#I’m very new to this fandom and I put together literally this morning that no more what ifs is to akechi what beneath the mask is to joker

[thedaythatwas]

the p5r soundtrack is going to make my spotify wrapped very confusing this year (the primary culprit is no more what ifs but from my blog, really, what else did you expect?)

[winderlylandchime]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well and that your trip is good and fun. But holy shit, i hope you and your partner manage to stay covid free! I’m sending some healing thoughts to your SIL since covid absolutely sucks!

Also a few things i do have to say because you need to know (most of them i was told to tell you guys): we went to the doctor yesterday and he was proudly wearing his new shirt. Everyone found it hilarious and accurate portrayal of him/his year. And then he told the whole office (2 doctors and 3 nurses) that he is now famous on the internet because i told bunch of people about him watching the show. And the doctor who is in charge of his case (the guy who did the surgery lol), looked at me, pointed at him and slowly went ‘you made him other people’s problem?’ And my brother proudly said ‘Yes, she did! *realized what was said* heeeeey, i can be quite a delight, just ask the people on the no porn site’ (yes, that is how he told them about tumblr). And my brother wanted me to let you all know that his cast has to stay on for another week, so he is very sad about that BUT the big news that he immediately looked at me (in the office in front of them btw) and went ‘you gotta tell my new homies about this’ was that in two weeks he has his final check up with his surgeon bc he wants to do all tests one last time and then if all is good which they believe will be, he can officially go home and back to his whatever tf normal life is for him. So looks like I’m losing my two roommates soon. Shit will be boring ngl.

Then the other more important thing! My brother had your blog opened on his tag, but i guess he went to check out the rest of the blog because he walked in this morning and went ‘did you fucking know that they write stories?! About Brian and Blondie? WHAT IS THIS? AND THERES SO MANY FUCKING COOL GIFS TOO. LIKE SHIT TON OF THEM! I saw one where Gale was talking in that interview about Prom and Blondie from that panel and then there were gifs from the episode and behind the scenes with it! That had to take for fucking ever! Do people just make them all the time? See? when *puts out one hand* Fandom and *puts out the other hand* love, come together *puts his hands together* beautiful things come to life.’

So he is currently going through your ao3/bookmarks but i did tell him to read your other fics before the new one.. Btw he didn’t move from the couch for a few hours after he discovered it. His favorites so far are: we didn’t know we could reach the stars (he thought that one was a very accurate portrayal of what Brian and Justin would be like if the writers didnt ruin it), clothes mean nothing until someone lives in them (he really enjoyed that one btw. He especially thought the ‘not the first boy to jerk off to thoughts of Brian in this bed’ was clever as fuck and literally went ‘ooohhh shit’ when he read it)

and Youre like a tattoo (he gasped when he realized the plot and went ‘ITS REVERSED!’). And when he finally made it to your new fic he fucking lost it (he had a tiny report on it)

I did show him your replies from previous messages and here’s the message from the guy himself (read this as if youre listening to a very caffeinated person pacing up and down, for accurate pov): I was a breath of fresh air for them? Fucking hell, so this fandom is in like a hibernation, huh? I’m fucked, aren’t I? Well anyway, thank you stranger for very sweet words. I fuck with this person! I think we’d be friends. I FUCKING LOVE LITTLE EDIE! Me and (his best friends name) always quote the ‘It was quite the scandal actually. It was in all the magazines at the time’ in Jinx’s voice whenever some random shit is asked. Them and their spouse sound like they’re fucking fun to be around. Wait you gotta tell them I read the stories they wrote, i’m still reading other people’s shit, i have a lot to catch up to. But that one that isn’t done yet is fucking brilliant. I mean they all are but I read that one twice! I had to watch the reunion episode from season 3 because it made me all nostalgic when they got back together. It’s exactly how I’d like the show to be. Its nice to read and go mhm thats my bri bri, unlike in the show where it was not my bri but an imposter. I also very much fuck with older Brian who has a beard and glasses. Because he looked pretty as fuck in that little comic con video. I’m excited to see how they end it and i really really hope that they had fun writing these stories because i had a lot of fun reading them. Anyway, tell them, they’re fucking cool, their stories are fucking dope, i also really liked that one about them sharing their clothes AND THE ONE WHERE BLONDIE WAS THE SUGAR DADDY! I fucking told you that will happen..i was just wrong as to where. And im glad to see that the *lifts his cast* ally, is catching on.

PS, we both got all ‘awwww’ and a little emotional ngl, when we read your response how you’ve been thinking of us while writing. And just so you know we spent all day today discussing your fics (when he got to the cliffhanger, he went ‘i am once again being teased just like with the love confession’) and some other fics from other creators that he read and enjoyed. The man is in awe. Every time he’d read a new chapter/fic he goes ‘this is the best thing ive read’ over and over.

Hello hello hello dear sweet anon and brother anon!

Thank you for your well wishes. My SIL tested negative this morning so we are officially in the clear (and can abandon our masks). I think we did a good job being responsible within the circumstances. Luckily, my SIL’s symptoms never got bad and the cold I arrived with (was it a cold or an intense allergic reaction to cleaning my apartment and kicking up all that dust?) never evolved into anything more unpleasant.

I love that we’re not the people on the “no porn site.” And we do all think he’s delightful. I’m glad he’s recovering well and can soon live independently from you but I imagine life will be a lot quieter and less chaotic without him and feline BriBri.

Yes! Gifs allow us to relive every moment of the series, draw parallels etc. Let’s give a hand to @sophsun1 who is basically carrying the fandom on her back with her beautiful gifs.

I am absolutely floored by his reaction to my fics. Thank you so much for passing along the kind words he had. I’m glad he like the 5+1 clothes sharing fic (I have such a soft spot for it), and We Didn’t Know We Could Reach the Stars is such an overlooked fic (I forget I wrote it!). AND of course Tattoo was my beloved fic this year.

The fandom isn’t in hibernation so much as it is small and basically zero new content has been released in eons and so it is a small fandom with nowhere near the works produced that large currently or recently active fandoms have (tbh those fandoms intimidate me - I will read GO fic but joining a discord or writing fic in there? so scary!).

“It was quite the scandal really…” is the other quote I say to my spouse on hair wash / hair turban days! I like to think we *are* fun to be around. Especially if quote RPDR S5 is your idea of fun. Then we’re a blast!

I do have fun writing fics. I bitch and moan and complain, but I love writing them and getting to put them out into the world. I’m even more excited to write and post the last chapter of Fireflies now that I know your brother has read it. And I’m delighted to hear that he thinks I kept his beloved BriBri in character (if we ignore WTF happened to his character in S5).

I’m honestly a little bit emotional from your PS. I write fics because I love to write them but hearing that you’re sitting around discussing them? I love writing them but I do want an audience (otherwise I wouldn’t publish them) and there are fics out there that I feel that way about (written by other people) so for my fics to be that to someone… just, I need a moment and a tissue.

*makes fist* ally

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

DADDY ISSUES - Part Eleven: Jealous

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: After such an incredibly amazing night with E, you couldn't be more surprised about what's to come. But with Priscilla in town and an unexpected surprise on the horizon, it may not be what you're anticipating. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: nsfw themes, oral (reader recieving/e giving), bdsm: pain + bondage

Rating: M || Word Count: 6359

A/N: i hope y'all enjoyed the last chapter! the length of the outline i had for that chapter?? truly unmatched there was so much to fit in 💀

Song Rec: jealous - nick jonas

This is Part 11 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The next morning, you wake up in your own bedroom with a blanket wrapped tightly around you. As you sit up to yawn, you feel sticky and gross until the memories from last night start to come back to you. You bite your lip and smile as you reminisce on the dirty things you’d done. Lost in thought, it takes you a moment to realize that the telephone in the living room is ringing. You hop out of bed and dash over to it, picking up the receiver to hear Trixie screaming on the other end of the line that she saw you with EP on the cover of a magazine.

“What?” you shout, rubbing your eyes.

“Oh my god, yeah! Here you are right here! I’m literally looking at you, girl! I cannot believe this! The NECKLACE? It’s literally gorgeous. I cannot believe he really bought that for you. It looks so expensive and the fact that it’s basically a collar? So insanely hot.”

You laugh and agree. A knock on the door sounds and you glance over your shoulder at it.

“I can’t believe you went to dinner with him? What was it like? What did you do?”

“Hey, Trix, I’m sorry I’ll have to call you back. Someone’s at the door. Thanks for telling me about this,” you chuckle.

“Oh my god is it him? Oh, sorry! You have to go. I want the details later, please! Love ya, byee!” she says excitedly as you hang up the phone.

You open the door to, indeed, see Elvis standing before you. He looks stern so you stand aside to let him into the room. He enters and throws something down on the table.

“Seen this?” he asks.

Your eyes fall onto the object as you close the door. You lift it up to examine it. Sure enough, it’s a copy of the latest issue of Modern Screen magazine and there you are right beside Elvis in full color in your blue dress and the infamous EP collar. So the paparazzi had gotten a few juicy photographs of you last night. You sigh, knowing that Elvis wants to keep your relationship a secret. You look over to him as he reclines on the couch. You open your mouth to stutter out an apology, but he just grins up at you with a shrug.

“Well, I guess the cat’s outta the bag now, ain’t it, princess?”

“I thought…you wanted to keep our relationship a secret,” you say, sitting down next to him on the couch. “This is pretty much the opposite of that.”

He laughs.

“Ain’t no use in keeping it a secret no more. Not now that everyone’s seen us together, out in public, and with you wearin your collar like a good girl nonetheless. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that you can’t play games with the press. Lyin ain’t gonna work out well for ya. So say hello to the world, princess.”

You know it shouldn’t make you so happy to be acknowledged by something as ridiculous as a tabloid, but you can’t deny that your heart is beating a little extra excitedly today.

Since that day, things have genuinely changed between you and Elvis. Ever since the wild, unrestrained, untamed passion that you shared after dinner, you’ve started to visit Elvis twice a week instead of once, sometimes even more frequently. That experience showed you both what your relationship could be, the potential you have, how so very good you can both be together. He’s put in a lot more effort to try new things and pay attention to what you like. In turn, you’ve also tried to remember what he likes best and get better at it for him. You simply can’t stay away from each other more than a few days before desire returns with a vengeance.

Now, when you wake up each morning, your first emotion is a yearning for his touch, for his attention. Sometimes you touch yourself at night thinking about his fingers and fall asleep dreaming of him deep inside you. Occasionally, you even wake up in a cold sweat, panting and longing to reach for the phone and call him down to you. With the addition of his little room of goodies, you’ve spent many pleasurable nights with him.

Plus, now that you’ve broken through the awkwardness of not really knowing one another, you can actually enjoy your time together as friends. You’ve gotten a chance to know the real Elvis, unlike any other fan has. You hear about his problems, his childhood, his fears, anything he cares to tell, and you soak up like a sponge.

While all of this newfound passion between you is certainly doing wonders for your relationship, it also means that you’re spending far less time with the other people in your life. You still go out occasionally with friends for lunch or shopping. As for Max, things are…complicated. You can’t quite explain why but all of your affection for him has vanished. Every time he makes the slightest move to show interest in you, your gut reaction is to reject him immediately, redirect the conversation, or pretend you don’t understand or hear him. There’s nothing wrong with Max, of course. He’s very handsome and sweet but…somehow he feels like a disappointment. You can’t help but compare him to Elvis in every way and he fails to measure up no matter the criteria.

One evening, almost three months after your wonderful night together, a knock sounds on your door. You step away from cooking dinner to find a note taped to the outside of the door, inviting you up to Elvis’ room for the third time this week. You giggle to yourself and spend the rest of the evening finishing some tasks around your room before heading upstairs. The letter asks you to meet him after his second show of the night, which puts the time at around one in the morning. On a normal night, you would get dressed up and attend one or both of his shows before hooking up with him later, but tonight you have a better idea.

You change into a brand new lingerie set, a delicate pink one he hasn’t seen yet, and pull your favorite blue dress over top of it to conceal you. After taking a few sips of wine to bolden yourself, you grab some choice pieces of jewelry, including, of course, the collar he gifted you and the TCB ring. As you latch the EP choker around your throat, you sigh and drag a finger down your neck as you fantasize about what he’s going to do to you in just a little while. You take the private elevator up to his room and step inside, using a key that Jerry had made especially for you.

“Mr. Presley?” you shout into the space. “Daddy?”

You smirk when you receive no response, just silence. You step further into the room and shrug off the blue dress, leaving you only in lingerie. You glance at the clock to see that you have about five minutes before your meeting time. Perfect. As quickly as you can, you fetch the key from under the painting and enter your favorite room in the world. After spending so much time here, you’re very familiar with the drawer you need. You pull it out and grab a pair of handcuffs from inside.

You hook the cuffs around your wrists, maneuvering the metal chain around the back of one of the columns in the living room. You relax for a few minutes until you start to hear the whirring of the elevator. With an excited smile, you stretch yourself out, lengthening your legs and arching your back so that you’re bent at the waist with your hands resting flat against the column.

Just a few seconds later, the door clicks open and Elvis pushes through it. You suck your breath in quickly with embarrassment as you notice that Jerry is actually the one who’s opened the door. Jerry is in the middle of saying something but stops mid-sentence and averts his gaze from you. Elvis is straggling behind him but once he catches sight of you, your shame is replaced by pride. Elvis’ eyes are wide and his mouth is popped open in shock at the sight of your vulnerable body all laid out for him. He shakes his head and you giggle as his eyes grow dark right before you.

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow, Jerry,” Elvis says, waving dismissively and refusing to tear his gaze from you. “Get out.”

“Yes sir,” Jerry says, closing the door quickly.

You giggle impishly as Elvis comes closer. As he takes a few steps toward you, he reaches up to readjust the rings on his fingers. You stare at him with expectant eyes and his lips curl up into a smirk. He tilts his head and rubs his fingers on his jaw.

“Oh hi there,” you whisper, sticking your tongue between your teeth.

