#I literally think about them constantly and in my mind this is a hundred percent canon

[alabasterpickles]

Silly quick lil comic about Junior having a nightmare and dad being an excellent sport because I thought the idea would be cute

[spectralsleuth]

Saw you were lookin’ for some asks dont mind if I do 👀

To start off, I’m such a big fan of your writing! I genuinely look forward to every single update of yours and find myself rereading a lot of work in the downtime. You are such a good writer!! My never ending praises aside, here are some asks!

-You incorporate OC’s into your fics so seamlessly! They feel so natural in your fics that I legit get excited anytime they show up (srsly can’t wait for Lou Jitsu vs Hidden City, Sal’s my boy) lol how do you find the right balance when introducing and maintaining OC’s in your fics? I feel like that’s a particularly difficult balance beam to tread but you absolutely crush it.

-A previous ask you answered about Cass and Raph in LSoW got me thinking; how do the brothers handle humans crushing on them? Would they be receptive or dismissive? Do they develop crushes on humans- and if so, how is that perceived (by family or the general public)? The drama 👀

Last ask, I promise:

-I absolutely loved your crossover with Empathy is Learned! Got anymore crossovers planned in the future? Oooor if you could do a crossover with any other fic, which one(s) would it/they be??

Thanks for taking the time to even look at this! I hope these are some fun asks for ya :) I hope you have a lovely day!!

Omg thanks so much... I'm so happy people enjoy my writing it's crazy to me. I've written before, but it's always been just for myself so I never really know if it was good or not. (Years of text based DnD is to thank lol.) (Okay I got carried away answering this so sorry in advance.)

On OC's:

I got a lot of comments on LSoW from people who say "generally I don't like OC's BUT-" which is so funny and flattering. Because I am absolutely one of those people who don't care for OC's in fic.

Let me be clear: I LOVE that people write self indulgent self-insert of OC based fic, where they make the craziest off the wall story etc. Every time a fifteen year old writes a story about the cringiest Mary-sue/stu self insert, or non canon character, an angel gets its wings and I mean that one hundred percent. It makes me so happy I literally grin when I see it. I HOWEVER generally filter out the OC tags on AO3 when I'm looking for something to read myself.

So when I started posting LSoW I was expecting to get maybe like, 100 kudos MAX, maybe one comment or so. Which is great! I love writing niche fic just for me, and one other person who I assume I must be drift compatible with. I just could not figure out a way to write the story I wanted without a few OC's- Rise didn't have a big enough character catalog for me to draw from!

When I went to write the OC's, I knew that they had to have a very simple backstory, that was also very fleshed out. (Xander and Sal have full family, Dr. Heo and Carter have full jobs and history together, etc.) For another contradiction I wanted them to be interesting enough that someone reading wouldn't just be skipping ahead to when they weren't present, or just simply plowing through to get past the part where they were doing exposition. They had to be enjoyable! While also forwarding the story!

They also had to be distinct. Anyone who's ever watched a Whedon show or movie (Buffy, Firefly, Avengers-) knows what I'm talking about. It drives me nuts when the characters in a show are constantly the funniest person in the room, with the same personality traits, and the same girl boss/badass tendencies.

(Fandom challenge Impossible: Give a female fan favorite character another trait besides 'girlboss/mom/lesbian'. I'm dead serious.)

(Also a disclaimer: I LOVE making jokes and doing bits. I FANCY that I'm pretty funny, and I love making people laugh. But you can do that without making it a character personality trait. For example: Xander doesn't really crack any jokes in LSoW! He's just funny because we the reader know more about the situation and his thoughts than he does.)

But the BIGGEST THING I kept telling myself while writing the story, was DO NOT TAKE AWAY FROM THE TURTLES. Because the whole point of the story is the turtles! And Yoshi! The OC's are there to facilitate that. It's a hard balance to hit. I have all sorts of touchstones I keep in mind while I'm writing, and that's a big one.

(A SUPER good example of this done super well is @faiakishi 's Bella from Dawning of the Hour. She's a great OC that's super interesting, and a super important narrative element, but she never detracts from the main story. Big Bella fan here lmao. There's also the rest of the OC's/interpretations of franchise characters (TIGERCLAW), but Bella stands out as truly original.)

On the Turtles dating Humans:

(CW: CSA mention, SA mention, non graphic talk of minors dating etc.)

I actually talked a lot about this to @/tangledinink in feverish discord chats lmao.

When the boys were growing up they got a very detailed talk from both Yoshi, and their Doctors. ONE: Because nobody will know better than themselves if something was medically wrong with their bodies, TWO: The boys are all intersex (minus Mikey) and they had to understand that there was nothing wrong with them on TOP of the turtle thing, and THREE: Because Yoshi knew the boys would be getting a lot of attention, and you never know what kind of attention that form will take.

THE BEST WAY to protect children (any child) from being sexually assaulted or abused, is making sure they know what that abuse LOOKS LIKE. You don't have to make them terrified of being sexually assaulted, but them knowing how their body works, and also how to say NO and set boundaries, will combine to help make them safer.

Yoshi didn't know what would happen in the future and in a perfect world the boys would never leave his line of sight, but that's not always how things happen. (In a Short Season, Xander parroted Yoshi's instructions before going out to make sure the boys knew what to do if someone grabbed them (in any way) and it was to bite and be loud.) So the boys grew up knowing their bodies, knowing how to say 'no', and knowing that there was probably going to be people out there who would treat them as a novelty, and who wouldn't be appropriate to them as celebrities OR non-humans.

(Remember Emma Watson having to deal with that countdown to her turning 18? Or any other amount of child stars who had to deal with adults being predatory to them.)

But ALSO THIS IS HAMATO YOSHI. His sons are HANDSOME and HEARTBREAKERS! Leo has dated a lot but never anything seriously, and his inability to be intimate with anyone but family kind of puts a damper on any more permanent relationship. (He is gay.) He's the number one turtle people ask out because he's the most approachable. Because he made himself that way!

Donnie is in a sort of relationship with Kendra. (THIS WILL BE A FIC I'm working up to it lmao.) I have a head canon that Yokai and other empyrean based creatures are capable of having rivalry based relationships. IE Yoshi and Draxum in the canon show, the unhealthy dynamic between Yoshi and Big Mama, etc. (Caliginous relationship) Donnie is in a puppy love version of that with Kendra, while also lacking the context of yokai society to understand why he wants to punch her very badly, but also if anything happened to her he would die. They hate each others guts and also she was his first kiss. She is not a nice person I am not a Kendra apologist she's terrible I love her. (Donnie is bi!)

I know a lot of people head canon Mikey as ace, but he is a thirteen year old child you don't have to be head canoning him as anything. it is the very rare 13 year old who knows their orientation, and even if they DO I bet you donuts to dollars it will change eventually. This is normal and healthy. Mikey in LSoW has had puppy crushes on boys, girls, teachers, Violet, the mailman, Adam, and Rupert Swaggert. (Eugh eugh eugh.)

Raph is absolutely irresistible to the entire student body and is completely unaware of it. He's not stupid but he's face blind and bad at picking up subtext in conversations. He's gone to multiple people's houses and spent the whole day with them, without realizing they were trying to make it a date. (Raph is bi.)

All the boys have considered identifying as girls since their Dad is the martial arts equivalent of David Bowie and Fine With That, but have settled (for now) on being boys (age 10 the last time they considered this) because quote 'Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim are boys and they're awesome' unquote.

They don't get any fucking privacy for their relationships, and Leo in particular had a very bad experience that closed him off from dating big time. (Stamps 'THIS WILL BE A FIC' on this as well.) But also, as of the LSoW canon they are like, 12-14 and not doing a lot of dating ANYWAY. They are BABIES.

(Enter Casey Jones)

ON CROSSOVERS:

I have one crossover with my white whale of authors (you know who you are) I have pecked at with them that I think everyone will go fucking nuts for and love, but I won't mention it in case we can't get it off the ground! (A completely okay and normal thing to happen lmao.) I think that one will end up happening though because I am too excited about it, even if it's not any time soon.

I am super open to crossovers and cowriting, especially since writing with Li because I learned SO MUCH it was like speed running improvement.

The thing is it has to fit! There's some crossovers that wouldn't have a lot of substance because there's not really a lot to cover. When it came to EiL for example, there was PLENTY to cover and do, it was so fun! But other fics might not have a lot we could do for each other. (At least, not until I get some more world building done.)

That being said I do love talking crossovers with other creators it's so fun...

If you guys ever want to use my OC's feel free, just ask me in advance! I don't mind pings.

THESE ASKS ARE FUN THANKS FOR SENDING THEM I feel like you just threw a steak into my zoo exhibit. I am recharged and rejuvenated my crops are watered my skin is clear. This felt very pretentious to write I am mortified.

[lamentablequeen]

your ocs are so wonderful omg… if u don’t mind could u tell us more abt kelley? because reverse-werewolf-beast-cursed-to-be-human stuff is so insanely my jam i slather it on toast each morning.

IF YOU DON'T MIND….. you have no idea how much joy this ask brought to my extremely boring day (i have been bouncing around from library to library all day trying to work on my term paper). oh my god. literally you have made my whole day. i think about kelley constantly. 

so the thing about him is that like. he adjusted surprisingly well to being a human person, and he already had a little bit of background knowledge (because he was a search and rescue dog before) so it always catches people COMPLETELY off guard that he didn't live his entire life as just some guy. he's like, nebulously early 20s. easily excitable. very affectionate. he's really into watching baseball so sometimes on his time off he'll drive down to one of the civilian towns to go watch the game at whatever bar reliably has mlb. yes there's mlb in the wizard future… it being my sandbox and everything. he's got kind of a fratty dress sense but he never gets to dress like it because of the uniform thing, but in his truest form he would one hundred percent be wearing a backwards hat and socks with sandals. 

the other thing about him is that he is like. fundamentally kelley is a radar type without anyone to be radar for because maggie (the team lead) is actually really good at her job, so she doesn't actually need someone to be ready with whatever she wants before she wants it. this is one of the many things that gives kelley Some Kind Of Complex: he wants to be useful so bad and he wants to help people and he gets kind of weird and guilty about not being able to do as much as possible. i think personally he has kind of a thing about the fact that he's a person now. like, he's definitely got some kind of guilt complex about like. why him? what did he do that made him any more or less deserving of being MADE A NEW KIND OF CREATURE? he's also the youngest member of the team. he's been able to be human for more than a few years, so it's not like it's his first day on earth or anything. but also he does sleep with a stuffed animal if he's sleeping alone. 

kelley and the harbinger become best friends pretty much immediately. i think they have pretty similar music taste, kind of 90s alt/dad rock type stuff, but they're also gym buddies. the harbinger was a firefighter so they're BUFF AS FUCK and kelley immediately is like. oh my god. teach me your ways. i think he definitely looks up to them a little bit, but he's also the harbinger's closest normal friend (i say normal friend to differentiate their friendship from whatever the fuck is going on with the harbinger and BOWIE). after (plot spoilers) bowie leaves, kelley takes to sleeping on the harbinger's bed sometimes because their nightmares get so bad they really can't sleep alone anymore. he's gay but has absolutely zero game. i do think there's probably a guy he likes in their larger base camp but theres no way he is planning on doing anything about it. he's easily flustered. he DOES call himself a werewolf despite technically being more of a were-dude. he has kind of a surfer boy accent.

[chaxiu]

a list of further possibilities

pairing: hanamaki takahiro x fem! reader

summary: it’s hard to understand what it really feels like to want something. hanamaki is trying very hard to remember. only very loosely inspired by chen chen’s poem “when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities.”

notes: this is just a little piece with literally no plot and no overarching anything. spoilers for the post-timeskip professions of the seijoh four. allusions to depression and depressive modes; deals heavily with themes of mental health. mostly a character study instead of anything else – aka me projecting my constant existential crisis onto makki so,,, sorry about that <3 love you all! get some rest.

____

Depending on how he cares to tell the story, Hanamaki supposes it could all begin in high school, with the stupid career sheet his third-year teacher had slammed a stack of onto his desk (okay, really just placed, but in hindsight, she might as well have slammed it down hard enough to crack the desk, for all the good it did him.) He’d blinked at it, then at her. Matsukawa, behind him, had poked him, hard.

“Take one, pass it back,” he’d hissed. “Dude, I know you’re like, academically challenged, but this stuff should be easy.”

Hanamaki had flicked a bit of eraser shaving at him, pinging him square in the forehead. “Shut up,” he’d said. “I’m tired. Brain’s not functioning at one hundred percent today.”

“When does it ever,” Mattsun had grumbled, rubbing at the spot on his forehead where it’d hit.

Makki had scowled at him, but turned around to face forward, turning his attention to the sheet of paper. Name, date, class, he had filled out easily. chewing on the tip of his pen out of habit (one his mother was constantly after him to stop.)

Post-graduation plans:

He’d paused, biting down on his pen, hard. 

Post-graduation plans. The phrase had made him think of Oikawa, tossing his head back with an air of practiced confidence. (Argentina, he’d told them, and only years of experience let Makki see the fear tensed in the edges of his jaw.

To play volleyball, he’d added, like it was something that needed to be explained.)

It made him think of Iwaizumi, steady shoulders and even gaze, always looking forward to the horizon. (Irvine, he’d said. California. To study sports medicine. There had been a weight on his shoulders but he'd carried it steadily. Something always there, something always on the cusp of becoming.)

These days, it even made him think of Matsukawa, who hadn’t said anything tangible about his college plans but whose backpack Makki had spotted with college brochures sticking out of it, some as far away as Tokyo.

Post-graduation plans. He had rolled the words around in his mouth. They didn’t taste like much.

He turned in the sheet blank, slipping it under Mattsun’s before depositing both in their teacher’s hands. There would be time, in the future, he’d decided, to figure it all out. 

And then, and then, and then. And then his last volleyball match, and then his last bowl of post-match ramen. And then his last practice, and then his last walk home from the gym, pausing at the same bend in the road they always did, before Makki went one way and Mattsun went another.

Things felt a lot closer, suddenly. He’d shoved that feeling back down his throat, into his chest. Mattsun didn’t seem to notice, tilting his head back to look at the night sky above. “Big moon, tonight,” he’d commented absently, and Makki had forced himself to nod along.

Mattsun had raised his eyebrows. “See, that’s how I know things are bad, because that was a perfect setup for a stupid joke.”

Despite himself, Makki had laughed.

“There you go,” Mattsun had said. Dropped a hand to his shoulder, squeezed a little too hard. Makki hadn’t minded. The pressure of it all was a comfort. “Chin up, yeah? It’ll be okay.”

Makki wonders about that, as he sets the cardboard box filled with his desk belongings (such a cliche, down to the tape at the seams of the box, peeling in a way that makes him worried about the bottom dropping out from underneath) at the entry to his shitty little apartment. “Tadaima,” he breathes out, mostly out of habit. 

A walk would probably do him good, he thinks, even as he toes his shoes off, sinks to the floor by the kotatsu. Clear the mind. Get some exercise in.

It sounds like something Iwaizumi would say, all gruff voice and rough hands even as he was at the peak of his mother-henning. The thought of it makes him smile, a little. He lets his head fall back. Stares at the ceiling.

Maybe it had been his own fault. His supervisor had given him a vaguely conciliatory smile as he’d delivered the news. “Hanamaki-san,” he’d said, as the two of them were sitting in his little office, the one without any windows that felt vaguely like it had been a closet in a past life, “thank you for your service to this company.”

Makki had nodded, in a vaguely distant way. The other man had frowned, leaned in closer. 

“Hanamaki-san, please don’t take this advice the wrong way. Your performance was always adequate. But out of everyone in this office, you out of everyone seemed as though you didn’t want the work as much.”

There had been a loose thread on the sleeve of Hanamaki’s white button-down. He’d picked at it absently. His nails had been too short to do any real damage.

“I think it might be beneficial if you took the time to ask yourself what it is you really want.”

Hanamaki had bowed slightly in his chair. At that moment, all he’d really wanted was a window. To be able to see the sky.

His phone beeps. Mattsun, probably. On lunch break from his job at the funeral home. It wasn’t a job he’d ever envisioned for Mattsun, back in high school, but it made sense. Mattsun with his steady hands and his wry voice and his dependable heart. Mattsun who might not have fallen into something as easily as breathing but who had found a road and walked along it, steadfast.

Hanamaki wonders about that, at times.

It’s not even that he’s terribly disappointed about losing the job. Or even particularly surprised. His supervisor had made some good points, to be honest. It’s that he wishes he could be – more, at times. A little more than what he is now.

