset because the work we found safety in was created by a man accused of the very thing that hurt us. You’re not helping.

I apologise of this post came across as irritated, or superior, because that’s really not my intention. I’m just saying there’s nuance here, and we should all think before we post. I’m just feeling pretty tired of all this “discourse” I keep seeing, and it’s distracting us from actual issues that we as a society need to be addressing.

To summarise, stop attacking one another. We should be supporting each other and the women involved.

(Edited a couple of words for clarity.)

[queenquinzel715]

Jethro Gibbs An undercover job turns to romance

Wrd count: 4,313

Warning: adult content, knife cutting (no self harm)

Jethro Gibbs (I know nothing about the military protocols so just believe it lol)

(Y/n) P.O.V

My morning was going just like all the others. I'd wake up, eat breakfast, fill my travel mug with coffee, and go to work. However halfway through my eggs, bacon, and toast when my cell phone rings. I sigh as I place my book down, and answer.

"(L/n)." I answer.

"(Y/n) we need you to come in. We have a… well the best type hinky." I hear Abby's cheery voice.

"Okay I'll be right there." I hung up with her.

I quickly get dressed into my scrubs, pull my hair into a high ponytail. Once on the road I make a quick stop for gas, and a couple drinks for my fellow colleagues. As I walk into the NCIS building I greet security and others as I get into the elevator. I hear heavy metal music as the doors open, and it brings a smile to my face.

"Good morning, Abby." I smile at her as I place her big gulp next to her quick fingers.

"Y/n you doll." Abby gives me a big smile before she takes a sip.

"What's the big hinky?" I laugh at her excited smile.

"Well this morning Gibbs and his gang had a call to this military housing neighborhood, and found a newlywed couple completely torn apart." She informs me.

"And?" I push because I know there's more by here turning to the computer screen.

"I've already found a handful of murders that were just swept under the rug, because they didn't have any sort of evidence." She walks over to a table. "Until I figured out the weapon is both a hunter's knife, and a scalpel." She then smiles in triumph.

"It's like you're a psychic, and you just give us pieces to throw us off." I laugh with her, but it's short lived by Special Agent Gibbs walking in with a box full of evidence.

"Abby, this is for you. (Y/n) I need you upstairs." He walks back toward the door. "Thanks for getting her here, Abbs." He says just as he walks out.

I give Abby a quick look before quickly walking to the elevator. Gibbs and I stay in silence the whole way until we get to the group looking at multiple people's pictures on a screen.

"(Y/n) great." McGee says. "We need you to go on an undercover operation. I just need you to pick a male that will pass for a Marine." He runs off like I knew what he was talking about.

"Gibbs?" I look at him with a pointed look, hoping he'd fill in the spots.

"We know the killer is going after newlyweds, so you are the bride." He smirks once he's finished. "I already have an idea of who it is, but of course we need to prove I'm right. I picked you for this." He ends his speech there.

"Okay." I turn to McGee. "What do I need to do?"

The rest of the day I'm given a crash course on how the undercover business works, and once I was done with my three hours course I found out that Gibbs is going to be my husband. I returned to the gang's area, and saw Gibbs watching the others talk.

"So my dear husband, how will our wedding work, hmm? Quick courthouse, or are you just gonna throw me over your shoulder like a caveman." I joke as I sit on the corner of his desk.

"Well I was thinking the club over the head would be easier." He smirks at me when I gasp. "You asked."

"So seriously, does this start immediately today?" I ask, grabbing the file about the suspect.

"You are a free woman until tomorrow night, and then we will sign the marriage certificate. I will get my uniforms, the address we will set up, and we will begin then." He puts away his belongings, and as he stands he pulls on his coat. "Chinese or pizza?" He asks.

"Chinese." I respond as I follow behind him.

This has been a new norm for me and Gibbs for a couple months now. I was pretty bad when I had to end my engagement, because my fiance was sleeping with our neighbor. An entire five year relationship down the drain. I didn't leave the lab for two weeks before Gibbs and Abby came knocking on my door. Apparently Abby had some concerns for my sanity so she went to Gibbs, and he came straight to the lab. Ever since then he has taken me to dinner every other day, or brings me dinner in the lab.

Tonight, we sit inside a little Chinese restaurant eating in a comfortable silence. With Gibbs I've learned, to much relief, I don't have to speak unless I absolutely want to.

"How's the boat coming along?" I ask as we throw away our trash.

"Pain in the ass." He chuckles.

-next morning-

I walked into the office a little bit early with coffees, and sat at Gibb's desk until I saw DiNozzo walk in with Kate in a heated discussion.

"Oh please DiNozzo all because you think it's him doesn't mean it is." Kate rolls her eyes at him, but lights up when she sees me holding a coffee cup in the air for her.

"(Y/n) you've read the files right?" I give DiNozzo nod in response. "Okay so don't you think it's Corporal Simon. He just fits every creepy fib." He acts like he's shaking.

"All because he's creepy doesn't mean anything, DiNozzo." Gibbs says before I could open my mouth. "And you. Why are you at my desk?" He says in my direction.

I simply hold up the coffee cup.

"Aw lovely wife boss." DiNozzo gets smacked in the back of the head for that.

For the next couple of hours I'm with Abby in the lab testing blood samples, fingerprints, and retesting the little bit of evidence for the past murders. By two in the afternoon Gibbs came to the lab to collect me, and my bags to go to our new home. Once there we five the whole moving in show I'm giving direction to Gibbs and DiNozzo as they carry furniture. Inside I'm dying of laughter, because every time Gibbs gives me a side eye I know he wants to tell me something smart. We had pizza delivered and sent DiNozzo back to the office.

"How do you want the sleeping arrangements to go?" I ask as I clean up the trash.

"Well I usually fall asleep in my boat." He speaks in a voice full of normalcy.

"Gibbs! That's not good." I fuss. "You told me "you can't do things that harm your body, or we won't solve shit" and look at you breaking your body down." I continued to fuss, and didn't realize Gibbs had gotten up from the table.

"Yea. I know." His voice comes right behind me as his hand drops the fork into the sink. "Then tell me where to sleep." He looks into my eyes.

"I put bedding in both rooms, so just pick one." I nervously turn back toward the sink.

"I'll take the room closer to the living room just in case." He grabs our bags by the doors, and goes toward the rooms.