“God damn, mama. Lord have mercy on my soul,” he says breathily as he circles around you like a hawk stalking a mouse. His eyes trace every curve of your body and you breathe carefully through the squirming sensation in your lower gut.

“I hope you like this present I got you,” you say, arching your back to stick your ass out toward him.

He just growls in response, his warm hands sliding onto your skin. You close your eyes at the feeling of his touch, your stomach churning in knots. God it feels so good, so warm and soft. He gently trails his fingertips along the skin, wrapping them around your bum. He squeezes tightly onto one of the cheeks. You moan quietly in approval and then giggle. He does it once more before removing his hand. You whimper in disappointment but only for a moment before you jolt forward with the unexpected pressure of a spank. Your fingers grip tightly onto the column. You suck in a sharp breath and then giggle again. He spanks you once more before lowering his head into the space between your neck and shoulder. Your eyes remain closed as you feel his hot breath tickle your skin.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he growls, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

He bites down hard and your mouth pops open. You moan in pain, feeling your spine unintentionally arch back into his body.

“So bad but so good,” he says. “I like this one on you.”

He slips a finger underneath the strap of the thong you’re wearing, pulling it taut against your skin.

“What a nice little surprise you whipped up for your daddy,” he continues. “I think my little doll deserves a reward for being so good, doesn’t she?”

“Yes please, daddy,” you whisper back breathily.

He spanks you again and you thrust forward, clutching onto the column for stability. He pulls away from you and you glance down to see him sliding onto the floor below you. He smirks up at you as his face appears below yours. You laugh at the sight of him scootching back on the floor. He smiles and curls his finger toward himself, beckoning you to come down and meet him. Carefully, you bend down, sliding your hands as far down the pole as you can. He raises up from the ground to grab ahold of your hips and help you down onto his body. Once seated, he harshly grabs hold of your chin to tilt your face to the side. He attacks your neck, sucking and biting on the skin. Your fingers pull against the handcuffs as he sucks your skin raw. You moan in response to the pleasure and pain. When he bites down on the meat of your shoulder again, you jerk forward and accidentally grind onto his member, rock hard underneath you.

His hands circle around your figure to cup your ass, holding you firmly on top of him. You press your forehead against him as you begin to grind harder on him, pushing your hips back and forth on his bulge. He’s so big that you can feel him twitch underneath you as you move. The friction of the lacy lingerie and the leather of his jumpsuit is making your pussy swell with each thrust. You moan at the pleasure you feel as you drip onto him. Elvis’ fingers suddenly tighten and he holds you still over him. Your breath hitches in disappointment and you pull back to look at him.

He pushes your hips up and you straighten your thighs so you're sitting upright. With barely enough room, he somehow lowers himself down so that he’s directly underneath your heat. His finger slides underneath the lace panties and he pushes them to the side. Although you can only see his eyes below you, you can tell he’s smirking by the mischief sparkling in his irises. Without breaking eye contact with you, he drags a finger across your wetness. Your eyes close in pleasure at his touch and you smile. He repeats the action, far too slowly for your liking.

“Daddy,” you say, pouting, “you said I deserved a reward, not a punishment. Be good.”

He smirks again and then harshly pulls your thighs down onto his face. You yank against the handcuffs chained around the column as his tongue darts into your folds. His hot breath feels so good on your dipping pussy. You jerk your hips back against his tongue, begging for more stimulation.

“Mmm, you taste so fuckin good mama,” he mutters against you.

You moan in response, pulling against the restraints. He swipes his tongue up and down your folds, inserting a finger into you. He pumps it in and out rhythmically and you grind your hips on his hand as he drives his fingers deeper and deeper into your pussy while his tongue traces circles around your clit. You can feel yourself growing more sensitive by the minute. Your legs start to shake as you try to hold up your body weight while withstanding the waves of pleasure that are building inside you. Elvis’ fingers curl up and around your thighs, his fingertips digging into the skin.

You suck in a breath and release a strained moan as he buries his face in your pussy, sticking his hot, wet tongue all the way into you. With such a simple movement, you can already feel your walls threatening to clench tightly. You pull against the restraints, unable to stop him and too enraptured to tell him to stop.

“Sto-“ you start to say but wince as he hits a super sensitive portion of your clit.

Your legs are vibrating now, tired from the overwhelming sensations. You grimace as the metal from the handcuffs digs into your wrists. You’re relying on them to keep you stationary so Elvis can finish you off. But the mixture of his fingers and tongue and the pain from the handcuffs are all too much. You moan pathetically as you feel yourself climaxing. Elvis slips his finger out of you but continues to drag his tongue back and forth across your folds as you ride out your orgasm.

Between shaky breaths, you release a contented sigh. Elvis licks up your juices and you shudder as your sensitive nerves ache. When he’s finished, he pushes himself back toward the pole, resting his back on it to sit upright. Your legs quiver and knees buckle as you lower yourself onto his lap. Both of your faces are red, hot, and sweaty. He’s still in his jumpsuit, his hair stuck all over his face from the combination of his show and the glorious gift he just gave you. Your handcuffed hands fall onto his shoulders and he stares up at you with a smirk. His lips are red and swollen, glistening wet with your juices.

“Fuck daddy,” you say quietly and smile.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, brushing your sweat-stained hair from your face.

“Do you want me to-”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. “That was for you and you alone. You been so good. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you smile.

You get comfortable on his lap and sit together in silence as you both decompress.

“You know I was thinkin bout what you said the other day. Your advice,” he says, leaning his head back against the column.

“Oh yeah?” you cross your arms over your chest. “What exactly did I say, again? I say so many wise things, you know.”

He chuckles.

“About the tour, the international tour. You said that I should just go for it, with or without the Colonel.”

“Sure, I remember. I still think you should do that. Like I told you so long ago during the special, if you can dream, you should. If you can do it, you should.”

He just nods, staring up into your eyes. You smile down at him, wavering in the space between you. There that sensation is again in your stomach, those butterflies. Your eyes flick down to his lips for a quick second before returning to his eyes. His head is tilted and his eyes trained firmly on your mouth. You start to lean forward just slightly. You both grow closer and closer until he suddenly pulls away, turning his head to the side. You jerk back yourself, feeling heat flood into your face. You shake yourself back to reality and hop up from Elvis’ lap to go clean yourself up.

─────

Over the next couple of weeks, your audiences with Elvis slow down a little. You’re not too worried, since he forewarned you that he might be a bit busier as of late. Although you’re not concerned, you are upset. It’s already Friday and you haven’t been called all week. Just when you think he might have given up on you for this week, you hear a knock. This time, the letter is hand-delivered by Jerry.

“About time,” you say with raised eyebrows. “I was wondering when he was gonna call on me.”

“Well, he’s been a lot busier than usual, as you know,” Jerry explains, leaning against the door frame. He runs a hand through his feathery hair. “I…should tell you that one of the reasons for that is because of his wife.”

“His wife?” you blink hard, suddenly remembering her. Guilt floods through you as you realize you had completely forgotten about Priscilla. “His wife…of course.”

“Yeah, Priscilla has been in town this week to visit. That’s probably a big reason why he hasn’t called you, yet.”

“Right. I understand. Did she bring…” you can’t even allow yourself to say the name of Elvis’ baby girl. The guilt is too much and you feel like some sort of evil stepmother.

“No,” Jerry answers your question anyway. You gulp in relief and nod your head. “It’s just her. And she should be gone by now, anyway. She only stays for a few days at a time now. With Lisa in Memphis, I don’t think she likes to be away too long.”

“I can imagine. Well, thanks for letting me know, Jerry.”

“Of course. Good luck,” he smiles and turns to leave.

You start to close the door but then reopen it and  stick your head around the corner.

“Jerry?”

He glances over his shoulder.

“Do you think she…knows about me?”

Jerry’s gaze drops and he’s silent for a few minutes before he glances back up at you.

“Honestly? She probably has a vague idea. I’m sure she doesn’t know who you are or what exactly it is that you do, but…I’m sure she can tell that something’s up.”

“Am I…a terrible person? For agreeing to this arrangement? For helping him cheat on her?”

Jerry tilts his head and his eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t think you’re a terrible person. I realize we haven’t known each other long but, from what I’ve seen, you’re surviving. You’re making the most of what was given to you. And I watched from the beginning as you denied and denied him. If anyone can understand how persuasive he is, I’m sure Priscilla would.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile. Jerry returns it and starts on his way.

After disappearing back inside, you get dressed and put the finishing touches on your makeup before rushing out of your room and into the elevator up to his place. You smile to yourself on the way up, excited to see him after so many days. Although you could never admit it to his face, you’ve missed him.

But as you step out of the elevator and down the hall, you hear voices coming from inside Elvis’ room. You pause outside the door, leaning forward to press your ear flush against it. For a few seconds, you stand still to listen for the conversation.

“…every weekend, Elvis!” I’m so sick of this shit!”

A woman’s voice. Your heart immediately pangs with emotion as you realize that Elvis’ wife must still be here.

“What the hell you talkin bout?” Elvis’ voice sounds. “baby, I-“

“Don’t you dare call me baby! Not after you sat around here all last night calling some other woman baby! I’m done, Elvis! I’m done with this. When you’re ready to be an adult, come home.”

Your spy session is harshly interrupted as the door swings open. You step backward just in time to avoid getting slammed in the face with it as Priscilla Presley comes wildly stomping out of it. She pauses abruptly in the doorway when her eyes land on you. She quickly looks you up and down, giving you just enough time to do the same with her. You remember the first time you saw her after the death of Bobby Kennedy; her face was drawn in sadness and regret. She was so beautiful then. Now, she’s terrifying. Pure rage is written all over her features. Her eyes are widened, mouth turned down into a deep frown, fists balled at her sides. Her dark brown hair is styled in perfect soft waves with curtain bangs, very fashionable and a wonderful look on her elegant features.

You anxiously stare into her eyes. Her bright blue eyes glare back at you and you watch as they flash with sadness for a brief moment before her anger returns. Her eyebrows gently tilt upward and then slam back down in fury.

As you and Priscilla take each other in, sizing up the competition, Elvis stalks toward the door and clutches his fingers around Priscilla’s arm. Her vision doesn’t waver from yours as she rips her arm away from him.

“Another one of your whores is here. Or your gold diggers, home wreckers, whatever you wanna call them,” she hisses and takes a step closer to you. “I hope you’re happy, you little bitch.”

You hadn’t honestly thought about the fact that Elvis probably is seeing many other women — backup dancers, fans, prostitutes, whoever he wants.

She pushes past you, nudging your body into the wall gently. You say nothing back, shrinking into the wall as she passes you. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to cry. Priscilla Presley just told you to fuck off…and you don’t even have the right to be upset about it because you understand. You understand fully and completely why she would treat you like this. What right do you even have to be here? Fucking her husband behind her back when he has a child at home who misses him dearly.

“Goddamnit, Cilla!” Elvis yells from beside you, throwing his hands up. “Cilla!”

But she’s gone. She’s already rounded the corner of the hallway and is probably getting into the elevator now. You keep your gaze trained on the carpet, feeling awkward, hurt, and disappointed. A few moments of silence pass before Elvis sighs deeply and turns to you.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he says, gesturing toward the inside of the room. “You shouldn’t have seen that. Come in.”

Your brain churns as you turn to step into the room. The hair on your skin raises as you glance up to look at the furniture and things. Everything looked so much different before now. As you take a good look at it, everything seems older and faded somehow. The memories and images that used to get you all hot and bothered are now making you cringe. You’re embarrassed and feel like a fool. You jump when the door slams shut and wait in silence for Elvis to address you.

When he comes into your field of view, his face is shoved into his hand. You wait a moment but when he doesn’t move, you step forward. You reach out gently placing your hands on his chest. He heaves a deep breath and moves into your touch. You wrap your arms around his back, gently rubbing your palm up and down his back as he breathes into your shoulder. You raise yourself up on your tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Let me help.”

He sighs but does nothing to stop you when your fingers latch onto the tie of that same red EP robe from 1968. You untie it and then step back, gently lifting your top from your shoulders. You hadn’t dressed up too much tonight, just a pair of flattering jeans and a sexy blouse you’d brought from home. Once you’ve stripped down to a matching set of bra and panties, you step toward Elvis. He smiles and you return a tight grin as you push him down onto the couch.

He tilts his head lustily as you climb on top of him, straddling his lap, while you try to forget what you’ve just witnessed. You lean down as if to kiss him but move your head at the last second. You press your cheek against his and latch your teeth onto the skin of his neck, biting down hard, pulling it back, and then releasing it. He groans into your ear and you squeeze your eyes shut against the guilt. You grind your body against him as you suck and bite on his neck. His fingers grip at your clothes, sliding underneath your top and up your back. You pull back and frantically unzip his jumpsuit, pushing it from his shoulders and off his torso. You climb down from him and he stands up so you can remove the jumpsuit fully.

As soon as you’re standing upright again, he rips your shirt off and tosses it to a different place in the room. He unbuttons your jeans as he walks you back toward the bedroom. You stumble backward and his hand slides smoothly around your back to keep you from falling. You both chuckle nervously as your legs hit the back of the bed. You hop up and Elvis slides your jeans from your legs. As you move backward on the bed, he climbs on top of you, pinning you down by your wrists.

He attacks your neck, sucking on the skin so hard that you dig your nails into his back. You’re trying to focus on the pleasure, the pain, the good sensations of sex. But you can’t. Every time your attention gets pulled, it finds its way back to Priscilla. Back to her face. You can see her so clearly, the anger, the betrayal, the pain.

The next thing you know, Elvis is flipping you around on all fours and yanking your panties down your legs. Although you’re, frankly, not too interested, you fake it. You jerk your hips back as he slides into you, wincing momentarily at the friction. As he gently thrusts in and out of your folds, you do loosen up a little. You breathe rhythmically, trying to get used to the feeling. It’s not that you don’t want him and you really do want to help him. You’re just…not in the mood.