Maybe he could start a new career, he thinks absently. Maybe he could start all over, in an entirely different field. Except he doesn’t really have any marketable skills. Or passions. Or anything, really. Maybe he could sell all his earthly belongings, move to the mountains, and become a monk in a Buddhist temple somewhere. Except he doesn’t really have the temperament for a monk (he still gets angry when his Youtube videos take more than five seconds to load) and besides, he’s a little too attached to his hair to really commit to shaving it all off.

Maybe – well. Maybe what, then?

If he squints hard enough, he can see a faint spiderwebbing of cracks on the ceiling, in the corner. Maybe it’ll all come crashing down someday, a veritable rainstorm of plaster and wood and whatever the hell else his ceiling is made of. Maybe he’ll even be there to see it.

________

The thing is this: Makki knows enough about himself to know that he gets in his own head, sometimes. That there are days and weeks when he’ll cut off contact with his friends and family, shut down a little. Spend hours in bed, laying on his side, staring at the drawn curtains. It’s not comfortable, or peaceful, or good. But sometimes it’s all he’s able to do. 

On the third day of what he calls his “vegetative phase,” there’s a knock at the door. It sounds three times, then stops. “Makki,” a voice says.

He knows the voice. It’s you. Of course it is. His phone, if he could check it – if it wasn’t dead – if his charger wasn’t God knows where – if he even had the energy to plug it in – probably has dozens of missed texts and calls from you alone.

“Makki, I’m coming in,” you say, and then the door to your bedroom is swinging open and you’re there. He blinks over at you.

“Makki,” you say, again. The tone of your voice is unbearably fond.

He says your name back. It’s been a while since he used his voice. The sound is croaky, hoarse, almost foreign. You smile at him like he’s given you the sun.

“I come bearing food,” you say, hefting a takeout bag in your hand. “As payment for entry. You should really move your spare key, by the way. Under the mat is like, the number one spot that people would check.”

A pause. His brain is working slowly, today. Even slower than normal, he hears Mattsun saying, a smile curved at the edges of his voice. 

“Well,” he says, finally. “If you brought food.”

You smile at him and start pulling boxes out, setting them up on the bed heedless of any possible spillage. It’s nice, the way you navigate around him easily. It’s nice. You’re nice.

“You know, I saw a turtle that looked exactly like you the other day,” you tell him, pausing in your preparations to pull out your phone to show him a photo of a turtle sporting an unamused expression, looking like he could rock the haircut Makki had had in high school. “I was tempted to get him, to give to you. I think you could’ve been a phenomenal duo.”

“Probably,” he agrees.

“You could’ve been a comedy act, maybe. Ventriloquism, or something. Or maybe even just a singing duo. Or you could’ve had some sort of telepathic act where you both point to the same card at the same time. Although I suppose the turtle would move much slower than you, so that might be difficult to coordinate…”

You keep talking, even as you draw the curtains open. Outside, the sun is setting. The light is soft. It illuminates you so well. Not that there’s really any lighting that Makki thinks you look bad in, but, well. The sound of your voice is soothing. Makki lets himself fall into it, even as he stretches, long and slow. The pull feels good to his stiff muscles.

“Eat, Makki,” you urge, and he does. Slowly, at first, and then a little faster once he realizes how hungry he is. You hum happily, chewing a bite.

“Want to watch a movie after?” you ask, and he swallows his bite of food. Nods.

“Yeah – just let me. Uh. Shower, first,” he says, aware for the first time in a while of how greasy his hair must be. You just nod, simple and easy.

He stumbles into the shower with his stomach almost uncomfortably full, letting the warm water fall over his body. It’s good. Pleasant. It feels good to do something that makes him feel like a person again.

When he exits the shower, you’re sitting on his couch as if it’s the most natural thing. There’s already one of his shitty alien films on the TV – the kind with a stupid amount of gore – waiting for him to press play. He makes sure to leave a full cushion of couch space between the two of you when he sits down, but you make an impatient noise. “Makki.” 

Then he’s being tugged into your space, head in your lap, and your hands are moving through his still-damp hair, moving carefully. As if he’s something precious. He watches the movie in silence with you.

“Makki,” you say against the backdrop of the sound of blood spattering everywhere, “do you want to talk about it?”

He does. He doesn’t. He wants to scream. He wants to fold into himself and fall into the sky, fall into something. There is a hole in the back of his throat, an empty space carved hollow. He thinks every part of him has been built around that absence. That he was made to be a lack of something. He wants desperately to want, to know what it’s like to hold an empty space in your hands and understand what it could be to put something there, instead.

You’re cupping his face in his hands, and distantly, he realizes that he’s shaking. “Hey,” you say, so soft, impossibly soft. “I’m here.”

He turns towards the softness of you, tucking his face into your stomach, feeling the faint rise and fall of the pattern of your breathing. 

“I wish,” he says into the fabric of your shirt, “I wasn’t so hollow.”

You don’t say anything to that, just hug him a little tighter, press him a little closer. It helps, a little. He doesn’t feel so much like pieces that could fly apart at any minute. Your hand is warm in his.

“I’ll be here,” you say finally, “until you realize you aren’t.”

“It might take a while.”

“We have so much time.”

Your voice is warm. Your hand is in his hair. “And after, too?” he lets himself ask. He lets himself hope.

Your thumb smooths out the space between his brow, where he hadn’t even realized a wrinkle had formed. Under your touch, it softens, a little. The knot inside his chest sighs. It hasn't untangled itself, not yet, but it's a whisper of a start.

“And after, too.”

[zzuniverses]

Can't Meditate? Tried and Hated It? - Think Less, Experiment More

Meditation is simple and probably isn't what you think it is. Work with your limitations, circumstances, character, mind, and body.

What do you think of when you hear the word “meditation?”

A monk sitting in the lotus position, eyes closed, enjoying the ecstasy of perfect inner tranquility? A smiling Budha? Does the word itself elicit a sense of boredom for you? Have you tried and failed at mediation, and it’s now this bitter memory of the futility of taming your monkey mind? A wasted effort?

I like to think of meditation as finding some separation between myself and my mind and enjoying the inner peace it produces. It opens me up to understanding that frees me from the inner torments of my mind.

I also like to think of meditation as deep thinking. Confusing, I know. One is the absence of thoughts, and the other is deep, active thinking.

Most of my publications are called “NAME + Meditations.” While I often focus on the mind and inner peace, these are not the literal meditations most people associate with the word. In fact, the name was inspired by a great man from our past, a ruler and a philosopher. A rare combo.

Marcus Aurelius wrote for himself daily reminders. He processed his thoughts, emotions, and the world through writing, much like I do. His work was never meant to be public but got published as “Meditations.” It’s not for everyone, but I recommend reading them wholeheartedly.

Subscribed

Meditation can be anything and nothing. 

In fact, I lean toward the latter - to experience the nothingness within. A silent mind is the true nirvana. Available to all, at any time and place, but always just out of reach. What wouldn’t we do to have a silent mind? 

In truth, we do all sorts of things in search of a little distance from our minds.

We drink, get high, have sex, work out, keep ourselves busy, and even risk our lives. All of these are often merely a chase for that feeling of “aliveness,” the eternal present moment, that eludes us in our normal state. An escape, then. Escape from the mind.

When I was a young man, I “needed” my motorcycle. It was my escape. Riding it was the only way I could be free from my wretched mind, constantly badgering me, always mean, overthinking, plotting, and oppressing. A twist of the throttle, a curvy road - when one hundred percent of my attention is required, the mind is still.

Time stops flowing. I am free! I am here. I am now. If only for a little while - I am free from my mind. And as my mind disappears, so do all my problems (from my consciousness, at least).

There was a problem with my method of escaping the mind. As with all such endeavors, it was about “more.”

More speed, more danger, more violence, more alcohol or drugs. Our body and mind adapt, and the same amount of anything just doesn’t do it for us anymore. We need more!

“Why, oh why, won’t this inner voice just shut up and leave me alone?” we ask ourselves, assuming we understand the source of our issues. Otherwise, we’re still in the early development phase of blaming others, circumstances, and the world for all our troubles.

They are rarely the problem or the cause, only the symptom, the effect.

Our first meditation attempt.

Somewhere along our journey, we decide that meditating would be cool. Let’s give it a try. Perhaps inspired by some article, book, or person, we embark on a journey of exploring the depth of our mind. 

Seems rather straightforward, we conclude. We sit, cross our legs, close our eyes, and “meditate.”

What happens next?

The truth is that most give up before anything can happen. So did I the first few dozen times. Meditation is challenging. There are so many rules, positions, and impossible demands. The mind simply won’t be still.

It even seems to have the opposite effect on us. We get agitated, angry, we’re all over the place. “I can’t do it,” we conclude. “It’s just not for me. I must not be normal.”

"Normal" is overrated. 

We're all different and must experiment until we find what works for us.

I want to learn more!

[subliminalbo]

Up to Captured, there's an obvious line that crosses through all of these stories. Obedience by Fleur introduces Fleur-de-lis and its eponymous mind controlling underwear, Lacey's Story follows a young college student trapped under the influence of that underwear, and Captured focuses on an entire sorority that is brainwashed by it. Before this series, the story was Obedience by Fleur. But I didn't want to write about underwear that mind controls people forever. That's why in Interrogation, I backtrack from the set up of The Tip. In a way, it's like a soft reboot, and in that sense it shows how I'm never totally happy with how these stories come out. I'm constantly finding something to change.

The sort-of-clunky series of events that I came up with was this: Madison somewhat covertly introduces brainwashing to the Alphas through this new hazing ritual for freshman that involves making them wear Obedience by Fleur during rushing. Initially, the ritual plays out like a "slave for a day" plotline in a sitcom. The pledges mindlessly attend to work around the house, do odd jobs at parties, etc. But seeing the house full of mindless freshmen is a genuine thrill for Madison, and she slowly manipulates her upperclassman sisters into wearing the lingerie as well.

Madison isn't totally satisfied with the limitations of Obedience by Fleur, so she searches for a more permanent solution. She finds this in a VR simulation program which...? To be honest, I'm not one hundred percent on how exactly this program works. The way its written, the program simulates a custom experience that plays upon a sub's inherent desires to most effectively brainwash them. In short, no one has the same experience under Madison's headset.

The thing is that this idea is kind of stupid. VR doesn't work that way, you see. Making sense of Madison's process has been one of the more difficult puzzles to solve for the Alphas rewrite. With the number of years between Captured and today, I've learned a lot more about Madison and what she's capable of. There's just something very fraudulent about this iteration of Madison. She's supposed to be this powerful mistress of manipulation, but she relies on gadgets that she didn't design to subdue her victims. Thankfully, I have found a solution to this problem, but I haven't debuted that yet. You'll just have to read the Alphas rewrite when it continues in 2027.

Some other thoughts:

I don't like Piper's voice in this chapter. I think it's an issue of not knowing the character well enough when I wrote it, but I don't see her throwing "bitch" around and saying stuff like "your party sucks balls," even in this situation.

I can't believe that this story has been available on the internet for nearly eight years and nobody told me that I wrote "turd" instead of "turf." Come on guys, I can't be expected to actually read this shit.

This is the start of my induction era, when I really began putting thought into what happens to a character when they are brainwashed. I still think the dog show dream sequence is one of the more creative setups I've thought of. As always, though, I could have gone way harder into the sex. It's all very matter of fact in these earlier stories. I'll write that "she licked her pussy," but I'm really frightened to describe things like the textures or the flavors or how it feels or how the body responds. This chapter would benefit from all of that because this experience is supposed to be so overwhelming for Piper that it literally breaks her mind, and I don't think I do a very good job selling that point here.

The closing makes it sound like Madison is about to go straight for Corbin, but the actual story meanders for a few more chapters. My biggest regret of Captured is framing it through Corbin's eyes. The good shit is happening in the Alphas house while our point of view is stuck with Corbin as she reacts to things. Watching a character react to events is like bad writing 101. This is the big reason why I decided to add Piper's perspective in the rewrite.

Captured #2: Interrogation

Originally published Jan 16, 2017 This series is being revised

"Your party sucks balls, by the way," Piper said as Madison's sorority slaves tightened the ropes that bound her to the chair. She winced as the rope pulled against her skin. Piper had proven to be a handful for Madison's young pledges, using the old tight muscles trick to escape from her first bondage. I'd like to say that she picked that up from me, but I'm pretty sure she got it from old Hardy Boys books. Anyway, Piper had even managed to knock one of Madison's girls silly before she was tackled to the floor. Now they were tying her up good, guaranteeing that she couldn't escape. All Piper had left now was sass.

"Now, Piper," Madison pouted. She stood there over Piper, her hands resting authoritatively on her hips. "You know that my parties are always the talk of campus. Just because you're never invited doesn't mean you have to go and hurt my feelings." "Fuck you, bitch," Piper shot back. "You're playing Drake and the theme is the roaring twenties, you could at least try to commit." The party still raging on downstairs. The shrill voices of dozens of young, drunk coeds rattled the floorboards beneath Piper's feet.

"Honey," Madison knelt down to look her captive in the eyes. Piper shivered as she felt the touch of Madison's cold hands against her bare legs. "I know you didn't come here on your own. Work with me and I'll let you leave here tonight with nothing more than a hangover. You'll wake up tomorrow afternoon, in your bed, and you'll think, 'What happened last night?' Of course you'll blame it on drinking. You won't even have to know that you helped me. You can go on with your life having never met Madison Wells. So, Piper honey, again I'm going to ask you: who sent you?"

"I'm not telling you a goddamn thing," Piper growled. It only made Madison's smile grow wider. "I'll be honest with you, honey. I was hoping you'd say that," Madison rose to her feet. "See, I'm not a mean person. My offer was genuine. I'd have just wiped everything you remembered about tonight from that pretty head of yours and sent you on your way. But you're cute. And you've got a killer body. So now I'm going to take everything. I'll make you want me," Piper tried to lean away as Madison moved closer, hovering over her lap, but she could only manage to move her head a couple inches to the left and the right. "I'll make you desire to be a part of me. And in that need you'll find the will..." Madison was so close to Piper now that the captive woman could feel Madison's warm breath against her lips. Now Madison lowered her voice to a sultry whisper as she said, "to obey my every word."

And that was when Piper spit in Madison's face.

"Bitch!" one of the pledges screamed, pulling the chair back and dropping Piper hard on the floor. Piper's cry was drowned out by Madison's laughter. "That's alright, Daisy," she wiped her face. "Mistress, she..." Daisy tired to protest, but Madison held out a silencing hand. "She's feisty," Madison said. "All the more reason we need her. She'll be a natural Alpha." "Bitch," Piper gasped through the pain."

"Get her up," Madison motioned toward the two pledges on rope duty, and the brainwashed girls quickly lifted the chair upright. "Sister," Madison's favorite slave Tina was rummaging through Piper's clothes on the bed behind them. She sat there with an eager smile, holding up Piper's cellphone. "I found this in her pants," she reported. "Interesting," Madison smiled back at Tina. Then she turned to the others and said one word: "Sock." Before leaving Piper's field of vision and approaching Tina at the bed.

"Sock?" Piper asked, her hair flipping side-to-side as she shook her head, trying to get anything of the girls behind her from her peripheral vision. No luck. "What does that mean, sock? What's going on?"

Daisy stepped out in front of Piper, clenching a balled-up tube sock in her hand, a dark red blotch just under her eye from Piper's fist. Daisy was eager to shut this sassy bitch up for her mistress. "No! No!" Piper screamed, but she couldn't do much but wiggle her body as Daisy jammed in the sock into her mouth. Piper's muffled screams didn't make it past the bedroom door.

"You really should lock your phone, honey," Madison said, wandering back in front of Piper. She was casually flipping through Piper's contacts. It didn't matter anymore how much she could bottle up, how long she held out. Madison was holding Piper's life in her hand. "Oh?" Madison looked up with a curious bend in her eyebrows. "Corbin Arroyo, she's a quite a name, isn't she?" Piper responded with muted screams, struggling against her restraints. "You must be her little errand girl, right?" She looked up at Daisy and said, "Get the headset," then turned her attention back to Piper. "I keep the freshmen under my control with the lingerie, it's part of their initiation. But that's only reliable if they're wearing it, so I found something a little more permanant."

This wasn't just about an initiation. While the other girls thought it was all just innocent college hazing, Madison had been systematically brainwashing them all. Now she had the entire sorority under her control. Piper screamed as Daisy lowered the VR headset over her eyes. The last thing she heard before the headphones were placed over her ears was the promise from Madison, "You can fight all you want, honey, but soon you'll find your will melting away. Forget about Corbin, you belong to me now."