Over the next couple days Gibbs, Kate, DiNozzo, and McGee have ran around the entire Marine Base to find who's actually the murder, but since I'm the stay at home wife I'm doing home things. I've taken broken down boxes to the trash, messed in the garden in the front yard, and went grocery shopping at the grocery store on base to meet other stay at home wives. As I'm taking the groceries into the house I hear a female yell hello through the front door. I secure my gun in the waist of my pants before walking to the door. A brunette woman is standing with a big smile, and a wrap covered plate.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I just wanted to say hello, and welcome you to the neighborhood." She smiles at me. "My name is Christine."

"Well that's so kind. I'd invite you inside, but the place is a complete mess." I give a smile as I take the plate.

"Oh I understand. I just wanted to drop off some sweets, and let you know if you need anything I can help. I work in the main office, so I can pull some strings." She gives me a wink.

"Well that's comforting to know." I laugh. "Thank you again, but I have to get dinner started before my husband Jethro comes home." I give a small wave as I shut the door watching her walk down the driveway.

I place the plate on the counter as I call Gibbs.

"Yes Mrs. Gibbs?" He answers.

"I was wondering when you will be back. I just met the most wonderful person." I vaguely respond.

"Be back in an hour. Everything okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, perfectly fine." I reassure him, and he hangs up.

Just like clockwork, an hour later Gibbs, and Kate walk through the door. I'm pulling the chicken out of the oven as Kate walks into the kitchen.

"Smells great (y/n)." She comments.

"Thank you. I love cooking." I hand her a plate, which she takes with a great smile.

"So who was this neighbor you met today?" Gibbs gets to the point as I walk to the table where they have everything set up.

"A woman named Christine. She didn't exactly say she was a neighbor, just that she worked in the main office and could pull some strings in case I needed anything, and handed me the plate of cookies there on the counter." I say pointing to the still wrapped plate. "Told her I had to get dinner ready for my new husband Jethro." As I fill him in on what else happened in my day I'm fixing both of our plates, because I realized he hasn't even looked in the kitchen direction.

"She does have access to high documents, and can cut through a lot of red tape." Gibbs informs me, and gives me a thank you nod when he takes the plate.

"Wait, can I see the witness report again?" I ask, and Kate hands it to me.

I read through the report, and found where a witness saw a brunette white woman, with long legs, short torso, and pointed face. I place the paper down as I point out the passage I read.

"This describes Christine." I inform them.

"I figured." Gibbs sighs. "We'll follow up on this in the morning. Thank you." He holds up the paper as he drinks the rest of his beer.

Once dinner is over Kate leaves. Gibbs goes to the garage, and I to the bath. I can't help but think how this is so simple for us. How we fit into the role perfectly, but I know it has to end. After I clean the rest of the kitchen I come out to find Gibbs glaring at the evidence board from the garage door. I take his empty bottle, replacing it with a new one.

"You already know who's doing this, don't you?" I lean against the table.

He leans next to me with his arms crossed.

"My gut tells me it's Christine. The evidence we have points to her office." He shakes his head.

I give him a hum in response as I stand on my feet. I can feel his eyes watching me while I walk toward my room. I do turn back at him with a soft smile before going to the door. I throw on my tank top and shorts for bed, and end up just laying there in frustration. I haven't had any sort of touch since my ex, but I can't do anything like that here with Gibbs' falcon hearing. I lay there for three hours until I've had enough, and I throw the blankets off me. I grumble under my breath as I open my bedroom door, but I quietly walk down the hall to the kitchen. I pull pb&j stuff out only for the garage door to open. I grab the large knife from the knife stand, and throw it at the door, only for it to get stuck in the doorframe.

"Whoa! It's me." Gibbs holds his hands up as he comes into the light better.

"Oh my God Jethro I'm so sorry." I run toward him, but he grabs my hand before I could grab his.

"Good throw." He keeps my hands into his one while he pulls the knife out of the wall.

"Good throw?! Gibbs, that's all you can say?" I keep freaking out.

"I thought it was Jethro." He looks into my eyes with a smirk.

He lets go of my hands to go put the knife back. He then starts making a sandwich.

"I…well..it just came out." I stumble over my words, and my face heats up.

"I think you should get used to calling me Jethro." He keeps his back to me while he speaks.

I'm too nervous to say anything, but he soon turns with two sandwiches in his hands. He holds out one to me with a paper towel wrapped around it as he takes a bite of his.

"Thank you Jethro." I smile as I take the sandwich.

We end up sitting on the counter, and Jethro telling me stories. We laugh, I joke about his military days, and he jokes about my technical "support" skills. The sun is starting to rise as my eyes become heavy.

"You should go get some sleep." He softly says.

"You're right, but so should you." I look over at him as he gets down.

"I will." He softly holds my arm as I get off the counter.

We separate into our rooms, and he is gone by the time I wake up. I stay inside for the day, and just watch movies. My phone rings as I'm stepping into the bath, and it's Jethro. I sit on the side of the tubs as I answer.

"Yes Jethro?"

"I have pizza for dinner." He simply tells me.

"That's nice." I sarcastically respond, trying not to laugh.

"I'll get you garlic bread. What is that noise?" He has the most annoying hearing.

"That is the bathtub water running." I run my foot in the hot water.

"I'll be there in an hour." He then hangs up causing me to laugh.

I'm too relaxed to hear the front door opening, but when I hear doors opening I call out for Jethro. When I don't get a response I slowly get out of the bath, wrapping my house robe on. I'm about to reach for the gun I have in my nightstand when the door is burst open. I give a scream of surprise, but I'm quickly shut up by a gun being pointed at me. Christine comes creeping into the room with a hard look in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I keep up the act, hopefully I can stall until Jethro gets here.

"Living room, now." She demands.

I timidly walk to the living room with my hands raised, and slowly sit on the couch. I watch her look around the living room, and kitchen before she comes in front of me. She points her gun at my head as she sits on the table directly in front of me.

"So tell me how long have you and hubby been together?" She asks, sounding sweet.

"Y..year." I look confused.

"Ahhh newly newlyweds." She stood to go over to the bag she had put on the loveseat. "I was with my husband for six years before we decided to get married." She turns with rope and a knife in her hands. "We then were married for two before he was deployed. He was a Marine that was sent overseas, obviously that's all he could tell me. I was kept in the dark the whole time while my husband was tortured by terrorists." She takes her seat back on the table. "Tell me what do you think Jethro would do if you were taken."

"I…I don't know. I'd hope he'd help me." I shake from her moving the knife closer.

