#a worthy distraction indeed!

[baldudiable]

venus in love

aries venus : falls in love quickly, and out of love just as fast. with aries being the first sign of the zodiac, this venus can become impatient, often jumping headfirst into relationships. what she doesn't realize is that the intensity usually wears out after some time. when it does, she might grow bored and move on to the next. this is a passionate venus who's prone to fantasy. she has issues with commitment, especially with aries being so dominant and uncompromising. she is only satisfied when her lover worships her and gives her everything she wants. however, venus in aries will remain unfulfilled and lonely until she learns that love requires balance, dedication, and patience.

taurus venus : this venus is in it for the long haul. trust is of utmost importance to her, and it is given over time. however, it can be easily broken, and once lost, it is hard to regain. she loves deeply and takes offense easily. her fixed energy makes her loyal, but with taurus being venus’s home, she also enjoys the attention she gets from others. she might even flirt or play with it, but she is unlikely to cross any lines. she is generous with her possessions and energy, but only after you have earned a place in her heart. she may remain in a relationship long after its expiration date, as she fears losing the sense of stability it provides.

gemini venus : this airy venus is hard to get and hard to keep. she's always on the move, seeking excitement and stimulation wherever she goes. it’s very unlikely that she will stay in a dynamic where she isn’t mentally engaged or captivated. she is often content with celibacy, as she typically has a wide circle of friends to rely on or hobbies that keep her busy. what she desires most in a relationship is a partner who can be a true friend, someone who teaches her things she doesn’t know and joins her on her quest for fun.

cancer venus : it’s hard getting into this venus’s affection as she's very protective of her heart. she is guarded as her love has been taken for granted in the past. her cardinal quality makes her fall in love quickly, but also unlikely to express it before the other person does or proves their worthiness. once in a relationship, she gives her all to her partner. she can often feel like she's not getting as much as she is giving, even if she is. she has trouble accepting that her partner works differently than she does, therefore bringing different things to the table. she can feel entitled to their time or attention, resorting to manipulation tactics to get her needs met. 

leo venus : if a leo venus gets in a relationship with you, it’s likely because there is something in you that few people possess; it can be your status, your looks, your kindness or dedication to an art. she loves seeing uniqueness in others, and will gladly compliment yours. she's generous to a fault, giving to her loved ones until her energy or resources are exhausted. she gives a 100% of herself, and expects the same from you. you cannot half-ass anything with her. her most evolved version is indeed loyal. however, when immature, she can be so addicted to attention that she ends up cheating on a loving partner because of the temporary validation it gives her.

virgo venus : this is a complex position for venus. she often flirts with the idea of love without fully committing to it. it's not that she isn't interested in love, it’s just that she has a harder time navigating it. being in love is a very demanding task you see, and to this detrimental venus who is focused on self-improvement, love can often feel like a distraction. she is often absent-minded and forgetful, preoccupied with other matters, which can make her appear uncaring to more sensitive partners. she isn't the most demonstrative with her love either, unless the chart is influenced by neighboring signs leo & libra. her affection is mostly shown through her actions and her willingness to assist you.

libra venus : an immature libra venus can struggle with staying faithful to a partner. she craves affirmation and goes to great lengths to obtain it. her focus on beauty and image can lead her to be attracted to a partner's looks, reputation or status —failing to see the human behind. this tendency may cause others to perceive her as superficial or fake. she often believes she’s better off with someone at her side, which can encourage her to remain in unfulfilling or toxic relationships—but this stems from her fear of being alone. libra’s desire for harmony can lead her to change herself to fit her partner’s fantasy.

scorpio venus : like taurus venus, it takes a long time for her to open up. in the sign of her fall, she struggles deeply with trust. she's been through a lot in love, and has decided to keep her heart guarded. potential lovers are often put through a series of tests to prove their loyalty and honesty. however, even when their intentions are pure, she remains suspicious—driven by her fear of being hurt again. she holds many secrets, revealing them only to those she knows for sure will stay by her side. when wronged, she can be vengeful, going to great lengths to ensure that the person who hurt her suffers as much as she did.

sagittarius venus : this one is hard to tie down as she is always on some mission. like sister sign gemini, sagittarius venus wants to be stimulated, and joined on her quest for knowledge. with sagittarius being ruled by the biggest planet in our system, this venus needs the space necessary to grow. she cannot be in a relationship where she isn't allowed to come and go as she pleases. she does have the desire and capacity to be committed, but refuses to be discouraged from wandering and exploring. if you’re involved with one, give her the space she needs and be curious about what she's learned on her journey. if you do, she will always come back and tell you. 

capricorn venus : this venus doesn't get involved in short-term flings as she considers them a distraction from her main priority—longevity. when positioned in the most serious sign of the wheel, venus wants to build— and if someone wants to join her on that journey? that’s even better. however, she is not going to waste her time on an unserious person who just wants to have fun. she won't pay attention to them, as she’s focused on building her legacy. it’s true that she isn't the most romantic or showy with her affection but the fact that she picked you to begin with—when she doesn't care much about being with others—is proof that she loves you.

aquarius venus : can be non-committal and overly protective of her independence when immature. but aquarius's fixed quality makes her long for connection. she's unlikely to leave someone she is attached to, unless her need for space isn't met or her boundaries are crossed. as a fierce individualist, she may struggle to include her partner in plans. however, with aquarius being the sign of the group, it’s necessary for her to belong and connect with someone. the only thing that differentiates her from sister sign leo is that she's too proud to admit that she needs someone else’s presence and admiration—however, this doesn't mean that she isn't without desire.