Everything went black. The sound from the party faded away.

welcome, slave

When Piper opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the middle of a stadium before a quiet crowd. Looking down she saw her naked body. A collar around her neck. Attached to the collar was a leash, and holding that leash was an older woman in a sparkling gown. The woman held out her hand, and she said, "Kneel," Piper replied, "Yes mistress," and dropped to her knees. This wasn't right, she knew that it was all part of the virtual world, and she hoped that gave her an advantage in withstanding its brainwashing. She sat there on the hard turd of the stadium floor, her arms locked at her sides, the crowd watching in silence as another woman approached her handler. This one had an official look. A navy blue bllazer and all-business skirt to match. Her raven hair was tied up in a bun. She shared a couple of words with Piper's handler and then stepped forward.

"Obey," the woman said, lifting her skirt to reveal her bare pussy. "Feast." "I obey," Piper said. The crowd roared to life as she grabbed a handful of the woman's blazer and dove head first into her wanting pussy.!

The omniscient voices of the commentators spoke in her head. "Look at her technique, Jeff. Watch as she readjusts her hands to cup the judge's ass, that gives her better leverage with her tongue." "That's right, Mike," The other judge said. "This is an exceptionally well-trained pet." The judge's head reeled back as she came and Jeff continued to praise Piper's effort, "That's the fastest orgasm that we've seen a slave deliver tonight."

A flood of pleasure shocked Piper as she reacted to the audience's support and the approval from the commetators. The judge looked down, her bright green eyes piercing through Piper's psyche, and she said, "This is what it feels like to obey."

She could only manage to squeak out a muffled "No..." in the real world where Daisy was on her knees, exploring Piper's sex with her tongue. Supplementing the subliminal assaults from the VR headset with real life pleasure. Piper knew she couldn't win this battle. Another noise tried to break through Piper's gag, but this time it didn't sound like any word. She shuddered and Madison smiled.

"That's okay, Daisy, you can stop now," Madison said, standing up from the bed where she was watching. Daisy spoke the obligatory, "Yes sister," and she gave room for her mistress to take the place in front of Piper. Behind the headset were the clear, unfocused eyes of Piper. The sock gag came next, soggy from Piper's saliva. Her mouth fell open as Madison pulled the gag free. "Hello Piper, dear."

Piper looked up at her enemy with an uncharacteristically tranquil expression. And then she smiled. "Hello, Mistress Madison."

Madison ordered the girls to remove Piper's binds and when she was free, Piper stood in line with the three other slaves in the room. "I see you've calmed down, Piper," Madison smiled. "I like you better this way." "Thank you, Mistress," she replied. "Your friend Corbin would make a fine addition to my sorority, don't you think?" "Corbin..." Piper closed her eyes, trying to remember what Corbin meant to her. After her second of hesitiation she opened them again and said, "I must recruit Corbin..." "It looks like you need a little more training," Madison frowned. "Oh well. We'll get you your underwear just to be safe, then when you're all conditioned, you'll obey me even without it!" "Please, Mistress...I need to obey...I need to obey your every word..." "You will, dear. You will. And when I'm done with that, we'll get to work on making you an Alpha."

[kunikinnie]

a/n: something that has been on my mind for some time (jk I just got stuck in a writing rut HAHAhuhu) lowkey wanted to make an NSFW version but nahh

swapping bodies with their s/o

featuring: Ranpo, Kunikida, Akutagawa, Ango x GN!Reader

Edogawa Ranpo

He’s extremely amused. It’s not even a problem nor inconvenience for him

He’ll definitely go around and show everyone (of course Fukuzawa being the first) that he’s in your body

Don’t worry about him overstepping boundaries, though. He respects and follows those (and of course you do the same to his body)

But if that includes limiting sweets and junk food, then he miiight not follow it. Cue endless whining

He’s also trying to use your ability if you have one. The curiosity and lifelong dream to become an ability user MUST be satisfied. He doesn’t care if it’s dangerous! Just once won’t hurt. Besides, he knows what to do and not to do to avoid anything too terrible

I think he’ll take his time trying to get you two back to normal… at least until he gets bored. Once the excitement is gone and the reality of being stuck in someone else’s (especially the opposite sex’s) body sets in, then he’ll take action

Kunikida Doppo

The panic and denial he goes through within the first couple of hours is the same level if he were stuck with Dazai in a locked room for an entire month

His ideals and his world are literally shaking so much they’re about to crumble. His only coping mechanism is burying himself in work

You literally need to pull him away from work or else your body might go kaput

He’s the most nervous and uncomfortable out of all those listed here. The respect he has for you is enormous which makes it much more embarrassing for him to do anything with your body at all. His cheeks (and sometimes the entire face) will constantly be red

(He also lowkey doesn’t trust you with his own body no matter how much he loves you because the chance you’ll stray from whatever routine/ideal he set for himself is close to a hundred percent)

Aside from your safety, his priority is getting you two switched back as soon as possible. This isn’t fun at all, and even if it were it would be much more productive for the both of you to work in your respective bodies

But once you finally get him to relax, he’ll try out some things he can’t do with his own body. Unfortunately that doesn’t include being able to squash an annoying giant insect who wouldn’t stop teasing him

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

He doesn’t know if he’s annoyed, terrified, just utterly shocked, or all of the above

It’s not that he thinks you’re weak (whether or not you’re a fighter/ability user). He’s just not used to not having Rashoumon at his disposal that he feels so vulnerable. Adapting to using your skills will take too much time

What he’s the most frustrated about is that he can’t protect you if something happens. He’ll constantly ask if you can handle yourself (and if you can use Rashoumon to some extent) and will make sure neither of you get into any sticky situation while you try to find the ability user who did this to you

The eternal migraine surfaces when Tachihara and Higuchi find out and tease/annoy the heck out of either of you. Why do these half-brains find entertainment in your struggle?

One thing he didn’t expect was having to deal with people who were flirting with “you.” How often do you go through this? After glaring at them without a single word, he makes a mental note to do a little something for you later. No he’s not insecure or mildly jealous at all what makes you think that?

Sakaguchi Ango

Can his week get any worse?

He’s quite aware of how much abuse his body goes through because of the workload, and even if he could still maintain it in your body he’d hate to do so. Cue struggle between trying to relax for your sake and working himself to the bone to get you two back to normal

You (or even one of his superiors) might have to force him to take a few days off to focus on this issue.

Like Kunikida he’s extremely uncomfortable about being in your body. It’s easier to get him to relax though, at least

If there’s one good thing he can get from this is perhaps a little ‘espionage’ work (aka pretending to be you to get information) whether for official stuff or perhaps even to some extent personal affairs. (He’ll ask for your consent first, ofc)

He’s thankful you’re taking good care of his body (perhaps better than he ever would) and just the amount of time he’s spent stuck to your side. For all its inconveniences, the situation has its own blessings as well. He won’t tell you any of that though ehe

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

heated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: An (innocent?) conversation about D/s dynamics accidentally leads to you confessing that you think about your childhood best friend while getting off. To your childhood best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Erm. This is after he told you that you would be “an awful sub”, btw.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; reader is bisexual; smut (fem reader, dry humping, fingering, [tiny bit] m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluffy af; non-idol!AU; F2L; softdom!Jungkook x softbrat!reader; you kind of have a forearm kink and you never let Jungkook have his lovey-dovey moment, whoops

MMA 2020 ‘ON’ Jungkook? Yeah. That one.

--

“I could never be a sub.”

You clicked rapidly as you spoke, mashing the right button on your mouse. It was quite loud, paired with your mechanical keyboard.

“Why not?”

The music coming from Jeon Jungkook’s smartphone was a rhythm game, nearly as loud as you, since he was grunting angrily at it. It was very obvious when he missed a beat.

“I can’t imagine that being me, you know?”

You, on the other hand, were on your computer, playing with the new items in League of Legends from the latest patch. Using the practice tool, you had loaded up your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, and messed with various builds, trying to find the best combination. So far, Lethality was feeling pretty good.

“Like why would I ever let my pleasure be handled by someone else?” you mused, reading the high damage numbers of each shot. Oh, the fourth shot felt nice. “That sounds stupid.”

Jungkook rolled over on your bed, growling in his throat as the level ended. He restarted it, trying to get a better score. “Maybe people like to let go sometimes. You know, not always be in control.”

You snorted. “I could never trust someone else with my body.”

“You got an alien body or something?”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your outburst. “I didn’t ask if you could be a sub, I just asked what you thought of domination and submission as a dynamic in general.”

You shrugged, trying to see if you could do Baron alone. Welp, you needed lifesteal, of course. “I mean, I’ve tried it in various situations. I was never the sub.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.” Jungkook suddenly sat up, excited that he achieved a higher score. “Look, look. I got ninety-eight.”

You craned your head to look at his phone screen. “Why isn’t it one hundred? You’re a disgrace to this family.”

He bopped you on the nose with his phone. “If I was part of your family, your family would be even more dysfunctional than it is now.”

You rubbed your nose and looked up at him. “How much gel did you use in your hair? You look like a wet dog.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows went up and he touched his long black hair. “It’s not crunchy though.” He grabbed your hand and lowered his head, placing your palm on his slicked back hair. “See?”

You pulled your hand back, staring at your palm. “Still feels weird though. I call sorcery.”

He shrugged, creaking the black leather jacket he was wearing. He wore a black t-shirt under it. The black jeans he had been wearing were on your bed, swapped for the black joggers he kept at your place. You weren’t really sure why he left the jacket on. Maybe he was cold or something. It was pretty cold in your apartment. You were wearing fleece green pajamas with Pikachu all over them.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” you said, gesturing to his jacket.

Jungkook looked down at his chest. “Eh. It’s fine. Saves you money.”

You shrugged, getting up from your chair, leaving the League client open. “You’re only staying a little while, right? Party to go to and all that?”

Jungkook followed you as you left your room. “Told you it was cancelled, so I was just going to sleep over. No reason to go back home.”

You turned around, walking backwards. “When did you say it was cancelled?”

Jungkook raised his dark eyebrows. “Literally when I walked in your apartment.”

“Hah.”

You turned back around and went to your fridge, grabbing an aloe juice. Jungkook went to your water kettle, hunting for hot chocolate among your tea packets.

“You’d make an awful sub anyway,” Jungkook said, returning to the original subject as he filled the kettle with water from your filtered sink faucet. “Like, probably the fucking worst.”

You took a large swig and glared at him. “Alright, first of all, you wouldn’t even–”

“You’re terrible with authority.”

You paused. “Okay, true.”

“You’re angry, twenty-four, seven.”

You walked up to him and slapped him in his very hard pecs. He gestured at his chest, as if to indicate, exhibit A.

“And you’re super uptight.”

“I am not uptight.”

“Control freak.”

“That’s–”

Jungkook turned around and placed the kettle on its stand. You swooped in with a Pikachu-themed kitchen towel and wiped the excess water away, scowling. Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you, brown eyes laughing.

“That’s literally a safety hazard!” you exclaimed, waving the towel at him.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pressed the button to start heating the water. “Haven’t you ever just… not freaked out over every little thing? Done something spontaneous and stupid?”

You placed the kitchen towel back in its proper place. “No, because that would be spontaneous and stupid, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you perfectly fold the towel into three parts and hang it on the rail. He scratched his nose, shaking his head. “You should be more like me.”

“Having the police called on you because you were standing on a lawn chair tooting a party horn at four in the morning?”

“That was one time! Stop bringing it up,” Jungkook groaned.

You raised your hands in innocence. “Well, I was the one called to pick you up because you literally couldn’t remember any other number and I was very disturbed on New Year’s Eve, where I should have been peacefully sleeping and not hauling your drunk ass across town.”

Jungkook sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t drink that much again. Jimin made me do shots–”

“You always blame Park Jimin,” you interjected, smiling. “Jimin’s the kind of guy who only wears clothes to take them off.”

“Well, it gets him laid, so I guess it’s working.”

The kettle whistled noisily, cutting through the conversation. You took a sip from your aloe juice as Jungkook grabbed a mug from your cupboard and poured the hot chocolate powder into it.

“You want some milk?”

He looked up. “You have milk?”

You went to the fridge and took out a small carton. “Because you said you were coming.”

“Aw, what a sweetie.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

That’s how it was with you two. Growing up together was the same conversation over and over of you constantly saying shut up and Jungkook always replying with no. If both your dads hadn’t been such good friends, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tolerate him. Since they were, you were forced to, which turned out to be okay, since it turned out you had similar interests in games and such. It drifted apart a bit when you two entered high school, but you two reconnected once university started.

The dysfunctionality Jungkook was referring to was your two older sisters, who both got pregnant out of wedlock and thus caused a lot of tension between them, your parents, and you, the one who hadn’t actually done that yet. And you were trying to keep it that way.

Jungkook poured half-water and half-milk, stirring it with a silver spoon he found in your drawer. You lived alone, having gotten a full scholarship to be able to pay for tuition, meals, and part of a small apartment. Your parents paid for the rest – another point of strain between you and your sisters. That’s why you kept your grades up and rarely went out.

“When was the last time you fucked a guy?”

You sucked the inside of your cheek. “Dunno. Maybe two years ago.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and took a long sip. “So, only girls, huh?”

You tilted your head and sighed. “They don’t get you pregnant.”

“Neither does a condom.”

“That’s a ninety-eight percent chance, not one hundred.”

He licked the excess off his pink lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, but reconsidered, taking another sip before replying. “You don’t miss dick?”

“I mean, a dildo is a dick.”

Jungkook nearly spat out his hot chocolate. You snatched your Pikachu towel again and threatened him with it. He raised a hand, coughing.

“A dildo is not a dick,” he hacked out. “You insult me.”

“Hmph.” You turned back around and placed the Pikachu towel back in its place, making sure the graphic was perfectly centered.

“You tell your parents?”

You narrowed your eyes. ‘Why the fuck would I tell my parents that I fuck girls instead of guys to avoid getting pregnant?”

He shrugged. “Give them peace of mind?”

“You think too highly of the generation before us.”

Jungkook gave you a weird look. “So… you’re just using them?”

“No.” You paused. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not because they’re girls. I guess I haven’t found someone who understands me yet.”

He took a long, noisy sip of hot chocolate. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“No one can understand you if you only fuck once and drop them.”

“Wouldn’t you fucking know,” you replied irritably.

“Now, I fuck multiple times before I realize it’s not going to work out,” Jungkook countered.

You shoved your bottle of aloe juice back into your fridge. Suddenly, you weren’t thirsty anymore.

“Is that the only reason?”

You closed the fridge door.

“Reason for what?”

“Is fear of pregnancy the only reason you fuck girls?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. You spun around, blowing hot air. “I don’t fucking know why I do it, Jungkook. I don’t know why I load up dating apps to only hook up with girls, I don’t know why I don’t try to get into relationships with them, I don’t know what is wrong with me and why I can’t give anyone a chance and I don’t know why you pop up in my head every time I try to fucking masturbate! It is annoying and I do not like it, so I try to get off with someone else!”

Your chest was heaving with exertion and annoyance, hand curled onto a fist and planted on your kitchen counter, glaring at the space past Jungkook’s head, muscle twitching in your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast it didn’t feel real.

Silence.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

And then you turned around, stalking back to your bedroom.

Or would have, if you didn’t hear the clink of the mug touching the kitchen counter and Jungkook grabbing your upper arm, yanking you back, slamming you against his muscular body. You hissed, staring into his chest.

“Let me go.”

“Hold on a second.” You watched Jungkook take a deep breath, his toned, tan skin rising and falling. The silver necklace on his collarbones flashed as he breathed. “Just hold on a damn second.”

Your eyes were on the low neckline of his black shirt. It felt weird being close to him. Not that you two haven’t been physically close, because you had. But it had never been like this. Since you realized he wouldn’t leave your mind every time you tried to masturbate. Since you started looking to other people to push him out. Since you were sure that it was not just a passing thought, not just your brain playing tricks on you. And being this close to him now, you understood.

And it scared you.

“You cannot dump all that on me and expect me not to react,” Jungkook said quietly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No,” he snapped. He grabbed both your upper arms and shook you violently, making you jerk your head up to blink at him. Jungkook furrowed his brows, his dark eyes glaring at you, jaw clenched tightly. “I will not shut up. Why should I shut up? I should shut you up.”