As you glance around for something to focus on, your eyes land on a small frame beside the bed. Somehow, you’ve never noticed it before. You moan in time with Elvis’ thrusts and you realize it’s a picture of his daughter, Lisa Marie. Guilt overwhelms you and motivates you to get the job done quickly. You move your hips back against Elvis until you feel him starting to twitch between your legs. You don’t relent, pushing back against him. He groans, moans, and growls as he thrusts through his climax.

You move forward and he slides out from your core. As soon as you’re free from him, you readjust your panties and move to get off the bed so you can go back downstairs, take a shower, and just forget this night ever happened. You’re sure you’ll feel better in the morning. But as you reach down to grab your jeans, Elvis stops you.

“Where you goin? Come ‘ere for a while,” he says, gesturing toward the bed.

He’d scooted back so that he’s laying with his legs spread wide and his back propped up against the bedframe. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and his chest glistens with sweat in the moonlight.

“It’s late. I should really get back.”

“Nonsense. You got plenty of time. Come ere.”

You sigh, drop the clothes, and climb onto the bed. You nestle into his armpit. This isn’t the first time Elvis has asked you to stay with him post-sex. It’s been happening more frequently as of late. The first few times, you’d taken a woozy trip back down to your bedroom almost immediately upon finishing. Plus, back then you figured he wouldn’t want anyone to see you coming out of his room in the morning.

Although you assumed originally that it was because he didn’t want Priscilla to know about you, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually because he has other women visiting him. Now you feel like a fool for not considering it, but it just never occurred to you that there were other women like you in his life. You release a breath, apparently louder than you realize, because Elvis shifts to see your face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he whispers into the darkness of the bedroom.

“Oh, nothing…” you say, shaking your head.

“You know if I learned one thing from my wife, when a woman says nothin’s wrong, she’s lyin through her teeth. Now, Imma ask ya again, princess. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath.

“That was your wife, Priscilla, who left earlier.”

Now it’s Elvis’ turn to sigh before he answers.

“Yes. That was Cilla, Priscilla, my wife,” he replies and you nod solemnly. “Look, honey, I didn’t mean for ya to see all that. She wadn’t supposed to be here today. She told me she was leavin last night.”

“I guess but…”

“But what?”

“I feel…guilty,” you admit, cringing at your own words. Elvis sighs frustratedly.

“Well, don’t. You ain’t doin nothing wrong.”

“But do you…do you still love her? Your wife, I mean?” you ask. “And your daughter, Lisa? What if she…I don’t know what if she finds out about me? I’m not a home wrecker, I -”

“Stop,” Elvis says, clearly irritated as he shifts to sit up. You slide from his shoulder and scoot over, curling your knees into your chest. “Stop this shit. I don’t wanna hear it no more, y’understand?”

You can barely see him in the dark, mostly just the outline of his face but you can see his eyes glinting.

“Yes. I understand, Mr. Presley.”

“Stop that shit, too. I don’t like you callin me that. It makes everything feel so …cold. Call me Elvis. Mr. Presley, I fuckin hate that.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” you say, irritation growing in your tone. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m just upset.”

“Upset? What else you upset about?” he asks, throwing his hands up.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because your wife called me a whore and a home wrecker as she stomped off out of your room! Probably because I’m helping someone cheat on his wife, and apparently, according to her, I’m not the only whore that you’re fucking!” you shout.

You cringe after the words leave your mouth. It all just came out of nowhere.

As you stare at him with ragged breaths flying from your nostrils, you think about the past couple of weeks. Although you've ignored your concerns, Elvis has started to collect guns. Lots of guns. You know he'd never hurt you but...it makes you nervous to have them around. Not to mention that he's become paranoid, going so far as to take the guns on stage with him. Truthfully, you weren't going to say anything, but if he wants to know then he's gonna get it.

“Okay, fine. You wanna know? The guns. I don’t like the guns. It makes me nervous. I don’t like that you collect them, just leave them laying around. I don’t like that you take them on stage with you, that you’re so paranoid that someone is gonna hurt you. I hate it. I hate seeing them and I hate the thought of you using them.”

“It’s for protection! Maybe if you paid attention, you’d understand the boat I’m in. You think you know everything? Well, you don’t. Just last week I received death threats, princess. Death threats! These people ain't jokin around. They want to kill me, do you understand? Kill me.”

As you look at him in the darkness, you can feel yourself being moved by pity. Your angry tones fall and you drop your face into your hands. Silence settles and you reprimand yourself for judging him so harshly.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know…about the death threats. I never should have pretended to know what was going on. I should have just trusted you.”

You glance over at him to see his jaw clenched tightly as he stares forward. After a few seconds of remaining steady and firm, his shoulders fall and so does his head. He looks over at you, his eyes searching yours, and reaches out. His finger hooks behind a rogue piece of hair and he slowly, gently tucks it behind your ear. He does it so gingerly that you can barely feel it. His fingers linger on your skin for a few minutes before he pulls away, his thumb tracing your jawline. You close your eyes, sighing happily at the feeling of his soft touch, a touch you don’t receive very often with the desperate violence of your shared lust.

“I gotcha somethin,” he says, a tight smile spreading across his face.

You rub your eyes as he leans over the side of the bed to fish something out from the end table. He hands it over to you, a small, flat package wrapped in golden wrapping paper and tied with a neat white bow.

“What is it?” you ask.

“That's the point of the gift, princess,” he replies and you smile.

You rip through the wrapping paper, pulling it apart to reveal the back of a vinyl album. You carefully flip it around to see the title and almost drop it when you read the words. The Genius Hits the Road. He’d managed to dig up the album you mentioned the other night, the Ray Charles one that your parents used to listen to.

You bite your lip as a smile spreads across your face and then hold the record tightly to your chest. He really had paid attention to what you said, what you liked, what means the most to you. This gift isn’t just something that he whipped up. It’s something that he must have searched very hard for.

“Where did you find this?” you ask excitedly. “It must have taken you forever to track one of these down.”

“Less time than ya think,” he says. “I got my ways and contacts. I thought you might like to have it.”

“Yes, of course! I love it…so much.”

You flip it around to scan through the familiar list of songs.

“Listen,” he places his hand onto your shoulder, turning you to face him. You look into his eyes, they’re soft as they gaze into yours. “I don’t want you to worry none bout Cilla, okay? That’s got nothin to do with ya. That’s my…that’s my fault, my problem. Mine to deal with. Aright?”

You nod.

“Just please…" you say, "please try to get some rest and help. I can tell that you’re exhausted and I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. And I guess I need to do more prep work if I’m not satisfying you enough."

You laugh nervously.

“Oh that’s bullshit, sugar,” he says immediately. “There ain’t any other women. Just you.”

You smile weakly at him, his words unconvincing to you. You’re pretty sure there are other women. But he’s right. You aren’t exclusive and you guess you can’t expect a man like him to settle just for someone like you.

“In fact, why don’t you jus sleep here with me tonight. It’s late and I don’t like the idea of you wanderin round the hotel by yaself,” he says and you nod.

You slide down into the covers, unsure what to do with yourself. It's one thing to pass out after having lustful sex with someone or to have a one-night stand and jet out of the room first thing in the morning, but this feels…different. This feels too domestic, too intimate. Sleeping next to someone else is....vulnerable. And if there's one thing your relationship with Elvis is not, it's vulnerable.

You feel awkward as you try to relax next to him. Is he going to cuddle you? Is he going to hold you? Or are you just going to lay there in silence? Your questions are quickly answered as Elvis settles in with his back turned toward you. You fold into yourself, the pain of sadness bringing tears to your eyes. You gulp hard and squeeze your eyes shut, begging for sleep.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

Leaving my thoughts here. But domestic Leo and Alix at UWC. I feel like even 🇪🇸 mentioned once that UWC was like their personal time together to be together everyday. But like imagine a one shot just focusing on their UWC Days. Leo loves them because it’s a time where she can just breathe and not have to worry about expectations or the press. She’s almost normal. She’s just a girl in school who gets her girlfriend to tutor her in German 😭🤣 but seriously. These are just some of my thoughts but

1) Alix and Leonor are not roommates because Lacy is head girl and she’s Alix’s roomie, but Leonor’s dorm is like the next dorm down and Leonor can always tell when Alix is asleep because she snores the loudest over all the other first years.🤗 the first week of Alix’s stay lacy always comes to breakfast looking quite unkempt. Let’s just say a week later nobody judged Lacy who went into town to buy some noise canceling headphones.

2)Alix and Leo have their own spot on the school grounds where they can sit and get work done, but it overlooks the ocean and the welsh sky. Leonor never feels cautious or nervous about being extra touchy because almost everyone at UWC thinks that Alix and Leo are the cutest royal couple ever.

3) Leonor has always struck me as someone who succeeds very well in all areas of Academics so it’s only fair in the UWC universe for her to have a rule that Alix is not allowed to sit next to her during classes that require concentration. Especially chemistry. (It was only one time that Alix and Leo were paired up to use the Bunsen burners and everything was going well till Alix got distracted by Leonor putting on her goggles and Alix just turned into a ball of glue(because Leonor on goggles is cute apparently) and just let her notebook fall into the flame…) cue Lacy chatting with Leonor as they walk to the canteen, “listen you and Alix cannot sit next to each other in chemistry, it’s now a fire hazard”.

4)Alix and Leonor always study in the Library, in the deepest section, far away from prying eyes because one, Alix’s game of ‘one question per correct answer’ is not something the other students want to see when their cramming before a exam. But also because I feel like their is something so special about seeing a person grow (not only in mind but in spirit) and Leo and Alix just working side by side and growing together is just so cute…like that’s memories that will follow them wherever they go.

5) lastly both girls have their schedules memorized, so when Alix is done with a class she’ll almost always find Leonor waiting for her outside the classroom, I also feel like Alix is very big on morning walks to class.

I’m new to the UWC fandom so if this was a lot….😭 da

OMG I feel so bad that you are new to the fandom and I’m just getting to this 😭 I’m literally so sorry!

Anyway I’m literally dying. THIS is my lesbian dream and it is definitely 100% accurate on the WOTC world. All of this happened without a doubt!

Again I’m so sorry and hope you are still around to read this! SO SORRY this took me SOOOO long to answer! 🤍

[hstylesloverr]

hey, if you are still taking requests, can u make an instagram with lila moss?

BEYOND.

fc: lila moss.

-

yourinstagram via instagram post

liked by harrystyles, jefeazoff, kendalljenner and 6,452,341 more

yourinstagram only 7 days for harry’s house 💗 fine line i will love you forever

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harryfan1 she’s soooo supportive i love them

harrystyles Loveee yaaaaaa

harryfan5 what was ur favorite moment of as it was bts?

yourinstagram every moment was amazing! but harry with the baby made things in me

username she’s so ugly

harryfan3 she’s more beautiful than u tho

harryfan7 she is in italy with harry what do i do to have her life

username i’m new at the fandom and i just wanted to ask how long have they been together?

harryfan4 they are very private when it comes to their relationship outside of the professional field but since they were first seen together a year and several months ago

harryfan8 literally Y/N posts more harry's house stuff than harry

harryandyn the way Y/N probably hasn't even listened to the album because she prefers to live it as a fan makes me love her even more

harryfann Y/N is the #1 fine line stan

yourinstagram everybody knows that 💅

ynflower it girl

harryfan4 Y/N gives the whole vibe of augustine by folklore’s taylor swift

-

harryupdates via instagram post

liked by harryfan1, ynandharry, ynharrys, harryfan7 and 12.345 more

harryupdates Harry and Y/N recently in Italy yesterday at night and today in the morning.

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ynandharry They’re so 🥺

harryfan1 they are probably enjoying as long as they can and resting before harry's house leaves and harry's tour starts

harryfan7 where does Y/N works?

harryfan3 she is the CEO of an interior design agency

harryfan6 they look so happy 🥹

harryandyn it is the first album that will have songs about yn 🥺🥺🥺💗

ynpics my parents

harryfan9 harry loves her so much it hurts

harryfan2 ugh im so jealous of y/n

harryyyfann the whole fandom:

ynflower they probably are in Italy bc tomorrow it’s Y/N's birthday

-

harrystyles via instagram post

liked by kendalljenner, taylorswift13, yourinstagram, harryfan1, annetwist, gemmastyles, jefeazoff and 20,456,332 more

harrystyles Happy birthday to my muse, my partner, my best friend and the love of my life. I love you to infinity and beyond -H.

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harryfan1 “i love you to infinity and beyond.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

kendalljenner Happy birthdayyy I love you Y/N ❤️

yourinstagram i love you so much my rockstar i’m sick of love bc of u

harrystyles I feel the same

yourinstagram you have so many pics of me why you put that one i look like 15😭😭😭

harrystyles Is my favorite one you look beautiful also

yourinstagram i love youuuuuuu thank u for putting up with me despite being a taurus 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

harrystyles You are so freak

yourinstagram Little Freak on all streaming platforms May 20 💖🌟

harrystyles I love you

harryfan2 the conversation harry and yn have had through replies 😭😭😭😭 i love them so much

harryfan7 and how Y/N put an ad for harry's house 😭 she’s so iconic

harryandyn She’s the one

(liked by harrystyles)

florencepugh Love you guys

taylorswift13 ❤️

yourinstagram This Love is incredible you’re a genius

harryfan9 everyone is going crazy on twitter

mitchrowland It's a good photo removing the crazy woman next

yourinstagram i hate you

-

via twitter

-

[imaginativeamateur]

[Gaara X Reader] Pillow Talk

|2022 Flubruary Event|

Week 4: True Love | Day 24: Gaara shares his deepest thoughts for you while you are asleep, or pretending to be asleep.

Pairing: Gaara x gn!Reader

Note: Hello, hello! Quick question, I was thinking of writing for more fandoms, what do you guys think? This one is very poetic, enjoy!

You could not fall asleep, despite it being literally one in the morning. And Gaara was no better than you. He lay staring at the ceiling, his hand periodically smoothed across your shoulder a couple of times before he released a long exhale.

“Can’t sleep?” You looked up at him, eyes twinkling in the dark.

“Yeah,” he hummed, pecking your forehead. It became his habit whenever you would snuggle into his arms—to bring his lips to your skin in feather-like kisses. “You too?”