"Sad isn't it? Shouldn't the answer be something on the lines of "he'd burn the whole world apart" or "he'd never stop looking"?" She cuts the arms of my robe open to the elbow. "You want to know what the US military does to help their Marines?" I scream from her cutting a short cut going down my arm. "Quiet!" She shoves pieces of robe into my mouth. "Four men died because the US tried to play into the terrorists computer, instead of simply allowing the terrorists into the Union, and they would let the Marines go." She cuts another line. "They could've said they would allow it, get the Marines, and then grab the terrorists!" Her voice gets louder as she goes.

I see movement from the corner of my eye, but I keep watching Christine move the knife around. She goes to cut my arm again when the front door, garage door, and backdoor open.

"Freeze NCIS!" I hear from my three favorite people.

Jethro comes in through the backdoor, DiNozzo through the garage door, and Kate comes in the front with their guns raised. Christine looks at me in surprise as she drops the knife and gun. Jethro softly grabs my face to make me lock eyes with him.

"I'm here. Come on." He helps me stand, walk to my room while the others handcuff Christine.

I'm quiet as Jethro cleans up my wounds with the first aid kit I keep in my bag. I'm so out of it my robe opens slightly, and I didn't realize until Jethro closed it more. He gives a deep sigh as he cleans up the trash.

"Thank you Jethro." I timidly tell him as he goes to walk out.

He turns back, and kisses me hard with a hand on my cheek, his other on my thigh. I grip his shirt in my hands as I kiss him back. We pull apart after a moment, and rest our heads against each other.

That night my nerves were level, and everythings calmed down. I start packing up, and put the bags in the garage for the guys to load up. Tomorrow the movers will come for the rest.

"Ready." Jethro walks up to me, grabbing my bag.

"Yes. I checked everywhere to make sure nothing was left." I tell him as we walk to his car.

"Tomorrow morning we need to meet at the director's office." He informs me, once we are on the road.

He helps me carry my bags into my apartment, and shuts the door. I softly smile at him as he walks toward me. I rest my hands on his shoulders as his hand rests on my waist. He kisses me deeply as he pulls me to his chest. I melt against him, having my fingers run along his shaved hair. I gasp when we pull back, but his warm hands moving up my back makes me softly moan.

"Room." He orders.

"Yes sir." I give him a sly smile as I walk him toward my room.

I hear him chuckle as he follows me, but once to the door he pulls me in from my waist. I throw my shirt off so I can feel his hands again. While he works on the buttons of my pants he gives me soft kisses to my neck. I lean my head against his shoulder just melting against him. The feeling of being protected feels so much more different, but amazing. He flattens his hands to slide my pants down, and he lets me walk out of them. I turn to him, locking eyes with him as I lay on my bed.

"You sure about this?" He asks me while untucking his shirt.

"I'm more than sure." I give him a straight answer.

Once he gets down to his boxers he crawls over me with a dark look in his eyes. I put my hands on his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss. His skillful hands unhook my bra, making me throw it behind him. I move my hand along his shoulders while he kisses along my neck to my chest.

"Jethro." I moan softly when his lips wrap around my nipple.

He wraps his arm around my lower back pulling me closer, biting lightly on my nipple. His other hand moves my underwear down, but once he got to my thigh, he had pulled back to snatch them off my ankles. My legs open back up for him to lay comfortably in between them. He looks me in the eyes as he slides his boxers off. My knees rest on his hips, relaxing into the bed, feeling him rub against my entrance. Him slowly entering me makes a shiver take over my body, but Jethro deeply groans. His hand grips my thigh in a tight grip, causing it to rise higher.

"(Y/n)." He rests his head on my shoulder.

"Please move Jethro." I whine.

He starts to move back some only to piston back inside. My body arches up to his chest, and my throat closes on the scream that wants to leave. All I could do was grip his bicep, lock my ankles together, and enjoy the feeling of him stretching me. The feeling of his hands, his deep harsh movements, and the tightening feeling in my stomach. I start to lose my mind.

"Let go for me." He groans in my ear before he kisses my neck.

He kisses me as he goes harder making it very difficult to let my moans out, but I just hold onto his back as he just lets go. With a deep groan and final thrust Jethro and I finish together with a loud moan from me. He lays next to me with an arm under my head as we catch our breath.

"Wow." I breathed out.

He chuckles, turning over, and grips my lips with his forefinger and thumb. I giggle as we kiss a lot more softly now. We lay together for a while before finally getting in the shower. I did think Jethro was going to leave, however when I went back to lay down he joined me. I slept amazing with his warmth next to me whenever I would turn.

When I wake up I see a hand placing a coffee mug on my nightstand, and a hand rubbing along my side.

"You got to wake up. We still have to work." He talks quietly in my ear.

"Thank you." I smile as I reach for the mug.

"You are quite welcome." He chuckles as he grabs his clothes.

"Jethro!" I giggle at his joke, placing my hand over my eye.

"I'll see you at the office. I have to change." He says as he throws his clothes on.

Once he leaves I finish my coffee, get dressed, and try to keep the smile off my face as I walk into the office.

"Well what made you so smiley this morning?" Abby asks as I walk into the lab, and pull on my lab coat.

"I'm just glad to have my bed back." Is all I tell her.

"Is that so?" I hear behind me.

I turned to a smirking Jethro holding a cardboard cup holder with two coffees, and in his hand was a big gulp for Abby.

"Jet…Gibbs." I exclaim almost messing up.

"Morning Abs." He hands her the drink, and walks back to me.

"(Y/n)." He hands me a coffee. "Director needs us." He leans me with a hand on my lower back to the elevator.

"I'm sorry I didn't know if you were okay with me saying anything, or if…" I'm stopped by him stepping closer to me.

He kisses me softly like he's been doing so for his whole life. I'm just about to relax into him when the elevator opens, and there stands Kate and McGee. They are shocked when they finally realize what they just saw. I step out of the elevator, quickly getting to the director's office. I stop at his door, and wait for Jethro. Jethro walks up the hall with purpose, and goes right into the office.

"Alright let's get you two divorced." Director Morrow places the papers in front of Jethro.

"What if we don't sign?" Jethro asks so nonchalantly.

Director Morrow looks lost as he turns his attention to me, then back to Jethro. I'm just frozen from shock.

"I'll let you two talk." Vance leaves quickly, and once he's gone Jethro turns to me.

"What are you doing Jethro?" I timidly ask.

"Well I was thinking how easy it was for us to be together this week." He starts. "We don't have to sign just yet. Let's give it some time, and then if you want we can sign these papers." He lifts them as he speaks.