And then he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. Jungkook’s pink lips were on you. You. On your lips, pressed firmly against them, gripping you so tight you were losing feeling in your arms. You tore back, stumbling, touching your lips, shoulders shaking, not sure why your heart was beating out of your chest, not sure why your lips tingled and wanted more, not sure why Jungkook slowly opening his eyes and flickering to you made your knees knock together uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” you sputtered. “You don’t even… what…?”

“I’m kissing you,” he growled, walking up to you and pinning you against the counter. “I’m fucking kissing you because you want me to.”

“I don’t…”

“Just shut up, please.”

And then Jungkook kissed you again, harder this time, pressing you against the kitchen counter, hands coming up and taking you by the waist, pulling you to him and his leather jacket, him and his black shirt, breathing your name into your lips, your hands grabbing his t-shirt and yanking him to you, gasping into his mouth. And you wanted to say, no, no, you weren’t supposed to know, but it was too late because you were shoving his leather jacket off, grasping his shoulders, fingers pressing into his hard muscles, sliding down his biceps.

You yanked your head back and his hand came up to grab it back, kissing you more, more, tongue licking your lips, hissing your name, grinding his hips against yours. Your hand came up in between you two, stopping him, stopping him and his insatiable lips.

“You have to s-say–” You moaned, feeling him harden against your fleece pajamas. “You have to say it.”

“Say what?” Jungkook muttered impatiently, kissing your hand, speaking into your palm.

“Say you’re okay with it,” you gritted out as he rolled his crotch into yours.

“Obviously I’m okay with it,” he grumbled. “Why else am I humping you in your kitchen?”

“You said I’m a c-control freak,” you groaned, throwing your head back as Jungkook slid his hands down to your ass and squeezed it, grinding against you.

“You are,” he grunted. “You can’t let go, you can’t enjoy yourself, you can’t even tell me you like me so I can fucking fuck you already, instead of me cancelling my parties so I can spend time laying on your bed and staring at you playing video games wondering when you’re going to fucking notice that I want to bang you.”

“What?” you replied breathlessly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re so busy controlling your own life that you don’t even notice the people around you anymore.”

“What?” you repeated again as Jungkook hoisted you up by your ass and began to walk, forcing you to grab him by the shoulders and stare down his right arm, the fully tattooed one with flowers and script and the tiny circle with angry slits for eyes and a frown on the inside of his elbow, the one Jungkook said was for you and you had slapped him in the chest and told him to shut up.

“Let me take over for once,” he mumbled, placing his chin on your shoulder and nudging you with his head and his non-crispy but still not quite soft dark hair.

“You said I would be an awful sub.”

Jungkook dumped you on the bed, shooing you upwards. You didn’t move, frowning at him. He sighed dramatically.

“You would. You are,” he corrected, planting a hand on your chest and pushing you down, bouncing you against your Pikachu bedsheets. He sandwiched your arms at your sides and straddled your torso. The bed bowed far too low and you almost slid off. Hurriedly, you scooted upwards and Jungkook followed, unbothered.

“You said I’m terrible with authority.”

Jungkook wrestled your arms back down and pinned them with his strong thighs. “You are.”

“You said I’m angry, twenty-four, seven.”

He cocked his head, slowly unbuttoning your pajama shirt. “Still true.”

“And you said I’m uptight,” you added ruefully, pouting.

Jungkook shrugged, reaching in between his legs to unbutton he last few ones. “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

“Jungkook!”

“What?”

He paused, towering above you, eyebrow raised. His black hair curled around his ears, against his silver hoops and base of his neck. His dark eyes pierced down at you, tiny mole under his lips clearly visible from this position. You could see the bottom of his sharp chin, the black t-shirt clinging to his chest, the shape of his tan arms, one tattooed, one not, from below.

“Y-you’re pinching my right arm…”

Jungkook looked down, moving his left leg. “Sorry.”

You winced, pulling out your left arm to rub the other. He tapped your forearm impatiently with his finger.

“You’re ruining the moment,” he scolded.

“You ruined it by bruising me,” you shot back, backing up to your pillows on your elbows, grimacing as you soothed your arm.

“I’m going to bruise you more if you keep being a little brat,” Jungkook growled, following you on hands and knees, the neckline of his t-shirt hanging down, revealing way too much of his skin. Your eyes widened and you slipped, a white plush Poro bonking you in the head. He grabbed it and tossed it aside, the poor guy rolling on the floor.

“That’s very rude,” you muttered, but he was over your body now, breathing hard, staring down your now open shirt and the curve of your breasts into your black bra.

“Why do you get hotter every year?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t?”

Jungkook shoved the sides of your pajama shirt apart impatiently, reaching under your back and pinching the bra clasp, undoing it with one hand.

“Yes, you do,” he exhaled hotly. “Every year you get prettier and prettier and it pisses me off so much that I have to work out to look half as good as you.”

You felt your ears and cheeks get hot. “Well… you do look very, erm, good.”

“You’re very convincing,” Jungkook chuckled darkly, pushing your bra up and sucking in his lower lip as he revealed your hard, quivering nipples.

Your eyes shifted away from his hungry eyes. “I, uh… am very wet.”

A single, perfectly shaped eyebrow ticked. “Show me.”

“Um…”

He lifted himself off you, pointing down.

“Show me,” Jungkook commanded.

You tried to move your arms and found them tangled in your clothes. You frowned and shrugged out of your pajama shirt, chucking it and your bra aside, before gripping the waistband of your green fleece pants. You hesitated and looked back at Jungkook, who just flapped his hand downwards, giving you a neutral expression.

You puffed your cheeks and raised your hips, yanking your pants and panties down your thighs. You had to bend your legs a bit to fully take them off since Jungkook’s knees were on the outside of your thighs.

Now you were fully naked in front of your childhood best friend. And he was still fully clothed.

“Er, aren’t you going to–”

Jungkook cut you off. “You still haven’t shown me.”

You blinked at him. “What do you want me to do, become a fucking pretzel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Any way you can prove to me you’re wet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking…” You bent your right leg and slid it up between his thighs, brushing against his sweatpants and feeling his hard-on for a hot second before you jammed your leg into your chest and lifted it out, pressing your thigh against your torso and raising your calf into the air. You turned your head to the left, letting out an exasperated huff.

“There. You see it?”

Shit, this position was embarrassing for some reason. You could feel cold air on your dripping pussy. Maybe he couldn’t see or something. You lifted your right arm to wrap around your thigh, pressing it down against your breasts since Jungkook wasn’t saying anything.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jungkook breathed.

“Okay, going to put my leg do–”

You gasped, suddenly feeling Jungkook’s fingertips touch your heated core, smearing your juices around the lips, his hot breath against your ear as he touched you. You shuddered as he stroked your folds, your name on his lips, his lips kissing your ear.

“Had to touch you,” he whispered against your neck, tone desperate. “I’m sorry, I just had to touch that beautiful pussy, all wet and slopping for me.”

Your eyelids fluttered as his middle finger found your clit, pressing on it. “J-Jungkook… That’s my…”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah? That’s your what?”

Slow, lazy circles, pushing it around, moan leaving your lips. “My c-clit…”

“Want me to touch it?” Jungkook purred. “Want me to handle your pleasure?”

But he as already touching it, nursing the sensitive bundle of nerves and rousing your lust, igniting it and setting it on fire.

“Y-yes…”

He kissed down your neck, whispering softly, licking your collarbones. “You trust me? You trust me with this pretty, perfect, hot, sexy, fuckable body?”

You arched your neck, giving him more access as he ran his pink lips all over, rubbing your clit, mouth on your throat. Your whole body shook, hips rolling into his finger.

“Y-yes…”

His breath so electrifying that you could barely focus, barely speak as Jungkook’s other hand came up behind your head, long fingers burying into your hair, holding tight, so tight it almost hurt, teeth nipping at your skin.

“Want to mark you,” he mumbled. “Want to give you a big fat hickey you can’t explain, want to bruise you so bad you’ll be staring at it for weeks, thinking about my lips on you, remembering my teeth gave you that.”

He pressed another finger to your clit, increasing the pace, and all you could do was hiss out a yes, a burning yes, a pleading yes, please, Jungkook, whining as his teeth sank into the spot where your shoulder and neck connected, sucking hard, his tongue licking away the prickling pain. His hips rolled into your thigh, his hard cock pressing against you, straining against his pants.

Jungkook moaned into your skin, so hot, so intense, rubbing your aching clit faster, harder, more urgently. Sucking and humping your leg as the feeling of his teeth and his fingers overwhelmed you, one hand clutching his shirt and one hand curled into your sheets as your thighs shook, trying to close but unable to because Jungkook was so strong, so there, so overpowering that you could only lay there and take it, take it as his name poured out of you in a breathless wail, throwing your head back as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, your juices becoming slicker, thicker, the scent of your orgasm staining the air.

He shoved the two fingers inside you and unlatched his mouth, moaning with you as he felt you squeeze his fingers, pumping you in long, slow strokes, all the way to his knuckles. You whimpered, tightening your core and Jungkook moaned again, eyes closed, his hair in disarray as you fucked his hand, clamping your hands on his right forearm, gasping at the feel of his muscle. Pussy throbbing around his fingers, hips meeting his knuckles over and over.

His eyes opened, watching your fuck yourself with his hand, an almost bored expression on his features, but you didn’t care because you felt him flex his fingers and his arm, telling you to continue, telling you he liked it.

“I thought you were going to let me do it.” Jungkook’s voice was low, trying to stay even despite his shallow breathing. “Have to control everything, don’t you?”

You caught your lower lip in your teeth, eyes moving to his face, his handsome, angular face with his black hair curled around his forehead and his cocked eyebrow, smirk on his lips.

“I’m not in control,” you panted. “Your forearm is…”

Jungkook flexed it under your hand and you moaned pathetically, breath hitching.

His smirk grew wider.

“It’s getting you off touching it.”

You swallowed, close, so close and Jungkook was taunting you and for some reason you couldn’t tell him to shut up, because he kept tensing his arm and it was so fucking hot that you really were going to orgasm.

“Say it,” he purred, breathing your name. “Tell me you like my forearm.”

Your eyes shifted down to his arm in your hands, the tiny angry face tattoo in his inner elbow frowning at you.

“I fucking love it, Jungkook,” you gasped. “Fuck, I love your delicious, sexy-as-fuck forearms.”

He grinned and began to thrust his fingers into you, fast, so fast you couldn’t even fathom how he could be that fast like a fucking vibrator, sending torrents of pleasure through you and his arm was so hard and his skin so soft that your eyes rolled back into your head, moaning his name far too loud. Jungkook placed a hand over your mouth and you screamed into it, liquid gushing down your thighs, but he didn’t stop, he kept going until you felt it again, pussy throbbing, back-to-back, eyelids fluttering, nails digging into his arm as the crescendo slammed into you, taking your breath and senses away, lost only in the feeling of Jungkook’s secure presence above you.

He slowed, breathing hard. Gently, carefully pulling his fingers out of your pulsating pussy, gasping as he removed his hand. You vaguely heard Jungkook place his fingers in his mouth, sighing wantonly at your taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispered around his fingers. “Fuck, so sweet and thick and delicious.”

Your brain could not compute what the fuck was happening. Did Jungkook just give you three mind-blowing orgasms in a row after you exploded at him and admitted to thinking about him while masturbating?

Holy shit.

He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You swallowed thickly.

“Jungkook, do you, ah… want something too?” you asked quietly.

You heard him snicker. “If I take my clothes off, I’m going to want to put my dick in you.”

“… I’m cool with that.”

“I thought a dildo was the same as a dick?”

You cleared your throat. “Ah… Well, I didn’t think you’d want to put a dick in me.”

Jungkook laughed. “If I had five dicks, I’d put them all in you.”

“Erm… mathematically speaking, that doesn’t really work…”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook sat up, looking down at you with a smile. The same smile he always had, but a little different now, because he didn’t have to hide his attraction to you anymore.

“You really let me put it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “With a ninety-eight percent chance, only.”

His smile became mischievous. “That’s not one hundred percent.”

You puffed your cheeks.

“I’ll take the two percent chance for you and only you, Jungkook.”

He grinned and turned around, throwing himself to the end of the bed where his jeans were barely holding on. Fishing through the pockets, retrieving the foil packet from the back pocket. You blinked at him.

“How long has that been–”

Jungkook gave you a silencing look. “I bring a new one every time I come over, in hopes you become drunk enough to sit on my dick.”

You blinked at him. “What.” Not a question, just you stating it.

“Because you’re paranoid.”

You frowned. “I’m not–”

He launched himself over the bed and silenced you with a kiss, deep and longing. You leaned into it, breathing softly, tongue against his, pressing back against him. Jungkook drew back slowly, thumb on your cheek. Eyes looking into yours, careful and tender.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said against your lips. “I’ll do anything you want. I know it’s not easy for you. I know you’re not ready for the million babies I want from you.”

“I can’t have a million babies. It’s not scientifically possible,” you interjected.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Can you just let me have one romantic moment?”

“Erm, sorry.”

“You want me to have a damn vasectomy or something? Because I’ll fucking do it. That shit’s reversible.”

“No, that kind of requires more time and I’m pretty horny for your dick right now. Condom will do.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are a shitty sub.”

“I will do better after I’ve had the dick.”

Jungkook straightened and yanked his black t-shirt over his head. “No, you won’t.”

Your eyes roamed over his toned chest. Damn, he was ripped. Maybe he was insecure about you being hot or something, but you were certainly benefiting. “You never know?”

Jungkook sent you a pained look and pressed a hand to your chest, shoving you back into your bed. “I’ve known you way too long to believe those words coming out of your mouth.”

You were going to reply, but he ran his hand over your chest, inhaling sharply as he brushed against your nipples. He ran his fingers over them, squeezing a little. You whined, trying to get more, but Jungkook pressed his palm down on your breast, breathing hard.

“Listen, woman, I’m about to explode in my damn underwear. Stop sounding so sexy this instant.”

Your eyes found his, pupils blown wide, lips pursed, and jaw tight. Your lips parted a little, tongue peeking out, a soft moan of his name emitting from your throat. You saw a muscle in his eyebrow twitch. He looked like he wanted to throttle you, at least a little bit.

You grinned.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“You are lucky you’re cute,” he muttered. “And lucky I want to be in this pussy more than I want to be alive.”

“Don’t you ne–”

Jungkook planted his hand on your mouth. “The only words I want to hear out of you are, “Fuck me harder” or my own name, you got that?” he snarled, pressing his hand into your face for emphasis.

You nodded quickly.

He sighed, almost in relief, and yanked his pants and underwear down, wincing. There was a large wet spot on his boxer briefs, strings of pre-cum clinging as he pushed it down his muscular thighs.

“You made me a giant mess,” he muttered, eyes flickering up to you. “What do you have to say?”

You blinked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

He grinned. “You do know how to listen.”

In truth, you couldn’t say anything because you were breathlessly staring at Jungkook’s thick cock, red head glistening with pre-cum, dripping everywhere. You slid down quickly, startling him, and wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as his strong taste invaded your mouth. He hissed, gritting his teeth as your tongue swiped around, licking his length all over, feeling the veins and contours, memorizing them.

“F-fuck,” he gasped. “You wanted to clean me up that bad?”

Your eyes traveled up his abs, his pecs, his neck, to his face, giving him your best imploring look. He smirked, placing a hand on your forehead, and gradually, with great effort, pulled out of your tight mouth. Tight because you sucked in your cheeks, not wanting to let him go, but Jungkook was stronger than you. You frowned, but he shooed you away.

“I allowed it this one time. Now back to your spot.”

You backed up, tsking as you watched him roll down the condom, groaning as it covered him.

“I’m actually glad I have this fucking condom,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you spread your legs. His eyes dropped down and he bit his lower lip, crawling to you, grabbing your thighs. Placing himself right in front of your soaked entrance, staring down at your pussy as he guided himself, sinking into you.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned, feeling Jungkook’s cock stretch you out, so different from a silicone dildo or multiple fingers, because it was Jeon Jungkook praying for air as you clenched around his length, his cries of pleasure as he rocked his hips into you. Those long nights with your vibrator and his Instagram open on your phone were incomparable to his cock molding to your walls, his hard hips finally hitting your thighs, all the way in, and it was so good that you throbbed around him, shuddering.

“J-Jungkook…” you pleaded.

“I know,” he panted, hands gripping your knees tight. “I know, but give me a second to appreciate this pussy, holy fuck.”

He jerked his cock inside you and you cried out, definitely crushing your sheets, but Pikachu had seen a lot by now and there was only going to be more.

