#I'm really a little ashamed and scared to post this.

[princepv]

I really wanted to try to sketch out a couple of sheets of Goulash, I liked the design itself, and the character very much. LMAO, I APOLOGIZE FOR MY HUMOR

Goulash ↪ @notartisticdraw

[camellia-thea]

initially this post had some commentary about interests right now. and then it turned into a ramble about personal healing in the tags. so the interest post is going separately.

[giantkillerjack]

pssst.... there are a lot of queer christians! their experiences and faith are valid. it sucks you weren't able to jive with the church, but don't act like its impossible because of your sexuality when many other lgbt folx have managed just fine

My friend, you do you, but being a faggot dyke tranny helped keep me out of an abusive organization, and for me and all of my formerly religious friends, that is that.

[dreameralive]

i think one of the most noteworthy things about Blaise that i haven't really seen anyone discuss is his tendency to liken others to children, his weaponization of it, its relation to him being a child abuser, and its relation to his defeat.

one of his first lines of dialogue, before he even introduces himself, is him humiliating Franziska by calling her 'little von Karma', and then bringing up something retroactively embarrassing she did as a little girl.

he frames this as genuine nostalgia, but to me, it's pretty clear this was a purposeful, and almost sadistic, powerplay.

there's also these lines. these aren't too strange, out of context - "let's all play nice" is a relatively common phrase, and in the second screenshot where he's discussing Kay and Edgeworth's friendship, they are literally youths (well, compared to him). but in context, it's clear that this is part of him attempting to assert his dominance over everyone else.

he wants to let everyone know that he is the adult here, and all they are is children - and thereby, they are completely powerless to his end-all authority, so they shouldn't even bother attempting to resist. this is further emphasized during his logic chess segment.

he calls Edgeworth 'my boy', he reminds him that he is his 'senior in life', he tells him he's being naïve. he threatens to never give back his prosecutors badge if he doesn't stop trying to question his authority. he asks him, mockingly, if he's scared. then, while grinning, he tells him that there is nothing he can do, and he should give up already.

he once again, more blatantly this time, is attempting to force someone else into accepting that they are the weaker party and that he could do anything he pleased to them, and once again, he is weaponizing the societal power imbalance between a child and an adult to do so.

i could go on and on for a while with more examples of this, but then that would make this post really long and rambly. so, instead, i'm going to discuss what his behavior ultimately results in.

this is probably one of the most disturbing interactions in Ace Attorney.

he does this purely so Sebastian will feel humiliated and ashamed in front of his colleagues, people he respects and who in turn are supposed to respect him. he does this to remind Sebastian that he is his father, and Sebastian is his child. to Blaise, that means he has complete control over him. and until this point? he actually does.

he has controlled every aspect of Sebastian's life to be exactly how he wants it. his path in life, his school, his tests - even Sebastian's constant usage of his surname serves as a reminder that Sebastian's only purpose to his father is to be an extension of him, a tool to feed into his ego. an object. something he owns.

note how, in their sprites, Sebastian is typically tilting his head slightly downwards, and in his crying sprites, he's leaning down. meanwhile Blaise stands high, and in his grinning sprites, his head is tilted up, as to literally look down on the person he's talking to.

but in the end, right before Blaise is convicted, right as Blaise tells him he should just remain his idiot son, Sebastian is looking up as he tells him goodbye. a way of saying that he's not beneath him, and he won't let him act like it anymore.

Blaise is immediately infuriated by this, and says all you've ever been able to do is depend on me. he screams Sebastian's name in anger - but it's cut off.

in fact, there is no more dialogue from Blaise after this. because he has no more authority, no more ability to scare Sebastian or anyone else into submission. in the end, Sebastian has finally taken back his autonomy that Blaise has robbed him of. so has Kay. so has Simon. all of them are children he has mistreated, threatened, and jerked around for his own selfish gain, but ultimately, they all still have more power over their own lives than he ever will again.

there's a lot more i could say on this, but these are all my thoughts i could organize. thanks for reading.

[ellecdc]

This is my first ever time requesting and i feel a tad nervous about it. Since i don’t know how the whole thing works.

Okay so i've seen in your previous posts that you said you don't write for barty jr as a central character but imma request anyways and maybe just maybe i'm lucky and you do end up writing this request (no pressure tho sweetie)

Basically a Ravenclaw reader x reg x barty. Reader is a total sweetheart but also very witty, playful and sassy in a sweet way. and marauders are also involved in the fic. (Maybe reader is neighbors with James or maybe she's beasties with rem. I don't mind. you decide that.)

Your moonwater x reader one shot was so cute and i’m just craving more of your writing.

Anyways thank you and also if you don’t want to write for barty just replace him with another character or just ignore this whole request. 💗

🤨🤨🤨🤨 I wanted to say no on account of I really don't know that I want to write for Barty BUT....you're just too cute and I love you too much and I didn't want to say no to you on your first request [which: thanks so much for bestowing me with such an honour]. 🤨🤨🤨🤨 cheeky little minx, I bet you did that on purpose 😉

So I present to you, for possibly the only time ever on ellecdc.... poly!bartylus x Ravenclaw!reader

CW: Barty jokes (?) about wanting to kill people - very on brand for him

“Reggiiieeeee.” Barty whined as he walked into their shared dorm room where Regulus had been reading due to the fact that Barty had taken up residence in the Slytherin common room, making reading nearly impossible.

Regulus stifled a sigh and offered a begrudging “yes, my love?” as Barty belly-flopped onto the bed and muttered something (unintelligible) miserably into the velvet quilts.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Regulus asked, deciding to bookmark his place and give his boyfriend his undivided attention (anything less could end up being detrimental to both Regulus and Barty’s safety).

Barty lifted his head with a pout on his lips to look at Regulus. “How mad do you think Y/N would be if I killed Potter and his friends?”

Point proven. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Regulus deadpanned, causing Barty to groan and roll onto his side.

“It’s just she’s always spending so much time with them and they’re all so annoying. And I don’t want to tell her to not hang out with them” (that was a lie; Regulus has heard Barty tell you that the Marauders were 'no good company to keep' well over hundreds of times) “so, I thought it’d just be better if they...disappeared, you know?”

“What have you done?” Regulus groaned darkly, causing Barty to chuckle.

“Nothing! Nothing...” yet. 

“You do realize that your hit list includes my brother, right?” Regulus asked.

Barty looked at him like he was sort of stupid. “Uhm...duh, it’s called hitting two bludgers with one beater-bat. Do keep up.”

“Barty, you are going to scare her away...” Regulus pressed. “...you’re kind of scaring me away.”

Barty’s groan nearly turned into a shriek as he threw himself back down onto the bed in defeat.

“Fine. But when we’re trying to enjoy a nice moment with Y/N and Potter and his cronies interrupt, it will be all your fault.” 

And with that Barty got up and stormed out of the dorm room. Regulus sighed in relief and pulled his book back out.

So, when the three of you were wandering around Hogsmeade (i.e., you and Regulus were walking hand-in-hand whilst Barty followed, balancing precariously on the stone walls of bridges as well as some fences lining various properties (much to the shop clerks and homeowners’ chagrin), pausing to pet every cat he could find and seeing how many times he could skip stones in the pond [the answer was none, he kept throwing them too hard]), Regulus got proven wrong (somehow), and (even more importantly) Barty got proven right when Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus showed up.

“Hey guys!” You called cheerily, and Regulus was almost ashamed to admit that your sweet smile and kind voice cancelled out any chagrin that the appearance of his brother caused him.

“Hello gorgeous! Baby bro.” Sirius called with a wink, causing Regulus to roll his eyes.

“Can I help you four!?” Barty nearly screeched as he showed up seemingly out of nowhere, all but standing directly in front of you like he was trying to shield you from the sight a particularly horrifying broom crash.

“Barty...” You chided jovially, gently nudging him aside. “They’re just saying hello.”

Sirius looked rather chuffed that you had defended them. Regulus didn’t like that one bit.

“Okay, well hello. You can leave now.” Barty shouted.

“Oh, lighten up, Junior.” Remus called with a smirk. “We’re all friends here.” 

Barty scoffed. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than be friends with Gryffindor’s.”

“Ew.” Everyone else said in response.

“Come on, my sweet, beautiful, angelic, lovely, smart, wonderful girl. I don’t want you or our beautiful day to be tainted by such scoundrels.” He cooed at you like you were some toddler on the verge of tears from having dropped your ice cream on the ground.

You groaned a little bit but acquiesced, allowing Barty to turn your body in the opposite direction.

“Sorry guys. I’ll see you tomorrow for our study date!” You called over your shoulder, to which Barty quickly counteracted with a “no you won’t!”

“You know, love,” Regulus murmured into your ear, “you’d probably save him a little bit of grief if you at least didn’t call it a date.” 

“Perhaps. But look at him now.” You whispered back conspiratorially. “He’s holding my hand and talking a mile a minute about how much of his dad’s money he wants to spend on us at Tomes & Scroll’s.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smirk at that. 

A Ravenclaw may have been smart enough to come up with a plan like this, but only the influence of your two Slytherin boyfriends would have made you cunning enough to pull it off. 

AN: I don't know how I feel about this one bit

[vonabel]

when i read aizawa/reader fics i cannot help but notice the majority are age gap relationships. and ofc i am but a girl and love me a gruff older man, but i always think about the more realistic aspect of it. aizawa and his younger partner walking on egg shells around the topic until something finally breaks their bubble and they fight abt it. because aizawa isn't embarrassed, really, but maybe a little ashamed? not bc of who his partner is but bc he doesn't want people to talk. it's inappropriate, it's irrational. he doesn't want people to know, you know? and reader cannot comprehend bc they're both adults and who cares what anyone thinks. but he's a hero and reader is young and pretty and the whole picture would easily be painted very very badly.

i have a wip going with this premise but i'm scared to finish and post it LMAOO idk i feel like people will get mad or smth

[sexydoffyman]

Your 'brat taming' post was sooo...

I wonder how Simon would react to a Sergeant that gets walked over a bit because she doesn't want to be 'difficult'; would he reward her if she finally stuck up for herself?

GOOD JOB FOR NOT DISAPPOINTING ME

navigation

genre: suggestive in the end? action, romance

characters: Simon Riley

A/N: Have a nice read.🪱

You were transferred from a nearby base a while ago. Unfortunately for you, in the base you were currently at were only dudes. Sexual comments were unavoidable, but that didn't bother you. You got used to it.

If it would've only stayed that way.

The harmless comments about your body eventually turned into teases. "You need help carrying that miss?" "You sure you can wake up that early, girlie?" It was a bit annoying, especially with the way they looked at you. But you sucked it up and let them do their thing.

Your ignorance of their attention-seeking behaviour made some of them pissed. Few of them decided to take it up a notch. You got roughly pinned down to a wall. One of them would lick your neck while the other laughed at your lack of strength.

You thought about fighting back, but a little scared voice in your head told you to stay low. If you act all submissive and scared, they will get bored of it. Right?