You nodded, something bothering you, lowly simmering in the pit of your stomach. “About the mission…”

Indeed. Gaara knew you were worried about his upcoming mission. As a Kazekage, he would not need to go on a mission himself, but this was a special case, thus, made you worried sick for the last few days. Even though you did not deliberately show it, still acting like your normal self, the red-haired could easily discern your uneasiness through those long stares that you would give him when you were alone.

“I’ll be going with Kankuro,” he assured, “you don’t have to worry.”

“I know,” you sighed, “it’s just… You know, sometimes, those thoughts keep appearing in my head.”

Gaara hugged you closer, and you obediently dove into his broad chest, greedily inhaling his warmth. He could not tell you how agonizing it put him through seeing you dispirited from the moment you heard the news that he would be away for at least one month, out there walking on the line of life and death. The two of you started counting the days left before his departure in secret as if it was to prolong the minutes you could spend together, even as simple as leaning against one another under the clear, blue sky. And tonight was the last peaceful night before the tides of loneliness would wash over the shore of your heart. It was the silence that buried the dread growing larger inside your bosoms, suppressing the overwhelming speculations that neither one of you dared to express. Because you feared for the worst.

“Just close your eyes, Y/N,” he whispered.

You did, shutting your eyes at his words, trying your best to relax your tensed muscles. “Even though you’re leaving tomorrow, I’m still happy we can still be like this, Gaara.”

You felt your body getting heavier and heavier until you were nearly drifting into your slumber. The red-haired dotingly looked down at you in his arms, smiling fondly. “Whenever you miss me, just close your eyes, and I’ll be there by your side.”

-----------------

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[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,�� Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[bamf-jaskier]

Netflix's diverse cast means nothing when the showrunner is happy to behave like she did when challenged by far right commentators. Her allyship is performative when she ignores and lectures voices telling her to disengage. TWN is cheap western fantasy without any of the passion of the books and a huge disappointment to me. I am hoping rings of power delivers on the good story that boost their diverse cast, like Netflix promised.

I just had kind of a revelation this morning and it put together a lot of things so I’m just gonna answer this ask.

So first. Hating a show because one show runner ran her mouth on twitter is quite frankly stupid because The Witcher flat out has done more work for diversity in fantasy than any other fucking show I can think that came out before it. And there are so many people on the cast and crew who are people of color and actively advocate for themselves and write the stories.

Secondly, Lauren Hissrich fucked up. She engages with criticism too much on twitter and she engaged with The Quartering who is a very popular gamer but is also a white supremacist. And you know what? She apologized. And hasn’t been on twitter since. That’s right. She learned her actions have consequences and is trying to do better. The opposite of performative. So yeah. I’m not going to throw out the diversity of an entire cast and crew of people working extremely hard just because of one woman’s mistake on twitter.

But to continue.

People search out reasons to hate the show in increasingly creative ways. And one of the new ones that is extremely popular right now is by saying that the show is racist and the show’s diversity doesn’t mean anything. 

But last year, when a lot of POC in fandom started talking about how they felt excluded because of racism present in the fandom there were a lot of people really pushed this “fandom is escapism” mentality. And they said that people should be able to do whatever they want and racism doesn’t factor into why they ignore canon characters of color.

But I haven’t seen people say this since Season 2 came out.

Largely what I’ve seen is people trying to say that enjoying the characters of color in the show is racist because they are written in a stereotypical/problematic way. And that even if you want to change the problems in canon and make them better in fanon you are still problematic because you support this horrible racist show. And if it’s not a problematic thing about the creator. And other types of thought processes like this.

It’s almost like people have given up trying to defend against racist/misogynistic behavior and are instead trying to hunt down and call it out in other people. Even literal white supremacists are using this model, calling out Netflix Witcher for poor rep and then saying casting an asian woman is a horrible thing to do in the first place. 

but what I think a lot of people don’t understand is that the reason you push for diversity in fandom is so that diversity will matter outside of that.

Ignoring and hating characters like Netflix Triss in FANDOM directly lead to the show Whitewashing the character due to FAN complaints. It is very important to understand the impact that canon diversity has and that fans should support it.

It’s not about shipwars or headcannons or hating a particular character. It’s not about how the bastardized a particular scene or changed a plotline. Because that’s been happening in media FORVER. The Witcher didn’t invent changing the original text to fit the screen and they certainly won’t be the last.

Talking about racism and fandom is about supporting diversity is about creating a safe space. And I don’t think a lot of people seemingly understand that.

They think of it like a revenge model. When in actuality, for me at least, I am passionate about diversity and equity in fandom because I think that’s what fandom’s heart is.

This is none more present than in how people have reacted to Mistle’s casting. The misgynoir has never been more clear. 

There is not a single book without graphic Sexual assault described in it. It is ever present and you can’t fucking escape it. But the show is clearly different. In fact, Screenrant wrote a whole article about how the show change even Nivellen’s story to be more condemning of SA.

And in the books, Duny, Triss, Vilgefortz, Bonhart, Jaskier, Mistle, and Auberon all commit some form of SA and harassment. but no one ever said that the show was evil for casting a brown man as Vilgefortz. Or condemned the show for not writing Jaskier as a misogynist.

But suddenly once a black woman is cast as Mistle people are so goddamn excited to hate the show for this. People get upset because it’s not “book accurate” if you say you don’t want Mistle to SA Ciri because you are tired of women getting fucking raped and it’s not important to the plot. No one said this about Nivellen in S2. No one said this about Duny or Vilgefortz when they were cast.

Ciri is undeniably queer. And her relationship with Mistle spans 3 out of the 5 books. The relationship is essential to her character. Ciri being assaulted. Is not. The same thing could be accomplished with simple Stockholm syndrome. SA is not required and it’s almost weird to see people act like they want to see a black woman SA Ciri just so they can hate the show all the more.

So yeah. I’ve been holding these thoughts in for awhile but I figured I would share them.

This fucking sucks too because people shitting on every new thing to come out of the show ruins the people who enjoy it. Who see themselves represented in it. Who want to enjoy themselves but can’t because of hateful fuckers.

As a friend said:

if the show does it the show is bad (and you're horrible). if the show doesn't do it the show is bad (and you have bad taste).

This got insanely long but I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and had to share it. Reflect and learn. I know I fucking try to. A big one was a discussion that helped me see why people see Triss as SAing Geralt in the books.

Under the cut you’ll find a list of trigger warnings for each book. Just I’m case you want to dive into them. Don’t want anyone to be shocked by how much more graphically violent they are than the show lol.

1 The Last Wish, trigger warnings:

* - Dubious Consent

* - Violence, Gore

* - Incest (mentioned)

* - Still-birth/Child death (mentioned)

* - NonCon/Sexual Assault

* - Child Sexual Assault/CSA

* - Underage

* - Suicide (mentioned)

2 Sword of Destiny, trigger warnings:

* - DubCon

* - Mysogyny/Xenophobia

* - Violence, Gore

* - Very NonCon/Sexual Assault

* - Child Sexual Assault/CSA

* - Suicidal Intentions

* - Major Character Death (mentioned)

3 Blood of Elves, trigger warnings:

* - DubCon

* - Violence, Gore

* - Torture

* - NonCon (Drug Use)

* - Underage (depending on country)

4 Time of Contempt, trigger warnings:

* - Misogyny/Xenophobia

* - Violence, Gore

* - Animal Death

* - Miscarriage (mentioned)

* - Underage

* - NonCon/Sexual Assault

* - Child Sexual Assault/CSA

* - Suicide

* - Very DubCon

5 Baptism of Fire, trigger warnings:

* - Violence, Gore

* - Misogyny (& Weird Bigotry/Misandry)

* - Animal Death

* - NonCon/Sexual Assault

* - Underage (discussed)

* - Incest (mentioned)

* - Violence against/Death of Pregnant Women

* - Abortion

6 Tower of Swallows, trigger warnings:

* - Violence, Gore

* - Drug Use

* - Misogyny/Bigotry/Xenophobia

* - Underage (discussed and mentioned)

* - NonCon/Sexual Assault (of a Minor, Child Sexual Assault/CSA)

* - DubCon

* - Major Character Deaths

* - Past Abortion

* - Violence against/Death of Pregnant Women

* - Suicidal Intentions

* - Child & Animal Death

* - Torture

7 Lady of the Lake, trigger warnings:

Everything is Cranked to 11

* - Violence, Gore

* - Misogyny/Xenophobia

* - Torture

* - NonCon/Sexual Assault

* - DubCon

* - Underage

* - Drug Use

* - Incest

* - Child and Animal Death

* - Cannibalism

* - Major Character Deaths

* - Suicidal Intentions

[whisker-biscuit]

The Birds, The Bees, and The Bottles

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T for mild language and discussions of underage drinking

Summary: Two teens are caught trying to sneak into a bar. Bob finally has a conversation he’s held off for far too long.

Because herbaphony is not the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family.

-------------------------------------

Bob’s phone rang at two in the morning. Judging by the jolly ringtone of Helmut singing Strawberry Fields Forever, it was his personal phone instead of his work one, and that was the real tip off to things being very, very wrong.

He woke up and groggily pulled out of his still-slumbering-husband’s arms to answer the little thing going off on his nightstand.

“H’lo?”

“Bob!” Truman’s voice came out far too loud for the time of night, and far too stressed. “Bob, I’m so sorry to wake you, but something happened with Lili. I need you to pick her up for me, please.”

The older man sat up, much more awake as worry and fear immediately rolled in his gut. Helmut finally began to stir beside him, sensing his partner’s agitation.

“Truman, what’s going on? Pick Lili up from where?”

“The city’s police precinct on Abbey Avenue. She – she called me, but I’m out of state and I wouldn’t get there for hours at least even if I left this instant. She’s not in danger!” He added hastily, hearing the concern before Bob could even voice it mentally. “She didn’t get hurt! She’s just…”

The way he tapered off, the way he hesitated, said more than words could.

“She just got herself into some trouble, and she needs someone to go get her.”

Helmut was sitting up now, and Bob felt the question cross their mental link.

 What happened?

 Truman needs me to pick Lili up from the police station.

“I’m up, I’m on my way right now,” He responded to his nephew verbally, heaving himself out of bed. His husband followed suit despite still looking extremely puzzled, bless him.

“Thank you so much, Bob. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The older man waved a dismissive hand even though Truman wasn’t there to see it. “Family is s’pposed to do that for each other anyway.”

“Did I hear that right? Our peppy petunia had a run-in with the law?” Helmut asked as soon as his partner hung up. He paused, and in a lower tone – “she didn’t kill anyone, did she?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Bob said, pulling a coat on over his sleep shirt. “But something tells me we still have a few things to worry about. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ohohoh, no, don’t even think about hoofin’ it without me. We both know I’m the better driver.”

“Neither of us are very good drivers, Helmut.”

“Exactly! That little bit makes all the difference!”

The herbophanist sighed, charmed despite himself and the situation. “Alright, alright. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The police precinct was nearly dead at this time of night. While it would’ve felt eerie to anyone else, Bob was grateful for the lack of people, and not just because he was still an introvert of the highest degree.

Two teenagers awaited them in the lobby, sitting on a bench together. One was hunched over and burning a hole in the ground with his downcast eyes. The other sat straight up, defiant, holding a glaring contest with the officer standing over them. When Bob entered the room first and met his great-niece’s eyes, her self-assuredness wavered for a brief moment. She hid the slip-up behind a wall of indifference.

“Lili,” he said softly. Then, just as softly but with a gruff tinge of surprise; “Razputin.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but the former scowled harder and the latter looked like he wanted to employ his invisibility. Bob studied them both a moment before his husband appeared and broke the tension with his mere presence.

“We’re here to bust you out, kiddos!” He announced with spread arms, cheerfully ignoring the looks he received from every person in the room.

“Are you Truman Zanotto?” Asked the officer who finally broke his gaze away from Lili to give them a disapproving once-over.

“No, I’m uh, I’m Bob Zanotto, and this is Helmut,” came the awkward reply. “Truman called me to pick Lili up. She’s my great-niece.”

A few seconds of silence passed as the officer made no move to do anything with that information. Bob cleared his throat.

“We’re, uh, listed in her emergency contacts for school?”

“I see. If you can just fill out some paperwork first, we can release her into your custody.”

The herbophanist watched the way Raz seemed to sink further in his seat at the mention of family contacts. The Aquatos were also out of state right now too, if he remembered correctly. Perfect timing for two minors getting up to mischief.

Well, up until they were actually caught.

“And…Razputin, too?” He asked, catching the teen’s startled gaze and giving him the mental equivalent of a thumbs-up.

The officer raised a brow. “Is he related to you, too?”

“Well, uh –”

“Yep!” Helmut interrupted, strolling right up to Raz and giving him a merry clap on the back. The teen had a physique comparable to most adult Olympic athletes, but even he nearly toppled forward from the force of such a big man. “He’s my third cousin, twice removed. Big family. Very close. Holidays are an experience, lemme tell ya!”

“Fine,” the officer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, okay, I’ll make sure he gets cleared for release too. I’ll be right back.”

He stalked off, muttering something about it ‘being too damn early for this’, and the older couple turned to face Raz and Lili. Helmut steepled his fingers together to rest against his mustache.

“So! Now that Officer Spoil-Sport is gone, are we allowed to know what heinous crime has been committed in the night by my favorite pair of mischief-makers?”

The two glanced at each other. Raz was the one to break their silence.

“We, uh…got caught sneaking into a bar.”

Cold heat rushed through Bob’s core. Helmut blinked once, twice, then let out a boisterous chuckle.

“That’s it? Jesus! From the way you two were acting I thought you’d robbed the First National Bank.”

“…Helmut.” His husband murmured. The psi-king lost his mirth as he caught Bob’s eye.

“Ah…w-well, y’know, while I’m certainly glad we won’t hear about a righteous homicide in the news tomorrow, forgery ain’t exactly a humble hobby either.”

“It was just two IDs,” Lili muttered under her breath. “Not a big deal.”