Jungkook finally began to slide out and push back in, groaning, starting slow and deep because quite frankly he needed to last more than five seconds and your pussy was not letting up. You had too much control over your vaginal muscles and he was too into you to not be hugely turned on by it, shoving your legs up higher so he could go deeper, feel more of you surround him and massage his length.

“H-harder…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungkook, fuck me harder…”

And how could Jungkook say no to that? Begging so perfectly, with just the right amount of desperation, and you didn’t even know it was driving him insane, because he knew normally you were so wound up, always worrying about being perfect, always worrying about doing the right thing, but now you were unraveling on his cock as he bent down and put more force into it, pounded you harder, watching the ecstasy in your eyes, your mouth opening and tongue peeking out, hot breath in his face. Knuckles white as you clutched the sheets, pleasure radiating up his length as you came with a cry, his name, his name on those perfect lips, lips he always watched with envy, wondering who had them, wondering who was so lucky to capture them.

And now it was just him, just him and you, and his hips slapping into your hips, pussy nearly choking his cock, but it felt so good, so fucking euphoric as you fucked him back, raising your hips to meet his, loud, wet, and lewd, probably causing a ruckus next door. But neither of you cared, your names mixing together, your eyes staring to Jungkook’s piercing brown ones, hot pleasure radiating up your stomach, your chest, to your head and there was no one else.

No one else but Jungkook’s name tumbling out of your mouth as the wave soared into you, pussy spasming as you came again, unsure at what number it was, but it was the one Jungkook wasn’t prepared for and he groaned, smacking into you one last time before you felt his cock throb and pulse against your walls, spilling into the condom. You gasped at the feeling, clenching around him, his right hand reaching over to grasp yours and hold it tightly, intertwining your fingers.

“W-wow…” you whispered breathlessly. “Nice cock.”

Jungkook burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.” He reached down and gingerly felt around in your dripping folds, finding the end of the condom and pulling out carefully.

“Fuck. It’s so much,” he gulped, brows knitted in worry.

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. I finished my period yesterday. Likelihood of you getting me pregnant is pretty low.”

Jungkook jerked his head towards you.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say that sooner?” he roared, slapping your leg. “I was scared shitless over here!”

You placed your hands over your ears. “So loud. Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No!”

--

masterpost

[sporticus1234]

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 2) 🍋

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Catch up with Part 1 Here: Part 1

WARNING: The following story has a  🍋 rating, meaning there will be topics of 

NSFW

Smut

Strong Language

By viewing of this work, you are acknowledging and consenting to the fact that you are 18+ years of age and can view such works.

Tagging:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythomas05-blog @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes  @suitfer @pixelnutrookie  @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9511 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words  @mm2305 @thegreentwin

I love you all so much, and I will see you again soon!

_________________________

If you hesitate, opportunities will pass by you So open your heart and come out      -Girls Generation, The Boys (Korean Ver.)

The hotel café the following morning was full of delicious, mouth-watering smells and buzzing conversations of the guests milling around, families excitedly planning for the day ahead or business associates discussing their upcoming ventures and other current events. In the back corner of the room next to the sheer curtains covering the early morning Boston sun, Gabe Ricci halfheartedly pokes his fork around the scrambled mess of eggs barely eaten in front of him, his head resting on a propped fist as his eyes struggle to stay open as a dull headache thumps in his head. He lifts his fork to take another bite of eggs, but his stomach lurches at the sight, and he drops the fork with a clatter. He reaches out to pour himself another cup of coffee, but he curses under his breath when he realizes the pot he ordered was empty. He tries to catch the attention of a passing waiter, but his eyes instead slide to a couple sitting a few tables away from him, their fingers laced together on the table as they share an intimate conversation punctuated by giggles and kisses across the other’s knuckles. The sight makes his stomach ache in guilt as the events of last night play like a never-ending repeat of a bad movie in his mind.

He knows there is no one else to blame; he is the one solely responsible for the shitty mess between him and Tessa. If he just gave her the obvious answer last night, he wouldn’t be sitting in the back corner on the verge of a hangover and close to passing out in his eggs. Instead, the two of them would be upstairs in his suite, her hair splayed out over one of the pillows as their limbs tangle together underneath the soft sheets draping over their naked bodies. Or, they would be eating breakfast in bed and watching the sun rise behind the towering skyscrapers as they share intimate little details about each other. Yet here he was, sitting down here and looking pathetically ridiculous as he stares a hole into his eggs like they held the answer to the question of why he was down here and not upstairs.

But Gabe already knows why he is sitting down here.

He is afraid that Tessa would reject him once things got serious.

Gabe Ricci, the man who stares down opposing attorneys and judges in a packed courtroom is afraid of something like rejection from a woman. The man who is confidently sure of himself and goes toe to toe with some of the greatest legal minds of the current day is afraid of being told “no.” The whole situation seems entirely laughable, and Gabe would completely understand if people saw it that way. But those people didn’t know about the one specific incident all those years ago that completely changed the course of his life and made him the way he is today.

Gabe considers himself to be an “all or nothing” person, devoting one hundred percent of himself to everything in his life, whether it was his job, himself, his relationships, and even his love life. It was his “all or nothing”, caring attitude that brought him to the door of the New York Public Defender’s office. Being a public defender was never going to be a smooth sailing job, but even with the obstacles in front of him, Gabe still defended his clients with everything he had. But at the end of the day, his “all or nothing” attitude was still not enough. He had little to no victories to back up his expertise and knowledge, and the passion he had for the legal field dwindled with every “guilty” verdict that felt like a swift punch to the gut. The workload was becoming overbearing with each passing year, and eventually, Gabe started questioning his own abilities and confidence. He found himself trapped in a never-ending nightmare with no chance of escape.

Even though his job was becoming a literal hell, he could always count on the one bright spot in his life at the time.

Katrina.

Katrina was everything Gabe hoped to find in a partner. She was kind, intelligent, caring. The two of them had an incredible whirlwind romance, and Gabe felt like he was walking on Cloud Nine when she was around. She was the one person who made everything feel better after a hard day. She was the one person who motivated him to push forward, encouraging him and giving him belief that one day, things would become better than what they were. She was the first person Gabe had met who he truly believed shared his same attitude of “all or nothing”, and their relationship grew more serious with each passing day. The future of their relationship came to a head one night in Central Park, where Gabe found himself on one knee in front of her with a glittering diamond ring in his hand, ready to fully go “all in” and spend the rest of his life with her. However, two little words made the intense romance they once shared fizzle out and leave his spirits firmly crushed. She rejected him in Central Park, and a week later, she moved out of his apartment and out of his life, the two of them unable to rekindle the romance they once shared despite their best efforts.

The pain of her rejection made him a closed-off shell of his former self. He never socialized after work or on the weekends unless he absolutely had to, and if he did, he hardly spoke to anyone unless the situation called for it. His work continued to suffer as he couldn’t find the heart and motivation to defend his clients as well as he knew he could. But one day after a trial, Sadie McGraw cornered him and offered him a second chance, a chance to start over and become the lawyer she knew he could become. With her help and guidance, Gabe slowly started rediscovering himself as a lawyer. The power she had given him combined with his knowledge and expertise pulled in big wins for the firm and moved him up towards the top ranks of McGraw Byrne. He was rediscovering his passion for the legal field and helping others. People began to congratulate him on his wins and praise his incredible devotion to the firm.

While he wouldn’t argue his devotion to the job, it wasn’t the sole reason he stayed long nights or came to work early in the morning. Every time he went back to his apartment after work, the sliver of happiness he felt and the boisterous conversations of the office became replaced by dreaded loneliness and cold quietness. The solitary confines of his apartment were a constant, mocking reminder of what he didn’t have anymore, a reminder of her rejection all those years ago. The office became a safe space of sorts for him, and he dreaded leaving its comfort. With the company’s generosity, Gabe secured a new, better apartment where he could make new memories and not be constantly reminded of bitter ones. The one thing the company couldn’t help him with was finding the one person who made him feel even a tenth of what Katrina made him feel. He never shied away from going out on dates as he attempted to move on with his life, but no one understood his passion, commitment, and devotion the way Katrina did. Plenty of people managed to catch his attention, but no one came close enough to keep it.

Until Tessa walked through the doors.

Gabe had discovered her the same way Sadie did, and he knew she would be a perfect addition to McGraw Byrne when Sadie opened up spots on the team. He had firsthand knowledge of her legal expertise, and he knew she fully devoted herself to her clients and used the knowledge she continued to learn in order to help them. However, while she managed to capture his attention, she was the only one who managed to keep it. She is incredibly beautiful; there was no denying that fact. But seeing her in action shined a completely different light on her. She goes above and beyond for her clients, and she willingly and gladly steps up and takes initiative when needed. She isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with some of the best attorneys in the state. Passion flows out of her like a waterfall, and it shows in her work. She is quick-witted and sharp, her eyes and mind never missing a single detail, and Gabe was not only impressed, but insanely captivated by her.

He initially didn’t think much of their constant flirting in the office or their dinner outings together, especially since Tessa flirted with the fireman for her eviction case. He was a little jealous she flirted with someone else, but since her flirting charmed the fireman into giving her more information than needed, she pulled in a massive win for the firm, and Gabe simply brushed it off and chalked up the flirting as part of her charm. It wasn’t until the cancelled business dinner that Gabe realized what was between them was more than just their typical flirting. He was catching real feelings for her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. While he did acknowledge his feelings for her, his heart was still too guarded and afraid to act on them. Tessa was the first girl he had serious feelings for since Katrina left him. He didn’t know if Tessa even felt the same way he did, nor did he know if he would be able to repair it again if his relationship with Tessa ended the same way like Katrina.

But deep down in his gut, he knew that Tessa was different from Katrina. It was a feeling he couldn’t put a logical reason on, but a gut feeling, one that you just know is true even if you couldn’t explain it. She was the first person Gabe felt genuinely happy with in a long time. Gabe not only believed in a future with her, he could also picture it. Everything he pictured and every interaction they have together doesn’t feel awkward or forced. It feels natural and…right. Aside from that, Tessa showed time and time again that she wants to be with him. If she didn’t, she would’ve turned down every invitation he gave her, and she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to make sure they spend a few moments alone together whenever they can. Tessa already made her feelings about him clear last night, and she was ready to risk the opportunity at becoming partner at one of the country’s premier law firms. She was more than willing to risk it if it meant having him.

Could he really do the same and risk his comfort for her?

_________________________

The morning sun spills into the living room of the hotel suite as the remains of Tessa’s in-room breakfast lay scattered across the coffee table. A re-run of celebrity chef Everett Flynt’s new TV show plays in the background as she busies herself in the bathroom, putting on the last touches of preparations for the day ahead. Once satisfied with her appearance, she pads back out into the bedroom and opens the closet to find an outfit for the day. When her fingers graze the powder blue dress she wore to the cocktail party last night, her task becomes forgotten as her mind flashes back to the night before, her stomach aching at the bitter taste of the memory.

The weekend conference had started off so well with everyone laughing and joking like the best of friends. The cocktail party went off without a hitch, and she managed to score some huge connections with distinguished judges and other lawyers. Everything about the weekend was absolutely perfect, until she decided to stick around and have a late-night snack and drink with Gabe and confessed her harbored feelings toward him. Looking back, the idea to share them was not one of her finer moments; she was certain Gabe and her would take the next steps of their relationship after confessing their feelings for each other, but instead, Gabe did the same thing he always does when they get close to crossing a line. He quickly doused the growing flame and pushed her away once again.

She grabs an outfit from the closet and starts getting dressed, her eyes glancing over at her bed and seeing a few jet-black streaks on the pillowcase, a reminder of what happened last night after she walked away from him. But it also reminds her she can’t keep running back to him and giving him chance after chance. As much as it hurts to walk away from him and what they potentially could have, she knows deep down she will be better off in the long run for doing so. She couldn’t open her heart and let someone inside only to have him lock her out of his. It was Gabe’s turn to return the favor, and this time, his words were no longer going to be enough. It was time for his actions to match his words and feelings, and until they did, Tessa has to move forward with her life.

She finishes getting dressed and fixes the loose strands of hair that got out of place. She glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand, seeing it is still too early for the company cars to come take them back to New York. Just as she was about to lounge on the couch and distract herself with Everett Flynt’s TV show, a loud knock reverberates through the space.

It couldn’t be…could it?

Mind curious, she makes her way over to the door and peeks out of the peephole, her stomach flipping circles as her pulse quickens at the sight of Gabe standing right behind the door. She takes a deep breath and opens the door to see him standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and his feet shuffling nervously. His actions make her more nervous than excited; Gabe normally acts so confident and sure of himself, and to see him act completely not himself makes tension creep into her thoughts.

“Hi…” Gabe says with a rare, bashful smile as he flicks his eyes down to his shoes. “Can we…” he rubs the back of his neck, “can we talk?”

Seeing him in front of her makes her feel the sting of his rejection all over again, and she has half a mind to slam the door in his face and finally give him a taste of how it feels to be rejected. But when he lifts his eyes towards her, her heart twinges in sympathy. The trademark, mischievous twinkle in his eye is no longer there, and his shoulders look like they’re carrying the weight of the world on them.

“Please…” he quietly pleads.

He’s making the effort you wanted him to make she reminds herself. With a sigh, she gives him a small, almost inscrutable nod, and Gabe flashes her a soft, grateful smile as he shuffles past her, their arms brushing against each other. Tessa tries to force down the warm prick she felt as she shuts the door behind him and follows him to the living room, making sure to keep plenty of space between them, knowing that if she didn’t, she would never get the answers to her questions. Gabe takes a look around the room, taking in the half-eaten breakfast and the way she stands with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, the space between them feeling like a chasm as guilt blooms in his chest again. The air was filling with cold tension, and Gabe awkwardly clears his throat, eyes darting around to find something to break the quiet spell.

His eyes land on the TV, and he jumps at the opportunity it presents. “Taste of the World? Isn’t this the episode where Everett runs away from the show and the culinary producer he obviously has feelings for?”

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” Tessa blurts out with a humorless guffaw. Gabe flinches at the sting of her words, and she squeezes her eyes shut in regret, cursing at herself under her breath. As upset as she is, Gabe made the first move. The least she could do is hear him out. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Gabe cuts in. “I deserve that and much more.” He takes a step closer to her, and when she doesn’t back up, he continues. “In any case, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.”

“Maybe it is my fault,” Tessa concedes. “I was being too pushy and trying to force an answer out of you that you clearly weren’t ready to tell me.” She uncrosses her arms and drops them back to her sides, a sign that Gabe takes as a good one.

“You weren’t being pushy, Tessa. You were only being honest with me, and no one should ever be blamed for being honest. And you’re right. The show is fitting considering I’m the one who keeps running away when it’s the last thing I want to do.”

The harsh expression on her face softens into mild surprise. Was he fixing to tell her the real reason he keeps running away? “Gabe, all I want to know is why do you keep running when it’s clear that you and I both want this?”

Gabe swallows the lump in his throat, the memory of her rejection rearing its ugly head again. “Because that’s exactly what she did.”

Tessa furrows her brows. “Who’s she?”

“Katrina.”

“Who’s Katrina?” After a long pause, the lightbulb goes off in her head, and her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh…” Her mind goes back to the night of the business dinner and the far-off look Gabe had in his eyes at her question of commitment.

“Even in this city?” she asks him in pure surprise. “You’ve really never found someone who’s as all-in as you are?”

Gabe looks across the glittering skyline of New York. “I thought I had, once…” he turns his attention back to her, and Tessa can see the unspoken memory fade from his eyes, “but that was a long time ago. And as it turns out, I was wrong about her.”

“How…” she swallows hard, her heart aching in sympathy for him. “How bad was it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Gabe scratches his stubbled chin and lets out a humorless, bitter chuckle. “Let’s just say I can’t get a refund on the ring anymore.”

Her eyes widen into the size of saucers, and her jaw drops open in complete shock. His actions and words suddenly became much more understandable. It explained why Gabe kept running away and avoided crossing the line between playful flirting and serious romance. He thought if he didn’t cross those lines and reject her first, she was going to be the one to do it eventually. He refused to act on his feelings because the last time he did, Katrina rejected his proposal and left him. Gabe didn’t build the walls around his heart to keep her out. He built them because he was afraid history was going to repeat itself, and he chose to live in his own little bubble of comfort instead of taking another risk, and Tessa couldn’t blame him one bit for it.

“I’m really sorry she did that to you, Gabe.” Her feet move closer to him, the space becoming smaller. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushes off. “I’ve moved on from it. In any case, her rejection changed my life for the better. If she didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be at McGraw Byrne in the first place, and I never would’ve met you.”