pisces venus : pisces venus can have the tendency to ignore the reality of a partner or relationship and instead see them for their potential. she's a dreamer who believes a troubled person or doomed relationship can be saved with her love. but there is a point where she realizes that the person or situation won’t change because they don't want to. her refusal to face the truth leads her to break her own heart. disillusioned by love, she might even decide to give up on it entirely. she has to endure heartbreak in order to gain clarity on what she wants in a partner. when she does find the right one for her, boundaries between them become blurred as she forgets herself and instead focuses entirely on the other. what this venus must realize is that her lover isn’t the only important thing in her life and that their presence doesn’t diminish her own identity.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write about the reader being either Ford or stans controversially young spouse? Like they're close to their 20s instead of their 60s

Ooh to be their controversially younger spouse what a dream I wish I could live lmao 🤣

Before you became Ford’s spouse, the man would always use the age gap between you two as the sole reason as to why you shouldn’t be together romantically, he’s sweating bullets and loosing sleep over it because it’s just so glaringly obvious to him that you shouldn’t.

However this was all just a cover up for the fact that he did indeed feel things for you in a romantic sense. You were great with Dipper and Mabel, encouraging their passions and even getting involved in them should they need someone to be dazzle in gems or go out into the woods to look for the supernatural.

You even got along with Stan, which was only an added bonus for Ford but still he kept reminding himself that he was far, far too old for you that he might as well have been old enough to be your father/ grandfather! Wasn’t that enough to disturb you?

He knew some people held a liking towards older people but believed it was more for their wisdom and life experience, not the romantic kind.

Apparently it wasn’t because Ford accidentally over heard a conversation between you and Wendy regarding his age;

Wendy: isn’t he too old for you?

You: negative, I love older men. Especially older men who are smart, a little socially awkward and plays dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons.

Wendy: …respect dude.

Needles to say after hearing that Ford’s face became as red as cherries and his worries regarding how you felt towards the age difference seemed to have dwindled slightly, but still he worried that others would view you as weird for being with a man more then twice your own age.

Sure there wasn’t many…worthy candidates to date in Gravity falls but surely he couldn’t be the only one worth your gaze? Mabel must’ve at least tried to set you up on more then one occasion, but according to her you just never seemed to jell with the people she set you up with, saying that you had a distant look in your eyes as though you could be anyone else then at the date.

When Mabel confronted you about it one day, you told her that you liked men a little older then you, Mabel then asked why but you only ruffled her hair and told her that she might see the vision one day. Ford was now being presented with more proof that you would be more then content with dating him, it was undeniable and he even indirectly heard it from your own mouth, so what else could he possibly be held back by?

Fear and rejection from society if they ever were to see you both in a romantic setting?

Then again you both lived in gravity Falls and there were things far weirder than an 20 year old dating a 60 -pushing 70- year old man. And thus began Ford’s new hypothesis; how to win over a 20 year old’s heart.

After you stated dating, you beating the other ladies and men off with a stick because that sexy silver fox was yours! FINALLY! It was your turn to have a sexy older man in your bed!

Other then that you loved being with Ford as no two days were the same, you could be going out with him to look for supernatural as a date, thankfully surviving when Ford got a little distracted by spouting facts on what was trying to kill you both and ending up sat on the porch of the mystery shack and laughing together afterwards.

Or be in his lab and watching him work while admiring how handsome he looked with greying hair and an aging face, but Ford would see it otherwise and become a little insecure and reserved.

‘Don’t you think it weird?’ He’d ask you one day.

‘About us?’ You didn’t have to hear him respond when you knew that Ford was still a little uncertain with your age difference still after seemingly accepting it. You sigh and walked over to him and sat on his lap, making him blush and his eyes widen as you hold his face between your hands.

‘Ford, sweetie I don’t care about what they think, I’m just glad that I got to be with you after pinning for so long. I understand this is new for you but all I ask is that you trust me,’ you kissed his nose softly, ‘and trust in our relationship, there’s nothing weird about it unless you make it weird.’ You add with a smile as Ford rested his head against you, his hands now resting comfortably on your waist.

‘You’re right my sweet,’ Ford said, ‘I’m just worried that you might find someone close to your age more appealing then some old man.’ You couldn’t help but chuckle as you leant further into him.

‘Who could I ever find more appealing than you mr sixer?’ You asked rhetorically, ‘you’re more than perfect the way you are and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call you mine, so everyone else can stay jealous for all I care knowing I have the most perfect man ever.’ You add as you kissed his lips this time and smiling when Ford reciprocated it with his sweeter, soft kiss.

You probably have moments where you recall something Ford wouldn’t understand and Ford would reference something that was older than you, it’s funny regardless of how you looked at it.

Ford’s body still has aches and pains despite keeping himself healthier than Stanley and so you would help him during these times and coddle him lovingly, while reminding him that he needed to take it easy on himself once in a while.

Ford apologises for it but you only shut him up and remind him that he has nothing to apologise for.

You didn’t treat each other differently because of your ages, if anything you made Ford feel young again and Ford gifted you advice and made you feel just that little bit smarter, which boosted your confidence in yourself. It was a beautiful relationship that was pure and sweet it could give anyone cavities.

Stanley didn’t give a shit you were dating his brother, he knew you liked men above a certain age when you kept eye fucking Ford whenever he walked past you, or how Ford would look at you longingly when you weren’t looking . He saw this shit coming from a mile away as it wasn’t exactly subtle on either end and may have made a bet with Wendy about how soon you’d come to him to announce you were dating his brother.

Stanley won the bet much to Wendy’s dismay.

You saw Ford shirtless once and went apeshit much to his surprise because weren’t people your age into six packs and hairless upper bodies?