You were alone in the canteen of the base, fiddling with your fingers. You were afraid to go to your barracks before everyone else fell asleep. A dude walked into the canteen by one of the entrances it had. He slapped the back of your head and called you a waste of space. He left right after, leaving you in a more tense state than before.

From another of the tables, you heard a voice. "You gonna let him get away with that?" You turned to the source of the noise and found that another man was with you there all along. He was just staring at you, watching you the whole time you waited in complete silence. "So?" He broke the silence.

"You see, I'm not strong enough to fight back." You started explaining. He stood up, revealing his massive frame. "You really are a waste of space." He said with a cold tone as he walked out of the canteen.

You felt bad, more like ashamed of yourself. But it is what it is. You waited another hour or so and went to sleep.

The next day was like any other. When you walked into the canteen, you noticed something unusual. No kidding, there was a circle of people watching and cheering. You pushed through the crowd and saw two dudes beating each other's asses.

When you found out what was happening, you tried to get out of there. You didn't want to end up in there yourself. But of course, you just can't have a good day in here. The asshole from yesterday pulled you into the circle. "let's see what's the girlie made out of." He told the crowd like he was showing a trick at the circus.

The next thing he said was only for you. "If you fight, I will fucking kill you." He walked two steps away from you, and so did you. Nothing announced a start. He just punched you in the face with no warning. You fell to the floor. You covered your nose and kept sat on the ground, watching him laugh with the others.

You felt small, and you just wanted it to end. It was just then that you noticed the man who you spoke to yesterday. He was in the crowd, but he wasn't laughing and talking to the other dude. No, he was looking at you. He was watching you like he was waiting for something. You made an expression, showing him your fear.

He sighed and turned to walk away. That is when he heard, "Yo, the girlie is standing up!" He looked back again, and you weren't on the ground anymore. You were attacking your opponent. Without a warning, just like he did to you.

You managed to pull him to the ground and started bashing his face in. You were winning, finally. You stopped with your punches, feeling something was wrong. You turned your head and saw a dude ready to get you from the back. You were fucked. There was no way you could react fast enough. You spotted another two dudes coming from the side.

You were ready to die there. "WHACK" You couldn't believe what just happened. The man you talked to. He just knocked out all three of them. It looked so easy for him. No one even dared to get close. The crowd disappeared one by one. It was just you, him, and four knocked-out dudes.

"I find it inappropriate to call you a girlie." "Oh yeah, call me whatever you want." "My name is Ghost." "Well, it was nice meeting you and thanks for the-" You were cut off. "Meet me at the smoke pit at 0100." "Yeah... and why exactly?" "Might consider telling my captain about you. It is likely we'll be sharing a room very soon.~" He only smirked and left.

[asteraddicted]

Small interaction idea I got for the Supersons (pre-Jon age up; I HATE THAT PART) soooo sorry if this is bad its my first official drabble post (did i use that term correctly???)

Based on this (one part blacked out bc idk how tumblr would take it)

[—-—-—-—-—-—-—-🫧🪼-—-—-—-—-—-—-—]

"Hey, Damian?" Jon spoke up, he and Damian lounging in Damian's room because— no offense to Clark, but Wayne Manor was cooler for sleepovers.

"Yes, Kent?" Damian huffed, focused on sharpening one of his many daggers. Despite the dynamic, the two were undeniable best friends. It was surprising at first, with Damian's blunt, down-to-earth personality with snap backs and insults that would make a grown man cry. Damian Wayne, best friends with a sunny, optimistic, 'blinding everyone with his smile' Jon Kent. But of course, the two didn't start out that way.

"Remember when you practically- no, you DID kidnap me after I accidentally.. killed a cat and a hawk?" Jon mumbled the last part, clearly still ashamed of it. He hadn't told Damian the whole story yet, despite how long it had been. Damian's eyebrows furrowed, and he got a little closer. He remembered those times, back before they were friends.

"Yes, I remember," he replied, his voice still firm as he inquired. "Why are you bringing that up again, Kent?" Damian — despite his almost inhuman abilities, talents, and feats — was still human, and still had the ability to forget things.

"..Nothing! It's just.. the cat. Goldie was her name. It's her deathday today." Jon frowned, having always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Jon couldn't help but mistake the sting building up in his eyes as the burning feeling of letting his heat vision go off and MURDER cremate the two innocent creatures on accident. It was only for a second, but Damian could see how Jon panicked in that little moment.

"And? Your point?" He said, his tone a surprisingly a tad bit softer than usual. He didn't really know what Jon was talking about. Really, he did remember kidnapping Jon because he didn't trust him. But to Damian? That was like another regular Tuesday for him.

"..I didn't mean to kill Goldie, or the hawk. I know you know that. But Goldie had escaped her house, and I was chasing her to get her back." Jon began to explain, and he wasn't as cheerful as he usually was. Not as he finally told Damian the full story. Jon couldn't help it. It had been at the very least a few years ago, but the horror Jon had felt that day was something Jon himself never forgot.

"..their bodies were charred and burning. Couldn't tell hawk from cat.. only Goldie's collar remained! I.." Jon had to go quiet to compose himself. His hands were actually shaking. Damian listened to the story. He knew something was wrong with Jon. He was not his usual cheerful, confident self.

Damian looked at Jon, his expression hard to read. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to comfort him. Damian was never good at comfort. He just sat back in silence for a while, processing what Jon had told him. Being from the League of Assassins, death was nothing new to him. Hell, he's killed animals on purpose for mission and training before he was taken to Wayne Manor. Whales and tigers and lions and eagles, on and on. It was a little hard to see from Jon's perspective, but Damian tried.

"..Y'know.. I don't think you remember what you said to me when I woke up after you kidnapped me. Hehe.." Jon let out a chuckle, smiling with his teeth to try and lighten his sadness with humor. "You told me.. 'You are a threat to every living thing on and off this planet.' And Damian, I know this is stupid, but.." Jon curled his knees to his chest, eyes on the blank screen as a movie they were watching played it's end credits.

"..I believed you. In a way.. I still do. I'm scared of myself, Dami." Jon admitted quietly before grinning and wiping his tears.

"But I guess that's pretty dumb, right?" Jon grinned widely. He was half-Kryptonian and his dad was Superman! He shouldn't cry, and he didn't have any reason to! He was growing up, and he should be more in control of his emotions.

Yet Jon had let his mind wander multiple times, whenever he passed by where it happened. It was ironic, but Jon couldn't help but be scared of himself. Yes, himself. He had the powers of Superman — the Man of Steel himself. And he was also a young boy who could be easily tricked and manipulated. Jon was strong and carefree, but he wasn't stupid. At least not all the time. Jon has witnessed some extremely traumatic events in his life. The possibility that he had the power to massacre entire cities — maybe states, countries, or eventually the world? That was something that made Jon want to lock himself up in a kryptonite cage and hide away.

Jon was afraid of his powers and the destruction they could bring. He was immune to fire, but still couldn't stop himself from imagining the burning, mangled, charred bodies of a hawk and a cat each time there was a fire that was large enough.

Damian clenched his jaw. He remembered that day. He remembered telling Jon that he was a threat. Listening to Jon talk about his fear of himself and his own powers made something inside of Damian ache. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

"It's not dumb," he said, his voice softer than usual. Damian didn't know why he was being so soft (he knew exactly why, but he didn't want to admit it. Not yet.). "And you're not a threat, Kent. You're not. You never were. You're the last person who's a threat to anything."

"That's EXACTLY why I'm a threat, Dames! I'm part Kryptonian!.. I'm invincible to most on Earth." Jon exclaimed, sighing. "I can still go rogue! Dad has gone rogue before. I don't.." Jon trailed off.

"Kent. If you think for a second I'd let you go rogue, just know my Father has plenty of Kryptonite stocked away that I would not hesitate to use." Damian narrowed his eyes, but not in an angry way. It was affectionate, though it would be hard to tell from an outsider's perspective. Jon, oddly enough, felt reassured. Reassured that if something goes wrong, that Damian would be there to stop him. He'd always be there to stop him.

"You promise, Dames?" Jon couldn't help but whisper.

"Yes, I promise. Now come on. Didn't you want to show me this movie called 'Legally Blonde' or something?" Damian rolled his eyes, but they still held that tinge of care. That hint of affection that was only reserved for Jon, and wasn't the type that Damian held for his family. No, Damian had a part of his heart specifically reserved for Jon Kent.

"Okay, good. Now come on, let's watch a pretty girl kick legal butt!" Jon grinned, ultimately feeling much better. He was so lucky to have Damian.

[—-—-—-—-—-—-—-🫧🪼-—-—-—-—-—-—-—]

AN: First post, not beta read and written in the dead of night lol. I do not write much. Romantic or platonic? Idk you choose :P

[i-yap]

Disorders batboys s/o have( dick and jason ver)

Im a psychology student and i think everyone in this world has some symptoms if not full blown disorders. I also struggle with GAD and I have worked in 2 psychiatric hospitals so far in one I got a lot of readings+ 2 months , 8hrs on weekdays hospital shifts in 4 sectors. I don't mean to offend anyone but if you have a certain disorder it does determine a lot of your personality traits and therefore make you incompatible with certain types of people. this is just a " oh I think the batboys could take care or be compatible with someone with this disorder enough to not hamper their healing "

Anyways..(im so scared to post this)

Dick grayson- mood disorders (major depressive diroder. bipolar disorder, seasonal depression, burnout)

Dick is this silent mother hen sort of figure. he loves taking care of others, it fills him with altruistic feelings and helps him feel needed. Someone with a mood disorder needs someone they can go and be sad with without feeling judged. Dick understands that burnt out feeling really well. He understands how sometimes you just want to let your feelings go through you. He is warm sunshine personified, joyful calm and reliable. He likes taking care of you, the small quiet moments. He will find small personal ways to make your mood a little more bearable however he can without overwhelming you.

"he comes back from his crime fighting to find you in bed. he recognizes your mood instantly. slowly approaching you and gently kissing you awake .

"hey baby ", "youre back dickie" "mhm how long have you been in bed?" " I don't know" "I'm starting a bath, would you like to join me" "I don't really feel like moving" "ill carry you" ."

Jason todd- anxiety disorders ( generalized anxiety disorder(gad), phobia, panic attacks, separation anxiety disorder(sad))

gad- the fact that jason literally fights crime every night and is super impulsive/doesnt care about his safety, so seeing you almost ripping your head off from worry for him not only warms his heart ( he thinks you hate him and struggles to believe that YOU could give someone like him any attention but here you are) but also makes him take better care of himself for your sake. he hates seeing you worried but he loves calming you down. holding your hands tight, replecating meditation style breathing and mindfulness practices. kissing you overthinking head. hugging you when you stress cry, giving you massages.