Tessa fidgets with her ring. “Gabe…” she begins, but quickly trails off.

“What?” he asks her. “You know you can say or tell me anything right?”

“I know, but…” she takes another deep breath, forcing herself to say what she was thinking. “Do you really have feelings for me?”

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. It makes her heart flutter a bit.

“Have I given you any reason to doubt my feelings for you?”

“No.”

“So even knowing all that, you still choose to run away,” she says matter-of-factly.

Gabe flinches at her words, tucking his gaze away from her. “Yes.”

“Then you haven’t moved on. Not entirely at least.”

Gabe’s eyes snap over to hers as he furrows his brows. “What?”

Tessa sighs. “Look Gabe. You’re absolutely right. If Katrina hadn’t rejected your proposal, we never would’ve crossed paths in a hundred years. But…”

“But what?”

“You still let what she did control you,” Tessa points out. “You say that you’ve moved on, but have you really? I mean, just take a look at what happened last night. The minute we started talking about getting serious, you quickly pushed me away and ran. You did the same thing in Vegas, and you did the same thing at the business dinner too.”

Gabe runs his hand through his hair. “I know I did, and I will always regret my actions. But I’m willing to give us a chance if you still want that. I like you so much, Tessa, and I know the two of us have something special that is worth so much more than a partnership or my insecurities.”

She eyes him curiously. “And what happens if I do give you a chance, Gabe? Are you going to run again?”

“Absolutely not,” Gabe says firmly, his deep tone making her skin jump in shock. “I’m done running away, Tessa. For good.”

Butterflies flood her stomach as her heart swells at his words, but the sensations only make her feel more guilty for what she was about to say. “Gabe, you’re saying all the right words, and I want to believe them so badly. I really do. But…”

The hopeful expression on his face slowly fades as icy dread floods his veins. “But you can’t?”

Tessa nods dejectedly. “I’m sorry, Gabe. But until you actually show me instead of telling me that you really are done running, and that you really want there to be an ‘us’, we can’t…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Gabe takes two quick strides over to her, the space between them shrinking as he gently cups her cheeks in his hands. His thumbs run over her cheekbones, and she instinctively submits to his touch, her mind already forgetting its previous thoughts and focusing solely on the soft, tender caress of his thumbs. She can smell the sharp and heady scent of his cologne, the one that makes her want to bury her face in his chest and breathe him in. She can see each individual eyelash and the sparkling mixture of nerves and pure determination in his eyes. The little puffs of breath from his lips tickle her skin, and her blood rushes and pounds in her ears as she finds herself slipping into his warm, chocolate orbs.

“What…what are you doing?” she asks over the sound of her heart thundering in her chest.

He brings their faces closer together, only centimeters between them. “What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

_________________________

The walls Gabe spent years hiding his heart behind start to crumble as he closes the last inch of space between them. He tentatively presses his lips against hers, a spark of electricity racing through her that makes her scalp prickle. The initial shock of his kiss makes her tense up, a small little whimper coming from her lips, but soon, she finds herself melting into the kiss when Gabe presses his lips firmer to hers. His lips feel like velvet, moving slowly and sensually against hers as her eyes flutter close and her body surrenders to his dizzying kiss. Her arms slide up around his shoulders and tease the little hairs on the back of his neck while he grips her waist and pulls her closer to him, his hand snaking up underneath her shirt and lightly pressing into the bare skin of her lower back. A rush of warmth spreads throughout her body from his touch, and Tessa lets out a small little moan when Gabe gently nibbles on her bottom lip and breaks the kiss. Their foreheads touch together, their breaths mixing as all their unspoken feelings and desires pass between them in this silent, intimate moment.

She shyly bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes only to see him smiling back down at her, his eyes a swirling cocktail of happy relief and fiery desire. Since growing closer to him, she often caught herself wondering when their first kiss was going to happen and what it would be like, and she would gladly admit the real thing was so much better than her imagination and thoughts. It was full of sensual desire, yet sweet tenderness. It was warm and comforting, yet intoxicating and thrilling. It was gentle, yet confident and sure. It was a kiss full of everything she associated with the man holding her in his arms.

“Now do you believe me?” he asks her as he nuzzles his nose with hers. His voice is laced with his signature cockiness, but Tessa detects a slight hint of worry underneath it.

“I think I need a little more convincing than that.” She was more than convinced Gabe meant what he said earlier, but she found some fun in teasing him a little longer. She considers it playful revenge for making her wait all this time for him to finally acknowledge his feelings.

A low groan vibrates in his throat at the floodgate Tessa’s words opens up inside him, and both of them know there is no going back after this. The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily caresses his lower lip as his eyes darken more, the passion and desire he kept locked away and hidden now flowing through his veins and taking control of his thoughts and actions. Tessa shudders at the sound of his groan and the carnal look in his eye, her nerves switching to high alert as the air buzzes with excitement. His hands snake around her waist and down to her ass, pulling her hard against him and relishing in the feel of her body against his. His firm, hard bulge presses into the apex of her thighs, and she feels it grow harder with each passing second. She subtly grinds her hips into the hardness, a pleasant rush of heat pooling between her legs as soft groans fill the surrounding air.

All of his previous fears and doubts dash out of his mind as he firmly crushes his lips to hers in a searing, heated kiss, molding and shaping her lips to his every whim and wish. Her knees wobble at the sudden assault, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist hold her up securely as the air sparks like a colorful firework and showers them in a bright rainbow of light. Her body molds perfectly into his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly in the picture. Her mind goes dizzy with delight as her hands run over his clothed chest and come to rest on his sculpted shoulders. He shifts his hips ever so slightly, and the friction makes Tessa groan in pleasant surprise. Gabe takes advantage and lightly teases his tongue with hers as the two of them deepen the kiss. When their lungs scream for much-needed air, he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip and tugs it back, breaking the kiss and leaving them gasping for air.

“Convincing…enough for…you?” he asks her. “Or do…you need a…another sign?”

Her fingers draw lazy heart-shapes over his own heart, feeling it thunder beneath her touch. “I think…I need a little…more.”

She coquettishly flutters her eyelashes and delicately pulls her lower lip between her teeth. The sight makes his cock twitch and punch against the tight confines of his pants, needy and begging for some type of relief, preferably from her. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, halting her movements. Their eyes lock on each other, and slowly, Gabe moves her hand down his torso. She feels the muscles of his stomach subtly flexing and tightening in anticipation, even through the layers of fabric between them. He reaches his belt buckle and stops the movement, his eyes and action asking her the question she already knows the answer to. She gives him a nod, excitement filling up her stomach and making the butterflies flutter. She holds her breath as Gabe guides her hand past his belt buckle, the air becoming thick with anticipation. When her hand finally brushes over his bulge and feels it twitch, the air rushes out of her. Her finger teasingly traces the outline of his bulge, and Gabe sucks in a sharp breath. When she cups him through his pants, the muscles in his jaw tick, head lolling back with a hiss as he surrenders to the sensation of her gentle squeezes.

She runs her palm up and down over his bulge, feeling his cock grow harder and punch painfully against his zipper. With another firmer squeeze of his bulge, the chain holding him back breaks, and with a groan that sounds almost like a growl, their lips find each other again, the built-up passion and desire flowing unrestrained between them as their hands wander and roam over each other’s bodies. Their kisses break momentarily as Gabe’s sweater is pulled off his body and Tessa’s top goes flying across the room. Her fingers try to unbutton his shirt, but when his lips trail down across her jaw and down to the sensitive skin of her neck, she momentarily says “fuck it” and rips open his shirt, the buttons flying across the room and ricocheting off the walls and freeing his naked chest to her greedy fingers. He slides the shirt off his body and tosses it with a groan, feeling more turned on than angry at her action. His lips trail back up across her jaw and find her lips again, their tongues dancing together as the kiss deepens and becomes even more erotic and sensual. Her hands caress over his naked torso, the memory of every dip, ridge, and flex of his muscles becoming firmly ingrained in her mind.

Fantasies from long ago are now becoming real. Any semblance of time and reality escapes them. All that mattered is this moment between them. A moment neither of them wants to end. Ever.

“Gabe…” she mumbles between kisses. “You. Bedroom. Now.” Her fingers slide down his abs until they reach the sensitive sliver of skin hidden just behind the waistband of his pants. When shuddering goosebumps flare up over his skin, he grabs her wrist and halts her movement.

“Wait…” Gabe groans after giving her another kiss. “Are you sure…you want to do this? Because once we start…I don’t ever want it to end.”

The desire and longing in his voice is unmistakable. “Wh…what?”

“I just…” Gabe shakes his head, trying to get his words right. “I don’t want you to do anything or commit to anything you might regret later on,” he tells her. “I want this to happen so much. You know how bad I want you right now, but I understand completely if you don’t want—"

She tugs him forward by his belt and places a hard, chaste kiss to his lips, effectively cutting off his rambling spell. “Gabe, I wouldn’t have given you my keycard if I didn’t want this to happen.” She kisses the tip of his chin, the stubble scratching her lips. “I want this, Gabe.” She presses a kiss on his chest, right over his heart, and the action takes his breath away. “I want you. Only you.”

His grin grows bigger at her admission. “You’re the only one I want too,” he replies, trailing his finger lightly across her jaw that has her shivering in joy.

Her hands slide back up his torso and wind around his neck, deviousness flashing in her eyes. She hops up and wraps her legs around his waist, his strong arms flexing and catching her without missing a single beat. “Then take me into the bedroom and prove it, Ricci.”

He gives her a smoldering look, and with another moan, his lips kiss the hollow of her throat and trail over to her collarbone, his hands squeezing her ass teasingly and eliciting a gasp from her. She rolls her head back and submits to his scorching kisses and kitten bites on her neck as he makes the short journey into the bedroom. He pulls his lips away from her, and with a wolfish grin and a devilish wink, he tosses her onto the giant bed. Tessa senses the shift in dynamic between them at the sudden, but very much wanted, powerful surge of dominance from him. Seeing him confidently take charge was such a turn-on for her and makes warm tendrils coil and tighten in her core. Gabe quickly toes off his shoes while she sheds her shorts and playfully tosses them in his direction with a giggle. He chuckles at her playfulness and snatches them out of the air. When he turns his attention back to her, her shorts slip out of his grasp as his eyes widen in surprise, his cock twitching in extreme pleasure and appreciation at the sight in front of him.

“Fucking. Hell.” He groans, voice gravelly and filled with lust.

His hand reaches down and palms his cock as he drinks in Tessa kneeling in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing except her lacy plunge bra and matching panties as her hair falls over one of her eyes. The sight was so much hotter than the one in his fantasies, and he couldn’t wait to rip away the thin fabric and fully see what she was hiding beneath it. She beckons him with a manicured finger, and with the invitation, Gabe hurriedly climbs onto the bed and drapes his hard body overs hers as he kisses her relentlessly. Her peaked nipples brush up against his chest through the tight confines of her bra, pulsing and begging for his attention. He shifts his weight over to one side, propping himself on his forearm as Tessa wraps her arms around his neck. His other hand slides up her side and finds her breast; Gabe softly squeezes and massages it, his thumb and index finger teasing her nipple through the fabric and making it tight with pressure. A jolt of pleasure surges through her when Gabe pinches her nipple, a rush of electricity traveling through her and making her toes curl.

Her hand slides down and pushes on his shoulder, the weight and control shifting as Gabe falls to his back and Tessa drapes her legs over him to straddle his hips, feeling his hard bulge press against her center. She braces herself on the solid planes of his chest, feeling his heartbeat race wildly and his eyes burning holes into her skin as she grinds her hips against him, a smirk fighting its way onto her face as his soft moans and groans fill the room like a symphony and wrap around her like a blanket. Gabe flutters his eyes closed, succumbing to the incredible sensation of her hips moving over his cock. While he normally is the one to take control and dominate in the bedroom, seeing her on top of him, her hips giving him just the right amount of agonizing friction, and being completely at her mercy is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

When he opens his eyes again, Tessa sees them glazed over with pure lust and unbridled attraction for her, the magnetic energy washing over both of them. “Goddamn…” he hoarsely whispers, the lust in his voice making tingles spiral down her spine. 

“See something you like?” she coyly asks him.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t like this.” His fingers toy with the lacy waistband of her panties, occasionally dipping underneath and teasing the sensitive skin before caressing down her thighs. “I fucking love it. I think you look…oh shit…” his train of thought trails off as she shifts her hips again, sending another wave of bliss washing over him. “I think you look so goddamn sexy.”

The compliment makes liquid heat pool in her core as the air floods with heated desire and erotic passion. She lightly digs her fingernails into his solid chest, seeing the muscles flex before scratching down his torso, sending another shudder through him. “Mmm…having thoughts about me, are you?”

Gabe cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, I have plenty of thoughts about you. All of them dirty.” His hands stop their teasing caresses and travel up her thighs. “You in my bed begging for me.” His fingers graze over her panties, pulling back the waistband and letting it go with a light snap that makes her gasp. “You wet and pressed up against the wall in my shower.” His hands ghost up her sides until they reach her breasts. “You bent over my desk in my office.” He cups her breasts and flicks the peaked nipples straining underneath the fabric. “You on top just like this, riding me. Hard.”

The images flash through her mind, and the muscles in her core tighten in excitement at the possibility of making all of his fantasies come true. “Who knew Gabe Ricci had such dirty thoughts, or that he likes being controlled,” she tells him as her back arches and her chest pushes further into his massaging hands.

One of his hands snakes up behind her back and expertly undoes the clasp on her bra before carelessly tossing it across the room. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re in control.”

She arches an eyebrow at the challenge in his tone. Her hands wrap around his wrists, and with a flash of devious intent, she pins his wrists into the mattress above his head, her breasts hovering teasingly over him, just far enough out of his reach. “Aren’t I though?” she grinds against him again, the friction making their skin hot.

The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily swipes over his lips, her eyes transfixing on the movement. The slight distraction is just enough for Gabe to flip her over and pin her underneath him again. The loose tendrils of his hair cover his eyes, a few strands plastered to his slick forehead, giving him a wild and untamed look, and the look makes her squirm as the muscles in her core tighten. “Told you I was in control,” he shoots back. He dips his head down and teasingly kisses her lips, pulling away before she could deepen it. He guides her arms up and pins them above her head. “Keep them there,” he commands.

“What if I don’t?” she asks him. “What are you going to do about it?”

Gabe groans. “Let’s just say that I reward good behavior and punish bad behavior.” He smirks at her. “But something tells me you enjoy punishments far too much, so I guess I’ll have to come up with something a little different.”

His lips attach to the warm pulse point of her neck, and Tessa sinks into the mattress like it is a warm pool of blissful pleasure. He kisses down the muscle of her neck before licking a wet stripe back up the length of it and giving it little nips and bites as he trails back down. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone until he reaches the hollow of her throat. The tip of his tongue traces the outline before placing a kiss directly in the middle of it, and Tessa sucks in a sharp breath. He shifts his body downward as his kisses travel across her chest and down to her breast. He kisses and slowly licks wet circles around her breast, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he comes closer and closer to her nipple with each circle, and Tessa groans at his methodical torture as her nipples throb in pleasure. When he places a kiss directly on her peaked nipple, the air rushes out of her in a moan that sends vibrations flooding through his veins and directly to his cock.

He draws her nipple between his lips and sucks on it while his other hand kneads and molds her other breast, giving her the relief she has been craving from him. He alternates his movements, from sucking on her nipple to giving it gentle little nips and swirls of his tongue while his fingers tug and roll her other nipple. He sharply bites down on her nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue, and Tessa arches hard off the bed at the sweet torture. He shifts his body again as he releases the nipple from his mouth and kisses his way over to her other breast. He gives it the same agonizing torture as the other until both are even more swollen and throbbing. Her hands clench into fists as her eyes squeeze shut, fighting the urge to touch him as every little nip and suck makes her squirm in pleasure.

The tip of his tongue trails down through the valley between her breasts, the action sending blood rushing through her body and making heat pool in her core. As much as she tries to fight it, Tessa gives into the urge to move her hand, and she reaches out and threads her fingers in his dark, soft hair. Immediately, his hand wraps around her wrist and pins it back above her head, and she giggles in spite of herself. He glances up at her through his lashes, and Tessa can see the raw power in them. He kisses his way back up, tongue darting out briefly to flick over her nipples again, and over the hollow of her throat. He softly nips at the center of her neck and traces her jaw with teasing breaths until she feels his hot breath on the shell of her ear, goosebumps flaring up over her skin.