"So you're making me number three?" I sass.

He shrugs as he throws the papers back on the director's desk. The rest of the day DiNozzo gave Jethro so much crap about how he didn't get to throw a bachelor party. I also got an ear full from Abby about how I should get a big dress. Kate was like an older sister asking me if being married is what I wanted. Her being Catholic marriage is a big thing, but after telling her how I felt, she understood.

[madamealys]

Imagine you and Anakin Skywalker decide to play truth and dare…(+21)

***

He comes for a visit, that Jedi who once helped you out with enemies who used you as a shield against these knights. He saved you and you two ended up becoming friends… even though part of you wishes for more.

But you keep things to yourself out of respect for him and his long term girlfriend, Padme Amidala. You still keep these sparks of attraction buried deep even after they broke up.

Friendship is worthier than sentimental bullshit, you decide it. But there are moments when nights are too warm and, lonely, you use your hand in between your legs thinking of him. Wishing he’d do naughty things to you. Your friends once suggested looking for casual flings to help you out but what does it matter? You simply don’t work that way.

You then get yourself dressed casually. You pick a black shirt with strap, finding no need to use your bra, and a black & red skirt plus wearing high heels because Anakin is tall.

Just as you are preparing to receive him, bell rings. And when you go opening the door, Anakin nearly falls back. He never expected to see you like this. His eyes seem to notice your curves for the first time and he likes what he sees.

“Holy Moly”, he whistles. “All this for me, Y/N?”

Your face goes instantly red at his bold remark. Though you do appreciate his hunter look over your body—which makes your aching in your feminine parts quite unbearable—, you are disconcerted for getting his attention like this. Genuinely you didn’t expect to be noticed.

“Oh stop it you”, you slap his shoulder playfully, before being involved in his strong arms… and it’s here where your nipples go hard, much to your embarrassment.

Anakin has an indecent thought concerning you too, tempted to lift your skirt and slide his hands on your ass… wondering if you are as hot as you are presenting yourself. But when remembering how good friends you are, or even if you were not, he admonishes himself for being this naughty.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly parts the embrace, taking a look at your apartment, in complete ignorance of your state. You quickly move after wine to serve, thinking that not wearing bra was a very bad idea.

“Nice place”, he says. “I was just wondering whether you’d ever ask me for a visit since you moved.”

“How’s work going?”, you show up with glasses and hands one to him. Again your face burns lightly when his gaze lingers at your thighs. Your heart races at the silly sensation of getting his attention. “I get that saving universe must not be an easy task.”

Anakin purposely sits next to you. He smiles at the confused thoughts and how he affects you.

“You have no idea”, he chuckles before getting serious. “It’s been exhausting, truthfully. I’ve been… tossed in a whirlwind, in a hurricane, whatever you want to call it. But let us not ruin the night talking about work. Wine’s good by the way. How’s your life, Y/Nickname? Often being the listener, never the talker.”

Anakin reclines back at the couch, watching as your face is crimson pink.

“My life is hardly as interesting as yours for a start.”

“That is untrue. Come now…”

When did it become about you? You feel suddenly shy. Hardly men in general interested in what you have to say, about who you are.

But when he looks at you, Anakin isn’t seeing only the beautiful woman you are, but the sensitive, witty, kind, good hearted lady that is so passionate about what she loves doing… he cannot help but falling in love.

However, telling you how he feels… is tricky. Specially because he’s got some scars of his previous relationship.

Even so… he cannot deny the intimacy in sharing memories, the attraction there is about you two. Then it occurs him to deal with it in other ways.

“You know what”, he downs the glass. “I think we should play this game in order to get your head out of recent disappointments.”

You laugh quietly.

“Very well. What is it?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Ani…”

“What?”, he laughs. “What harm can it do?”

You take a long sip of wine. One bottle is empty and you use it to spin. The game begins.

***

“Truth or dare?”, you ask him.

Despite the glint of mischief in his eyes, Anakin surprises you by saying:

“Truth.”

“Well… is it true that you broke up with Padme because of the whole Clovis affair?”

Anakin rolls his eyes, giving you a glare.

“Really now, Y/N?”

“Yes or no, answers only”, you smirk.

“Fine.” He sighs. “Yes. Yes, this was why.”

This wipes the smirk off your face as you gently stroke his hand as you play with his fingers.

“I’m genuinely sorry, Ani.”

He runs a hand over his hair before delivering a crooked grin.

“It’s fine. Time to move on. You, now.”

“…Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

You flutter your eyelashes before gasping.

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“Come on, Y/Nickname. It’s only fair.” He gives that kind of smile he knows it melts you.

It’s when you realize you’ve been obvious about how you feel for him. Oh shit.

“Y/Nickname… It’s either that or tickling.”

You laugh quietly, hating the other option. Ignoring the heat in your face, you lean close.

“Fine, you idiot.”

Distance is shorter now as you and him sit face to face. Never before you’ve noticed how blue his eyes are, how weak your knees are when he smiles at you like that.

Fuck, fuck.

“Well?”

“Damn it, Skywalker, you know how to make me shy.”

“Then let me encourage you better.”

His fingertips rest under your chin, drawing you closer before slipping it to your hair all the whilst using another to put it behind your neck. His lips now brush against yours before you take the initiative and snake your tongue to his mouth.

You gasp when tasting his tongue dancing slowly, synced with yours, not expecting to feel so good—and it’s definitely better than you thought in your wildest dreams.

As you close your eyes, you let the moment take you. Anakin too is surprised by how good your kiss is. His mug smirk is wiped off his lips when he realizes he wants more of it.

The kiss soon deepens, igniting a spark of something new to you both. It gets heated, it gets…

“Well, there you have it”, you say, distancing yourself of him, albeit reluctantly.

Anakin is too disappointed and he poorly conceals it, but in an attempt to change this subtle awkwardness, you spin the bottle again.

“It’s on you again. Truth or dare, Anakin?”

“…Dare.”

There is a brief exchange of glances. This is getting dangerous, a deadly game you didn’t expect to play, but the temptation has been to great to ignore.

Wine takes holds of your lips and even though Anakin knows what is coming out of your tongue, he waits almost impatiently for you to say it.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Here comes a crooked grin that makes you knees go weak. Anakin smiles warmly at your request, even more than aware of what goes inside your head.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You offer him a timid smirk when he leans closer to you. He cups your face with his hands, now taking notice of the shades of y/c that paint your irises. His heart almost skips a beat at what he reads in them.