Nope, not you, you loved his tummy and body hair that you clung to his side and spent the afternoon kissing his scars and embarrassing tattoos he kept covered in turtlenecks while whispering reassurance that reminded him that you were attraction to him was more then surface level. Ford would return the favour when you had episodes of insecurity would remains you of such by comparing your every insecurity to something beautiful.

Acne? Constellations/ clusters of stars

Stretch marks? Lighting strikes

You’ve got a tummy and thick thighs? Didn’t you know that they(thick thighs) saved lives?!

Needless to say that you came out with a newfound love for yourself afterwards.

You constantly held his hand and kissed each finger to show that you didn’t care about anything but him and his wellbeing, it warmed Ford’s heart as he found to love himself a little more with your help, and in doing so he was able to show you love by kissing your cheek in greeting or making you breakfast in bed or draping his coat over your shoulders when he saw that you were cold.

It was sweet and innocent but still it was enough to have you smiling and feel loved, which is all Ford ever wanted you to feel while with him.

Ford’s love was chivalrous, stubborn and awkward, but you wouldn’t want it any other way as you wanted Ford just the way he was and thrived when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement as he makes a discovery, leading him to grasp your face and kiss you on the lips while holding you close to his chest as he explained what he had done; all the while you stared at him with awe and love because he was really attractive when he was talking about things he was passionate about.

Ford would then catch himself and apologise for rambling but you would kiss him on the cheek and ask him to continue, to which Ford happily obliged, now aware that you were staring at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky.

Ford would find himself looking at you in a similar fashion when you were going on about what you and Mabel did in town, and Ford couldn’t help but hone in on your smile, shining eyes and hand gestures that told him that you enjoyed the hijinks that had happened while wearing the sweater that Mabel made you the entire time.

You’d catch him staring intently at you and suddenly you’re flustered and playing with the sleeves of your bright and vibrant sweater. ‘It’s kinda corny isn’t it?’ You’d ask as Ford chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand reassuringly in his.

‘No, not at all my sweet, I in fact find your adventures with my niece and nephew endearing and sweet. So please continue to tell me how you drop kicked a gnome into Mabel’s leaf blower.’ Ford said and within seconds you were back to being bright and talkative about your adventures of fighting off gnomes, barf fairies and pulling Mabel away from fae traps.

You both were each others listeners and would remember anything and everything said because you actually liked to hear where the other got up to when apart from one another.

Bonus; you definitely have a spot in his journal where he goes in depth of your relationship before ending it with: ‘they’re someone I don’t think I could envision a future without, for they make me young again while loving me regardless of our differences in age and much more. Thank you for loving me y/n, even when I don’t think it’s deserved.’

[fayes-fics]

Ingénu

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: On his eighteenth birthday, Benedict loses his virginity with you on a warm summer's night...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Loss of male and female virginity. Sex education (sort of, mostly innocent leading innocent), vaginal sex, alfresco sex, withdrawal method, orgasms (them lucky kids). Childhood friends to lovers.

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: A fic I started more than two years ago, from THIS anon suggestion. Please note, the age of sexual consent in the UK is currently 16, so everyone is legal, although, in Regency, it was 10 (yikes). Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Err, enjoy! <3

Benedict Bridgerton.

If you were to give yourself to anyone before marriage, you know it would only ever be him. 

You grew up as neighbours, your family estate bordering his family’s in Kent. Born five months apart, it’s like destiny that you would be close. You shared your first chaste kiss when you were both twelve and then a French kiss at sixteen. And now, well, perhaps a lot more.

It’s his eighteenth birthday party when, while Colin draws attention to himself, Benedict grabs your hand and whisks you away without anyone noticing. Perhaps the brotherly distraction was by design. 

Wordlessly, he leads you far from the house into a small clearing in the woods around Aubrey Hall. There is a blanket, some pillows, and even some candle lanterns that he now lights. It appears he has something planned, and it causes a flutter in your stomach.

“Benedict, what is this?” you enquire sotto voce, his hand so large wrapped around yours. So safe.

“A quiet spot just for us,” he smiles back.

“To do what?”.

“To celebrate my birthday privately. In a manner that I know we are both so keen to,” he proclaims at first enigmatic, before clarifying: “You said you wanted to know a man before you are married, and I wish to know a woman.”

“But….” 

Beyond that, words fail.

You had indeed said as such just the other day. It was an idle, throwaway comment as you lay together in the long grass by the lake, squinting at the sun and enjoying the summer heat on your face. A languidness in your being had made you carefree with your words.

“It may be fine for you, Benedict, but I must be a maiden when I marry,” you point out.

“Well, what if you were to marry me someday?” he contends matter of fact.

“Is that a proposal?” you splutter. “Because I find it to be severely lacking.”

He chuckles at your affront. “No, you shall receive a ring when I propose,” he affirms.

“So, it is a when now, is it? “ you volley back, a smile tweaking your lips, unable to be anything but playful with him, as you have been for many a year now.

“Of that, you can be certain.”

There is a seductive edge to his voice, which seems so much older than his eighteen years; it’s quite captivating.

“But how can you be certain my answer will be yes?”

“I cannot,” he admits, seeming bemused by your quirked brow. “But I hope it will be after tonight.”

“And how can you be sure of my answer about tonight?” So much fun to toy with him.

“Again, I cannot,” he replies with a slight shrug but a soft, crooked smile. “I can only hope you deem me worthy,” he adds, gesturing around you.

“It is rather romantic,” you allow, watching in the lantern glow as he breaks into a much bigger grin that reaches his eyes. Candle reflections dance in his enlarged pupils. 