“And you were doing so well,” Gabe murmurs in her ear as he traces the shell of her ear with his tongue.

“You know I don’t do well following the rules.”

He nips at her earlobe. “Then I’m going to make you follow the rules.” He swings his leg over her and climbs out of the bed, her body already missing his warmth. “Don’t move,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.”

He pads out of the room, leaving Tessa lying there a building mess of excitement and nervousness. She hears Gabe mutter a curse before the sound of the TV is cut off, and she giggles at the absurdity of it. She strains her ears to hear anything else, but the only sounds she can make out are soft rustling of fabric and little clinks like glass. After a few more moments that felt like an eternity, Gabe knocks on the frame of the door, and she shifts up onto her elbows to see him standing there, his lips kinked to the side in a smirk and devilish intentions dancing in his eyes. He holds up his hands, and Tessa sees a glass filled with ice cubes in one hand and the belt to the complimentary bathrobe in the other. The thought of what Gabe was planning to do to her with those two items has her quivering in delight.

“I hope you’re ready, Tessa,” Gabe says. “Because we’re going to have some fun.”

_________________________

A/N

So hello everyone! I know this took a lot longer than anticipated, but unfortunately, life decided to throw a curveball at me recently, so I am very sorry for the delay.

For those who might guess, when I finished the 2nd part, it again turned into another 15k mess, so you all will be getting a Part 3 shortly, where we’ll go into even more of some smutty goodness and some fluffy pillow talk.

I hope you all really enjoy it as much as you did for part 1, and I will see you all soon for the finale!

Second chance tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes  @suitfer  @pixelnutrookie @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9584 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words @mm2305 @thegreentwin

[quack42069]

I'm sorry - Jschlatt

Inspired by "I'm sorry Boris" by Wilbur Soot

UNEDITED !!!!

TW!

Schlatt sighed as he threw the week old pieces of sushi in the trash, he ran a hand through his hair as he checked his phone anxiously once again. You'd be here soon, and before he went spiraling down even more than he was, he knew he had to clean a bit. His apartment was messy, the living room had empty pizza boxes and was litered in chip bags and who knows day old pop. His room had clothes everywhere and a bed that had been unmade for nearly two weeks. His gaming room had empty water bottles and cereal boxes scattered on the floor or on his desk. He was a mess to say the least.

His mental health had been detariating for days now. Hell, even weeks. His mind constantly telling him how he didn't deserve anything he had, how he would be better if he cut off everyone. So he did. For weeks now he had been ignoring Mizkif, Connor and now he only had you left. Everyone else told him that he could go to them if he needed. That they'd take him back with open arms and that they were sorry for anything he's going through but that they were there. You of course took noticed at your boyfriends empty eyes and smile. How he became less and less productive. Only ever getting out of bed when you would let him know you were going over. You tried getting him out and about. Offering walks, hanging out with friends and anything else you think would cheer him up, and slowly he began saying no, that he was too 'busy' editing or too busy doing something else. So when he called you and asked you to come over after a week or so of not seeing him you immediately let him know you were on your way, telling him you'd text him when you were outside.

A part of him was telling himself to not do it. It's not what he wanted, he didn't want to leave you. He wanted you to be there with him in his little bubble and he never wanted to let you go. Unfortunately, the thought of letting you go and grow was much more powerful. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted to see you grow, even if that meant without him. So this was the day he would do that. The day he would let you go. He finished cleaning quickly, opting to just throw everything in a trash bag and hoping he doesn't throw anything of importance away.

Just as his phone dinged with the discord notification from you he finished shoving the two big trash bags under his sink too throwout whenever he had the motivation too. Knowing it would be a while he sprayed febreze and hoped for the best, quickly walking to his door he opened it seeing you. You looked up at him with a shocked expression -that being quite honest he knew he wouldn't have caught if he wasn't making sure he remembered every little part of this time you two had left together- your face changed quickly to a small smile and soft eyes. He opened the door a bit wider offering you to walk in. You stepped inside and walked towards his couch and sat. He sat next to you, wiping his palms on his basketball shorts.

"I uh- I need to talk you." He sighed. You nodded looking at him, letting him continue. Your eyes blinked away from his, knowing what was going to happen, your throat began to get tight as his voice quivered slightly. "I don't think we should be together. I'm not good for you anymore. I think you should find someone better. Someone who can be one hundred percent for you all of the time." You shook your head, wiping away a tear as you turned your whole body towards him.

"Don't do this J." You begged reaching to grab his hands. He let you as he continued. "These past years have been great with you. I truly couldn't have asked for anyone better to spend the past, what? decade, with. You've been my best friend for as long as I can remember and my partner for almost three years now. I do love you Y/n. I hope you know I'm doing this for you." You watched him as he removed his hands from you, looking up to meet your eyes. You wanted to fight him. Tell him he couldn't do this but you knew you would only push him away more.

"I'm always here for you J. Please call me when you're out of this rut. I love you." He gave you a fake soft smile as you both walked to the front door. His heart sunk as he closed the door once you left. He paced the hallway, turning around he caught a glance of himself in his mirror that sat right by his coat rack. His eye bags dark and sunken, cheeks thinner, and hair messy. He glanced at the photo at the corner of the mirror, seeing a picture of you and him. Him giving you a kiss on the cheek as you smiled in his hoodie and his Yankee's hat. Grabbing the photo softly, his thumb went over you. Missing you more and more already. He walked back to his front door. His fist placed against the door as his knees gave out, making him slide down the door, gripping the picture. "I'm sorry Y/n." He whispered.

If only you were there with him. Little did he know you were, your back against the door as well as the gloomy New York sky became dark and cloudy. If someone could see both sides of the door, they'd feel sad looking at the two lovers wishing the other would come back, not knowing their other half was just one wood piece away.

Taglist: @gognotfound @btsiguess-kpop @nocturnal-dreams @essenceproxima @yadywho

[kirishimaswife2819]

Hey hey ✨ Can I request something like Bakugou, Kirishima and Izuku with a gf (a bit taller than them) who is modelling while being a student in UA? Sorry for my weird English I am still learning 👀

Them With a Fem!S/o That’s Modeling While At U.A. || Midoriya, Bakugou, and Kirishima (Headcanons)

Masterlist 1 || Masterlist 2

↠Author’s Note: I don’t know much about modeling but I tried my best. Side note: I started majority of these headcanons with the word “he” and now I’m having flashbacks to my 2nd grade teacher telling me to not start 3 sentences in a row, with the same word. I can’t remember what I walked into the kitchen for, but I can remember that. Anyways, thanks for requesting! I hope this is fine. -Danielle <3

↠Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader

↠Summary: Izuku, Katsuki, and Eijiro with a s/o that’s modeling while attending U.A.

↠Genre: Fluff

↠Word Count: 650

↠Warnings: None

↠Notes: None

Izuku Midoriya:

He’s so proud of you, and he shows it too

He has a whole book full of all of your photos from your photo shoots and if anybody asks what you look like, he insists on showing them the whole entire book

He tries to come to majority of your photo shoots and will even do school work while he’s at one, if it means that he can be there for you

He always, and I mean ALWAYS blushes when he sees new photos of you from your photo shoot, it doesn’t even matter what you’re wearing

You could have every square inch of your body covered and he’d still blush, you’re just so pretty and it makes him flustered

He also always shows people your photos at random times, like they’ll just be sitting there, minding their own business, in the same room as Izuku, and he’ll be like “Wanna see a photo of my girlfriend?”

And they don’t want to be disrespectful or hurt his feelings, so they’re always like “Sure” and boom, they’re busy for the next hour, so they better pray that they don’t have anything planned

Sometimes he does get insecure that you’re taller than him, since typically the boyfriend is taller than his girlfriend, but just reassure him that you love him because of who he is, not because of how tall he is, and he’ll be fine

Katsuki Bakugou:

He doesn’t like to admit it but he low-key loves the fact that you model, it gives him more photos of you to look at

He does have a tendency to criticize the photos at times though, but he’s really just covering up the fact that he loves them so much, so don’t take it personally

He doesn’t come to all of your photo shoots, and if he does plan on coming to one, he doesn’t tell you, he just shows up, but normally everybody there knows him, so they’ll let him in, as long as he agrees to not cause trouble

He doesn’t have all of your photos but he does have a lot, and he will show them to somebody if needed

Whenever another girl tries to flirt with him, he just quickly pulls up a photo of you on his phone and goes, “This is my girlfriend, she’s a model. Now fuck off.”

He hates the fact that you’re taller than him because the Bakusquad teases it for him constantly, making jokes about how he needs a step ladder to kiss you (which isn’t true because it’s only a few inches), to which he commonly replies with, “I’LL BE BEATING YOU WITH THAT STEP LADDER IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP!”

Overall, supportive, just doesn’t like to admit it

Eijiro Kirishima:

Kirishima is your number one fan, he’s like that crazy fan that’s obsessed with you, except you actually know who he is

This man runs multiple fan pages for you on various social media, and he’ll always repost photos from photo shoots and compliment you in the caption

He does a good job at hiding that he does it, too, you didn’t realize it was him, until a solid three months into the relationship when he reposted one of your photos with the caption, “She’s so manly!”

One hundred percent has all of your photos and he remembers the dates when they were taken too

Sometimes you’ll walk into his room and he’s just staring at your photos, and you’re just standing there wondering what the fuck he’s doing and why he hasn’t moved for the past twenty minutes

Comes to all of your photo shoots. every. single. one.

What was that? He has homework due tomorrow? Too bad, he has a photo shoot of yours to go to, he’ll just have to deal with getting a zero on it

As for you being taller than him, he really doesn’t care, he actually thinks it’s pretty cool and claims that it’s manly

He’s literally perfect, I don’t get how anybody wouldn’t want Kirishima as their boyfriend

[dameronology]

asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’) 

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work 

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it 

enjoy 

- jazz 

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth. 

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse. 

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you. 

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain. 

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life. 

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you. 

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore 

‘You look like shit.’  

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before. 

 The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once. 

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured. 

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally. 

 ‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way. 

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead. 

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you. 

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured. 

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

-- 

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing. 

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony. 

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be. 

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably. 

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’ 

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it. 

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it. 

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day. 

 There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities. 

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about. 

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye. 

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.  

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’ 

‘Mmm?’ 

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’ 

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’ 

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’ 

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

--

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter. 

That was the problem. 

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be. 

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever? 

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find. 

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you? 

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing. 

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked. 

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him. 

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’ 

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. 

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked. 

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later. 

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now. 

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.  

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either. 

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed. 

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around. 

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.  

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human. 

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost. 

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.

[whosscruffylooking]

Instinct Part Two: Interrogations and Intrigue (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm super excited for this part. Spencer and Reader’s relationship finally has some foundation!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings! Mentions of suicide and manipulation. 

(Reader’s POV)

I tap my foot anxiously as I peer around the bland and intimidating interrogation room. It looks like something out of a mental asylum in a 1980's horror movie. They want me frightened? They got me.

Count Dracula barges in abruptly and sits opposite from me. I wince at the sound of the metal chair scraping against the cement floor.

“My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I'd like to take a moment to get your description of the man who broke into your apartment," he shows no emotion.

I nod, "Well, he had his hood up and a bandana on, but from what I could tell, he had green eyes...maybe blue...or hazel. I'm sorry, I'm not a hundred percent sure. He was just a little bit taller than me, so maybe 5'8 or 9. He climbed out of my window, so clearly, he's at least slightly athletic. He disguised his voice; he made it sound almost like Batman."

He writes down some notes. A statement that the other agent presented to me at the crime scene puzzles me. I decide to inquire for myself.

"The other agent..." "Dr. Reid?" "No, Emma? Emily?" "Yes, Agent Prentiss." "Yes, her. She told me at the ambulance that I might be the key to solving this. What did she mean by that? This wasn't just a one-off robbery? How could it involve me?"

He purses his lips, obviously pondering the right response, "What do you know of the Nomad Boys?"

My heart rate rises, but I promptly disguise my anxiety. "You get straight to the point, don't you," I quip, "I know that they used to operate about a block from my old neighborhood growing up. A lot of people have lost their lives because of them. Both figuratively and literally."

"Are you aware of your brother's involvement with them?" Agent Hotchner examines me.

I gasp. What kind of game is he playing here? I shift uneasily in my seat, "Excuse me?"

"We have significant evidence that your brother Jeremy was involved with the Nomad Boys from 2015 until his death."

I slam my fist on the table, "How dare you. How dare you bring my brother up and implicate him in illegal activities that he had no part in. Is this what you people do? You're so desperate to close a case that you can't admit defeat in then you pin it on people who aren't even here to defend themselves?"

"You seem relatively defensive yourself. Care to explain why?" The emotionless man taunts.

"Two hours ago, I was the victim of a failed robbery, and now I'm being interrogated by the feds about my dead brother? Is that not a good enough reason to get defensive?" I clamor back. 

Tears sting my eyes and threaten to spill over as I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, trying frantically to suppress my growing rage. He watches me like a predator to its prey. The sound of my rapid heartbeat muffles my hearing. I can feel my skin heat up with anger. I stare right back, eager to display my disdain for his treatment.

"If you'd excuse me," he gathers his files and leaves the room. I exhale shakily and hastily wipe the stray tears from my eyes, desperate to gain my composure.

(Spencer's POV)

Hotch exits the interrogation room and clutches my shoulder, "You're up. She knows more than she's letting on, even if she doesn't realize it. She will feel more comfortable with you." "Hotch...I-I feel like maybe Emily or Morgan should go in. Not me." "Why?" He glares at me. I swallow the lump in my throat. 

I have a job to do.

"Forget about it," I say, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. She looks up at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me not to put her through what Hotch did. I sit across from her, noticing her obsessive picking at the skin of her fingers. Her knee bounces and lightly taps against the underside of the table.

She takes a deep breath and breaks the stillness, "Whatever it is they are thinking, it's not true. None of it is true. They're wrong." 

"Y/N, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate and come back to the precinct with us and sit in here to be interviewed." 

She throws her head back and laughs, "My willingness to cooperate?Interviewed? You mean interrogated, right?"

"I know this must feel like an ambush," I say, and she jeers, "but I promise if you just hear us out, the sooner we can rule you and your brother out of this." 

She sits up, eyes wide, her posture defensive, "You just said my brother and me. Am I a suspect too? For god's sake, I don't even know what we are suspected of! Do you think I'm apart of the Nomad Boys too?" 

Strike one, Spencer. Don't screw up again.

"I didn't mean it like that, y/n." 

"But you said it," she crosses her arms.

"I need to ask you some questions about your brother's death." 

"I'm going to be sick. Screw you, Dr. Reid." 

I can't manipulate her. I don't want to. I can't use months of researching her to achieve our agenda. 

It doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it feel right? 

But for the efficiency and success of this case, it's required.

"Every day, you wake up in fear of the nightmares that haunt you each night. You live with the images of your brother engrained in your mind. The patterns he used to follow every day have now been adopted by you, most likely in an attempt to keep his spirit alive somehow. You are constantly looking over your shoulder because, still to this day, aspects of his death leave you unsettled and uncertain. You opened the door today because you were under the impression that the person on the other side would be able to offer you insight into your brother's death. He couldn't because he had another agenda, but I can. I can give you that insight; I just need you to work with me." 

I watch as she struggles to fight the pain that comes from masking her fear. I got to her. 

Why do I feel so guilty? 

Her lip trembles as she begins to speak, "I know he didn't kill himself. That's all." "What makes you so sure?"

She releases a sob and then grapples with composing herself, "B-because he loved his family. He loved life. His girlfriend was pregnant; he was going to be a father. What kind of man who was so family-oriented and had such a bright future ahead of him would do that to himself, to his future child?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize he had a child." "Aren't you guys supposed to know stuff like that? Shouldn't you come in here armed and ready with any ammunition needed to break me down?" She cocks her head. "We do. We try to find out all vital information on our suspects and those connected with them." "That's how you know that I follow the same routine as my brother? Have you been watching me?"

I can feel a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck; I reach my hand around to pat it off and to buy myself time to come up with a sufficient answer. She chuckles, "You don't have to answer that. I've seen you and Count Dracula in there tailing me."

My heart stops, and I swallow unexpectedly, slightly choking in the process. "For professionals, you sure don't take into consideration the fact that most people are suspicious of black SUVs now...mainly because of tv shows. Black Suburbans with tinted windows are either law enforcement or a celebrity. And judging by the fact that no celebrity would ever willingly set foot in my town, I was quickly able to determine which I was looking at every Monday and Friday from 10am to 5:30pm. You should really try getting some red cars, maybe blue, just try and blend in a bit." 