Phobia- he understands triggers better than anyone else, he will be your big bad protector making sure to help you avoid the item that's causing you phobia. holding your hand and hiding you behind him if you have social anxiety, making sure to avoid triggering environments if you have agoraphobia, killing all snakes in the world if you have a phobia of them( he seriously suggests it but you stop him cuz it'll hurt the ecosystem)

Panic attacks- he has them too, either you have learned a way to deal with them and teach him or he has learned a way to deal with them and helps you . if he hasn't before meeting you, he has a new much stronger motivation to learn techniques or medication that can help deal with them for your sake and therefore also accelerate his healing

seperation anxiety-.. he has it too so like.( ik its more common in kids but adult sad is also a thing) both of you are clingy, its a win win for you two , fuck the rest of the world

again this is just my opinion okay? don't make mental health a taboo , if this post was about batboys x blind! y/n no one would have an issue. mental health is a condition and sometimes its out of our control, it depends on so many factors. Its nothing to be ashamed or scared of.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | January 8th-14th 2024

TWO MONTHS UNTIL SEASON 7!!!

I'm sorry it's late and I'm sorry if I missed anyone but my ao3 history was sortof a mess 😩 I think maybe some userscript I downloaded is fucking up my history. oh well. (or else someone has hacked my ao3 account and has been reading House M.D. fanfic?!?!? (how the fuck did I even get in my history, I don't even remember searching for anything that had House fics in the results wtf))

Complete

Followed By Ghosts by itsanapothecary (Canon Divergent, S1-S2 | 21K | Teen): Instead of hiding the truth about Daniel from their children, Margaret and Philip memorialize their lost son in every one of their remaining children's accomplishments. Growing up, neither Maddie nor Buck felt like they could escape the shadow of their brother. When Buck finds the 118, he gets a chance to be his own person, although the looming attention from his parents and weight of expectations threatens to jeopardize what he's built in Los Angeles.

no harm, no foul by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Getting Together | 5K | Mature): Eddie knows how Buck feels. Buck knows how Eddie feels. So why is Eddie giving him the cold shoulder instead of talking about it?

what to do when evan buckley breaks into your house at 3:17 in the morning by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Love Confessions | 3K | Teen): After a night out drinking with Maddie, Buck (kind of) breaks in to Eddie’s house.

Wait For It by oliviacirce (PWP, Post-S6E6: Cursed | 8K | Explicit): Buck kind of liked not jerking off.

in a fix by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together, PWP | 4K | Explicit): Buck gets himself into a bit of a sticky situation, and Eddie helps him out.

we were lucky once (could be lucky again) by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post-Break Up | 1K | Teen): which they're not together anymore, but they can't sleep apart.

Mark Me Like a Bloodstain (Burning Red) by sirencalls/ @usersiren (Vampire Eddie, Post-S4, PWP | 3K | Explicit): “Eddie, you’re freezing,” Buck says, worry creeping into his tone. “Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital—” “No.” His voice is echoey and strange, definitively not human, and he picks up on the way Buck’s pulse quickens. Fuck, he’s scaring Buck. The human part of him is ashamed, guilty for making Buck ever be afraid of him. The vampire part of him is delighted, is even more wanting because of it, and that’s why he calls himself a monster.

Kinktober 2021 series by sirencalls/ @usersiren (PWP | 31 works | 68K | Explicit)

all that is you makes up all that is me by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S6E11 | 1K | General): “I was just checking if you’re ready…” Eddie says faintly, trailing off as his eyes track the path of the lightning seared across Buck’s skin. -or- In the aftermath of a lightning strike, Buck and Eddie have a conversation.

Long Overdue by mansikka (PWP | 3K | Mature): Eddie realizes his feelings for Buck are more than platonic; what's he supposed to do now?

kiss me, kiss me (i don't know if i can let you go) by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Getting Together, Accidental Kissing | 10K | General): If anyone ever asks- they were both drunk. Eddie knows they weren’t, he and Buck don’t like to drink during the week, regardless of whether or not they work the next day. If they are working, they don’t want to be out of it on the job, and if they’re not they don’t want to be out of it when Christopher wakes up the next morning at 7:00am with more energy than either of them can handle. But there’s not really a good explanation otherwise. No other way to explain why, as Buck was walking out the door, Eddie leaned in and gave him a soft kiss goodnight.

til there was you by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Hurt Buck, Married Buddie | 16K | Mature): In which Buck's appendix tries to kill him in the middle of a busy shift, and Eddie has to stage a dramatic rescue.

spread a little christmas cheer by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S3E10: Christmas Spirit, PWP | 1K | Explicit): Eddie has a realization at the Christmas party and goes the wrong way with it.

do you love me? all you gotta do is say yes by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Friends to Fiances, Crack | 3K | Teen): “It’s always pretty fun to see a former fuckboy from your grad school era bootycall list all domestic and settled down.” or, two boy best friends and an ex lover walk into a grocery store. everyone is on their normalest behaviour.

🔥 Echoes of Your Name by sirencalls/ @usersiren (Canon Divergence, PWP, Sex Worker Buck | 9K | Explicit): Of course he’s immediately wary of it. Porn videos have never worked for Eddie, so why would the audio version of them be any different? It’s the same strangers faking the same moans and whines as the other actors, just without a pretty face to go with it. Eddie thinks it’ll almost be less effective—seeing every tiny reaction that someone has to what you’re doing to them is part of the fun—so he doesn’t have high expectations. He doesn’t expect it to work.

marry me, eddie diaz by elisela/ @elisela (Marriage Proposal | 1K | General): There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely. “I do what a lot?” “Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

sit present in the darkness by elisela (Post-Shooting, Established Buddie | 4K | General): In the midst of stories about their jobs, catching up on what the kids have said, and making endless fun of each other, Eddie’s sitting at his seat with his phone face down on the table in front of him. Occasionally it will buzz and he’ll look around the table, pick it up when he thinks no one is watching. He types something quickly, looks over his shoulder at the kid’s table—where Buck has been since the food was brought to them—and puts it down again. Face down. Karen knows this game. She’s played it before, almost lost.

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 13/? | 31K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 and if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Canon Divergent Season 6, Friends with Benefits | 2/18 | 9K | Explicit): or, an alternate look at season 6 where buck and eddie have been casually sleeping together since before the beginning of the season. somehow, this changes both everything and nothing at all.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 106/? | 290K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 9/? | 15K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 12/? | 105K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 21/? | 106K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 a foundation of trust and love we cannot see by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (FWB, BDSM, Sub Eddie, Dom Buck | 2/17 | 24K | Explicit): “It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word. Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent. For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. “I can show you if you’d like.” Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.

Love Ends. by rowan_wood (Exes to Lovers | 5/17 | 7K | Explicit): But what if it doesn't?

Re-read

🔥 Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post.

🔥 You Could Be The One I Keep by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 6K | Teen): Eddie finally get's up the nerve to ask Buck out, his best friend accepting much easier than Eddie ever dreamed. Things are better than ever between them, the two of them becoming even closer, going out on several dates—only problem? Buck has no idea they're dating, like not even the slightest clue.

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Eleven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. 

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER YOU GUYSSSSSS. I'm emotional!

It has been a journey. As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send. ILYSM!

Word count: 6.4k for this part. 

Weeks pass following the sojourn at the beach house, and you return to your new, blooming life. The strange, suffusing peace you’d felt when you and Santiago finally said your farewells - in more than words - has faded, a barbed tension instead taking root. The sense of resolution has all too quickly transitioned towards sleepless nights. To worrying about how the Lorea job will pan out, and whether Santiago and your other, dear squad mates will make it out unscathed - if at all. 

Your usual pleasures and distractions are little comfort, and it is worst when you are alone. You don’t even have the other dumbasses to lean on, the rub of all of them being gone at once hard to take. 

The nights are when you worry most intensely. When the world folds in on itself, the outside dark and the interior of your own thoughts all you have to rattle around in. Your house has never felt more empty to you, in fact, than in these moments. Most of all though, it feels empty without him; even though he’s never set foot in it. Your hard-won sanctuary feels, with each revolution of the clock, more and more like a collection of rooms and corridors boxing you in, and less and less like it had ever held the potential to feel like safety. 

Anything that you do in attempts to quell this gnawing worry only makes the hole inside you grow more and more apparent. The more you tend your porch planters, the more friends you have over for game day, the more you try to tell yourself that you have everything you need, right here? The further from the truth it all feels. 

The truth, in this moment, is that you’d burn down the entirety of this new life you’ve built if it would get him back safe. Back home safe. And it only makes you more certain that there is no “home” without him. No true feeling of sanctuary or peace while he is in danger. 

The more time that passes too, the more your worries for the mission eat away at you. Some nights, you find yourself sitting bolt upright in bed, the damp sheets tangled constrictively around your heat-tacky skin. Heart thudding hard in the roll cage of your chest. In these moments, that’s when you come closest to abandoning your new life entirely. To hastily stuffing a rucksack and jumping on the next plane to Colombia or Brazil, for all the damn good it would do. 

But you can’t do that. You can’t let yourself be dragged back into his world of danger.

You’d gotten out, and wasn’t that the point? To stay out? 

You know it’s for the best. Best for you. 

Still… there is something which really scares you about this mission. You can’t shake the sense they won’t come back quite the same after this. Can’t shake the impending sense of… finality about it. Santiago has always pushed for more. One more job. One more mission. Has always sought to go big or go home. You’ve always wished he would choose the latter option, by the way, and for some damn reason, he never has. Maybe he thinks he has nowhere like that to go. Maybe the bastard truly will run and gun until it kills him, and the thought of him ending that way…

The thought of him ending at all… 

It sends cold shivers down your spine. Spins a tight knot in your stomach which becomes denser by the day. 

You are mildly ashamed when you tuck Santiago’s old rosary beads beneath your pillow, fingertips unconsciously snaking under it during the night to grip them tightly. To hold something of his within your grip, when he seems so out of reach, is priceless to you. He’d gifted the beads to you years ago. For protection. Now, you curse yourself that they aren’t in his possession. You don’t even believe in any of that, for Christ’s sake. But it sure would comfort you all the same, you reckon. If he had some reminder on his person of how loved he is. Of the people counting on him to make it back. 

Of course, you’ve been checking your phone constantly. Even though they’d warned you repeatedly when they were about to go dark. You’ve braced for it. For a shock. A collision. Bad news. You’ve been unable to eat, sleep, think. And so, even when you finally receive Frankie’s cursory text that they’ve made it out -a simple helicopter emoji and a thumbs-up delivered from a burner cell- you can’t fully trust it.

That night, you still wake in a cold-sweat, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Feeling like the momentarily relief you’d felt must have been a dream, and that the visions of Santiago lifeless and cloaked in red are far more likely to be real. 

You won’t fully believe it, you think, until you hold him in your arms once again. See him with your own two eyes.

You need to see him again. 

The problem is, Santiago has never excelled at coming home. Has never excelled at joining the dots to realise he even has one at all. 

You don’t know when the next opportunity to do that -to see him, hold him - will be. Don’t know whether he’ll simply keep running into yet another mission, then the next and the next and the next, his path leading him further away from you all over again. 

You don’t imagine that he’ll find his way back any time soon. 

Turns out, you are wrong. 

***

You are baking in your kitchen when you notice him, the window forming a perfect frame as he appears, stood at the mouth of your driveway. His head is tipped up towards the eaves of your house. A hold-all is slung over his shoulder. His unseated ball cap is clutched solemnly in folded hands - as though he’s rocked-up outside of church after a long absence, ready to repent his sins. 