The ice in her great-uncle’s heart turned frigid, but before he or Helmut could say anything to that, the officer was back. He shoved a handful of forms under Bob’s nose and the herbophanist fumbled to grab them before they all tumbled to the floor.

“Uh, uh, thank you.”

“Alright, we’re putting the pause on this conversation to make you free citizens again, but don’t think that means we’re done with it.” The Psi-King gave the teens the sternest look he could manage. “As soon as we get in the car, you two will have a lot of explaining to do.”

“O-Okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

------------------------------------

No one spoke a word as they got in the car and started the drive back.

Raz seemed content to continue his efforts to blend in with the background of his seat, still not meeting anyone’s eyes, and Lili stared out the window with her chin in her hand, leaning against the car’s backdoor and letting the lights of the city bathe her in neon sickness.

Helmut, bless his soul, dutifully kept the radio going while he drove, changing the station to something more mellow whenever a song started getting a little too upbeat for the collective mood of the vehicle. Bob sat in the passenger side with his arms folded awkwardly. His brain was buzzing, dreading the inevitable conversation he needed to have with his great-niece and trying to figure out how he was going to go about it.

It surprised them all when Raz spoke over the music.

“It was my idea.”

The two adults glanced at each other, then through the rearview mirror at the fidgeting teen.

“Your idea to go looking for a drink? Or to sneak into a bar to do it?” Helmut asked, turning off the radio.

“Both.”

He still wasn’t meeting their eyes. Bob sighed through his nose.

“I don’t believe you.”

Razputin’s head finally snapped up to stare at him in shock for the fast call on his bluff. “I’m telling the truth!”

“I think you’re only telling part of it, kid.”

“No! I’m telling all of it.”

“Razpu-”

“Oh, come off it, Raz,” Lili snapped a little too loud, making the whole car jump. “Quit trying to take the fall for me. It was my idea to try the stupid fake ID thing, okay? Happy now?”

“Wh – uh, who said anything about being happy about it?” Helmut asked, legitimately confused.

“Look. Neither of us had anything to do tonight, and we were bored, so Raz suggested getting a drink somewhere, but Adam and Lizzie are out of town so we couldn’t ask them.” She crossed her arms and spoke without any inflection. “So, we went out but no one would let us do anything cause we’re minors. I thought that was stupid, because we’re agents same as any of you, so I came up with the sneaking-in part. We only got caught cause one of the bartenders recognized Raz from a show.”

There were a lot of loaded things to parse through from that explanation, but Bob’s mind stalled on one particular detail.

“Adam and Lizzie give you two alcohol?”

“Not…often,” Raz admitted. “Just once or twice, when we asked.”

“Do you mean like, a literal once or twice, or a…an estimated once or twice?”

“Did Dad put you up to this?” Lili shot back. “It was just a few times, like he said. What’s with the inquisition?”

“…Lili –”

 “Raz.”

“Okay!” Helmut proclaimed as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel in boisterous aggression. “Who wants some ice cream?”

Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Cause I’m really feeling some chocolate-vanilla swirl right now. Basic bitch style. Right? Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Great! Look at that, open Dairy King right there, better take advantage of this opportunity before it slips through our fingers like the melting ice cream we’re all gonna have in about five minutes!”

The psi-king swung into the parking lot in a frenzy and herded the car crew inside before any of them could come out of their shock long enough to protest. It was only as Bob was staring up at fifteen flavors of oversaturated sugary goodness that he realized what had just happened.

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief over his husband’s diversion. The tension that had been boiling over was cooled significantly by the sudden non-sequitur, and while the teens were rather half-hearted about picking out their sweet treats, there was no longer a risk of an explosion happening.

Metaphorically and literally.

Helmut caught his spouse’s eye with a meaningful look at Lili the moment all of them had their orders in hand, then slung his arm around Razputin’s shoulders and steered him away. “C’mon my lad! Nothing like the cool night air of three in the morning to keep your Hurricane ™ properly chilled!”

The poor boy had no choice but to let himself be pulled outside, leaving the two Zanottos standing awkwardly in the dingy restaurant. Bob gave a nervous scratch at his chin under his beard.

“How about we, uh, find a seat somewhere?”

Lili couldn’t fully cross her arms while holding ice cream, but she did a good job of making it work anyway. “Sure.”

They sat in a booth in the farthest corner from the front counter. Both great-niece and great-uncle stared at their respective sweet treats as if they could teleport them out of this situation. Bob glanced out the window and saw Helmut and Raz standing outside of the car. The former was on one knee with his hand on the teen’s shoulder, speaking earnestly but inaudibly, and the latter was scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the asphalt.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Lili finally cut through the silence.

Bob turned back to her. “No. Not really.”

“No?” She broke her gaze away from her ice cream just a little bit, eyeing him with surprise. “Then why did Helmut take Raz and leave us alone?”

She was so perceptive, so smart. And yet, still so young.

“Well, I… I still want to talk to you about what happened. I’m just not very, good, at this kind of thing.” He took his spoon and absentmindedly began drawing a flower in his soft-serve. “You already know what you did wasn’t a good idea, right? So I don’t think a lecture would help things any on that front.”

She didn’t respond. He continued.

“It’s less about the fake ID and more…the reasons you made the fake ID. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so, but I know what I’m doing, Uncle Bob. I’m not going to drink irresponsibly.”

The herbophanist shook his head. “But you’ll do irresponsible things to be able to drink in the first place.”

“That’s not –” Lili didn’t have a good rebuttal. She folded her arms and grumpily started eating her cherry chocolate delight. “Whatever. It’s two different things, anyway.”

Against his better judgement, Bob began picking at his own food as he thought about how best to bring the subject back up without making the teen defensive again. Spoons clicking against teeth was the only sound between them for a solid minute.

Finally, an epiphany.

“Did Truman ever…tell you anything, about your great-grandma?”

The girl paused with a bite halfway up to her mouth. She frowned, confused. “Grandma Tia? Not much. Just that she died when he was a baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.” He ran a tired hand over his face. The ache in his heart might have long-since healed into a scar, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when pressed. “She passed away when I was nineteen. The doctors told me it was liver failure.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Lili’s mouth thinned and she put her spoon down, uncomfortable.

“When I…found out the reason behind her death, I was horrified by it. It didn’t make sense to me why she would willingly do something that hurt her so badly, especially when I was right there to love her and help her. It felt like a betrayal that she never got help or made herself stop. I was…disgusted by the mere thought of doing anything like that.”

Bob took a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but better safe than sorry.

“It sounds pretty hypocritical when I say it now, doesn’t it?”

His great-niece only gave him a hesitant look.

“Anyway, uh, where was I…” He worried his lip. “Oh, right. I told myself that I’d never touch the stuff after that. I was angry at what she’d done, and I was determined not to have the same ‘weakness’, so to speak. As you know, it, uh, it didn’t last long. I was at a college party barely a year later when I was invited by some friends to drink with them. I didn’t make human friends very easily back then – actually, I still don’t – so I was a little desperate to keep them. It turned out to be pretty hard whiskey, so I got hammered.”

The man leaned back in his seat, staring at the patterns in the booth table.

“Back then, no one really knew how alcoholism could run in a family. Everyone thought it was a personal choice to keep drinking. It wasn’t even classified as an addiction yet. So I didn’t know how susceptible I was, or how careful I had to be. I’d spend months not having a single drink, thinking I was fine and could handle myself, and then I’d get plastered for a week at parties and bars and God knows what else, and it would take me even longer to get myself to stop again. It was like that even when I was with Ford and his gang. It wasn’t until I started dating Helmut that I started trying to change those habits. I’d never met anyone who loved me so unconditionally that I wanted to be a better person for them, until him. And it worked for a while.

“Well, barring our wedding, of course. I got shitfaced at the reception. It was embarrassing afterwards, but Helmut told me it made our cake-eating ceremony a hell of a great time.”

Lili snorted, and it was accompanied by a tiny upturn of her lips. Then it dropped as her expression became solemn. “And then…everything with Maligula happened, right?”

“Yeah. I think you know the rest of that story.”

“Uh-huh.”

Great-niece and great-uncle sat together for a while, just thinking about it all.

“I know I have to be more careful drinking than a lot of people, Uncle Bob,” Lili finally said at length. “My dad warned me about it when I was old enough to ask.”

“Truman is a good dad,” he murmured in response.

“The best dad.”

“Definitely the best dad.”

More silence.

“I didn’t mean to worry you and him,” she continued. “Or scare you. I know it was dumb to do what we did tonight.”

Bob looked at her, and she gave a conceding sigh.

“Okay, it was dumb to do a lot of what we’ve been doing with this stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m not being careful.”

“Kid, it’s not always just a matter of being careful. I thought I was being careful. I thought that for years and years, and when I finally realized I wasn’t, I convinced myself I could stop any time I wanted to, and kept up the same patterns anyway. That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I’m just worried about you.”

Lili closed her eyes with a grimace. “I know. I’m sorry, Uncle Bob.”

“Hey, kiddo, look at me.” He waited until she did so. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not disappointed, either. That’s your dad’s job. I get it, is what I’m saying. It gives you a buzz, and it’s fun and exciting, and you just wanted to have a good time with your, uh…”

Bob leaned in a bit, and dropped his voice to a stage whisper.

“Is Raz still your boyfriend?”

“Wha –” her cheeks went red. “Yes, he is!”

“Alright, sorry, I’m just always out of the loop. No one ever tells me when these things change or not. Anyway,” he continued before she could get brighter than the cherries in her ice cream. “I’m just saying that you gotta be more than careful with this kind of thing. Everyone should be, really, but especially people like us. Plants aren’t the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family, unfortunately, so we just have to be aware of it and act accordingly.”

The teen turned this over in her mind. He could practically see the gears moving. When she looked at him again, it was with a slow, contemplative nod.

“No more late-night bar-hopping?” Her great-uncle asked.

“No more late-night bar-hopping.” She answered, sincere.

“Good.” He looked outside. Helmut and Raz were both lying on the front of the car, pointing out stars to each other. The sight made him smile. “Come on, we’ll work on that whole thing about Adam and Lizzie giving you alcohol another time, when it’s not three in the morning. For now, let’s rejoin our boys again and go get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Lili slid out of the booth and tentatively took her family member’s hand. His fingers squeezed hers in reassurance. “And...thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“Well, what can I say. Us weird Zanotto plant people hafta look out for each other, right?”

“Right.”

They walked out together, hand-in-hand.

------------------------------

A/N: I knew from promotional material that we'd be going into the mind of someone struggling with alcoholism, but Bob's Bottles punched me hard in the gut. It's probably my favorite mind in the game, both because it's visually gorgeous and because it hit a little close to home with some of the themes, like generational alcoholism and how the addiction can make someone a shell of themselves.

I wrote half of this three weeks ago and then found myself really struggling to finish it because it brought up a lot of old feelings I thought I'd sorted through a long time ago.

Psychonauts, man.

[asweetprologue]

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

[sserpente]

A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente 

[darlingbudsofrae]

Neil Josten Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

Alright, let’s just start this by addressing the big elephant in the room: everyone loves Neil Josten. EVERYONE.

If you don’t, you’re lying. 

Okay, first up- I’m glad this is getting addressed more on AFTG tumblr but Neil is literally so much smarter than the fandom gives him credit for.

Like yes, he’s a little dumdum on the social aspect of things (you could argue he kind of has a low EQ but also not really, I would argue that later)

but that doesn’t dismiss that he is smart af and that he can kill you and make it look natural if he wants.

For example, he literally outrun and hid from the mafia for years. Like, that in itself is an obvious point but we often forget that he did this at a very young age.

Like, he was presumably what? 16?? (when Mary kicked the bucket?) And kid was already playing hide and seek pretty well with a freaking mafia.

He does not get enough credit for this.

The survival skills it takes- the mental strength to survive as a runaway and technically he’s also homeless- at freaking 16, that’s just insane.

Also, let’s not mention the fact that it takes skills to forge official papers and all that.

We also do not talk enough about Neil and how he freaking have to relearn an entirely new position just to play exy.

I don’t think most remember that he’s actually a backliner, but have to play as a striker because it was the only available position in that local high school he attended in Millport, and that was how Kevin saw him so he was recruited as a striker.

We also additionally do not talk enough about how Kevin “literal and figurative Son of Exy” Day found potential for court in Neil “I’m a backliner but I’m playing striker because it’s the only thing available and I’m an exy junkie” Josten who only played it for like a year or less. 

Like yeah, Kevin said he needs more training but it’s not even Neil’s official position. 

The talent on this man- I cannot, he is such an icon. 

Aside from his great survival skills and being literally great at picking things up- he’s also like freaking academically smart.

Like that also doesn’t get enough credit- I mean, he does math for fun.

Frankly, I think if you did Kumon or if you had an awesome teacher you could also do math for fun (I know I did) but this should be noted with the fact that he didn’t have proper schooling.

He went on a run at a really young age so there is no way he received formal education.

Which means he is naturally like really smart.

He’s also a polyglot. And the languages he has under his belt are all freaking difficult to learn- like, no kidding: French, German, and he can assumingly speak intermediate Spanish, and we don’t even have an idea if this is all the languages he can speak.

Also, he and Andrew learns how to speak Russian, right? Like, that’s crazy.

The brain on this man and the power that he has- my son, I am so proud.

I mean, for all we know- there’s more than that and the fact that he’s like 18 at TFC screams supremacy.

This is where I argue about his EQ but Neil is crazy perceptive.

It took him like freaking 3 seconds to figure out the team dynamics the foxes have, and how to work against it.

He later figured out how to make it all mesh together.

Like the way he do things isn’t conventional but reading him analyze his team despite his lack of empathy really makes me shudder.

Like, this kid is so freaking smart. I remember reading his thought process for the very first time and being like, okay- I definitely did not think about that.

The main problem with his EQ though is that he doesn’t know how to process positive stuff when he’s involved, but when he’s the outsider- his perspective is so amazing.

Like again, he kind of lacks empathy but the way he understands things and is just so sharp is just noteworthy.