“I am so pleased you think so,” he beams. “I rather suspect Anthony plans to take me to a brothel this weekend. He did as such for his eighteenth and is of the firm opinion that I should follow suit. But in truth, I, well… “ he hesitates and takes a step forward, grabbing both of your hands in his. “...I want my first experience to be with you.”

The heartfelt, almost bashful admission has you squeezing his hands reassuringly, hoping it silently telegraphs how much you want the same, despite your reservations about preserving your honour.

“May I kiss you?” His tone is so sweet you don't want to say no.

Instead of answering with words, you push up onto tiptoes and land your lips on his. It’s familiar and exciting all at once. You’ve kissed secretly a few times now, and on each occasion, it has been incredible—like a live wire sparking between you. You push into his tall frame as your mouths open and your tongues gently touch. He tastes of peaty scotch and the smoky tinge of cigars, both likely birthday indulgences. 

His hold around your waist tightens as your kisses get more insistent and probing, tongues parrying. This time feels different—portending something more profound. Only breaking apart to take a breath, then, after a fleeting exchange of shy smiles, your lips smashing back together urgently, exploring anew.

As you cling to his waistcoat, his hands slide down your dress to grab your bottom, making you squeak into his mouth. You've never been grasped there before, and his fingers seem to span the whole of your cheeks. You stutter his name as your lips part, his aromatic breath gusting over your face as he flexes his fingers. He observes your face closely, the material of your dress bunching between his knuckles. 

“I like the feel of your bottom,” he declares with tender honesty.

You beam up at him and trace your hand down his back, running over the crisscross pattern of laces on his waistcoat before landing on his behind. His eyebrows raise as you splay your fingers over rounded, taut muscle.

“I like yours too,” you respond in kind, emboldened by how his pupils dilate and his mouth falls open at your pluckiness.

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, diving in for another kiss, more demanding than before, your boldness catalysing a new urgency in him. His fingers trail down your neck, skating over your pulse point that you know is hammering hard, then sweeping lower over your shoulder.

“Is… is this alright for you?” His voice is full of awe as those fingers slip inside your dress, the heel of his palm resting lightly on your collarbone.

“Y… yes, it’s… wonderful, actually.”

It seems like he is mapping your skin, the contours of bone and muscle across your chest, sinking lower until his hand is resting on the swell of your breast. He worms inside your neckline, and two fingertips catch against your nipple. It pebbles hard at the slightest brush, your breath catching. You meet his blistering stare as he slowly swipes a finger over the puckered skin again. Heat prickles through you, a heavy tingle between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” 

His timbre is a beguiling mix of tease and hope as his fingertips gently swirl a circle around your areola. You nod, your lower lip snagging under your top tooth as a new tide of sensation washes through you.

“Where did you learn such things?” You marvel, your hands still on his bottom, flexing slightly, a mirror of his movements.

“My brother has told me some things,” he elucidates with a slight smirk, “including that if I touch your breasts, you will be excited for more.”

“I am,” you confess as intrigue steals your tongue: “What did he tell you to do next?” 

“That I should remove your dress and kiss your naked body, especially here.” he counsels, sliding over your nipple again.

“What else?” you pant, the thought of it making you lightheaded.

“I should feel between your legs for wetness that shows you are ready for me,” he intones as if recalling a verbatim conversation, even as his fingers spider across to your other nipple. You gasp again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Ready for you?” You echo, mildly embarrassed that you do not know any detail of what happens between a man and a woman. You have only a vague notion from the overheard gossip of people in your family’s employ. 

He grabs your right hand from his bottom and guides it to the front of his trousers. There is a hardness straining the material that you swear wasn't there before.

“What is that?” Your breath catches as its warmth seeps through the material into your palm.

“That is my cock, and if you wish to know a man, it is an essential part of the process,” he smiles winningly.

You squeeze gently on instinct, the resulting low growl in the back of his throat enthralling you.

“I think we should take off our clothes now,” he proposes, and you nod your acceptance.

His hand slips from inside your neckline and lands on the buttons between your shoulder blades as yours slide up from his trousers to his waistcoat, popping its buttons as those on your dress also relent.

“Is it alright to undress each other, or should we undress ourselves?”

“Either is acceptable, but I am rather enjoying this,” he divulges as you push his waistcoat off his shoulders.

“So am I…” 

He pulls off your dress, the silk pooling around your feet, a yen to crowd into him as the cool night air seeps through your gauzy chemise.

“You do not wear stays?” he seems taken aback, his gaze now intent upon your nipples, jutting out against the thin cotton.

“No, not yet. Mama says I am but young, and my bosom is still perky,” you explain, aroused by how his breath becomes a little laboured as you voice it.

“I like it when you say such words,” he rags, pulling you into him with a firm grip, his hands so hot through the thin cotton of your chemise. You have a sudden tart need to be naked with him, a tingle between your legs that can only be excitement.

“Take off my chemise, Benedict,” you encourage, guiding him to the ties at your neckline. You pull the bow loose, the material bunching in his hands as you both tug either side down, exposing your breasts. 

He groans as your nipples instantly pebble in the cool air. He tilts you backwards in his arms, his face descending. You rasp his name, your hand flying into his hair, twisting his chestnut waves between your fingers as the contrasting heat, suction and wetness of his lips enclose your nub. It's exquisite, and you never want this loop of pleasure coursing through you to end, pushing your breast further into his mouth.

While he lathes with his tongue, you slacken the neckline further and shimmy out of the chemise, keen for more, already addicted to this wondrous feeling coursing in your bloodstream. 

He takes a step back to look at you as the last scrap of fabric flutters to the ground.