You aren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. It feels as though if you blink, he might simply vanish all over again, like you are so used to him doing. 

Feet planted to the tiles, and without turning your head - without even blinking - you say your sister’s name out loud. Like you used to when you were small and afraid you’d heard a monster in the dark. And, coming to your side, just like she’d always done then, she follows your fixed gaze through the window. Right to the spot where Santiago stands, bathed in golden fall light like an epiphany - nothing monstrous about him. 

“Oh, honey,” she says, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

When she does so, you realise you’ve been holding your breath. Realise that your ears are ringing and your pulse is thudding in your neck. When you finally suck in air, its passage is stunted, your chest fluttering around it. 

“Come on, kids,” your sister motions to your nephews, shooing them towards the living room with promises of cartoons and brownies. “We’ll give you some space,” she whispers across to you as she seamlessly shuffles the troops out. “Will you be okay?” 

You finally turn to her then. Manage to tear your eyes away from him. When you do, whatever expression is rendered  on your face causes her to shoot you a look of sympathy. 

At first, no sound comes out when you try to respond, your lips quaking around the words. You try again, and it is better, though still croaky. “I have no idea.” You don’t know what you are feeling. All you know, is that when you settle your hands on the edge of the counter, they are shaking. 

After a quick visual check, across the hall to the kids, once again your sister slots in at your side, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. She dips to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, cupping the crown of your head. “Here. Splash your face,” she encourages, turning on the cold faucet and guiding you until you oblige, the shock of the cold water pooling in your cupped palms bringing you back to your body. The pleasant cool against your cheeks providing you some relief. You dry your face off on your sleeve. Rub your palms against the legs of your worn jeans. “I’ll be right in there.” She nods her head in the direction of the living room. “Any funny business, I’ll kick his damned ass all the way back to Colombia. Alright?” 

It occurs to you that you love her dearly. 

You nod and, satisfied, your sister vacates the kitchen. You watch her disappear through the mouth of the door frame, and, by the time you look back at Santiago, he is taking his first steps down your driveway. 

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you look helplessly back and forth; between him, and the door through which your sister had retreated. You don’t know what to do, exactly. 

You weren’t expecting this. 

Santiago “Pope” Garcia never comes home. 

Santiago is never walking towards you; he is only ever running away. And now, here he is about to walk through your door? To make the house you’ve bought sing, for better or worse, with the pain of all the empty space still contained with it?

Like the Lorea job, this moment has a dreaded sense of finality to it, you think. Like this completely insignificant - yet wildly momentous - occasion is either about to slot everything you’ve ever wanted into place; or, to make any hope of it crumble into pieces.

Until so very recently, you’ve never had to think about how your story ends. Whether it will end up happy. You’ve simply been trying to survive the fraught middle. 

Well, here Santiago is. He’s made it back to you. 

You feel like you’re about to find out once and for all. 

And so, you do the only logical thing you can think to do. 

You run. 

*** 

This is the one, he thinks as he pulls up to park, checking the mailbox numbers against Frankie’s text. This is the house. 

He sits in the rental truck a good few moments longer than necessary before climbing out, grabbing up the navy hold-all from the backseat and turning towards the mouth of your driveway. 

This is the house. 

It’s the kind of house he’s always feared for what it represents - a commitment - and yet, now that he is stood here, looking-up at the structure in the flesh, it doesn’t look quite so fearsome as he’s always imagined. 

He gives it a scan over, looking for signs of you. Sure enough, he notes that your lawn is the most unkempt on the block. That your porch hanging-baskets, filled with colourful lantanas, are bursting and full. Your drive is cluttered with strewn kids’ bicycles. And, the front door is painted in a bold hue that only you would have picked out, stood in stark defiance of the glum, muted tones along the rest of the row. 

This is the house. 

And it is perfect. 

It is somehow still you, already - even from the outside. Santiago always thought that moving forward meant changing - losing something of yourself - but he is pleased to note he still recognises you in all of this. That, despite the white picket fence surrounding your garden, it no longer represents a perimeter he dare not cross. 

Even so, Santiago freezes there for a moment. He finds his feet won’t quite carry him willingly over the threshold from the street to your property. He takes a moment to drink it in instead. To look at what you’ve done for yourself. What you’ve created. What you’ve chosen. Santiago has always, on some level, worried that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved; but it’s clear to him now that he didn’t have to, because you’ve built that for yourself. 

As if anything could stop you. 

You have a yard. You have a white fucking picket fence wrapped around it. 

He half-snorts to himself. Shaking his head softly in disbelief. 

Still, it is there in the back of his head. That small, constant niggle. Even now, Santiago has half a mind to run. This house, to him, represents a place of innocence. Represents a new start and a freshness - one that he would never wish to soil with his bloodied hands. He tries to imagine being inside the house, with you, and yet all he can envision is himself dragging his red, bloody palms all along your pristine white walls. All he can see is him staining this life you have built. Bringing the blood and the dark inside, the way it inhabits the interior of him. 

He almost does too. Almost turns away. 

Old habits die hard. 

All of his fears and insecurities reliably surface, and he imagines the hold-all he is arriving with is the weight of all of his past baggage. He considers - for a moment - whether he would rather have the memory of you from the beachouse, asleep and naked, bathed in golden light and sea breeze, to be the last one he ever holds of you. Wonders if it might be eminently easier that way. 

He thinks about it; but then, he sees you through the window. In the kitchen. Turned away from him, but still unmistakable. 

He smiles wistfully. And he starts walking. 

He knows he can’t possibly turn away from you now. There’s no damn way that the back of your head can be the last image of you he sees; and so, he is driven onwards. Now, more so than ever, Santiago knows he needs to face you. 

He fixes his eyes on the path ahead, then. Continues walking, his thoughts abuzz with how he’s going to greet you. How he’s going to explain himself for turning up unannounced, somehow both early and overdue all at once. 

His thoughts are cut short and his plans entirely foiled, however, when a body slams up against him. For a split second he wonders whether he is getting football tackled to the floor, but he knows, even as you are crushed up against him and your face is indiscernible, that it’s you. He would know the weight and shape of you against his body anywhere.  

You run to him and you hug him, your cold cheek pressing up against his own. Your hands clawing into the back of his navy bomber, and your arms squeezing him with enough force that he abruptly - a bit winded from being body-slammed - drops the hold all to the floor like he’s finally letting go of all his bulllshit. Drops this precious cargo like there’s something far more precious to cling on to after all. 

You pull away from him as he coughs emphatically from the chest-slam, clearly examining him to see if he’s in one piece. Your eyes rove over every inch of him - like they used to do when you would “buddy up” to check for injuries in the field. Instinctively, he attempts to mentally catalogue his own injuries too. He finds that he doesn’t feel hurt at all, no; but that he does feel entirely raw. Vulnerable, like a singing open wound as he sees your face again, emotion shining in your eyes like a sea at the edge of his land. 

“You asshole! You’re okay? You’re really okay?” You tug on his lapels, hands fisting there like you’re trying to shake some sense into him. 

“Went off without a hitch,” he reassures, hoping you don’t notice the way his voice breaks as you drag him back into your arms again. This time, too, Santiago’s arms loop around you in return, his eyes slowly closing as he takes a deep inhale from where his face tucks neatly into the crook of your shoulder, your familiar scent unravelling the tight knot in the pit of his chest. He wasn’t hurt, no; but nor was he okay. Knew that he wouldn’t really be okay until he was by your side again. That he never really had been. 

“You got out clean?” you ask urgently, this time pulling away to smooth your palms over his lapels, undoing the disarray you’d caused. 

He nods. “We don’t leave messes,” he opts to say assuredly, channelling Benny for a boost of confidence, as though luck hadn’t had a considerable amount to do with it. 

“Yeah?” You examine his face for any sign he is smoothing over the truth of things, and he breathes a sigh of relief as his contrivedly neutral expression seems to satisfy you. “You got fucking lucky, you know that? Nothing got hairy?”

“Oh, it got fucking hairy. Cat almost tanked the chopper, for one thing.” 

You tut emphatically. “Bull shit. That’s Cat slander and I won’t have it. Tell Ironhead to get the bastard better equipment next time, huh?” 

Santiago likes this. Likes that no matter how long it’s been, you always greet one another like you’re mid conversation. Like despite the miles and countless moments which have passed, you were just in the middle of something. 

Still… the suggestion of a “next time” drives a wedge through the space between you. 

Next time. 

One more mission; then another, and another, and another. Right? 

Running in goddamn circles. Chasing his tail. 

You sniff, and he watches your valiant attempt to shake it off, still staring at him with a misty look in your eye like he’s come back from the dead. You fold your arms across your chest, perhaps in efforts to subdue your initial, reckless affection. You toss your head over your shoulder, towards the wide open front door. “So. Y’ coming inside?” You nod down at his hold-all. “Or… do you have somewhere else to be?” 

Santiago purses his mouth. Drops his gaze to the hold-all and stoops to wrap his fingers around the rough, looped handles. He feels the itch in his feet again. The urge to run. Sees the window open - his chance to escape. It wouldn’t take much. An easy, casual: yeah, I have a flight to catch. His age-old tricks. But at the same time he sees that window open, he sees your open door in view. The warm glow and invitation of your house beckoning him inside. The warm glow and invitation of you. 

How could he possibly have anywhere else to be? 

“I’d love- I mean, yeah. If I’m not intruding.” 

You simply roll your eyes and -he’s pretty sure- mumble “idiota” under your breath. But, before he can wonder, you are taking him by the hand and leading him into the house. 

He follows. 

It’s a while since he’s followed you anywhere, but he does it now without a second thought. 

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

Still. It should be a relief of sorts and yet… He feels his pulse quicken. Feels nerves twist in the pit of him - and  he knows fine well it’s illogical. Knows it makes zero sense to fear a physical building. 

But… no, that’s not quite it, is it? That was never it. His whole adult life, Santiago has been afraid of something far deeper than that, hasn't he? 

Those feelings and fears, however, begin to drop away like leaves from a fall tree the moment he steps inside. From the moment you fuss his jacket off of his shoulders and hang it on the single empty coat hook, as though there’s been a space reserved for him all along. From the moment the wafted scents of home-baking and you fill his lungs he feels… 

He feels… not quite ready to name what he feels yet; but he does acknowledge the lump lodging in his throat when he crosses the threshold, enveloped by the life you have been living without him. 

You beckon him further inside, trying, to no avail, to prize the hold-all from his grip, so instead, tutting and letting him hang on to it anyway. Tugging the baseball cap from off of his head and throwing it in a spot right next to the key bowl, right before you instinctually ruffle his flattened, graying curls free. 