I’d argue he doesn’t understand social cues and “modern teen things” but he isn’t so completely clueless on the social aspect in general as to not manipulate an entire team of misfits with issues to work together.

He’s literally the key to unity in AFTG. Even Dan says so.

Also, the way he puts things into play- like he’s a master manipulator, and I love that for him.

We do not talk enough about manipulative Neil, like I just really love manipulative characters in general so much- especially if they’re just owning it. 

I mean, he freaking manipulated Andrew and Aaron into therapy. Kind of evil but also wow. (just a sidenote, please don’t force people into therapy lol)

Going completely dark for a second, Neil also has a freaking high pain tolerance.

The amount of horrible things he went through in the books were just so sad and the fact that he just kind of moves on from it? That’s just completely oh my gods.

My poor summer child, even if you can kill me at any given time, let me just hug you for a second with consent.

Everyone also gives shit about Neil’s fashion choices and granted it is said he kind of bags the homeless looks but the fact that he values utility above all else-

Yes, we stan a resourceful king. 

Lowkey though, am I the only one who appreciate Neil’s average style?

Speaking of style- I love the way Neil narrates. Like, the way he doesn’t give much attention to how the character looks- it’s just so realistic?

Because if I’m talking to a person in real life, there is no way I am noting how his blue polo makes him kind of casual but clean-cut and how his brown eyes is as warm as my morning coffee. Like, who even does that?

The thing with Neil’s narration is that it’s just so authentic- like it easily engages the readers and the way he gives importance to every thing the same way, it really makes it easier for the reader to discern things objectively, y’know what I mean?

He just has that quality in a main character and narrator- he’s laidback and sarcastic but not trying too hard, and he’s just really easy to love.

Like, I normally don’t like narrators/main characters in books because I favor a side character more or just because they’re annoying, but Neil Josten is legit lovable. 

At the same time, he’s also a really well-written character. Like, for all the technicalities I point out in AFTG, Neil is an asshole. He’s not perfect and I don’t 100% love everything that he does and I love that.

He’s a flawed character but he gives you something to root for- and I just really want to appreciate his characterization for a second. Most books make their characters’ flaws not even their fault to put a check to the flawed character but at the same time still have that perfect character. Eeww, no- give me real flaws to work with.

He’s one of the realest protagonists I ever read.

Like people give him shit for wanting to hide but also choosing to play a nationwide-discerned sport on an infamous collegiate team but for me it’s kind of realistic.

Because I think we, as human beings, also do things we love too much regardless of logic. I don’t know, like it’s kind of funny the way Neil is written but I honestly didn’t see him joining Palmetto as a loophole.

Like, just think of all those successful people who hid their identities via pseudonym or other necessary means to do things they weren’t expected to do or weren’t allowed to do.

For me, his character was really just looking for excuses to play his favorite sport a second longer and if anything, that’s just kind of sad.

But also, his dedication and love to exy is really admirable- like I never understood it but the way he literally does everything to stay on the court for a second longer just makes me want to root for him.

On a random note, Neil may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew’s but the way he memorize most phone numbers by heart? 

Bruh, I don’t even have my phone number memorized and I freaking have it for two years now. 

He also memorizes every twists and turns at every trip, every exits at a room he enters, and most people’s tics upon the first meeting, and other things and that’s just crazy perceptive but also really crazy on another level.

Also, we don’t get much ace/demi representation and out of the few I’ve consumed, demi Neil Josten validates me. He’s legit my favorite character that belongs in the ace spec in books.

I just really love Neil’s character so much- he’s just so amazing.

One thing I always appreciate about Neil Josten is that while he’s not a total angel (sadly), the way he loves the foxes- like he legit tried to mend the team and make sure everyone is going to be okay before walking straight to his death- like I’m with Andrew on this one, what a fucking martyr. Why are you like this and why am I crying?

Neil Josten is by all means not soft, that much is established, but the way he’s just still as precious and must be protected at all costs-

"You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

I love him, your honor- where can I file this adoption papers and do I have anything else to sign?

[samwilsonshandsandass]

In The Coffee Shop

Summary: You work in a coffee shop and preparing the special of the month starts something you’d never thought would happen at your work place.

Pairing: Sharon Carter x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon (sex pollen), smut, oral sex (m and f receiving, m and f giving), fingering, anal

Word count: 4.6K

A/N: This is my entry for @tinymalscoffee 400 follower writing challenge. Congrats on that milestone and thank you for hosting this challenge! I chose the prompts sex pollen and coffee shop AU. The graphics I used are by the amazing @firefly-graphics

It was, surprisingly, a slow morning in the coffee shop. Well, maybe not that surprising. There had been a warning for an extreme weather phenomenon and judging by the lack of customers in suits, several of the big employers had for once decided to not force their employees to come into work during this. You could already see the dark clouds forming on the sky.

The bell above the door rang and in came a red head with shorter hair. You didn’t look up from the flat white you were preparing and put some chocolate powder on it when your colleague yelled to you to get started on a double espresso. The flat white was done and snatched up by someone who visibly thought himself a hotshot, and even more visibly, wasn’t. Probably why he was out, to show his unwavering dedication to the company…

Then came the red head into your line of view directly. She was beautiful. And your hands trembled when you pushed the cup over the counter to her.

“Here’s your coffee, ma’am. Enjoy” You were surprised you were able to keep your voice steady.

“Thanks. Sugar is…?” Her voice was beautiful.

“To your right, ma’am.”

She smiled. “Do I look that old?”

“N-no, miss” You felt yourself get hot in the face.

“Don’t worry, just pulling your leg.”

You smiled at each other. Her smile made her even more beautiful. She nodded once more to you and then went to find a seat in the farthest nook of the shop. Your shift went on like usual after that.

Some days later, you had the afternoon shift. Your favorite. There were mostly students chatting about their lectures and during ordering, they were the nicest of customers and even chatting with you and the other baristas about their own side jobs, often in other cafés like yours.

This time you were on the register. Because of the influx of customers, you didn’t register the black-haired man and the blond one next to him until they stood directly in front of you.

“What can I get you, sirs? Our feature of the month is the flat white and the blueberry muffin.”

“I’ll have a latte macchiato and one of those blueberry muffins. Sound delicious.” The black-haired man grinned at you.

“And for you, sir?”

“Just a black coffee, thanks.” The blond one smiled.

“Right away, just wait for it over there.” You pointed to the end of the counter.

“Thanks” The black-haired one smiled. “So, Steve about that idea for Veterans Day…”

A week later, right at noon, a blonde woman and a brown-haired man came in. You were just finishing up an americano when they came over to you and you caught a snippet of their conversation: “… but knives-“ Said the blonde woman.

You had expected normal talks about work or whatnot. But not about knives, and apparently that had shown on your face.

“Don’t you scare the lady that’s granting you tea, Sharon!” The man said and smiled at you.

You smiled back as you gave them their tea and coffee and they smiled back. Like customers and employees smiled at each other.

Days later, when you were on table cleaning duty, your eyes swept over the customers’ heads. There was that cute couple that had had their first date here. You had no idea what number date they were on, but they were clearly progressing. The redhead putting her hand on the hand of the other woman after she put down the cookie she just broke in half.

The next table already had drunk their orders and the crumbs on the one plate in front of the brown-haired man signaled them being finished.

“Can I clear away?” You asked.

The brown-haired man and the redhead woman nodded.

“Thanks.”

There was even more traffic than usual in the morning today. Some conference was happening near you. And it wasn’t the fun kind for comics or books or games or a combination or all three with people in cosplay and sometimes, literally, screaming about who they saw and who was gonna be where and what they wanted to do and fandom discussions you got way to invested in for the fact that you were working. No, it was some business conference. It meant even more suits and even more snatched drinks without so much as a glance. It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it still did.

On one table though, there were two blondes and a black-haired man next to them. When you yelled out their orders, the blonde woman came up and took them with a genuine but tired “Thanks.” It was the first thanks you had heard that day by a customer.

When you went to do your cleaning rounds and came to their table the black-haired man and the blonde woman seemed to be dozing. The other blond smiled to himself. You took the cups and remembered how they all had wanted a double-caffeine shot.

“Thank you very much, ma’am” The blond man said.

You looked up at him, aghast. Thanking customers were one thing. They made your day. But this? This much manners? Calling you ‘ma’am’? Wow.

“O- of course. You’re welcome.”

You came out of the back room and had to grip the doorframe to hold yourself up. Your head was swimming.

“Hey! … okay?” You heard a voice in front of you.

You clenched your eyes and opened them again.

“Hey. You okay?” The blonde woman came into focus.

“I feel … weird…” You mumbled.

“I’ll take a look” The blond man said and went to the back room. A few minutes later, he came back, carrying a tray with a coffee grinder and half of the beans already ground.

“Did you just work on this?”

“Yeah… it’s… it’s our … special feature … the coffee with … with our special… home-ground beans…” Speaking was hard, you slurred, but somehow you managed while the blonde woman stroked your back.

“And you prepared them for tomorrow?” The redhead asked.

You nodded.

“Right, there was an ad about the new monthly feature” The brown-haired man mused.

You nodded again.

The blond man bent over the tray and took a whiff.

“Steve, no!” The black-haired man shouted.

“That’s been a losing battle for decades now, Sam” The brown-haired man sounded almost resigned.

“It smells a little weird.”

“I don’t smell anything” The redhead said. “But if you sense something, it must be there. Probably not strong enough for her to pick up.” She nodded to you.

The brown-haired man stood up from where he sat and went into the back room. He came back shortly after and pinched his nose in what seemed disbelief. “I think I know what it is. And all of us already inhaled it.”

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” The blonde woman spoke up.

“There were rumors about a substance that could be both used in liquids and in air to heighten sexual arousal. At the moment I don’t yet know who exactly produced it or why they need this and I also don’t know who ‘they’ are but the rumors I could listen to years ago when they were slow with wiping me, apparently led to something.”

“So, ‘they’ isn’t Hydra?” That was the redhead.

The guy shook his head.

“So, what happens now?” The blond man, Steve, asked.

“Most likely, all of us will go more or less crazy unless we…” Bucky scratched his neck and trailed off.

“Getting ourselves of by ourselves isn’t an option?” Sam wanted to know. “The whole thing would be weird if it was just people we knew from work, but she” He pointed to you. “doesn’t know us, we don’t know her and besides introducing ourselves, there won’t be much getting to know each other.”

“I know your orders, but that’s about it. I can’t even tell if you have a routine for which you need caffeine, because you all came in at different times and all the time” You mumbled with a tight-lipped smile.

“They say something about ourselves, right?” The man who was called Steve.

You nodded and looked at the blonde woman. “You have someone British in your family.”

Now Steve. “You want something simple. Maybe you don’t care for all the special things coffee shops have, but maybe, you’re also overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice.”

The one called Sam was next. “You want something sweet but unlike others, you don’t want it contrasted with a drink on the bitter side of the spectrum. You want something toned down. You don’t need another stark contrast.”

“You” You looked at the redhead- “want something strong and sweet. Always. It’s both a pick me up and something to calm down but stay energized.”

“And you, ordering a black coffee but with caramel and peppermint syrup. There are people who order one of the two syrups in their coffee. Maybe caramel and hazelnut together. Peppermint on its own. But caramel and peppermint? That’s very unusual.” That was the last one of the group.

As much as they looked stunned, you looked proudly at them.

“How do you know I have someone British in my family?” The blonde woman seemed a little lost for words.

“Tea in this shop is either ordered by people who wanna seem fancy but not too fancy to hinder their career or by people who have an emotional response to tea. That’s why we sell almost no tea when there’s a conference, even to those suit-wearing people from around here who normally order one.”

“But how?” The one called Sam wondered.

“Barista.”

“If you know all that just by our drink orders and we’ll probably have sex with each other tonight, we should probably know each other’s names, right?” Steve said.

You nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Steve and this are Sharon, Natasha, Sam and Bucky.”

You shook their hands and looked them in the eyes when their names were called and they smiled at you. You shook hands with people you barely, if at all, knew and who you were going to have sex with in probably a few minutes.

“Is there somewhere where it wouldn’t be that uncomfortable?” Natasha asked.

You nodded and led them to the very back of the shop, right where Natasha had once drunk her double espresso.

“The first time I came in here, you made the coffee and I went to this nook. You make a mean double espresso.”

“How do you remember that one coffee?”

“Because the first time it wasn’t you who made it, it didn’t taste as good.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You smiled; the barista part of your ego needed that and getting that compliment from someone like her, was an added bonus.

“May I?” Sam asked and untied the apron, now working on your shirt and you nodded.

Your clothes went one by one, slowly and when you were just in your underwear, you saw the others had taken off their clothing as well, except Sam of course.

You looked at Sam and when he smiled at you, you took off his clothes, first the sweater, then the pants.

Someone took your hand and you looked to your right to see Sharon pulling you with her on the couch. She put her hands on your cheeks and slowly kissed you. Her lips moved with yours and left you breathless when she let you go.

You felt someone on the other side of you who rubbed your waist. Turning your head, you saw Steve who looked encouragingly at you. He kissed the junction of your shoulder and neck. You could feel his chest pressing to your back and leant into him.

Suddenly there was something cold on your left leg and you flinched away, only to be stopped by soft hands.

“Sorry” Bucky mumbled and when you looked down you saw him massaging your leg with his hands, one flesh, one metal and you couldn’t help but think of how his metal hand would feel between your folds.

On your right leg were Natasha’s hands, massaging, kneading higher and higher until you felt her between your folds. She rose up until you could feel the tip of her tongue when you heard Steve say: “Nat, wait a second.”

You tore your eyes away from Natasha and saw Steve push a pillow under Natasha’s knees. She turned her head to give him a quick smile of thanks and then licked a stripe on the junction between your vulva and your right leg and then on the other side. Her hands had left your leg to hold you down at your hips and not too soon, because as her tongue was on your vulva longer than a second and she moved around, licking up and down your lips, your body bucked into her mouth on its own.

Sam moved behind Sharon, pressing himself into her, pushing her on you and both of you a little more into Steve. He somehow got his hands under your butt, letting his fingers dance over it, rubbing all the spots that you didn’t even know would make you moan. And then, he removed one of his hands. You just heard a wet pop and felt Steve’s forefinger at your hole.