He hesitates only for a moment and before seeing protest rising to your eyes, the Jedi dives in your mouth and slides his tongue inside yours. The kiss perfectly syncs, just to confirm again how much you and him liked how it went before.

This time neither part wishes to break it. The game is postponed as the kiss grows fervent and all so suddenly he is going on top of you, sighing heavily when perceiving the warmth that comes from your body.

All decency is forgotten when you spread your legs and wrap them around his waist, not minding the skirt being lifted as you do. His hands are now going down to your back before grabbing your ass the way you want him to.

Spark is about to erupt, though, when he parts the kiss to look at you.

“Bloody hell”, he mutters under his breath, far from looking regretted to you.

Your face is red with his words, but you cannot break the gaze.

“Was it good?”

“Better than I thought”, he smiles at you. “I am enjoying this game.”

“So am I…”, you agree in between chuckles.

Carefully, he parts from the embrace, though the moment he looks at you doing the same and trying to pull yourself together, Anakin nearly regrets for going back to this game.

“You’re fucking hot”, he whistles.

“Anakin!”, you chuckle quietly, embarrassed for his blunt remark.

“I am not lying, Y/N”, he spins the bottle. “Damned be me for taking a while in messing with you.”

You laugh, but to say you don’t enjoy the attention is to indulge in lies. However, the ache in your legs only gets worse.

“So… truth or dare?”, Anakin asks you.

“Truth”, you tell him, pleased to spot a disappointment look in his face.

“Very well”, and only then a mischievous thought occurs him. “Is it true you masturbated thinking of me?”

Your eyes go wide at it.

“Anakin! You haven’t been reading my mind, have you?”

By how he raises his eyebrows, you know you gave far more than he would.

“Fuck”, you curse.

“It’s a “yes” or “no” answer, darling”, he laughs quietly, more than amused by the looks on your face.

“Yes”, you grumble. “But it wasn’t this good.”

“Mm, why not?”

“Not answering you that, Skywalker.”

Anakin chuckles. It’s time for you to spin the bottle. Now you ask him.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You make a grimace, but what comes next surprises both of you, in all honesty. Growing bolder due to the wine you ingested, you smirk and say:

“I dare you to remove your clothes.”

Anakin raises his eyebrows.

“…my clothes?”

“Every piece of it.”

“I wasn’t expecting on that.”

But he does as commanded. However, when he does, Anakin makes sure your eyes are glued on him. And he wants to take notices of how your body reacts as he removes piece by piece.

When you rub your leg into another and how hard your nipples get… those are enough signs to make him further aroused. But he is patient. So he takes his time.

And when you see his length throbbing it… you fear you are about to blow.

“Very well. Your turn, missy”, says Anakin with a mug smirk on his face.

“…Dare.”

“I dare you to give me a hand job.”

Your eyes go wide at his suggestion and Anakin would have regretted it for being so bold had you not risen and taken his side at the couch. Your eyes go to his manhood, and as your chest goes heavier, he opts to interfere.

“You don’t have to do it if you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s not about that”, you hesitate.

“Oh”, he quickly understands what’s not being said. “None ever taught you correctly, uh? Come here and I will.”

It turns out to be more arousing than you and Anakin would judge. He whispers in your ear what he wants you to do and your hand is right over his cock, following his directions. It’s when he bites down your earlobe that makes you shiver lightly.

“Are you horny?”, he asks you, already aware of how he affects you, which in turn makes him moan.

And to hear him moan so close threatens your self control. You decide not to answer him, even when it’s clearly a positive response. It feels good to watch him like that, how your delicate hands are capable of doing up and down, playing with the tip of his manhood before caressing his balls.

Then a thought… a not so strange one, in fact, occurs you.

Anakin, a man who is hardly ever surprised by others, is surprised by the moment you slide to your knees and engulf him with your eager tongue and pink lips.

“Ah! Ah! Y/N!”, he arches his back, wishing he’d decently ask you to stop, but you are such a good girl.

You like to suck him, you know you do. To taste him, to have his precum in his mouth makes you indecently horny. You take all of it, his louder moans making you drip wet in your panties. But your mind goes blank.

Specially when you taste a different kind of drink you used to swallow. And he cums so violently after fucking your face… though you don’t mind it. You feel like a whore, but what’s worst is that you like it.

“Y/N. To the bedroom, now.”

Anakin lifts you up, holding you in your arms before carrying you to bed. Only when putting you down and kissing your lips does he say:

“I want to compensate you for being such a good girl to me.”

Saying so he removes your clothes. Denuded underneath his gaze, you lie down in bed with your legs spread.

“Touch yourself thinking of me”, he asks you, already getting hard at it. “Tell me your secretive thoughts, Y/N.”

“Anakin…”, you are on your elbows, enjoying the naughty look he gives you. “I need assistance here. Come on.”

And then you beg.

“Please.”

He bends over your side, a hand caressing your waist all the whilst his lips are over your shoulders and neck. Inhaling the scent in your skin, Anakin is completely drawn to you.

“Your wish is my command, Madame”, he whispers in your ear before his curious fingertips find way to your womanhood.

He plays with your pubic hair for a while before his index finger digs into you. When feeling how soaked you are, Anakin growls low and you shiver when feeling his erection member just behind your lower back.

“You make me so naughty”, you whimper, barely believing he’s doing what you’ve always wanted him to.

“Had you told me this earlier, I would not take such a time to get to you”, he says, already short breath cut by the sounds you make. “Fuck… Let me access your thoughts and drink into that. I need it.”

Not that he is surprised when he does, but it is somewhat more colorful when you permit him to dive in your dirtiest thoughts concerning him… or even when he accesses your sentiments.

This is not lust anymore when he turns you to him, his finger still inside you.

“Damned you are, woman”, he hisses at you before crushing your moans with a fervent kiss.

And who are you to fight his urges, which equals yours?

***

As loving as he is when making love to you, you prefer him to be on top of you. When looking at his face, his messy, shortened hair with a few curls dropping over his face… It takes all of your strength not to drown in a quick climax.

He does it so well, no lover compares to him. He thrusts in slow and deep and you feel it. You like feeling him. Oh you do.

And when he leans to you, his lips pursuing yours in an old fashioned manner you are foolishly open, making all of this more emotional than you’d have originally judged.

“Anakin!”, you whimper loudly again. “I might…”

“Yes, Princess? Come to me! Come to me all right”, he commands you to, his body linked to yours indecently so.