You chat aimlessly - a natural and familiar commentary. He listens, but he’s also scanning, as per usual. Observing. Drinking the details of this house in. Taking in each framed photo arranged along the hall, curling up the stairs in a timeline of sorts. A record of your life. And, as he assesses, he stops dead in his tracks in front of one particular photo. It’s a buddy from years back. A friend you’d both lost to an IED. Above that, there’s a picture of you and Will standing jubilantly on top of a humvee, which makes his face split with a grin even as tears are balling in his eyes from the prior flood of memories. Beside that, there’s a goofy picture of you and him together, taken at his late mom’s 60th birthday. That one, in particular, makes him unsure whether to laugh or cry or both. 

You come to stand beside him. Silently. Solemnly - as he saws a hand self-consciously across his stubble, not knowing quite how to feel amidst the concoction of varied emotions lodging in him like schrapnel. Fragments. 

Meanwhile, you bump his shoulder with yours, before joining him in concentrating wistfully on the wall of photos suckering his attention. 

Then, he finally places the feeling. He feels… like an idiot. For not seeing it before. 

It’s your life, he realises. All set out here. Summarised. Catalogued. 

But it’s his life too. It’s a shared life. He recognises most of the faces, events, occasions, and locations pictured. Feels the memories and emotions attached -his and yours, first-hand, second-hand - as his eyes tick over the display. Christ. He’s spent so long trying to run from you, hasn’t he, that he’s neglected to recall all the times you have walked side-by-side. He’s spent so long in staunch refusal that he could give you the life that you deserved that he’s neglected to realise that all this time, you were already building one together. 

And oh boy. What a messy and complicated and hard and fucking beautiful life it has been. 

All of that - he realises - is exactly why. Exactly why being here with you now, in this house he’s never even set foot in before, feels exactly like coming home. 

For a moment, he looks at you, and -struck by you, like a gut punch - Santiago doesn’t know what to say. Quickly though, he remembers. Remembers that with you, it always feels like you’re right in the middle of a conversation.  

He takes an emphatic sniff. “You’re baking?” 

“Heh. Yeah.” You nod towards the living room door, from behind which a kerfuffle of cartoons and chatter is sounding, he clocks. “My nephews are here.” You place a finger over your beautiful lips and lean in, like you’re telling him a deep, dark secret. “I bought a packet mix.” 

Santiago can feel his eyes glowing at you like headlights as your cheeky, full-beam smile shines back at him, but suddenly, he’s no longer particularly inclined to hide it. 

“So?” You press gently, as his knuckles almost whiten from gripping the hold-all so tight. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, anyway?” 

His mouth drops open wordlessly. For a moment, Santiago legitimately forgets. Forgets that he hasn’t always been here. He forgets, in fact, that he’s here for anything besides falling to his knees and clinging to you. Anything besides weeping for joy with his head buried against your stomach. Holding you so tightly, to make up for all of the times he’s so willingly let you go. 

Fortunately, the weight of the hold-all tugging at his arm reminds him of one more reason, which, now that he’s here, actually feels a hell of a lot more like an excuse. “I’ve brought something for you.” He nods towards the kitchen. “Can we..?” 

The kitchen is the heart of the home. It’s the heart of your home, and it’s the place where so far - recently - Santiago has tried to possess you, claim you, blame you, plead with you, and appease you. As though your body carries the memory of that you nod, tension pinching your face, and he clocks a swallow of apprehension darting abruptly down your throat. Still, you gesture for him to enter, and he follows closely behind. 

“It’s weird that the kitchen’s at the front of the house, right?” You waffle, banaly. “But I like it. Feels more open. I like looking out at the front yard when I-”

“-Cook-up a storm?”

You scoff; not likely. “Throw away my pizza boxes.” 

With your quip, mirth lights his eyes; yet - as ever - Santiago remains laser-focussed on his mission. He lifts up the hold-all, and plonks it down right on top of your kitchen island. “Here.” He nods towards the bag as you eye it sceptically. 

“What? Did you bring me your fucking laundry?” 

“Christ,” he scolds, even as your comment raises a warm chuckle. “No. It’s your share.”

You exhale softly through your raised palms as realisation dawns on you. “Santi. What the fuck?”

You cross to the bag and unzip it, mouth dropping into an “o” and eyes bugging as you reveal stacks and stacks of neatly bundled cash inside. Immediately, you shake your head, holding your palms up in the air and thrusting them away from your body. “No. Hell no.” His face drops. “I didn’t do anything to earn this.” 

Oh, that’s your issue? On the contrary. You’ve earned this a hundred times over. “Oh, really? Remind me. How many times did you get shot, huh?”

You peer down to the bag again in disbelief. Santiago would continue to emphasise all that you deserve; but he can tell that you’ve already tuned him out anyway. He can transparently see the calculations ticking over in your head. What this money might mean for you. What you could do with it. Conversely, the strings that could feasibly be attached. The blood on it. 

“It wasn’t just me. We all agreed.” He nods decisively, brows pinching down. “You and Tom get a share too. We wouldn’t be anywhere without you.” His voice breaks. “Shit. I wouldn’t be…” He simply couldn’t picture his life without you. Doesn’t even want to begin to try. 

You drag both hands back over your head, elbows jutting out at sharp angles. “Santiago. I can’t keep this.” 

He steps closer to you. Waits until your arms drop and cups your elbows with his sure palms. “So donate it. Set up a college fund for the boys. Whatever.” His eyes grow big and unusually earnest as he searches yours. “But would you please take it?” 

He knows it’s hardly a drop in the ocean. That there is no way he could begin to repay all you’ve done for him. All he knows is that he wants you to have it. All he knows is that you deserve anything and everything he can give you, even if it’s never going to be enough. 

Your hands are shaking slightly when you bring them up to your mouth, but he can see the beginnings of the cautious, giddy smile which eventually claims you. As you begin to accept this is really happening. 

“You brought cash? Seriously? You motherfucker.”

His throat bobs with a deep chuckle. “Why not? Wasn’t it you who said you always wanted to fuck on a huge pile of money?”

“I’m almost 1000% confident that was Benny.” 

“Meh. Doesn’t hurt to have the option,” he teases, but once again, you’re no longer listening to him - not really. Your fingers are carefully gripping the lip of the bag and peeling it open, finally letting it sink in. 

“Thank you,” you say resonantly, dragging your eyes up to him only after you have managed to push the words out. Crossing to him. Wrapping your arms around him, your fingers tracing over the ridged scar at the back of his neck, your voice turning wet. “But… You know that this means nothing to me, right?”His hand moves slow and steady, up and down your back. “You know that all I wanted was for you to come back?” 

He holds you more tightly then, as your emotions begin to spill over, tiny fractures in your voice. You subdue it, though. You clear your throat. Compose yourself a little too quickly for his liking, his body missing the warmth of you immediately as you pull away.  

“Since we’re doing gifts though. I’ve actually got something for you too.” You clasp your hands together, pleading. “And you have to promise me you’ll take it.” 

You move only once he’s nodded, your serious expression compelling him into acquiescence. You don’t need to go far to retrieve it. Instead, you reach to fumble something out of your jeans pocket.

His eyebrows leap up towards his hairline. “Fuck me. Are these-?” 

It knocks him for six as you unfurl a string of familiar black rosary beads, the loop penduluming from your thumb as you hold them out, offering them to him. Offering them back to him. 

“You remember?”

He scoops his forefinger and thumb around his mouth, stubble bristling. He answers your question without even answering. “You kept them.”

“Well. Yeah.” You grab hold of his hand. Fumble his palm open and thrust the beads into it, curling his fingers back around them until he grasps on to them tightly. “And I don’t want you to be without them anymore, okay?” 

Santiago is lost for words - his mouth agape. He shuffles from foot to foot in disbelief for a moment, before clamping his hand over yours, his grip as warm and sure as it’s ever been. 

God. 

You’ve loved him, haven’t you? You’ve loved him whether he believed that he deserved it or not. You’ve loved him every single step of the way. You’ve loved him even when he was difficult and stubborn. When he was in the throes of grief. When he was bleeding out from a stab wound.

You have loved him at his best and at his worst; and goddamn it, he has loved you back. 

He didn’t do so before, when the thought had first occurred to him, but he does now. He does drop to his knees on the cold, tiled kitchen floor, wrapping his arms around your middle. He does bury his face in your stomach, holding you as tightly as possible. 

He drops to his knees as though he’s finally repenting of his ‘sins’. He holds you now, to make up for all of the times he so willingly let you go. To show you - he hopes - how he never wants to let you go again. 

Meanwhile, his gesture appears to punch the air from your lungs. Your hands hover -uncertain- just moments from him, and then, as you inhale, you must find you already know what to do. Your fingertips dip into his hair. Your palms cradle his head. He feels tears wet his cheeks as he buries his face in your soft, sweater adorned stomach. He silently rues every single time he thought he needed one more mission - and the next, and the next, and the next. Wonders how he’d believed all this time he was built for brutality, when, although his hands were trained to kill, they were made to love you gently.

“Santiago.” He screws his eyes shut at the softness in your voice as you sound his name, a roughly hewn sob gently wracking his chest. You say his name in a way he’s never heard it spoken, and before he knows it, you are on your knees with him, tipping his chin up with careful fingers until his wet eyes meet your soft, warm, bathtub gaze. 

You stroke your palm down the side of his face and you nod, slowly, tears beading in your eyes too. 

He knows what your touch is telling him now. What it has been telling him all along even whilst he was still too stubborn to hear it. 

It’s telling him… That this is what safety feels like. 

That he’s home. 

You are his home, and what’s more; he is welcome. 

He surges up onto his knees, pressing his chest to yours, winding his broad hands into your hair to pull you into an achingly raw, desperate kiss. 

Your lips are a door. Your mouth a corridor. Your heart is a room. Your chest is his roof.  He wants to live in you. Bury himself inside you. Wants to walk barefoot on your tender carpet. Wants to fill his chest with the warm rumble of a kettle. Wants to step into you like a warm bath. To be covered by you. Held by you. You are his walls. His sanctuary. All roads lead here to you, to this house; and they always have, even when he’d felt so lost. 

He has never been home before; but this must be how it feels, he thinks, to finally stop running. 

He kisses you, his urgency dissolving into softness like sugar into water. You kiss him back. It’s a sweet, tender thing, as delicate as the tears beading in his lashes.

“Santiago. Christ, your knees. Get up. Please.” You’re crying too, he realises. Crying as though you’re as glad as he is that he has finally arrived somewhere that does not ask him to wound himself. You cup his face again, concern in your eyes, but he slides his hand over yours. Tucks the rosary beads into his pocket, an item far more priceless than the - now forgotten - bag of money on the counter. 

It has been a long road. 

It has been a long time.

It has been a lifetime, and he sees now, that his road was always leading him to you. 

Your gaze flits all over his face. “Heyyy,” you soothe, with a softness he finally feels he deserves. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I…”

“What?”

He fumbles a tear away from his cheek, a bright feeling bursting out of his chest. “Can I…?” He laughs, it feels so preposterous. “Do you mind if I… stay for a little while?” 