“Okay?”

You tried to nod but in that moment Natasha inserted two of her fingers in your channel, and already, you could hear your wetness. So, instead of a nod, a moan escaped your lips and that was the non-verbal “Yes” Steve needed and he pushed his finger in.

Your mouth, still open from your moan, fell open even more and Sam traced it with his thumb. You moved your head forward a bit and closed your lips around it and sucked. You wrapped your right hand around Sam’s wrist to keep his hand where it was and linked your left hand with Sharon’s. You could feel her thighs next to yours on the couch moving. You looked at her. She had her eyes closed, whimpering into your neck.

“Y/N, hold her hip” Sam ordered.

You moved your hand from his wrist to her hip and Sam held her other hip. He moved forward and Sharon whined when Sam sank into her.

“Good?” You asked her.

She smiled lazily at you and nodded. You rubbed her neck and with each thrust of Sam, he squished her and your chests together. You angled your head a little to easier to kiss Sharon. You traced her lips with yours, she traced yours with hers when you pulled back for a second. She caressed your cheekbones with her thumbs and only when you opened your lips a bit further, did she use her tongue. She poked yours playfully, you poked back and could hear her giggle that traveled straight to your core. You entangled her in a light dance until you both had to breathe.

You leaned against each other, foreheads touching. You felt Sam moving his arm but couldn’t see where it went. You just noticed Sharon jolting and looked down to see him rubbing her clit.

“Baby, open up” Sam purred and pulled down your bottom lip with the thumb of his other hand.

You parted your lips immediately.

A second later, Natasha pulled her fingers from you and held them up in front of your face. She scissored them a bit and you could see your wetness between them.

“Sam?”

“Oh, yeah” He chuckled and removed his thumb from your mouth to a whine from you but that turned into a moan when Nat pushed her fingers into your mouth. You moved your tongue around, tasting yourself on her and maybe, just maybe, putting on a little show for her.

Steve kissed your shoulder blades, your neck, your collar bones while he moved his finger in you.

“Ready for the next one?”

This time you could nod, and you did.

“Alright” You could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

He inserted his middle finger alongside his forefinger slowly and gently. He waited until he felt you relax and suck on Natasha’s fingers again. Just enjoying the feeling of being full and you felt your pussy clenching around nothing.

Now, you felt Bucky moving up a little. He looked up at you through his lashes. He massaged your tummy, going in circles until his hands gripped you were Natasha had had her hands. Bucky dove in, kitten licking your pussy and Nat’s soft hair was one thing between your thighs and definitely something you’d enjoy later when you were alone, even if it was just a memory, but Bucky’s shorter hair combined with his stubble was something else.

You couldn’t help but put your legs over his shoulders and link your ankles.

“Good… so good…” You moaned. Natasha had pulled her fingers back by now and kneaded yours and Sharon’s breasts.

“Yeah? What exactly feels good, baby?” Sam purred as he thrust into Sharon.

“Nat’s… Natasha’s fingers… and Steve’s as well” You could feel Steve’s grin on your shoulder blade and his fingers thrusting a bit deeper. “And-“ Bucky’s tongue entered you, going back and forth, in and out and you clenched around him.

When he pulled back for a moment with a grin, he said: “You were saying?”

You swallowed thickly and summoned your will to answer him. “Your beard! It feels so good on my thighs, never had one between them before…” You moaned again.

“Then I’m honored to be your first” He winked and dove back in.

He continued right where he left of. His tongue fucked up into you, his hands pulled you down onto him and soon your hips were basically riding his face. After a very pointed movement of his tongue, perfectly timed with Bucky squeezing your hips while pulling you down again, made you come undone. Your pussy spasmed around him, your mouth opened and your eyes closed.

You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t move anything but when you came down back to earth, you could still feel your pussy spasming. Apparently, you had gripped Bucky’s hair at some point and carded your fingers through it and scratched his scalp to ground yourself. But that plan backfired. Your scratching of his scalp made him purr. Understandably because having your scalp scratched was nice but after such an orgasm it was too much for you and you whimpered.

Bucky moved his metal hand to cup your pussy and the pressure of the plates without much structure plus the coldness soothed you and you sighed.

You felt several hands stroking you, calming you down and Sharon and Natasha kissing you.

“All good?” Steve wanted to know from behind you.

You nodded and turned your head to kiss him, moving your tongue against his.

They all pulled back a bit, Natasha and Bucky sitting back on their heels, Sam pulled Sharon from you and leant back and Steve removed his fingers and while you still felt Steve’s chest at your back and Sharon’s thighs next to yours but other than that, nothing.

You whined at the loss of contact and of the confusion until Steve lifted you up by your waist.

“Spread your legs, love” He commanded softly, and you did. As he lowered you down, you could almost feel his thighs under yours and the tip of his cock at your spread butthole.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Steady, okay?”

You followed Steve’s advice and you felt him slowly inch in. He stopped every few seconds, letting you adjust to it all until you felt his hips digging into your butt.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly leaned back, until he laid flat on the couch with you on top of him. He rubbed your arms

Bucky climbed between your and Steve’s legs, holding his dick and looked to you for confirmation. You made grabby hands and he chuckled.

“Needy.”

Bucky bent over you and looked you in the eyes. And he continued to hold your gaze as he entered you. You couldn’t have looked away if you wanted to.

“Wet. So warm and wet” His eyes were screwed shut and he leaned his forehead on your collarbone.

Natasha moved to your head and you moved so your head was on Steve’s shoulder. You put your hands on Nat’s hips and pulled her down until her clit met your lips and she hissed on contact, while facing away from Bucky. She slowly began to ride your face and you moved your tongue a bit to touch her.

Seeing Natasha in this position, you below her, your mouth on her clit, her using you for your pleasure and her stiff nipples and her breasts moving made you wish for two mouths. You wanted to taste her but at the same time, you wanted to suck and bite her nipples until they were swollen and she’d push you away because it felt too good.

Bucky and Steve held you close, sandwiched between them, their arms around you and each other and when they started to move, they moved in unison. They made you feel almost completely empty and then full again and Bucky rubbed your clit with his left middle finger and forefinger.

That was the moment Sam softly took your left hand from under Bucky’s and Steve’s arms. Sam wrapped it around him and started moving it up and down. When you looked to your left, you saw Sam, but you also saw Sharon looking straight at you as she quickly rode Sam’s thigh. She smiled and reached out to stroke your forearm.

You were so glad Sam helped you, because on your own, you wouldn’t have been able to do something. The stimulation of Bucky’s slow and deep strokes that hit all the points in you, Steve grinding and keeping you close, Sharon’s touches a contrast but at the same time not to it all, the heat of them around you, Natasha on your face and moaning. It was all too much.

Natasha rode your face rhythmically, you licked and sucked on her until the rhythm she had built stuttered, her moan broke off and her legs twitched. You could see her bending forward to rest on her forearms.

Sam moved your hand along him, he squeezed your hand around him, lessening it a bit when he came to the tip and twisting your hand around it.

You moved your right hand from under Bucky’s arm and put it on Natasha’s hip to stabilize her. She moaned at the contact and the moan morphed into a whimper when you switched from using your tongue to nipping and sucking on her with your lips.

At the same time Steve gripped your hips and used what leverage he had to chase his release and soon you could feel him cumming with a groan. After the last spurt, he pressed you to him.

The slightly new angle seemed to trigger something in Bucky. He started rutting arrhythmically in you. With each thrust, he bent over you a little more until he effectively blanketed you with his body. Bucky softly rubbed and pinched your clit and you clenched around him. He stopped moving and you heard his growl as he started cumming in you.

And then you felt like you were floating up and away from the earth.

For a short time, nothing.

And then you felt like you were floating back down to earth.

You could feel your pussy still spasming, although now around nothing, and you could hear voices. You couldn’t discern who said what.

“Hey. Hey! … Oh shit, I think that was too much.”

“Too much of what exactly?”

“Of everything.”

“That wasn’t me, was it? The weight of my body?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Hey, Y/N. Hey. Come back to us.”

“Mmmhmmmm”

“Oh, good, you’re back. Thought we’d lost you there for a second.”

“You probably did, but I’m back now.”

You were maneuvered to lean against the back of the couch and just breathed in and out a few times. When you calmed down and got your beating heart a little more under control, your eyes fell to Sam’s cock, which still stood at attention.

“May I?” You asked and looked at him, at his cock and back at his face.

Sam just nodded and that was enough to lick long stripes up and down, only sucking on his tip for a second before you went back to the base of him and massaged his balls until you could feel him twitch. You waited until the last second to put your mouth on just his tip and sucked.

You continued sucking on Sam, letting him buck up his hips and swirled the tip of your tongue around the slit until he couldn’t take it anymore. Sam came and spurted in your mouth until he literally tore your mouth off his dick. You swallowed and grinned at him like a Cheshire cat.

You turned to Sharon, and this time, you pulled her on the couch. You pushed her back until she laid on her back. You moved down her breasts and tummy with little kisses and bites. You ignored her whimpers when you neglected where she visibly wanted you the most in favor of her thighs. You altered between nips, kisses and bites that would leave a memory for a few days, until you reached the junction between her legs.

You pursed your lips and only moved them over her. When your mouth was back at her entrance, you flattened your tongue and licked up until you swirled your tongue around Sharon’s clit. First in bigger circles that went smaller and smaller up to the point where you sucked her clit in your mouth. You continued sucking on her with alternating pressure until you could feel her twitch and buck her hips into your mouth.

Each time Sharon bucked into you, you made it a point to get closer to her, until she couldn’t take it anymore and came. She whimpered, she wailed, you could see several hands stroking her body, soothing her and you felt her thighs shake next to your head. After some time, her thighs stilled and you gently uncrossed her legs and took them off your shoulders. You licked your lips and grinned at her.

“Good?”

Sharon only nodded with a smile.

One day after this one-of-a-kind night, Natasha came back in the morning and left with a little black container under her arm and a double espresso to-go.

One or two weeks later, you had the day shift and were solely on coffee making duty. Your coworker had just told you the next order and it was a big one all at once.

“Latte macchiato, one blueberry muffin, black coffee, double espresso, black coffee with peppermint and caramel and a black tea!” You yelled out.

Someone came up to you and you recognized Sam.

“Good to see you” He winked with a smile.

“Not like I work here” You retorted with a smile of your own.

“Buck! Help me carry all these things!”

Bucky came up and looked at you. “Hey. Nice seeing you.”

“Surprisingly, I work at the place that I also call ‘my workplace’” You deadpanned.

Bucky let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, should have expected that.”

They both took half of the order in their hands and went to walk to the table where the others were sat. Although you couldn’t see the entire table, you knew exactly who sat at it, just from the orders.

Sam turned his upper body to you again. “When do you get off work?”

“In an hour. Why?”

“Wait for us here?”

“Who is ‘we’?”

Sam only winked and he and Bucky went to their table.

[propaganda-for-poets]

Bestie pls can I have some Chameron headcanons?? I'm desperate honestly it's a problem. You don't have to btw.

bestie. of course. my old newsies mutuals may have noticed that i do this thing where i enter a fandom and suddenly i can only talk about one specific ship, yeah that ship here happens to be chameron and i am always more than happy to talk about them.

let's just do some nice happy headcannons today bc a couple days ago i wrote a fic about charlie leaving welton and i've decided i officially need a break from angst, alright

IN FACT YOU KNOW WHAT let's make them post-welton !!!!!! y'know after all the poets including neil graduate and keating never gets fired as always since that is the canon ending of the movie, nothing bad happens ever.

okay so.

charlie and cameron have been rooming together since year 1, it's kinda the end of an era that they're now both supposed to move into separate apartments and they're both really sad about it but refuse to say anything

you think this wouldn't be a problem for two people who have been dating for a year and shared a dorm since they were children, so they can easily move in together, but this is charlie and cameron communication kings so obviously they're being stubborn and aren't saying anything

and they just spend their last weeks at welton all like

"yeah yeah i wonder who's gonna help you find your stuff when you're not living with me anymore,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,cause like you won't. in a few weeks you won't."

"come on stop studying and talk to me i'm bored" "well soon you won't be able to talk to me whenever you want. because i will be in a different place. like i'll no longer be around 24/7."

"you know you better treasure these last moments you get to see me. cause after we graduate who knows when you'll see me again,,,,," "okay, charlie that's a little dramatic, you're not leaving the country-" "i'll be gone, cam, very soon. forever." "you won't be-" "i mean god knows where i'll be-"

it ends up being charlie who asked (i wrote about that here !) and so we have charlie and cameron sharing an apartment :)

both of them get into harvard because,,, that's welton boys for you of course literally the entire school makes the ivy league. cameron's literally smart as shit he can make whatever school he wants and charlie,,, well charlie has a lot of money.

i'm kidding i'm kidding, charlie's no doofus and attending welton is already a good look for any university, charlie can definitely make harvard on his own if he could survive welton but y'know being filthy rich wasn't exactly a disadvantage

charlie will always show cameron off all like "my boyfriend goes to harvard you know !!!!!!!!" and cameron's like "char,,,, so do you,,,,,,,"

but y'all don't care about who goes where i'm aware of this, let's get into the apartment shenanigans

okay, sharing a dorm for years in welton definitely had its advantages because there's none of those annoying habits of someone's you only start noticing after you're under the same roof, like leaving their clothes on the floor or playing music too loudly, they're already aware of all that stuff, they don't care anymore

they do have their own rooms now, but it doesn't matter a lot because they keep just falling asleep together on the couch.

most of the time cameron will just wake up in the middle of the night and attempt to take charlie to his room but he's learned overtime that charlie will just whine and complain until he stays with him so he ends up just taking him to his own room in the first place

slowly it becomes less "cameron's room" and more "their room", the other room just kinda stays there.

cameron is a GOD TIER cook we'e been over this but somehow they only take advantage of that skill of his on really??? questionable occasions?????

like they'll order chinese from the place down the street for dinner but if cameron wakes up to find charlie in the kitchen at 3 am munching on a piece of toast he'll be like "okay let's make some onion soup."

midnight snacks are for amateurs. here we have midnight meals.

they bake together a lot, though. whenever they find time cameron will just whip out a recipe and they'll bake something together, and they'll be very couple-y and disgusting while doing it too

of course it always resorts in them making a big mess

"charlie. charie stop putting your hands in the brownie mix."