His hands locked to yours, your eyes close as your body arches and it feels so different… almost as if you are gravitating. There is something else compelling you to a bigger wave of pleasure that makes you so sensitive to it.

It might as well as Anakin using the Force to reach the unreachable. Who cares?

He’s yours and you are his.

When you cry out his name, it’s such a confirmation.

And Anakin smiles because of it. Because you are finally the lover his wounded heart wanted… thus it is this new beginning of yours.

[they-them-that]

The mishandling of Jinx's mental health/illness

Trigger warning: s*cide, depression, ableism, ptsd

(edit: I did a bit of rewriting to make the post more cohesive but the same points are made for anyone looking back and seeing changes)

There were a lot of issues with the Arcane season finale. Writing quality aside; discarding the Undercity storyline in favour of an apolitical conflict (Viktor and Ambessa), the "we just need good cops" agenda, the unaddressed abuse that transpired between Cait and Vi, the questionable difference between how Ambessa (an older butch black woman) and Caitlyn (a young feminine wasian) were treated committing the same offences, the overall disjointment of the black characters' storylines, the poor portrayal of physical disabilities and prosthetic limbs, and probably more... What I want to focus on right now is Jinx's storyline and the absolutely harmful trope of "redemption through sacrifice".

In the first arc, Vi believed Jinx had to die and told Caitlyn to "take the shot" when the opportunity rose, essentially consenting to Caitlyn killing her sister and not considering peaceful alternatives (as if that's her choice to consent to). When Jinx calls out Vi for turning "blue belly" and gassing the Undercity, Vi responds that "she's not taking responsibility for Jinx's actions anymore" even though these are Vi's actions. She also tells Jinx that it's Jinx who "killed her sister".

In the second arc, Vi calls Jinx "delusional" and says "at least our parents will never get to see what a psycho their daughter turned into". She also refers to Jinx's psychosis as "fantasies" and treats it like an annoyance rather than a real mental illness Jinx can't control.

I get that Vi doesn't understand the complexities of Jinx's mental illness, she's mad with her and it's understandable, she's not gonna forgive terrorism. Jinx also ended up putting Vi through an abusive and traumatic experience at the end of season 1 so there's no reason for her to be sympathetic towards her. However, I did find the way Vi talked to Jinx to be... triggering as someone who has experienced gas lighting and made to feel like my own mental illnesses made me delusional or bad.

The language Vi used was ableist!

It ends up feeding into the harmful idea that mentally ill people are dangerous and need to be eradicated rather than victims of circumstances who need support, resources, and human empathy. Although yes, everyone is responsible for their own actions and human empathy can only go so far, associating a lack of morality with mental illness and seeing it as an individualistic moral failure is ridiculously harmful! I've been constantly seeing the internet diagnose random people with narcissism, bipolar disorder and even schizophrenia because they act in ways that aren't considered socially acceptable or they do something problematic (not all being intrinsic or only explainable through mental illness!). Even worse is that none of these diagnoses come from a place of concern or well meaning, it's an insult and it's to justify bullying and devaluing these people because of the idea that mentally ill people are too "far gone" to be worth compassion. It's an incredibly dehumanizing and ableist stigma that still persists. Mentally ill people still deserve to be listened to!

If Vi was gonna be mad at Jinx, she could've just stuck to the terrorism and her working for Silco, actual tangible actions worth holding her accountable for. Weaponizing her mental illness isn't that, it's just plain ableism!

Finally, we get to the end where Jinx and Vi can finally properly heal and rebuild their relationship but Warwick loses control and Jinx ends up sacrificing herself to save Vi. The s*icide ideation song picks back up as she makes the sacrifice...

At the end of the second act, Jinx loses Isha and Vander and we end up spending the entire third season seeing Jinx lose the will to live and it's incredibly distressing. We see depression eat her alive, we see her harming herself picking at her nail bed, we see her asking Cait to kill her already. We get a soundtrack literally about accepting death while Jinx attempts to take her life in slow motion with artistic visuals. Then we see her pull the pin multiple times as Ekko rewinds time. Big yikes! This isn't the first time Arcane portrayed s-cide attempts/ideation (Jayce, Viktor, Marcus) however the way it's done with Jinx felt far more brutal and romanticized that genuinely distressed me.

What keeps Jinx alive for a little longer is... joining a war. Prior to Jinx's s-cide attempt, Vi tells Jinx she can essentially redeem herself if she helped Piltover in their war against Noxus. Jinx very clearly heads off to k herself instead yet Vi interprets it as Jinx refusing to risk her life to protect her oppressors as if that's a crappy thing of Jinx to do. We later end up seeing Jinx helping in the war, redeeming herself again to Vi, as if she has to make herself useful to be of value.

I hate this ending, it doesn't even matter if she possibly survived in the end. What's insinuated is that her s-cide was inevitable and even necessary for her to be redeemed and find peace. The "Sacrificing yourself for redemption" trope is already bad enough as is but the fact that we've seen Jinx want to escape life makes it far more upsetting because it ends up being posed as the ideal ending for Jinx. This also perpetuates the idea that our worth is in our value to society; Jinx, a mentally ill impoverished hazbin with no one left, needed to be sacrificed for Vi, someone who's already met her potential to society with a partner, career, and patriotic conviction.

All of this ends up telling me that being mentally ill causes the suffering of people around me and that their suffering is on my conscience. That I should be expendable for them to make up for it. It's fucked up, I hate seeing Arcane perpetuate these ideas from the perspective of Vi who's values are portrayed as absolute. Joining the war and helping Piltover was the "right answer". Let's just forget there was supposed to already be a civil war between Piltover and the Undercity where Jinx was on the "wrong side", the thing that catalyzed Vi's ableist.

I needed a story of someone like Jinx, someone so misunderstood and traumatized, to find happiness and not just in an alternate universe or some hint that she might be alive. It was so painful to watch Jinx be robbed of any meaningful connections and relationships in a way that felt like she was being punished for how she turned out. When mentally ill people are socially isolated and vilified, we desperately need stories that allow them to bathe in the sunlight. I'm so deeply upset and heartbroken that Arcane ended up following an immensely ableist troped "fate" for Jinx...