Your eyebrows briefly pump up in surprise; but even so you smile fondly at him, answering his question without answering. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

You rise together to standing, chest to chest and still hovering moments from a kiss; and yet, neither of you are closing the distance. Not yet, not now, and it’s… actually a wonderful thing. To wait. It feels suddenly like there is time now. For the first time in Santiago’s life, it feels like there is a future. A future for him, instead of isolated moment after moment, grasped in haste. Instead of one mission to the next, to the next. So, instead of kissing you again; more; deeper; Santiago reaches up, the crook of his curled forefinger gently tracing the line of your jaw until you flutter your eyes at him bashfully. Until his mouth twists into a lopsided, disbelieving smile. 

Then: “Oh-my-God-I’m-sorry-” your sister blunders as she unceremoniously cracks the door, poking her head rather unsubtly around it. “We were, uh, just wondering what to do. We were gonna put a movie on but…” - she looks pointedly between the two of you and clocks your proximity - “We can always clear out if loud sex is about to ensue.” 

Next, she catches a glimpse of the bag full of money and her eyes bug, though she abruptly tries to cover it. 

You tut loudly at your sibling. “Jesus. Would you either come in or get out? You’re like a little floating head.” 

She opts to step gingerly around the door, looking all the more awkward for it. 

“Hi,” Santiago greets warmly, moving in for a heartfelt hug which catches your sister even further off-guard. 

“Oh, hi!” she says (as though she’s only just noticed him) before asking - maybe with malice, or maybe through sheer force of habit - “How long are you sticking around for?”

Santiago looks sheepish for a moment. 

After all, he doesn’t want to tell you just yet. 

No - he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s signed a six-month lease on an apartment downtown. That he’s arranged to get therapy from a guy Will recommended. That he’s started working his networks and shifting his money around so he can finally make the leap into consulting. That he’s pretty sure - as sure as he’s ever been about anything - that he wants to marry you. 

Of course, he isn’t seriously entertaining the idea that he can simply turn up and upend your life. Doesn’t expect -would never expect- to have everything laid out on a platter for him. But, this time, he at least has the strength to stick around. To find out once and for all what might be next, after so long going round in circles. 

That’s why he doesn’t even want to tell you at all. Not yet. Not now. 

Instead, he simply wants to show you. 

“A movie sounds good.” He twines his fingertips with yours and your sister’s eyes bug harder at that than they had at the hold-all. “I mean. If I won’t be intruding?” 

He looks to you for approval, and he hates that, right now, the prevailing emotion he can read on your face is surprise. 

“You can really stay?!” 

It’s a far bigger question. 

That much is obvious. A question he realises you’ve been asking him for a long time, in a whole host of different ways. 

Looking at you, here and now, it’s so alien to him that he wouldn’t. That he would ever run from you; bail out; seek out other women; skip town; bury his feelings. All of that bullshit. 

In his time, Santiago has jumped out of planes; has run into burning buildings; launched himself towards enemy fire. But has he ever let himself love you so wholly and recklessly? Has he ever been as brave as that? 

So, Santiago simply gazes back at you. Smiles, rehearsed crinkles radiating from around his warm, good-morning eyes. 

This time, he answers your question. He thinks you finally deserve to hear it. After all; you deserve everything - and so you definitely deserve this. 

“I can stay.” 

You don’t even respond -not in words - and it might be because finally, finally, there is nothing between you which remains unsaid. You simply squeeze his hand, just a little tighter. 

Santiago has known you for so many years. Has known you as a soldier; a friend; a lover. 

He finally has the courage to see you all at once, and, in the years ahead, he can’t wait to know you in all the other ways there are. 

You lead him through the door; and he follows. 

It always was easy to follow you. To love you. It was the running that was hard. 

He doesn’t know exactly what will happen next; but one thing’s for sure.

You’ll always be his Ride or Die. 

THE END 

[yunazxxx]

heyyyy im a silence reader (always voting for your posts tho !!) I love your wooork so much, you were the first writer I followed on here, thank you for your love for the katseye girlies !!

also idk if you're taking requests rn but can i suggest a marz one where one day Lara sees Manon and Sophie make out by accident, and it makes her see Manon in a different light so she starts avoiding her bc she's scared of what she's feeling and like a week later or something Manon is sick of Lara ignoring her so she enters the bathroom while lara is taking a shower and confronts her about it (since it's the only place Lara can't escape from), Lara clumsily puts her towel on and confess ashamed but like Manon reassures her and kisses her bc she also has feelings for her and like they fuck in the bathroom right after

ps: if you don't like the prompt it's fine I'm not good at it sorry 😭 but can we pls have another hot/smut marz one, we are in a drought :((

pairing ≫ lara rajagopalan x meret manon (ft. sophie)

content warnings ≫ cheating , bathroom sex , slight angst , lara's crushing , established relationship (situationship/fwb) , getting caught , cunnilingus , slight argument but also toxicity? ,, etc maybe?

word count ≫ over 2.7k

author talks ≫ firstly would like to say merry christmas/happy holidays to those who don’t celebrate! i hope you’re all safe and doing well — now with the fic i wanna say i did go a little off plot but its still with the plot for the most part. — btw you did fine don’t worry i rlly enjoyed writing this!!

—

it was a dark snowy night in their city, tempatures dropping to about -1 degrees celcius, so much snow on the floor that even the roofs were covered on every inch, the build up of sniow was honestly surprising.

the girls of katseye gathered in their living room, it was christmas eve and although they all come from different parts of the worls and celebrate different holidays and celebrate christams differently, they managed a way to celebrate it all the same.

sophie and lara were missing, once again inside of the kitchen, making dinner for the girls. lara would peak out sometimes, looking at the brunette girl who she had been crushing on for the last seven months easy, or that's when lara really realized she liked her.

lara also knew of manon's "friend", sophie. lara never had a problem with the woman, why would she?

oh, because she's fucking manon.

lara always kept the fact it bothered her to herself, but while they were cooking and something was almost burning under lara's care, sophia had to ask her after she fixed the situation. "daniela?" sophia called out and daniela left from where she was, coming over to the pair.

"mhm?" she answered, "could you watch this stuff please? we need to talk" sophia said, pointing between her and lara, and daniela nodded. sophia grabbed lara's hand and they ran off to another room, not wanting to have that converation in front of the others.

"what's been going on? you've been so discombobulated" sophia said, her facial expressions following as she spoke, "it's just.." lara said, trailing off trying not to say what the actual problem was but sophia could easily read that girl like a book.

"its sophie" sophia said, her voice flat, but not like emotionless, lara looked at the black haired woman, "what..? no?" lara tried lying but sophia just looked at her until she admitted, "okay, yeah, sophie" lara said, she took a deep breath after saying this.

"but, why?" sophia wasn't all too confused, her and lara talked often, but this was something she never really got information on. "why are you like this over sophie? did she do something? do i need to kick her out?" sophia asked but lara shook her head "no no, its nothing. just, please?"

sophia nodded, "lets finish cooking then, i'm sure the girls are hungry" and lara smiled, "yeah" as the pair walked down the hallway, lara had to break off to grab something from her room, while she searched, she remembered that she gave it to daniela.

lara ran to the front asking daniela for it and she said it was in the room, lara wasn't paying much attention to anything around her, she just wanted to make sure she got what she needed. lara just casually opened the door like she would every other time.

but stopped dead in her tracks, she saw manon and sophie, kissing. manon's shirt was off, and sophie's pants were missing, sophie was on top of manon with her hands moving all over her body. lara quickly shut the door, her heart both racing but it also dropped.

she went to her room, holding back her tears while "looking" for something, but she really wasn't, she wanted to distract herself because megan was in the room now, "woah woah" megan said when she saw lara, "what happened?"

megan looked so worried and it made lara feel bad, "i just, got something in my eye" lara said, smiling while a tear trinkled down her cheek, "l-let me see, do you need eye drops?" megan asked, her voice starting to panick a bit.

"no no no no, i'm good megan, thank you" lara said, holding her hand to prevent the ginger girl from running away, "are you sure? it's no issue really" megan said but lara stayed content wit her answer and megan let it go.

lara and megan walked from their bedroom, to the places in the house they just were. sophia succefully distracted lara while they cooked, they were playing and laughing a lot, even making references to lara's old cooking/baking channel.

slowly the night began to turn into early morning, it was already 2am and yoonchae was dozing off, "yoonchae?" sophia said to her younger while the brown haired girl's head was resting on her lap, "mm?" she could only reply, too tired to form words.

"megan?" lara tapped her roommate, "hm?" megan looked up from the puzzle she was doing, "could you take yoonchae upstairs?" and the ginger woman nodded, taking yoonchae and guiding the young girl upstairs.

manon and sophie had been downstairs for a while now, lara rolling her eyes each time she looked over at the couple, it wasn't like she hated them but the having to act nonchalant was her only other way to cope with this.

it was almost three when sophie announced she'd be leaving, all the girl's gave sophie a hug while lara left to the kitchen, before sophie left she came up to lara, "g'night" sophie said and hugged her and lara could feel herself physically cringe at this.

"yea, goodnight" lara said, hugging sophie back, happy once she finally broke off of her. manon walked sophie to her car and they stayed out there for a bit, lara catching them sharing another kiss before sophie drove off.

something about that sight made lara feel sick to her stomach, and right when lara was about to sleep, she saw a message in the groupchat with their staff, saying they have a video to record for youtube for their fans to see.

lara shut off her phone, sighing because she couldn't stand being around manon right now but it's for the cameras.

the nex morning came, sophia calling for a house meeting to make sure everyone knows about the scheduele. normally when house meetin were called, the girls would gatherup, megan and daniela sittting together, yonchae and sophia and of course lara and manon, but lara stood beside the leader instead of sitting by manon.

this didn't really strike manon as weird behaviour, but still she took note of this, it wasn't until they were on set for the video when she saw how weird lara was acting towards her. lara was the last on set because she finished getting ready later than the rest of the girls.

lara would be so talkative with everyone but manon, she would be physical with everyone but manon when there were no cameras on them but right when she noticed that red light on the cameras she was all over manon like she would be normally.

this had been going on for so long, manon got tired of it, lara had avoided her off cameras for at least a month now but this was really fucking with her.

after they got home, lara rushed to the shower, wanting to rid herself after the hours of filimg, manon also following behind her. the brunette tip toed inside of lara's room, opening the bathroom before closing it behind her.

"megan?" lara said through the water running on her body, "could you grab my hair mask?" lara asked, and manon grabbed, but got undressed first, lara had her eyes closed while she ran water through her red hair.

manon handed the mask to her while sneaking inside, "lara.." manon said and it made the red haired woma freeze in her actions, looking at manon, "h-hey" manon stared at the redhead for a bit, "why have you been ignoring me?" manon asked but lara just sighed, "not here manon"

manon's eyebrows furrowed, "what do you mean not now?" and lara sighed again, "let me shower in peace" she answered, her voice emotionless. "manon clenched her jaw before swallowing, "fine" she got out of the shower, collecting her clothes and sitting on lara's bed until she was out.

megan was inside of the room when manon walked out, her hair was slightly wet, "hey? do you need the hair dryer, or a wtowel?" megan offered but manon shook her head, she lied down on lara's bed for a while, looking up at the cieiling before asking, "megan?"