You see the quiver in his hands and the tented outline in his trousers as his eyes drink in your naked form, lingering on your nipples, wet with his saliva, and the patch of hair between your legs that is also damp now, a slickness between your thighs that has you wanting to squirm. 

His pupils are blown wide, his lips glisten, his cheeks are rosy, and his hair is wild from your tussling as he suddenly whips off his shirt. It sails through the air in a puffed arc. The captivating sight of his pale skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight ties your tongue.

But your admiration is short-lived as he is on you again, propelling you into his arms. Your mind buffers as his broad, smooth chest collides with your dampened breasts, his kiss plundering your mouth. 

It feels like you are both drunk on a fascinating cocktail of urgency and nerves, navigating new territory with a bumbling, innocent, but innate excitement. 

“Lay down,” he whispers delicately into your mouth as you emerge for air.

You do as bidden, holding his hand as he assists you onto the blanket and laying back to stare up at him, towering over you now. His hands fall to the buttons on his britches, and you can't help but bite your lip, a shiver of anticipation to see how he looks naked.

He seems almost nervous as he pops the buttons and then shuffles the woollen material downwards over his thighs. But you only have eyes for what lies between his legs. Like yourself, there is a patch of hair there, but also something entirely other that makes your thighs clench together reflexively. This must be his cock. It is a rigid mass, reddened at the flared tip, jutting out from his body at least half a foot and beneath are adjoined sacs that droop a little.

“Do not be afraid,” he murmurs, perhaps misinterpreting your curiosity for fear.

“I know you will not hurt me, Benedict,” you placate, your eyes flitting up to his face and reaching for his hands to bring him to lay down with you on the blanket.

He sighs as he kneels beside you, his hand cradling your cheek. “That is the thing, my sweet; my brother says it might hurt for a lady on her first time.”

Your breath catches at the term of endearment he employs, placing your hand over his. “I know you will do everything to mitigate such.”

His eyes go soft, and he rolls on top of you; so much warm skin. An all-consuming sensation as you lay together naked, that cock branding your inner thigh as he settles atop you.

“Indeed ‘tis true…” he confirms, then hesitates before continuing in an ardent intonation: “I meant what I said. I wish for you to be my wife one day. I do believe I love you, y/n.”

Your heart soars at his tender confession. “And I believe I love you too, Benedict.”

His responding smile lights up his whole face. 

You may only be seventeen, but you know the contents of your heart. There is no man you have met whom you trust as much as this wondrous boy, now man, you have grown up alongside. You sincerely hope to have the privilege to grow up and, indeed, old with him.

“Are you certain?” he checks sweetly, and you can only nod as his touch trails down over the ticklish skin of your belly, leaving little lines of fire that sear in his wake.

There is a jolt to your entire being as his fingers slide into your most intimate area, somewhere only you have touched before. You keen and press up into him, quite certain nothing has ever felt like this before. 

“Oh, you are very wet,” he stutters, almost stunned. “But that is good,” he quickly appends before you can become self-conscious. “It means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“I do desire you, Benedict,” you are at pains to express, a restlessness fizzling under your skin and a clawing need for him in your bones, knowing this can only be of his doing and wanting to burn so much more. “What happens now?”

He guides your hand gently between his legs. He moans as your hand instinctively curls around it, the skin so silky even over a mass so rigid. “I put my cock inside you,” he stumbles. “Into the place you are leaking from…”

“Will it fit?” You frown, unsure you have a place within yourself to accommodate it.

“Yes.. well, at least, that is what I have been told.” 

His slightly vulnerable admission makes you release his cock and grab his face, tilting his gaze to meet yours.

“We shall find out together,” you assure, smiling when he nods gently.

This is just another adventure you will embark on together, much as you have since you were children. 

He kisses your knuckles and guides you to hold onto his shoulders as he shifts above you. Butterflies behind your ribs as he looks down at what he is doing, a slightly anxious expression as he grabs his cock and manoeuvres it between your legs. 

You spread your feet wider to the edges of the blanket, its threads scrunching between your toes as you feel blunt pressure between your damp folds. You can't help the noise you make from the intensity of it. 

Benedict’s head shoots up to scrutinise your face, concern flooding his handsome features.

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I think so, just nothing I have experienced before…”

Then his eyes go as wide as yours as just his tip slips into your leaking channel.

“You are so hot and tight,” he stumbles, floored by what he is experiencing as much as you are.

“You are so hot and large,” you answer in kind, gripping his bicep as he presses deeper and an odd pinch of pain flares; it makes you hiss and bite your lip. 

He mumbles an apology, pausing. “I assume that is what they were referring to. Sh-should I continue?”

“Yes, I am alright now,” you reassure him, briefly touching his cheek, curiosity outweighing the fading, dull ache. 

You are slack-jawed in astonishment as your channel stretches wider to accommodate his push forward. He is panting, and his eyes are almost like saucers as he stares down upon you, neither of you blinking.

“Oh my goodness,” he mutters enraptured. “Please tell me this feels as good for you…”

“It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you promise breathily, a warmth unfurling behind your ribs that he would care as such. “Intense, yet wonderful.”

“Same,” he exhales shakily, a vein throbbing rhythmically on his neck as he sinks deeper.

Each fractional inch has you surprised anew, a captivating gradual invasion. Just as you think you could not be any fuller, he stops.

“I am entirely within you now.”

You try to catalogue all the feelings at once, to savour them, but it's impossible. The sense of him inside and surrounding you, flesh entwined, is all-consuming; defies words or descriptions.

“I shall move when you are ready,” he whispers into your cheek before kissing you softly. 