[wolfythewitch]

Genuine question, what about King Saul? Cause I’m not really familiar with his story

Okay so this ended up pretty long so I'll put it under the cut

So he was anointed king when he went to look for his father's missing donkeys, and on the way they decided to visit a nearby town where Samuel lived. Samuel saw him and god told him that Saul was his appointed king, the first one to ever rule (before the kings there were only judges) Which was wild for him because

So he was anointed king the next day, in public. Which was also really funny because my man was hiding. He was stealthing. He actually came back to his father's house and worked the land until he was called to lead the army

So he does some king things and he does alright. I think his reign lasted two years, though some scholars say it must have been closer to 20ish. The thing is, he makes two mistakes.

First, he did not wait for Samuel before going through with an offering before a war

Second, he was sent to attack the Amalekites, and to not spare anyone, man, woman, or children, livestock. But he spared their king and their cattle.

An interesting thing here is the relationship of Saul and Samuel, as Samuel genuinely mourns that Saul is no longer to be king. And while they never see each other again after this, they both seemed to have cared for each other a lot.

So afterwards, David is anointed as the new king. At that time, Saul hasn't been made aware yet. He had David in his employ as an armor bearer, and when he was troubled, as he so often was these days, David would play the lyre to soothe him.

Now there was another battle between the Philistines and the Israelites, which you're probably more familiar with. This time they had a very special guy, a giant named Goliath. You probably know of the story, how David killed him with a slingshot. What's notable here was that Saul was genuinely fond of David, even lending him his own armor, even if it did become too heavy

David had befriended Jonathan and they became very close two, "knit his soul with his as if they were one". Saul have him a high rank in his army, as anything David was sent out to do he did successfully and well.

The first time we see him think negatively of David was when the people praised his deeds over Saul's, which most likely fed into his growing paranoia as well, knowing that his time as king was almost up

This time, fully convinced that David was to usurp him, he repeatedly ordered for his death, once even sending soldiers to where he lived with Saul's daughter(David's wife), though David managed to elude him.

David finally runs away with help from Jonathan (note this was a very emotional moment between the two and isn't very relevant to the story but it's great) and becomes a fugitive. He gains temporary refuge at a house of priests, who send him off with food and a weapon. Saul put these priests to death.

By now David has amassed a group of supporters who believed that he should be the rightful king. While Saul was pursuing them, they hid themselves away in a cave. Saul went to go take a piss and the men try to convince David to strike at his back. David spares Saul however, cutting off a piece of his cloak and showing it to him later on. He still believed Saul to be the rightful king and didn't want to hurt him.

8 Then David went out of the cave and called out to Saul, “My lord the king!” When Saul looked behind him, David bowed down and prostrated himself with his face to the ground. 9 He said to Saul, “Why do you listen when men say, ‘David is bent on harming you’? 10 This day you have seen with your own eyes how the Lord delivered you into my hands in the cave. Some urged me to kill you, but I spared you; I said, ‘I will not lay my hand on my lord, because he is the Lord’s anointed.’ 11 See, my father, look at this piece of your robe in my hand! I cut off the corner of your robe but did not kill you. See that there is nothing in my hand to indicate that I am guilty of wrongdoing or rebellion. I have not wronged you, but you are hunting me down to take my life. 12 May the Lord judge between you and me. And may the Lord avenge the wrongs you have done to me, but my hand will not touch you. 13 As the old saying goes, ‘From evildoers come evil deeds,’ so my hand will not touch you.

I can't post anymore photos sorry HAHA.

Overcome with remorse and guilt, Saul swears that he will stop chasing David and goes home.

But again, Saul goes after David, making camp near the wilderness where he stayed at. David snuck in under the cover of night and stole from Saul a water jug and a spear, which he showed to him when morning came.

8 Abishai said to David, “Today God has delivered your enemy into your hands. Now let me pin him to the ground with one thrust of the spear; I won’t strike him twice.” 9 But David said to Abishai, “Don’t destroy him! Who can lay a hand on the Lord’s anointed and be guiltless? 10 As surely as the Lord lives,” he said, “the Lord himself will strike him, or his time will come and he will die, or he will go into battle and perish. 11 But the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on the Lord’s anointed. Now get the spear and water jug that are near his head, and let’s go.”

17 Saul recognized David’s voice and said, “Is that your voice, David my son?” David replied, “Yes it is, my lord the king.” 18 And he added, “Why is my lord pursuing his servant? What have I done, and what wrong am I guilty of?

And so once again guilty and remorseful, they part ways.

At this point, Samuel had already passed away. Desperate at an oncoming war, Saul seeks out a medium (which were forbidden) and asks to see Samuel's ghost

8 So Saul disguised himself, putting on other clothes, and at night he and two men went to the woman. “Consult a spirit for me,” he said, “and bring up for me the one I name.” 9 But the woman said to him, “Surely you know what Saul has done. He has cut off the mediums and spiritists from the land. Why have you set a trap for my life to bring about my death?” 10 Saul swore to her by the Lord, “As surely as the Lord lives, you will not be punished for this.” 11 Then the woman asked, “Whom shall I bring up for you?” “Bring up Samuel,” he said. 12 When the woman saw Samuel, she cried out at the top of her voice and said to Saul, “Why have you deceived me? You are Saul!” 13 The king said to her, “Don’t be afraid. What do you see?” The woman said, “I see a ghostly figure[a] coming up out of the earth.” 14 “What does he look like?” he asked. “An old man wearing a robe is coming up,” she said. Then Saul knew it was Samuel, and he bowed down and prostrated himself with his face to the ground.

But Samuel only repeats what has been said before, and says that he and his children will be delivered to the hand of the Philistines, and that tomorrow, he and his son will join Samuel (will die).

The next day, they were fighting and losing. While being pursued and knowing that they were close to defeat, Saul runs himself through his sword and dies, reasoning that death is better than captivity. His three sons died that day too.

(notably, he was still alive after impaling himself. A nearby soldier passed by and Saul begged him to finish the job, which he did)

His line does still live on, as David had taken in his only surviving grandson, Jonathan's son, Mephibosheth.

And yeah! That's a summarized version of his life. I just find his story fascinating, how his reign slowly grew more corrupted and paranoid, and how even the people closest to him turned on him, helping instead his greatest enemy, who wanted nothing but to serve him. It's really tragic haha. And presumably, he didn't even want to be king. After Samuel anointed him before the people, Saul went back to his home in Gibeah. He continued to work on his father's land until he was needed to lead the people in battle.

[djuvlipen]

When my father found out I am gay, he beat me brutally, but today I help other LGBT+ Romani people

Patrik Kotlár's coming out was not easy, encumbered as it was by discrimination and his own family's incomprehension. Instead of giving up, though, he decided to overcome those obstacles and use his experience to aid others.