"yeah?" the ginger aswered, "has lara been acting, strange, lately? like anything you've noticed?" and megan shook her head, "mno, not really. is she alright?" and manon nodded, "yeah, yeah she's fine, it's just been... odd?" and megan tilted her head, "what do you mean?"

"it's nothing megan, could you go for a bit? we need to talk" the redhead interrupted, and megan got up, walking out odf the room. lara was fresh out of the shower, her body still wrapped inside of the towel while her skin glistened, steam coming from her body like an arua.

manon looked at the woman, the anger but guilt was telling on her face. lara looked through her closet, fishing for clothes to put on while manon struggled to get her words together, "so, what? you can say it now." lara said while she was searching through the closet.

"why have you been avoiding me?" manon flat out said, making lara pause, "that's really a question?" lara said as she continue searching, "yes! you've been so weird to me lately, ever since that night sophie was here, you've been acting so different"

"you must assume every emotion i experience has something to do with you or that bitch" lara said camly which took manon by surprise, "what?" manon said, still trying to process the words that left the younger's mouth, "i mean, you're right. how would you feel if you walked in on your crush sleeping with someone"

lara said, shrugging her shoulders while she slipped on the clothes she found, manon closed her eyes and sighed, opening them to be met with lara's brown eyes, calmly rested while she waited for the brunettes response.

"why didn't you say something sooner?" manon asked, "do i have to say everything? spell it out for you? do you not feel the same?" lara asked, her voice raising towards the end, "of course you don't, you're with sophie" lara said, her voice as bitter as over brewed tea.

manon swallowed, "obviously, you have nothin to say" lara said and scoffed, walking away to the bathroom to finish drying her hair and styling it. manon followed her, "i do feel the same, lara" making the red haired woman scoff, "right, whatever you say"

manon walked closer to her and snaked her arms around the angered woman's waist, gently kissing her neck through the small space not covered by her hair. lara's head feel back against manon's shoulder, "this won't always work, you know that" lara said

"i know, but it will this time and that's all i need" manon softly whispered against lara's skin, making her tingle. "m-manon, we can't" lara tried pushing he off, her words weren't following her actions or thoughts, her body craved manon's touch and attention while her thoughts ran saying the most vulgar things.

manon sighed against lara's skin before backing off, "guess you're right", she tuned around and began walking away from the bathroom but lara grabbed her hand, turning the brunette around and pulling her into a kiss.

it started off so sweet and soft but overtime it grew more and more passionet, lara began pushing herself against manon's body, they broke off, "fuck i've missed this" lara sighed out before they pulled each other into another kiss.

lara shamelessly moaned into the kiss, manon's hands pulling the girls small waist closer against her body, while slowly pushing her on the bed. lara held manon's neck, pushing the kiss deeper, manon broke the kiss off and began kissing down lara's neck again.

lara threw her head back, allowing the older more access. lara's hips began moving on their own, rutting against manon's leg that was right where she needed her most. manon's hand traveled on their own down lara's body, her fingers and palms tracing lara's abdomen, making the younger one twitch.

"i need you.." lara whispered, low enough that only she heard it, making manon lift up, "what did you say baby?" and lara whined, thinking manon was messing with her, "no baby, repeat yourself" and lara said this time, much louder.

manon slid her hand past lara's sweats and past her panties, her fingers on her clit using one and slowly rubbing in a circle. lara whined pretty loudly, manon crashing her lips against the redhead. manon sped up her hands, slingher fingers down, now pushing two digits inside of lara, causing her to gasp.

manon broke off the kiss and began kissing down lara's body, the red haired woman failing to keep quiet while she allowed her older member to do whatever she wanted with her body. manon reached her other hand up, exposing lara's stomach, manon bit at the brown girl's flesh, making her hips buck.

manon pulled her hand from lara's pants, pulling them down to her thighs. manon made her way down to her thighs, gently caressing them before kissing them, making her way between and kissing lara's inner thighs.

lara’s breath hitched as manon’s lips touch her inner thigh, her body trembling in response to the pleasure coursing through her body. she lets out a soft whine, her legs automatically opening slightly wider for the brunette.

manon continued to pepper kisses down the girl’s inner thigh, getting dangerously closer to where she craved her the most.

she stopped once she was there, looking up into lara’s hooded eyes, manon’s hands slid between her legs, slipping two digits inside of her again.

her pace was slow but steady, lara’s body immediately responds to her touch, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she begin to provide her with the friction she yearned for.

“m-manon..” lara moaned softly, her body arching as she feels the pleasure begin to build within her. manon would speed up then slow back down randomly, making lara’s mind wonder and turn into mush.

she felt the brunette’s soft lips against her skin, marking her and leaving hickeys. lara’s moans picked up the closer she got, making manon speed up. lara clenched around manon's fingers, the older girl now kissing at her clit, looking her in the eyes while she whimpered out that she was close.

manon went back up, now kissing lara, "i love you so much.." manon sighed against her lips before moving down. the redhead whimpered in manon's ear, "i love you... shit" before she came. manon's hands didn't slow down, she kept with that same pace, making lara be much louder than she should've.

manon pulled the redhead into a kiss while she felt the younger's body spasm under her, pulling her fingers out and gently carrasing her body. manon kissed down lara's body, cooing to her gently while lara tried catching her breath.

manon got up and grabbed a towel and some warm water to clean lara up, when she finished, lara pulled her down beside her. "you know, you didn't have to.." lara said, her voice low and shy, manon shrugged, "wanted to" she said and kissed lara again.

the pair sat in silence for a while before manon spoke, "lara?", "uh huh?" the redhead replied, "you know you didn't have to say it back, right?" and lara grabbed her cheek, "you're a loserrrrr you know?" lara said and manon chuckled, "no but, you didn't" and lara rolled her eyes before pulling the brunette into another kiss, this time the kiss had no lust but was more love.

the lips moved in sync against each other, and while this happened sopie was opening the door after getting word from megan that manon was in lara's room. she had knocked but neither girl heard it so she assumed they were busy doing things and didn't hear it.

when she opened the door she looked around and saw them, the bit her lip before closing the door, the girls saw her walking out but they didn't know what she saw, and they didn't know whether it was good or bad.

they weren't in the house and actually had just made it back home when sophie came over, manon and lara came from the room, lara was leaning against manon barely walking straight with her hair a mess. "oh..." the other four girls all said in usion, now they see why sophie ran out as fast she did.

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

Chaos Theory review (characters' oriented review)

Since everyone is doing this, I thought I'd share my thoughts too because, to some extent, I feel like I'm in a minority here. In this post I'm going to focus mostly on the characters because there's a lot to say about the show in general and I don't have patience to write everything in one post.

spoilers under the cut

I said it yesterday and I will say it again: I absolutely loved Chaos Theory. It was action-packed, well-paced, dramatic and funny. It was everything I loved in Camp Cretaceous.

I'm especially grateful that they gave us a whole variety of emotions coming from all of characters.

I loved yasammy's conflict because it felt real and natural. Yas' PTSD being openly addressed was everything I hoped for (all of them have PTSD in some capacity but when it comes to Yas the execution was on the next level). And Sammy being fiercely overprotective over her girlfriend to the point it became too much?? That made so much sense because she had always been always protective but after the experiences in camp cretaceous, it is no wonder that this trait started to get out of her control. I don't know, it just made sense. I hope that in season 2 they go in detail about Sammy's family situation, I want her to talk about it with Yas. I'm really curious how it will play out and I can't wait to see Yas being super awesome supportive girlfriend.

I also really liked Darius and Kenji's relationship - I know, I know but hear me out. I actually enjoyed how the conflict(s) in their case seemed to keep piling up; they were growing like a fungus. I adored that little bit when Kenji mentioned that he stayed in touch with Darius' mother, while Darius didn't call her. I think it was incredible; such a small detail but tells you a lot about the years in their life that we didn't get to see.

While we are at it, I have to address the whole Darius and Brooklyn thing which I actually... didn't mind. I really didn't? And I don't mind that it was one-sided either. Maybe because it is the first (*cough*) openly addressed one-sided love story between the campers. I've always loved Darius and Brooklyn friendship, I genuinely believe that it was one of the strongest relationships in CC. It would be cool if they stayed platonic but really, I truly don't mind that one-sided love plotline. I wouldn't even call it a love triangle because to me it seems that Darius, to some extent, always knew that it was an unrequited crush, and I don't feel a sense of a privatization (between Kenji and Darius) either. You know what I actually liked about this situation? The fact that Darius didn't go to meet with Brooklyn because he was basically ashamed, embarrassed, and a little scared of his own feelings, of getting hurt. I feel like, in the long run, this is going to be incredible for his character development. Darius trying to run away from his own feelings to the point where he abandoned someone, where he tried hiding something from others? I genuinely think it added to his character and gave him additional depth. That's just my opinion though. I also think that even without that romantic plotline he would still call Brooklin after her "death". So to me, this really didn't change much other than adding more awkwardness and I had no trouble handling that (I always really liked visually the scene where Kenji and Darius were sitting in the bathtub. There was something pleasing about this)

Moving on to Kenji... Killing Daniel Kon so fast was certainly... a choice but. Kenji's reaction to his death was so well-done. It really highlighted the complex relationship that Kenji had with his father - someone he hated but who he also considered kind of a indestructible. His reaction was so heartbreaking and I was there for it.

And then there's also Ben. I'm gonna be honest - I am biased. I loved him before, I love him still so it feels unfair to write about him from my very biased perspective. Still - they could never make me hate him. I like how his character changed in so many ways but also stayed true to his core – he is adventurous and a little reckless (like a Jungle Boy that he was), and he is also soft and sensitive (that scene when he was crying when he was hiding under the truck broke me). I'm extremely curious about his background story that we barely touched upon - it is obvious that he had been living in that van for a while, which is interesting considering how he used to live on the campus and (let me remind you that) he has a loving mother that would surely support him if he decided to take a break just because he needs a break. From the looks of it, Ben seemed to be living on his own for a while – was his obsession with "being hunted" the only reason? or was there more? many questions. I am also a bit... sceptial about his girlfriend. The first time he mentioned her was not convincing to say at least, not to mention that apparently he had been living without his phone for a while now - were they talking online all this time or what? Idk, if he really has a girlfriend then first of all - the screenwriters are cowards, second of all - the relationship doesn't seem super-convincing for now.

Bonus: Mateo is one of the best characters introduced in the show, for me, he beats even Mae. He was perfect, actually perfect, I loved him. I really hope we will see him again in season 2 (above taking care of Bumpy) because I really liked his agency and his character arc.

Overall: I feel like your final review of CT depends heavily on what you tend to focus on while watching the show, and what you like in shows in general. I don't mind drama as long as it doesn't interfere with characters' personality. And I feel like a lot of choices they made in CT actually makes sense for these characters. I think it is also important to remember that this was - from what I understand - planned as a two-seasons long shows from the beginning which means that a lot of loose ends and decisions may not make sense yet but they will eventually be developed in season 2 (which would be awesome, we love consistent writing)

anyway, I only watched CT once for now, so don't quote me. I'm sure that I will have more thoughts later

[the-s1lly-corner]

What would the slashers do with a s/o who has a really disturbing laugh?