With your nodded consent, he withdraws and then surges back in, your channel clinging to him—a sensation unlike anything you have ever experienced before, so intimate and powerful. Your fingernails claw into him, hugging him down onto you, wanting his skin upon yours.

“Oh Benedict….”

It’s all you can voice. 

A tremble all over as you share this moment, tentatively moving with him in a complementary rhythm, almost a dance like that in a ballroom. Give and take, push and pull. And there is no one you would rather be dancing with. Your bodies meld together perfectly as if designed to be joined as such. You certainly don’t understand why some women dislike relations with a man—you would happily do this anytime.

Benedict's motions speed up, your folds swelling around his plunging cock, your heart hammering against your ribs, watching the ripples of ecstasy wash over his expression, a dew gathering in his hairline.

“It’s.. it’s overwhelming,” Benedict shudders. 

Indeed, there is a quake in his being, like he is a simmering pot about to boil over, even as his face appears anxious, like he does not yet want that to happen but is powerless to stop it. You quell his movement, clutching the belt of muscle above his hips.

“Rest within me a while,” you suggest, and he stills, a staccato exhale into your hair as his cock twitches inside you.

It is wonderful to be pinned under his weight. You run a soothing touch over his skin, the soft cotton of the blanket rubbing your shoulder blades as you shift under him, wrapping your ankles around the back of his knees. Your toes tease his fuzzy calves in soothing strokes as his breathing returns closer to normal. You know, somehow you should not kiss him, an incitement he does not need.

“I do not wish this to be over too soon,” he laments quietly into your hair—a swell of emotion within you at his honest admission.

“Neither do I, but it is our first time. We cannot expect to know or be good at everything, Benedict,” you rationalise, pausing for him to meet your gaze. A sheepish mien that makes him look so adorable. “We can learn to get better together.” 

The knit on his brow loosens a fraction as he hums in agreement.

“I have heard that should I finish before I want to, there are other ways I may ensure your satisfaction,” he offers humbly.

“What does that entail?” Enchanted by the idea he would be concerned for your pleasure as much as his.

“I may touch a nub between your legs that is like a freshwater pearl nestled within folds of dewy flesh,” he states, a poetic description you are sure must be from some book.

When he pulls up to glance at where you are joined, it makes his cock prod a new spot inside you. An incredible bloom of novel sensation that has you gasping and grabbing his arms. Your channel ripples around him, and he groans heavily, collapsing back upon you inelegantly.

“Holy fuck,” he curses, sounding winded.

And you know the time for talking is over. You are impatient for him to move again, for his cock to graze that spot once more.

“Bring your legs up higher,” he tutors, intuiting your needs. 

Just as your heels curl around the shapely curve of his bottom, he moves again, making you cry out in pleasure as he hits that exact target, your nails digging into his back.

“Don’t stop Benedict,” you appeal over a ragged gasp as he grazes it again, your eyes rolling, clinging to him.

His motions are jerkier now but rougher in just the way you need. He holds nothing back, both of you fumbling towards the ecstasy growing inside. Hands grabbing, moaning into dewy cheeks, wetness matting into the downy hair below, the most debauched of sounds from where your bodies meet as he pushes into you over and over.

All your muscles start to tense, a delirium washing over you that makes you impulsive. One of your hands worming between you to strum an engorged nub just above where he fucks you, knowing on some instinctual level it is key to your pleasure. You cry out, and your pussy clamps hard onto him. Benedict groans his approval as he takes a final harsh snap, you falling over an edge, fluttering hard around his now rippling cock.

He growls and wrenches himself out of your channel rapidly. But you are barely cognizant of a milky liquid spurting over your belly as you writhe under him, body febrile mind a thousand miles above amongst the summer stars

When you return to yourself, you feel him collapse onto the blanket next to you, pulling you into his arms as if there is a compulsion to always have your naked skin on his.

“No one warned me your body would do that,” he pants, astounded. “It took all of my strength to withdraw…”

“Why did you?” You crane your neck to pout at him, believing it would feel so much better to reach that peak wrapped around his cock.

“I thought it unwise to leave you with child…” he frowns as if his reasoning were obvious.

You buffer for a few seconds, then sit up and twist to look down at him, shock flooding your already overloaded senses.

“This?!” You splutter, “This is how babies are made?”

He chuckles at first, then tempers his face when he realises you are serious. 

“I… I thought you knew…”

”No! I have not been told a thing!” you bemoan, only now realising how much of adulthood you have yet to navigate.

He delicately pulls you down to rest on top of him, nuzzling your cheek. 

“I am sorry that is the case. One day, we shall have children, I am certain. But perhaps tis not a good idea just yet. We are still young, not even yet engaged.” 

You vehemently nod in agreement, flooded with gratitude that, even as he was in the throes of his first sex, too, he had the respect and forethought to care for the consequences for you both. 

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, burrowing into his embrace as a gentle waft of breeze cools your flushed skin.

“‘Tis me who should be thanking you.” he insists, caressing your shoulder. “That was amazing. I am so glad we did this together.”

“As am I,” you return, as you lay entwined together, knowing already this will be the first of many.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

[redroomreflections]

II HANDS II HEAVEN

Notes: I listened to Beyonce's album and wanted to write something to this song

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 4.5k

It will be like five chapters.

"Any leads on who's joining Natasha for the upcoming couple's retreat mission?" Steve's gaze shifted from the itinerary to the team gathered around him, his tone commanding authority.

"I believe Natasha's our primary agent for this one," Wanda replied, her head tilting in contemplation.

"Indeed, but it's a couples retreat, so we need another partner," Steve clarified, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Someone who can blend in seamlessly."

"Can I offer myself up for sacrifice?" Sam quipped, raising his hand in mock enthusiasm before quickly retracting it under Natasha's icy glare.