"okay, fine."

"charlie, your hand's still in there, stop it."

"or else what, what're you gonna d- WH- DID YOU JUST THROW AN EGG AT ME WHAT THE FUCK"

then they'll have to spend the entire afternoon cleaning up the kitchen

"what're you laughing about now, dalton?"

"you have flour on your cheek."

"and whose fault is that?"

"stop being annoying, you're cute right now"

"oh yeah?"

"mhm, yeah."

cameron overworks himself a lot and a lot of times charlie will get up late at night to find him still studying

he'll always go up to him like "cam, tf. it's four in the morning. come to bed."

"i just have to get this finished."

"well, okay, i'll just stay up with you until you go to sleep."

"charlie that's not healthy you need to-,,,,,,,,,,oh you're evil, dalton, threatening me with your own well-being."

"damn right i am, now go to sleep."

okay we all know charlie. we know how he is. so it's no surprise to anyone that it didn't take long for him to bring a random stray animal into the house

cameron just comes back from class to see charlie with a tiny ginger car.

"cam, you're back-"

"nope. not happening, take it back."

"hey, it is a she, and i love her now."

"no, no you don't, she's going back."

"i can't i'm attached to her! look at her! she's adorable, she's my new favorite ginger."

",,,,,, okay now she's definitely going back."

she did not go back.

charlie named her arabella and cameron insisted she was annoying and always wanted attention and wouldn't let him study

"hey, you said the exact same things about me and you love me now, give her time!"

"i don't love you right now."

"well, i love you a lot. and i love her too, she's part of the house now."

",,,,,,,god, fine, you're lucky you're my weakness. i'll tolerate her."

one time charlie returned from class to find cameron sleeping on the couch with arabella on his lap.

he never hears the end of it once he's awake

"so, how's hating her going for you, richard?"

"shut up, she's warm."

"so you no longer despise my cat? because she's warm?"

"first of all she's our cat i don't clean cat fur all over the house for her to be your cat and,,,, she's not all that bad."

[queerlennon]

Lesley-Ann Jones Is Untrustworthy

So I’ve seen some people in the fandom reading and citing Lesley-Ann Jones’ biography The Search For John Lennon recently and to be honest it’s concerning to me. Lesley Ann Jones has proved in the past to be an extremely untrustworthy source for info about the people she writes about. I understand that it’s exciting to have a book about John that’s not written by the typical “Lennon biographer” type (aka an ageing straight man) and for said book to also promise to shed light and focus on his bisexuality but, if we’re going to analyse John respectfully and accurately, it’s important to identify sources that are biased and untrustworthy, even if they’re technically within our favour. Especially when it relates to his queerness. And seeing as LAJ doesn’t have the best record when it comes to writing about rockstars’ sexualities in a respectful manner, it’s best to treat her words with caution.

Info about exactly how she’s a bad source is under the cut

Firstly, it's key to talk about LAJ's journalistic background when discussing what sort of writer she is: she's worked for papers such as The Sun, The Daily Mail, and The Mail On Sunday. Essentially, the bulk of her work has been for tabloids and traditionally the writing style for those kinds of publications place an emphasis on sensationalism and gossip. Now obviously that doesn’t discredit her work immediately, authors are usually able to write in more than one style so it doesn’t necessarily mean the tabloid style is going to carry over to her biographies; but it’s good to keep in mind when discussing and analysing the legitimacy of the narratives she creates and the stories she recounts in her work. 

LAJ has received criticism in the past, particularly from the queen fandom of often overexaggerating, or just straight presenting false information in her bios about Freddie Mercury. She is the champion of the claim that Freddie was bisexual and not gay. Her evidence for this is over-exaggerating and (seemingly intentionally) misinterpreting the nature of the relationship between Freddie and his friend, Barbara Valentin. LAJ claimed that the two had a relationship and even lived together:

“Barbara was very open with me about the sexual relationship she had with Freddie.”

(x)

(x)

However, no-one in Freddie’s life has ever corroborated that Freddie and Barbara were anything but friends. As for the claim they lived together, according to Peter Freestone, an extremely close friend of Freddie’s:

In the event, Freddie never actually lived there although Barbara fulfilled a huge role in Freddie’s life at that time... Freddie became very disillusioned when with more and more frequency articles were appearing in the German press’s gossip columns... about the relationship between him and Barbara... After one article claiming to have knowledge of him and Barbara getting married, Freddie... concluded that it could only be Barbara who was providing the information.

(x)

This exaggeration of their relationship and the insistence LAJ has on presenting Freddie as bi because of it has attracted criticism from queen fans for obvious reasons. For one, it’s borderline homophobic to essentially lie about a gay man having a relationship with a woman while downplaying his relationships with men. No, she’s not portraying him as a straight man, however it’s still erasure of the specific struggles Freddie would’ve faced being a gay man in his time, therefore those who want to analyse him would be missing some of the picture when trying to understand him and his life

LAJ’s research methods are also... questionable. This is a post from Crystal Taylor (one of Roger Taylor’s roadies) about her methods for her David Bowie bio which, if to be believed is particularly concerning.

(x)

LAJ is also known to greatly exaggerate her own relationships with her subjects. She often claims to have been friends with the people she writes bios about (coincidently the people she does this with are dead.) Back in the day she would meet with artists while on tour so the idea is convincing enough. However besides her word there’s nothing to suggest that she had close friendships with Freddie or Bowie, two people she claimed to be good friends with. There’s also this comment from Brian May which actually goes against the idea that she was close with Freddie:

(x)

So with all of this in mind, let’s look at the quote from The Search For John Lennon that’s been circulating around Beatles tumblr:

That Bowie worshipped Lennon is no secret. He'd banged on about it often enough. The ex-Beatle had gone to his hedonism. They'd met in Los Angeles, during John's Lost Weekend. I lunched from time to time with David in New York while working there as a music journalist, before he married Iman. He lent me his house in Mustique, to write the first draft of my first biography on Freddie Mercury.

The crazy pair went out to play, according to David, when John was on yet another break from May and far away from Yoko. They genderbender-ed about, John indulging again that 'inner fag' of his. What larks.

They later 'hooked up': 'There was a whore in the middle, and it wasn't either of us,' David smirked. 'At some point in proceedings, she left. I think it was a she. Not that we minded.' By the time they made it back to New York, the ambisextrous pair were 'lifelong friends'.

I’m suspicious of this story for several reasons but first I want to make it clear that none of them have to do with John having sex with men or being bisexual. I’m a very firm believer of John’s bisexuality (my username is literally queerlennon lmao) but once again I think it’s good to examine the legitimacy of sources, even when they favour our position.

Firstly, LAJ’s source for this story is the claim that David told her, which considering I can’t find any info about them being friends besides her word, combined with the fact that she’s lied about having close relationships in the past raises a lot of flags.

But even if we assume LAJ isn’t lying and did know Bowie, the quote is still suspect, particularly the line “John was on yet another break from May and far away from Yoko.” According to May in her book Loving John, her and John had only one break from their relationship (the phrase “yet another break” implies multiple) that lasted a week, and for the entirety of that week, John was with Yoko. (x)

Finally, the language LAJ uses to describe John and David’s sexualities not only puts me on edge but very much makes me question her intention. Phrases like “the genderbender-ed about,” “indulged his ‘inner fag,’” and “ambisextrous,” all come across to me as fetishisation. Bisexuality is already very highly fetishised and sexualised and LAJ is most definitely not concerned with deviating from that representation. That phrasing combined with the way she also discusses Freddie’s sexuality, where she’s alleged highly sexualised claims about him having threesomes:

And quite often that involved other people as well. Other men, other women. There would be a number of them in the bedroom at any given time. In fact they were raided by the police once and the police stormed in and they found more people than they were expecting to find in the bed that morning.

(x)

— leads me to believe that LAJ is an author less concerned with exploring John’s sexuality as apart of his life, something that made him who he was, and more concerned with including details about “bisexual threesomes” as shock value, as a sensational point she can use to to promote her book in press tours and interviews. Like a tabloid writer. And this sort disrespect representation of John’s queerness, imo isn’t that much better than the biographers who dismiss or underplay it. I totally understand that for a lot of us, finding out new info about John’s queer identity is exciting, especially for those of us who are queer and identify with a lot with John for that reason, myself included. But we shouldn’t be giving credence and legitimacy to someone who firstly, isn’t trustworthy and secondly who’s reason for talking about it is gross and exploitative at best and biphobic at worst.

tl;dr, LAJ is an incredibly untrustworthy source of info and in her own over exaggerations, treats discussions of queerness in an extremely problematic and exploitive way so please take anything you read from her with a massive grain of salt.

[theyarebothgunshot]

ROSE I SWEAR TO GOD WHAT THE HELL ITS HAPPENING????? AT THIS POINT I JUST THINK THEY JUST FORGOT TO COME OUT????? THEY ARE ACTING LIKE THAT AND BEING “WAIT WHY ARE PEOPLE FREAKING OUT SO MUCH”???? OH MY LITERAL GOD HOLY CRAAAAAAAAAAP

y'all weren't kidding when you said you could feel something big was coming huh. sigh. hi! welcome to: the gang freaks out about misha's text in my inbox

instantly my first thought upon seeing misha’s text: “he sounds like that in the morning.”

they woke up together on the regular <3

GUNSHOTS WAKE UP DID YOU SEE MISHA’S TEXT??? he misses jensen so much :(((

yes :(( and me too :((

*adjusts tinhat* d-do you think misha originally took that photo to send to jensen? like a “hurry up and come in here, the pink blankey and i miss you.” ...

oh my god anon its too early for this i dont need to get emotional!!! on god i believe he texts him pics like this every day

have you seen misha's text yet??

no

girl wake up new cockles content

july is gonna be our month i can feel it!!!!!!!!

hi did anybody else get the fact that he never said that pic was while filming supernatural. like it was a little weird to not add 'in vancouver while filming [episode title]' My theory is that its a little joke because that pic is ACTUALLY in jensens apartment NOW when hes filming the boys from like a week ago. It seems like something he would do amen

oh my god i cant do 'cockles are living together rn' truthing today but you are very brave <3

ROSE ROSE ROSE ARE YOU AWAKE????? MISHA’S JENSEN TEXT!!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK I’M SCREAMING????? HELP!!! what 👏🏽 was 👏🏽 the 👏🏽 reason 👏🏽 misha ??? he really said i miss my march 1st baby OUTLOUD without really saying it outright i- MISHA WHATS UR @ SERIOUSLY!! - 🦋 anon

misha said happy pride to my husband and our perceivers and i thank him for that <3

Rose I hope you have a very nice sleep and are not suffering throughout this major cockles event in the middle of the night. ANYWAYS I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO SAY I CAN'T BREATHE 'SPARE ROOM' 'HIS BLANKY' SIR - anon anon

*looks into the camera* so anyways i woke up pretty much around the time you messaged me this and i am dead tired now

hehehe once again you've made the mistake of going to bed. I think imma stay up to see your reaction to the sleepover in a few hours ;) -🐢

hope i didnt dissapoint dsjhfsjfhsjhf

I’m just here to apologize that once again you were asleep when the fandom decided to start on fire <3

thank you darling i feel like i deserve some financiel compensation tbh

To all of the other anons who will undoubtedly be in gunshot's traditional freak out post with me (looking forward to all of y'alls reactions 😂), I really hope you've enjoyed this fantastic ending to pride month. Misha really chose to share that info wth us!! I haven't slept much this week because each night gets crazier. We're all thriving in this dumpster right now - 🐢

god bless we ARE all thriving!!!!

i cant deal with the Love You script dropping on the same day that misha posts both a t&s pride post and That Text. so misha is invested enough to know that the script dropped today in all likelihood. and. i. help. help. help.

🍭

yeah yeah yeah exactly nonnie exactly

my tumblr has been crazy, i haven't been able to send you asks until now 🥺 my posts are not showing in the tags...anyway tumblr staff already fix the problem with the asks so at least I can be loud in here.

crazy everything is just crazy! Misha's post, Misha's message, Goodbye Stranger script...all I'm missing is for Jensen to pull a heller!Jensen on main and i'm dead

Hope you have a beautiful day!!

-🐣

yeah tumblr fucked up and turned on my asks yesterday wtf, i hope your problem gets fixed soon!

and i hope you have the best day too!!!

we get to see misha today too i can't do this

oh god me neither

THEY WERE DOING LAUNDRY TOGETHER AFTER ALL

JDFHJSHFHSJ YEAH FUCKING HELLLL

this is just me speculating but is it a coincidence Misha is thinking about “lasts” especially the last night sleeping at Jensen’s, on the last day of pride????? *insert incredibles coincidence I think not gif*

its never a coincidence, everything this chaos machine does is on purpose

You woke up much earlier than expected! I legit thought that I had lost track of time scrolling through the madness that is the cockles tag right now. Sorry that you're going to be dragging for the rest of your day. Misha ensures that only he gets sleep when he pulls these stunts -🐢

lmao it was already light outside and i kept thinking about the misha text so i thought fuck it lets forget sleep, i need to cockles truth on main before i have to go to work <3

I’m sorry. I died. 🦚

me too!

*head in hands*, affectionate - tea anon

happy second month of pride everyone

cheers to that!!

had a thought: that one time the fan asked misha about them sharing clothes in 2018 and he joked, “it’s easy for our clothes to get mixed up, that’s all. whose is whose, you know, when you’re putting it on.” and “now everyone’s like ‘hmm, how’d the laundry get mixed up, guys?’” i hate him. i hate that it’s not implausible now. i hate.

how many times do i have to tell y'all that misha uses jokes to mask the truth <3 he was telling us the truth!