(They don't feel ashamed about it though)

G/N reader, pls?

Can be any group of slashers

Various slashers x reader w/ a disturbing laugh

Sorry for the wait!! My motivation to write kinda died BUT I'm having a huge burst right now! Yippie!

Characters: Michael, Brahms, Bubba

Notes: reader is gn, short post

CWs: none

MICHAEL

he... honest to god is not at all phased. if anything he might look at you for a second longer than he normally does- which to be fair he looks at you a lot- before turning away and returning to what he was doing a moment before you started cackling

he simply takes it as another part of you. neither a deterrent or a charm- simply you. and you dont seem to be bothered about it either so why point it out to you? theres simply no point in that

he sees it as just another part of you

BUBBA

see if his brothers didnt have fucked up laughs he would do a double take and look at you wide eyed when you first start laughing around him. but his brothers can sometimes laugh a little... you know... intensely- sure you might outdo them a little in the creepy factor but hes not at all bothered by it!

if anything startles him about it or makes him scared if when you start to laugh so hard the sound comes out in struggled heaves and you start crying from it- he immediately swarms you to try to get you under control before you hurt yourself

sometimes he likes to think your laugh has enough intensity for the two of you

BRAHMS

this man is quite literally obsessed with every single part of you- in both the "awwww he likes you!" sense and the "oooooooh... hes..." way- there isnt really any part of you he doesnt like

except... the laugh... he doesnt hate it but it does throw him for a loop the first few times before he gets used to it. the first time he thought it was a one off. the second.. and then the third time... and he kind of just realizes that you just laugh like that. it takes a while but he does eventually fall in love with your laugh too

he thinks its a little creepy at first but overtime he finds it endearing- its raw and earnest, youre not ashamed about it and youre not holding your mirth back. thats something he can admire

[darkkitty1208]

So this post may be a little all over the place cos the brain is scrambled but i'm rereading the spinoff and got to this bit:

I love this scene because it's obvious that Reigen despite his often questionable decisions KNOWS when to draw the line and proves yet again he actually has a good moral compass. He may not always be honest but he has good intentions most of the time and always knows the right thing to do. He tricks people not to scare them but to "expel those fears".

Another thing I love is the little detail of Serizawa's reaction in the background. It can literally be interpreted as either "Serizawa doesn't think this is a good idea but doesn't know how to express his opinion" or "Serizawa isn't opposed to the idea of keeping Tome around and doesn't want to scare her away" which. Ough *clutches chest* seripapa & tomedaughter my beloved.

Also it's interesting that it also implies that, for a moment, Serizawa genuinely thought Reigen was about to consider tricking another teen, but then immediately Reigen confirms that he wants to "have a proper talk with her", and this to me I think shows that Reigen has really learnt his lesson from Mob after that whole psychic tornado and destroying half the city lmao. Which is likely the reason why this happens later on:

AND!!!! HNGHH!!! IT'S JUST!!! He doesn't. Want to lie anymore. He's seen the way keeping the truth from Mob for so long affected him, and he doesn't want to make the same mistake with Tome. Sure, that makes her disappointed and hurt and all (isn't that familiar?), and he probably expected that it'd successfully drive tome away from s&s, but isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what they planned to do? Keep Tome away from the dangers his job comes with? (Isn't that familiar?) But then Tome returns anyway. Because Tome admires and looks up to him for more than just his "psychic powers", and because she genuinely likes Reigen as a person. (ISN'T. THAT. FAMILIAR?)

That's also not mentioning the development Tome went through from the "everybody's a dull and boring goody goody and I'm too different to hang out with them" mentality to the "everybody has their quirks and differences and shouldn't be ashamed to share them" mentality.

The thing is that it's also the same development her friends go through, and isn't it brilliant that despite how easily they can just go with the usual "quirky different girl can't fit in" trope, they decided to go against that and show that Tome CAN make friends even with her unconventional interest, because everybody has an unconventional interest and that's okay to have. It goes with how MP100 as a series is a commentary against stereotypical manga tropes by extending it to the spinoff. There's just a level of awareness in the way it's written that isn't deluded by those stereotypes.

Anyway if you haven't read the spinoff already READ IT. IT'S SO GOOD.

[lionlena]

Headcanon: When Joel goes limp… (JoelMillerxf!reader)

Okay, so @creedslove infected my brain with this thought through this post. Joel's simply bruised ego is something that affects me like blood to a vampire… I had to write it! I had to comfort my old grumpy teddy bear!!!

Warnings: smut, erection problems, flaccid dick, Joel's bruised ego (deserves a separate warning), swearing, age difference but not clearly defined…

Sex with Joel was always special.

Sometimes it was rough and made you feel it the next day. You proudly looked at the bruises spread all over your body and you felt like you could still hear his growls in your ear.

Sometimes he was gentle, almost lazy, and only his rough hands on your thighs reminded you how strong Joel could be.

Well, sex wasn't a problem until one day when suddenly it was.

There was no indication of this. Joel came home from work late that night and you were sitting on the couch in just his t-shirt and panties. That was enough to make him horny.

You dressed like that for a reason. Joel had a tough job and for over two weeks he had been coming home while you were already asleep and leaving while you were still in a deep sleep.

So you started to miss his thick cock stretching your pussy.

So you both were hungry for each other's bodies. It seemed like a perfect equation, the solution of which was wild, hot sex.

It started well. Joel got to you. He pulled your panties down with one hand and began to prepare you. His other hand was already under your T-shirt and kneading your breasts.

You panted and kissed his neck as his thick, rough fingers worked inside your pussy.

You felt a bulge growing in his pants.

"Come on honey, I'm ready... I had some fun before you came back."

Joel chuckled and gripped your hips tightly.

"You've been a naughty girl, huh?"

He lowered his pants and boxers in one move. His cock stood proud. You bit your lip, preparing for the first stinging thrust, and…

Nothing.

You blinked your eyes and looked at him in surprise. Joel looked at you equally shocked and you didn't know what he meant until you looked between his legs.

"Oh, Joel... Sweetie, it's..."

Joel cut you off, not letting you finish. He quickly pulled up his pants, hiding his flaccid cock, and moved to the other end of the couch, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

Your heart clenched at how broken his voice was, and even in the dim light you could see that his face was red.

You carefully approached him as if he were a scared animal. You stroked his arm gently. "Joel..."

Joel looked down at his lap, cleared his throat, and replied gruffly, "There's nothing to talk about. I'm old... I should have expected it, that I couldn't keep up with your youth..."

You raised an eyebrow and wanted to laugh, but you knew he would assume you were laughing at him and not at the bullshit he was saying.

You moved even closer and cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. You tried hard to keep your voice calm, soothing, and comforting, but not pitying. You didn't want him to think you felt sorry for him.

"Honey, you know it's not true. These things also happen to younger men and they have a thousand reasons. Fatigue, stress, diet, medications, illness..."

You rubbed his cheek gently and smiled. "You've been working a lot lately and your body finally couldn't handle it. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Joel looked a little calmer, but there was still some anxiety in him: "Maybe you should find someone..."

You glared at him. "Joel Miller, if you finish this sentence, I will kick your ass!"

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. One of his hands went to your thigh and he started squeezing it gently. He placed the other one on your cheek.

"You know, I'm ready to satisfy you in some other way. My mouth, tongue, and fingers are at your disposal."

And it was a really tempting proposition. You loved the feeling of his beard on the inside of your thighs, but…

You saw that Joel was still very sensitive, and vulnerable. You didn't want to give him the false impression that you were only with him for sex.

"NO."

Joel looked at you worried. "No? But you wanted it. That's why you waited for me."

You smiled and sat on his lap.

"I was waiting for you because I missed you. I missed your warm, strong body."

You kissed him passionately and decided to explain something to him.

"Joel, I'm not with you because of your thick cock and the fact that you're so fucking handsome... I'm with you because you make me feel safe. Because you're the type of man who can fix a faucet, change tires on a car... And a thousand other things that make me want to be with you."

Joel looked at you, completely enchanted and in love. He hugged you tightly and buried his face in your neck.

"I love you. And I promise that... It will be better next time."

You rubbed his back and kissed his head. "I love you too, Joel. We'll get through this. You just need some rest."

Joel simply murmured more sweet words into your neck and relaxed into your closeness and embrace.

Two weeks later, Joel finally finished the heavy assignment and you two had more time together. That's why you decided to go to the bar.

You were sitting alone at the bar, waiting for Joel to come back from the bathroom. A young man approached you and you immediately didn't like his behavior. He was pushy and didn't understand your polite "fuck off."

When Joel came back and saw this scene, his blood boiled. And at the same time, he thought back to the moment when he let you down. For a moment, he even had the stupid thought of not interfering and giving you a chance to pick up someone younger. But he saw that you weren't comfortable. So he walked up to you and gave the guy a death glare.

"Any problem, honey?"

Joel wrapped his arms protectively around your waist and the young guy huffed.

"Get lost old man, this chick needs a ride on a young stud."

Before Joel could say anything, you jumped off the stool. You felt your blood boil and you stuck your finger into the guy's chest. You gave him the ugliest look and hissed, "Listen to me, I've been polite, but now... Fuck off! I don't need a little boy for one night stand when I have a real man at home."

The guy gave you a hostile look and normally you would be scared, but you felt Joel's strong frame pressed protectively against your back. The guy said to you contemptuously, "You don't know what you're missing" and left.

You felt proud and you want to turn around to kiss Joel. But you narrowed your eyes at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your ass.

Joel rested his chin on your shoulder and growled, “Bathroom, right now, please.”

You were more than willing and moved forward with Joel still right behind you.

You were damn lucky because the women's bathroom was free. Joel immediately pushed you inside and blocked the main entrance. In one movement, he lifted you up and sat you on the counter next to the sink. He took off your panties and slid his finger into your pussy.

"Are you wet already?"

You laughed quietly. "You turned me on."

"Me? You were like a damn wild cat..."

He leaned down and bit your neck. By this time, your hands were already working on his belt buckle and zipper to free his thick, throbbing cock.

Joel looked at you with love and excitement. "Ready to ride a mature stallion?"

You nodded and bit your lip as he entered you with a decisive movement.

You moaned happily as you felt the familiar stretching.

You grabbed onto Joel's tightly muscled arms as he tightened his large hands on your hips and set a brutal pace, growling in your ear.

"Fuck, I love you... Your pussy is perfect... You make me feel younger..."

Soon you were barely holding back your loud moans, but Joel clearly wasn't going to keep quiet and was grunting loudly himself as he painted your walls with his hot cum.

Afterward, he kissed you gently and tenderly whispered against your lips, "Thank you."

You laughed and ruffled his hair. "You're welcome."

Joel helped you down and knelt down to help you set up your panties.

When you left, a line of several very annoyed girls had already formed in the hallway.

But you two just started laughing and said a carefree "sorry".

Joel led you to his truck and you drove home where Joel fucked you again. This time even longer and more intensely.