As the meeting progressed, you were drifting away, lost in your thoughts. It wasn't your first time excluded from the team's high-profile missions. They always cited your need for further training, claiming you could not work as a cohesive part of the team. But deep down, you knew it was just an excuse—an excuse to keep you sidelined while others got to shine.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated by the situation. You'd worked hard to hone your skills, to prove yourself worthy of being part of the team. Yet repeatedly, you found yourself overlooked, and relegated to the sidelines while others took center stage.

As Steve discussed the details of the upcoming mission, you couldn't shake the feeling of resentment that gnawed at you from within. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that once again, you wouldn't be chosen to join Natasha on the mission.

Not that you particularly want to. You and Natasha aren’t exactly bosom buddies. You found yourself mostly keeping your distance from her. There was an unspoken tension between you, a mutual understanding to maintain a polite distance.

Instead, you gravitated towards Wanda and Vision, joining them for several movie nights. As a third wheel in their relationship, you often found comfort in their company, even if it served as a temporary distraction from your own frustrations.

Occasionally, you'd join Sam and the other guys for some lighthearted banter and training. But even then, you never found yourself alone with Natasha. She remained elusive, keeping her distance and maintaining her mysterious persona.

Despite the distance between you and Natasha, you remained focused on your own goals and aspirations. You refused to let her presence—or lack thereof—determine your worth as a member of the team. You were determined to prove yourself, even if it meant forging your own path separate from hers.

Joining the Avengers has been an exhilarating yet unexpected journey for you. It couldn’t be more different from your wildest dreams. The initiation process felt more like something out of a gangster movie than a superhero team induction. Three months ago, you decided to defect from the government organization you once served. Spectra Intelligence Bureau had built you up to do their bidding. Only to let you down time and time again. You had seen women come and go from the field, only leaving behind shadows of their former selves.  You hadn’t known so soon you would be following the same path. You joined the Avengers for a chance at redemption and freedom. But your defection was far from voluntary, despite what everyone else believes.

You had always been a skilled operative, adept at blending into the shadows and manipulating situations to your advantage. You were a master of espionage, trained from a young age to infiltrate enemy organizations and extract valuable information without leaving a trace.

But beneath the facade of a loyal government agent, you harbored a deep-seated resentment towards the organization you served. 

For years, you played by their rules, carrying out missions that blurred the lines between right and wrong, morality and duty. You became disillusioned with the endless cycle of violence and deceit, longing for a way out of the tangled web of lies you had woven around yourself.

Now, as a member of the Avengers, you keep your head down, wary of drawing too much attention to yourself. You know that the consequences of your past actions could come back to haunt you at any moment, threatening to unravel the fragile semblance of peace you’ve fought so hard to achieve.

“I volunteer y/n,” Tony said with a slight smirk. 

Tony's declaration draws your attention back to the meeting. His smirk doesn't escape your notice as he volunteers you for the mission with Natasha. It's a typical Tony move, laced with a hint of mischief and a touch of amusement.

You felt a surge of mixed emotions at his words. On one hand, you're grateful for the opportunity to finally be included in one of the team's missions. But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling of apprehension at the prospect of working closely with Natasha, especially given your less-than-amicable relationship.

Still, you know better than to protest. This could be your chance to prove yourself, to show the team—and Natasha—that you're capable of rising to the occasion. With a nod of acceptance, you steel yourself for the challenges ahead, determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity.

“Y/n and Natasha as a couple?” Bruce spoke aloud. “How would that work out?”

Natasha remained composed, her expression unreadable as she met Bruce's gaze. There's a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise or curiosity—but she quickly masks it behind her usual poker face. She offers no comment, keeping her thoughts on the matter to herself.

Tony chuckled lightly, clearly amused by the idea. "Well, they do say opposites attract," he quips, flashing a grin in your direction. His tone is light-hearted, but there's a glint of mischief in his eyes, hinting at his underlying intentions.

From his side of the table,  Sam raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Well, that should make for some entertaining mission reports," he quips, his tone teasing. 

Natasha's voice cut through the air, her tone firm and unwavering. "I need someone who's going to pull their weight," she stated, her gaze piercing as she addressed the team. There was no room for ambiguity in her words, each syllable laden with expectation and determination.

 "Well, I assure you, Natasha, I'm more than capable of pulling my weight," You replied, your tone cool but tinged with an edge of irritation. 

Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment, her expression unreadable. There was a hint of apology in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the unintended slight in her earlier statement. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise," she said quietly, her voice softening slightly.

“If we’re going to do this, I want to lead,” You turned away from her understanding gaze. Your competitive and cutthroat attitude had no business here but you were determined to prove a point. 

Natasha's response was measured, her voice carrying a hint of steel beneath its calm exterior. "I understand your desire to take charge, but this isn't about proving a point," she replied evenly, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. There was a silent challenge in her words, a reminder that leadership wasn't about ego or competition—it was about trust and cooperation.

You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, unwilling to back down from the challenge Natasha presented. "Maybe not for you," you countered, your tone edged with stubborn determination. "But I know what I'm capable of, and I'm not going to sit back and play second fiddle."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "I respect your confidence," she conceded, her voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "But leadership isn't about proving yourself—it's about putting the team first and making the tough decisions when they need to be made."

“Leadership is also knowing when to let go of the reins,” You shrugged. “Unless you’re wound too tight to do that?” 

Natasha's expression hardened at your words, her jaw tightening imperceptibly as she met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I may be many things, but 'wound too tight' isn't one of them," she replied, her tone cool and controlled despite the undercurrent of irritation that simmered beneath the surface.