"Actually," I begin falling back on my knowledge as a way to diffuse the situation, "Any vehicle, when suitably modified, can be utilized as a police vehicle, but the most prevalent are those produced or altered by manufacturers for the role of being a police vehicle."

"Validation and dissemination: am I making you uncomfortable, Dr. Reid?" She raises her eyebrow. I adamantly shake my head, "Not at all. I was merely dissecting your point and proving it to be a failed tactic to intimidate me."

She looks at me keenly, but not in the way she had looked at Hotch. No, she peers at me as if striving to convey a message, an offer to be her ally. While locked into her gaze, I can't help but study her. Contrary to all of the times we followed her, hidden within the shelter of our car, I can now learn her up close. She is attractive in a flawed, approachable way. Her vulnerability camouflages a might that even she doesn't perceive exists.

(Reader's POV)

I study him thoroughly. He baffles me. A man in the station he is, maintaining the job he has, and bearing the weight of both victims and perpetrators on his shoulders, should be coarse, bitter, emotionless, much like the first agent who grilled me. Yet, here he is, eyes lighting up when he starts to spout off facts. His nervous ticks overflow, making it seem like he is incapable of withholding the truth of what this job does to him. He doesn't want to put me in this position. He's not like the standard brute that treats this job, and it's prey as if they are nothing but a bridge to walk over to get appreciation and approval.

"I want to help you," he proposes in a hushed tone.

"I know," I whisper, easing back in my seat. 

Unexpectedly, he offers me a wink and then stands from his chair. Stepping over to the door, he clasps the doorknob but delays for a moment. I look at him in anticipation. Looking back at me, he declares, "I'm going to get you answers. I promise you that." And with that, he's disappeared behind the two-way glass. A feeling of being left alone in an alternate universe overwhelms me. 

Spencer is somewhere out there on the side of the good guys, his reputation untainted, with the certainty that he will be going home tonight. I, on the other hand, have lived in uncertainty since my brother died. Here I sit, on the side of the glass that is riddled with darkness and evil. Spencer lives in a world of heroes. But I have been subjected to the world of criminals. I have a feeling, though, that I won't have to navigate it alone. 

Tag list:

@mcntsee

[depressing-debbie]

Fluff alphabet for eren please!! I love your writing :)

Thank you!! I haven't written for Eren very much, but I'll do my best!! <3

Post time skip!!

As always, I'm using the prompt by @snk-warriors

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

His favorite activity would probably be late night driving, either blasting music or just enjoying the quiet. For special occasions, he’d get reservations at a nice restaurant or maybe set up a fancy candlelit dinner himself (as long as he didn’t make the food). In general, he really just wants to be around his SO.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

I think he first noticed his SO’s eyes, and more particularly, the emotion and spirit in them. He loves watching when they’re passionate and their eyes light up, he thinks it’s absolutely stunning. He just loves the fire in their personality.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He would be a bit uncomfortable or at least unsure at first, but we all know he has his fair share of experience with this himself. So, he would really just wrap them up in his arms and sit with them silently, his way of protecting them. Once they were calmed down a bit, he would ask if they want to talk about it or just keep sitting together, and he’d be happy to do either if it means not having to see them upset.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He doesn’t really have any plans for the future. He knows that he can’t make any guarantees about what’s going to happen, and it scares him a bit to think about making plans that he can’t fulfill. When he thinks about the future, all he really sees is him and his SO together, whatever that means, and it’s enough to make him happy.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

For the most part, he’d be somewhat dominant in the relationship, wanting to protect his SO. But there are also times where he just needs to go with the flow, be held and reminded that everything will be alright. So in that way, it’s somewhat equal.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He has a bit of a temper, but not in any way that really matters. They probably bicker sometimes about small things, but he doesn’t really hold grudges, and he’d never instigate a fight about something important. 

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s incredibly grateful for his SO and everything they’ve done for him. He knows he’s lucky to be with them, and he reminds them constantly of how lucky he is and how much he appreciates them. 

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

I’m honestly not sure. He wants to be completely honest with them, absolutely, but he has trouble being totally vulnerable like that. He would never keep secrets that could genuinely hurt their relationship, but he’s also probably not completely honest about some of his past and his experiences. Maybe over time he would feel comfortable enough to share it with his SO, but he might just not want to talk about it.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

His SO absolutely inspired him. He’s a bit of a pessimist by nature, and being with them, he slowly starts to let himself see the good in everything, and maybe even have hope for the future. Knowing that he has someone supporting him, and that he was lucky enough to find someone so amazing, helps him to become just a bit more optimistic.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He does get jealous sometimes, to be honest. He knows how amazing his SO is, and it makes him uncomfortable to watch other guys notice it as well. He only steps in if they look uncomfortable, at which point he will literally scare the other person away. He trusts his SO, so he would never get mad at them or start to doubt them.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Eren likes to live in the moment, and their first kiss reflected that. He probably thought about it for a little while leading up, but he didn’t have any kind of solid plans. He just looked over that them one day and thought about how stunning they are, and decided that it was the right moment. He absolutely asked if he could kiss them, and didn’t lean in until they agreed. It was small, but passionate and loving. He’s a great kisser, and it becomes a very regular thing in their relationship.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He shows his appreciation for them constantly, but actually saying the words “I love you” would be really hard for him at first. He waits a bit longer than most people would, but that just means that when he does say it, they know he means it, one hundred percent. He probably wasn’t planning to say it when he did, it just made sense in the moment.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

The idea of marriage scares him a bit, to be honest. He’s absolutely committed to his SO, but he’s afraid of getting married without having any idea what’s going to happen in his future. In the end, though, especially if his SO wants to, he would absolutely want to get married. He’d plan a very romantic proposal with roses, maybe even somewhere more public if he thinks his SO would be comfortable with it. There probably wouldn’t be much of a change in their relationship after getting married, but he would secretly enjoy the added little domestic dynamic of getting to call each other a spouse.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He definitely calls them babe or sweetheart, maybe even “love” when he’s feeling particularly romantic. He also definitely has a joke nickname that he teases them with.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s not actually very obvious when he’s starting to fall in love. He’s always affectionate with his SO, so they probably won’t notice much of a difference. And the other people around him definitely can’t tell because he would never talk about it. His SO is only going to find out when he decides it’s the right time to actually express his feelings.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He’s pretty upfront about it, and he loves getting to introduce his SO to his friends. And he’s not obnoxious about PDA, but a general low level of affection in public doesn’t bother him at all.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

He has a really sarcastic sense of humor, and it might even seem a little bit rude to other people, but his SO thinks it’s hilarious. They know he’s never serious, so the two of them go back and forth with witty comebacks and teasing jokes.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s very romantic, and I think it’s pretty equal between cliche and creative, but definitely leaning more towards cliche. He’s definitely a roses and candlelit dinner kind of guy, but he also just wants to make his SO happy, so he’d be more than willing to come up with something super creative to make them smile.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He will support his SO through absolutely anything. He doesn’t want to lie to them when they ask for his honest opinion, but he really does believe in them completely. He’s cheering them on no matter what, and he knows they’re going to succeed because they’re amazing.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He probably does want to spice things up a lot. They probably have some basic level of routine, but he gets pretty bored when he falls into a very specific set routine with his life, so he loves trying new things. He especially loves that he gets to try new things with his SO, because that’s just one more way that their life experiences intertwine.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows his SO completely, and he empathizes really deeply. He doesn’t always understand what’s happening in their brain, he’s not a mind reader, but he can usually tell how they’re feeling, and he knows how he can cheer them up. 

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is really important to him. Once they reach a certain point in their relationship, he’s committed, one hundred percent. He allows himself to lean on them and depend on them being there. Losing them would be really hard for him.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He secretly loves taking pictures with his SO. If they tell him they want to take a picture, he’ll roll his eyes and tease them for being so caught up with social media, but it actually makes him happy. He likes having little memories together that he can physically keep with him and look back on later.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He’s very affectionate. It’s pretty 50/50 on whether he would initiate cuddling or not, but he definitely enjoys it. He loves being physically close to his SO, and getting to put his arms around them to make them feel safe.

Y earning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

He’s really not a yearning type. He definitely misses them when they’re gone, but they’re both pretty busy in general, so it’s not out of the ordinary. He would want to check up on them while they’re gone, but otherwise, he’s just happy to give them a big hug when they get back and listen to all of their stories.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He is absolutely willing to do whatever it takes to keep their relationship strong and healthy. His priority is that his SO is happy, whatever that means. 

[indiemovies]

MY MIND ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOUR MIND !!!! LITERALLY BELOVED. that makes me so happy to hear :DD i saw that you had replied and immediately had to put down my phone so i didn’t drop it or fling it across the room! the HONOR of contributing to the nancy wheeler bible with you……. 

(is speechless)

oh absolutely, and i think part of her compartmentalizing stems from the fact that she seems to have had a pretty normal life until this point. sure, there’s undoubtedly some religious guilt tied to being queer, and obviously her parents are. perhaps not the type to offer much affection and doting, but *gru voice* in terms of life-shattering events, she has no life-shattering events. which is good! but (as you said), she definitely deals with these sorts of stressors by separating them into different mindsets that she can switch to. and i think it originated from the shock of having this stuff thrown into her life, and having to grow up so quickly, as well as part of her wanting her old life back. not exactly in the sense that she wants to pretend like it never happened, but more in terms of her starting and finishing this thing in about a week, not knowing how to deal with the aftermath, and not knowing who to be when the danger is seemingly over.

so just like you were talking about!!! she’s got this half mentality of absolute maturity, of being the closest thing to an adult in the room, and having to protect these little kids from things that none of them should’ve had to face. but she’s also got her mentality of being a kid, being a teenager and yet feeling so wrong for it. the theme of her working to not make any of the mistakes she’s made in the past, because they’ve all been so costly and she can’t afford that. so she steps away from that, and gives away her stuffed animals and changes her hair and later gets a job and. it doesn’t quite work. and later, when she looks at the stuffed animal and remembers the girl she used to be, she has a brief second to mourn her. and it’s like… a part of her knows that there’s no way, after everything she’s been through, that she could return to that kind of life. so she gives it away and nobody will really know how symbolic that moment is to her except maybe karen because she sees it through a mother’s perspective and even then….

!!!! i hadn’t picked up on your point with girls having to appear more mature to be taken seriously but y eah. and it’s especially noticeable with her hair. in s1, it’s long and can be put up in fun twists and with ribbons and whatnot, but she starts changing it to something more stylish, chic, and actually, like a shorter version of her own mother’s hair. something that doesn’t make people think “girl” but rather “woman”. versus, say, steve! while we were watching my parents were constantly talking about how nancy looks so much older than she’s supposed to be and like. that’s kinda the point!! but steve is safer in his role of the ice cream scooper sailor outfit, and steve can get away with the floppy hair look because due to the time period, people will take him more seriously as a guy. not that i hate steve as a character i swear i don’t- 

A HUNDRED PERCENT. THAT SCENE… insane. i want to study her!!! i wish they would talk about it!! she’s so badass and good with a gun but the way she didn’t even try to throw herself out of the way. goes feral. 

SO TRUE. nancy “3.999 GPA” wheeler judging robin a little bit at first? absolutely. but it turns into respect and fondness and now robin’s feelings are reciprocated… beloved. and this is how nancy can have like. four scenes with robin and go from disliking her to being friends tm

I AM LOVING THIS EVERY BIT AS MUCH AS YOU ARE !!!! 

AHHHH I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!! i needed this it's always a blessing to be talking to a fellow Nancy Scholar

YES all the action happens in such a short period of time, though it has become more frequent with less time in between, leading nancy to always having to be on high alert. i love that nancy's passion for journalism really started to become more prevalent later on. it feels so fitting for her and suited to her talents, yes, but i know it also gives her a certain level of reassurance to always be on the forefront of weird happenings in town. like there is very little delay between something Bad happening and her knowing it about and i know that must be a small comfort for her. also "not knowing how to deal with the aftermath, and not knowing who to be when the danger is seemingly over." THIS!!!!!!!

EVERYTHING YOU SAID ABOUT HER MATURITY!!!!!! and it is so deeply sad because there's no way for her to win. having to sacrifice some lighthearted parts of herself to feel competent and brave enough but even when she throws away her childhood she can fully be absorbed into that adulthood either. not being able to be either her old self OR fully grow into the new self she wants to be leads to her feeling so...unsatisfied? fractured? i love this facet of her character bc she can look like the normal teen girl and she can act like the hardened adult and she's both of those but neither too so who is nancy really?? this is why we need the nancy spinoff we can't conclude her arc in just one season i'm serious!!!!!!

LOVE THE HAIR ANALYSIS everyone talks about steve's hair but what about nancy's!!!! my favorite thing every season is seeing nancy's hair and makeup getting progressively messy and runny but i also agree with you 100% about what her hair represents and even it being modeled after her mom oh god......also i literally LOVE steve his fans just make it so easy to make fun of him LMAO

also i just love the thought of fearless, guarded, courageous nancy being shaken by robin and her feelings for her. like you said in just 4 scenes they already had this crazy connection and normally i would hate that but with them it just makes sense like of course robin would worm her way into nancy's life and heart so quickly just works on so many levels for me. like maybe with jonathan/steve it scared he rhow much she cared for them bc it was terrifying for her to think about something happening to them, but for robin there's so many ways she can lose her. like she has so much internalized heteronormativity that the thought of robin possibly being gay and into her is just so out of the realm of possibility it doesn't even cross her mind once even though....well look at robin. but i think for as astute and observational nancy is it's fun to think about her being oblivious when it comes to her own life and people's feelings toward her at times (think like mike in the car with will completely unaware but ronance edition) (i think obliviousness just may run in the wheeler family). and it takes someone else to point out that robin definitely has a crush on her for nancy, never one to ingore the facts, to realize and make the first move. sorry ronance rant!!!

also i was just curious bc i love to know your thoughts but what is your take on nancy's sexuality? i feel like a little ping pong ball constantly going back and forth on whether i think she's bisexual or a lesbian experiencing comphet......all i know is she is not straight lol but i would love to know what you think!!!!

[bigskydreaming]

shamelessbatfamtrash

i think a lot of Dick Grayson bad takes/hate can be chalked up to: I hate my perfect older sibling (who i think/know my parents like better), time to project and trash Dick Grayson - but this is me just taking a guess

I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an element of that for a lot of people, and the thing is....that’s fine actually! LOL. Like, its totally valid to dislike a character for purely petty reasons, its literally just.....keep enough perspective to be aware when that’s what you’re doing, so that you don’t end up trying to convince an entire fandom that no you’re actually being completely objective and Dick Grayson’s actually the worst and here’s why, and its all canon except for when people point out its not actually canon, and then the real problem is just that they’re too obsessed with canon, y’know?

LOL.

It all comes back to the fact that people aren’t wrong, fandom IS all interconnected and we should be mindful of our impact on other parts of fandom as much as their impact on us, but it keeps being about that two way street for me.

Because people honestly just treat some of us like we’re stupid when they just keep willfully insisting oh all of this is in your head and there’s no real discrepancy in how people are about this character, every character has people who hate them.....because like, yes, that’s true. But not every character has people actively trying to overwrite their canon with worse canon in a fandom where most new fans’ knowledge of canon just comes from other fans rather than the source material, all while claiming not to give a fuck about canon at all, lol. The ‘this happens with every character’ thing would be apt if like....Bruce fans were constantly trying to push back against people giving Bruce shit for stuff he never did instead of like....stuff he literally actually did. Etc, etc.

The reason I stress the difference with Dick is because pretty much all the things he’s vilified for in fic are fan-created, while those very fans keep trying to claim they’re improving upon canon AND blaming canon for their interpretation of Dick at the exact same time. It doesn’t work, and trying to act like it does just demands people who happen to not be invested in agreeing with that POV like....just ignore logic and shut up and accept the status quo, and that simply doesn’t work for some of us.

But like....if people want to just...not like Dick Grayson for entirely personal reasons? I’m actually one hundred percent down with that, in comparison! Like rock on or whatever, its fine. Just.....say that. Don’t go around trying to make it about what he didn’t do that inspired your dislike of his character in order to justify it, because at least if you can be like ‘lol fair warning, I’m not a Dick Grayson fan, he just doesn’t appeal to me personally’ then like....people reading your fic, whether they’re fans of the character or brand new to fandom, at least know not to take your depiction of the character too seriously, y’know? They’ll look elsewhere for more rounded views of that character. And its literally that simple.