He established the nonprofit organization Romany Art Workshop 13 years ago, offering arts workshops, educational programs to develop community activism and leadership, and sports activities in Tanvald, Czech Republic. He also collaborates with the ARA ART organization.

In November 2023 the two organizations opened a community club in Jablonec nad Nisou and will open another in Frýdlant. These clubs will become places for members of the LGBT+ minority to meet each other and give each other support, as well as places for Romani people from excluded localities to gather.

Patrik (36) is inspiring to those who want to overcome such obstacles themselves and become the voices of change. “As a schoolchild I myself was not aware of my sexual orientation. My schoolmates told me what they thought, though,” he starts his story.

The insults he endured were unpleasant and he believed his friends were absolutely crazy. He did not begin to realize what his sexual orientation was until the age of 16, as a high school student studying social work.

He did not decide to come out until two years later, when he began his first partner relationship. He met his then-boyfriend on a train.

It never even occurred to him that anybody around him might take a negative view of his being gay. “While I had been raised my whole life in the Christian spirit of a man belonging to a woman, I never worried about that for myself. I accepted my orientation as a fact and I never thought that it was supposed to be wrong,” he admits.

He began visiting a gay bar in Liberec after fully realizing and admitting his orientation. He and his friends enjoyed going to the disco there.

One day, however, a group of Romani people who knew his father saw Patrik leaving that bar and immediately informed his father. “Dad was unable to stomach it and he beat me brutally for it,” Patrik says, adding that it is still difficult for him to talk about what happened.

Being outed to his father by others was the beginning of the end for him, and he found himself in total isolation, cut off from contact with most of his family and former friends. The suddenness of the situation also had a negative impact on his studies because he was forced to drop out just before graduation.

“I was afraid my father might even kill me unless I left Liberec,” he says. He was on the run from his father’s aggression for more than a year, hiding in various locations all over the country, but his father always managed to track him down.

“Whether I hid in Plzeň, Brno, Pardubice or the capital, my father always found out where I was at the time. It was exhausting, I lived in constant fear that he would find me and harm me. In his eyes I had caused the entire family unreal shame. However, nobody else in my family reproached me for my orientation and accepted me without any problems,” he said.

A childhood without a mother

When Patrik speaks of his family, he does not mean his mother, because he got no support from her as he was growing up. His mother abandoned the family when he was nine.

Patrik says his mother was an alcoholic and, after disagreements with his father, who wanted her to stop drinking, she always left the family for some time before eventually returning. She never gave up drinking.

One day she left for good and the family never saw her alive again. “My childhood was sad without my mother, to this day I say I basically never had a childhood,” Patrik recalls.

“Dad was older when we were born, and he raised us with a strict hand. As children we were never allowed to go anywhere besides school and music lessons, we had no personal space,” he reminisces.

Patrik never managed to re-establish contact with his mother. He heard from acquaintances more than once that she was homeless in Košice, Slovakia, and another time that she was in Bratislava, but when he and his sister went there, they were unable to find her.

One day an older sibling who had long since flown the nest let them know they needed to meet in Brno and immediately head for Slovakia because their mother was dying and wanted to see everybody one last time. They did not hesitate and set off after her at once.

Patrik’s father’s health was also not the best. Since they had last been in contact he had developed symptoms of Alzheimer’s and other diseases.

“He asked my sister to send a message to me to come home and that he wouldn’t do anything bad to me. I obeyed and our relationship actually improved. It took a while for him to reconcile himself to my orientation and get used to my boyfriend at the time, but he didn’t shout abuse at either of us or attempt to harm us in any way. Ultimately my sister, my then-boyfriend and I took care of my father in his most difficult moments. He died nine years ago today,” he says.

Aiding others is the priority

His personal experience of discrimination in his family led Patrik to establish the Romany Art Workshop nonprofit organization 13 years ago. The organization concentrates on aiding adults and children grappling with social exclusion.

The NGO prepares primary school pupils to apply to high school, offers recreational activities and summer camps, and holds arts workshops which will be transformed this year into an academy for talented youth. The academy will concentrate on the arts and music and its instruction will be comparable to that of an arts school at the primary level.

The main aim of the NGO, however, is to lead local Romani people to emancipate themselves with the aid of community activism and leadership training. Patrik is convinced it is important to show Romani youth the opportunities that exist to engage in public affairs and to create new activities in the places where they live.

Patrik says he believes individuals can contribute to the better integration of Roma into society through such engagement. He himself is an example.

Before establishing the nonprofit, Patrik led Bengale Manusha, a professional, three-generational ensemble, for two years. On the sidelines, his NGO is working with the LGBT+ minority in the Liberec Region, the members of which are turning to them more and more often.

The decision to fully dedicate the organization to the subject was made after Patrik learned of a tragic event – one such 17-year-old Romani youth took his own life because nobody understood him. “I realized that even though we have personal experience with this, we lack deeper expertise,” he admits.

For that reason, he decided to collaborate with the ARA ART organization, which has long concentrated on the LGBT+ subject. Thanks to their collaboration, they were able to open a community club in Jablonec nad Nisou in November, where their volunteers had previously been working.

People from neighboring towns like Tanvald or Železný Brod seek out their services. Soon a club will also open in Frýdlant.

As in Jablonec, that club will provide expert counselling to LGBT+ Romani people. A psychotherapist is also available there to aid clients not just with coming out, but to also answer parents’ questions when they want to learn more about the LGBT+ minority.

The organizations currently have 200 clients, 50 of whom are LGBT+. “The community center is not intended just for LGBT+ people, but also for Romani people from socially disadvantaged environments. We provide various recreational activities and because they come here regularly, we believe they like it here,” Patrik boasts, adding that in addition they are endeavoring to build up mutual dialogue in a natural format about overcoming obstacles and creating a safe space for all.

“I am surprised by how the times are gradually changing and how the Roma are more open to same-sex couples or to people who are transitioning from male to female and vice versa. What has contributed to this are the different reality shows with gay people as the main protagonists, and we know figures like Jan Bendig. He speaks absolutely openly about his orientation and thousands of Roma from all generations follow him,” Kotlár believes.

Nevertheless, he does perceive differences between the various towns. In Jablonec nad Nisou, which is approximately 14 km from Liberec, Romani people are not disturbed to see two men dancing together during a social event.

In Liberec, on the other hand, there are many gay people who are still in the closet because they have the feeling that those around them are not open toward them. “We will do our best to change that for the better, step by step,” Patrik concludes optimistically.