There was a palpable tension in the air as the exchange hung between you, the unspoken challenge lingering like a storm cloud on the horizon. Despite your attempts to provoke a reaction from Natasha, she remained composed, refusing to let your barbs get under her skin.

"You may have your way of doing things, but don't mistake confidence for arrogance," Natasha continued, her voice quiet but firm. "True leadership requires humility and the willingness to listen to others, even when it's difficult. I can’t have you out in the field making mistakes."

You felt a surge of frustration at Natasha's response, the sting of her rebuke cutting deeper than you cared to admit. But beneath the surface, there was also a begrudging respect for her unwavering commitment to her principles.

As you exchanged one last tense glance with Natasha, a silent understanding passed between you. 

“I’ll do it,” You said. From the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. You had to admit you liked a challenge. This should be fun. Your declaration hung in the air, a bold assertion of your readiness to take on the mission. You could feel Natasha's gaze on you, sharp and assessing, as you made your decision known.

A faint smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you met Natasha's gaze head-on. You liked a challenge, and this mission promised to be anything but easy. 

As the tension between you and Natasha lingered, a familiar voice broke through the silence. "Alright, let's get down to business," Steve's voice rang out, commanding attention as he stepped forward. 

With a glance at Natasha and you, Steve cleared his throat before launching into a rundown of the mission details. "The retreat is called 'Shady Corners,' owned by Ilanka and Maxim Belinsky," he began, his tone businesslike as he relayed the information to the team.

But before Steve could continue, you found yourself interjecting, unable to resist the urge to jump in. "Actually, I've already compiled a dossier on Shady Corners," you stated, your voice cutting through the air with confidence.

Steve paused, a hint of surprise crossing his features as he turned to you. "Oh, you have?" he asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

You nodded, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Yes, I took the liberty of gathering all the pertinent information," you replied, producing a file from your bag and handing it to Steve.

As Steve flipped through the dossier, his surprise was evident. "Well, it looks like you've done your homework," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Natasha's gaze flickered between you and Steve, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Looks like we're in good hands," she quipped, a subtle acknowledgment of your preparedness.

“I would kill to be a fly on the wall,” Sam whistled.

Sam's remark drew a few chuckles from the team, his words laden with playful insinuation. 

Natasha's lips quirked into a wry smile, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she exchanged a glance with you. 

"I have a feeling it'll be quite the performance," Natasha replied, her tone dry but tinged with a hint of something you can’t quite place. 

Tony's announcement brought a sense of finality to the meeting, his hands clapping together with a decisive clap. "Great, you'll have a flight booked for the morning," he declared, his tone brimming with anticipation. With a nod to the team, he declared, "Meeting adjourned."

The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by an air of excitement and anticipation. 

With a grin, you exchanged a final glance with Natasha, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. 

This should be fun. 

********

So this marriage was turning out to be something you’re not fond of. Natasha had J.A.R.V.I.S. wake you up at the ass crack of dawn which you were able to ignore for a long while. Then came the pounding on the door of your bedroom before you finally awakened from your slumber to open it. You didn’t even bother to wipe the drool from your chin before you ripped the door open with a frown. 

As Natasha stood in front of you, her expression bordering on disapproval, you couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance bubbling within you. Her disdain for your choice of attire only fueled your defiance, and you squared your shoulders, refusing to back down.

"What?" you retorted, your voice tinged with irritation as you met Natasha's gaze head-on. "Flight is in three hours," she informed you, her tone clipped and businesslike.

You blinked in disbelief, the early hour registering belatedly in your sleep-addled mind. "You're kidding..." you muttered incredulously, turning to glance at the digital alarm clock on your nightstand. "It's three a.m."

Natasha's expression remained impassive, her gaze unwavering as she waited for your response. Despite the early hour and your less-than-ideal state of readiness, there was a steely determination in her eyes that took no argument.

With a resigned sigh, you realized that there was no use arguing with Natasha. 

"Come in, I guess," you grumbled begrudgingly, gesturing for Natasha to enter your less-than-impressive bedroom. It was far from the tidy, organized space you typically preferred, a reflection of your rebellious attitude toward your former living standards.

With a roll of your eyes, you strode over to your closet, rummaging through it to grab a suitcase. Meanwhile, Natasha remained near the door, her posture tense and guarded, as if she were bracing herself for whatever chaos might lie within your room.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of annoyance at Natasha's standoffish demeanor, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You began to toss clothes into your suitcase and prepared to leave. 

"We should maintain a few basic things between us," Natasha suggested, her tone matter-of-fact as she broached the topic of their fake marriage. "You know, for the sake of appearances."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Natasha's suggestion, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice. "Such as?" you prompted, curious to hear her ideas on the matter.

Natasha paused for a moment, considering her response carefully. "Well, for starters, we should probably establish some ground rules," she replied, her gaze ripping from the dropped thongs you’d scraped up from the floor to toss into the hamper to your eyes. "Nothing too elaborate, just enough to sell the illusion of a real marriage."

You nodded in understanding. "Agreed," you replied, a sense of determination settling over you. “So quick to set up rules though. Shouldn’t we know more about each other? I mean, we’re supposed to be a married couple right.”

“I suppose,” Natasha sighed. “Is this going to turn into a 21-question thing?”

“No, not right now,” You shook your head as you zipped up your suitcase before you pushed it to the side. You grabbed another carry-on bag, stuffing your makeup and the rest of your toiletries inside of it. You disappeared into the bathroom where you quickly brushed your teeth and washed your face. 

This left Natasha alone to her vices. Though she never moved from her spot she noticed things only a spy would. Her eyes landed on the books haphazardly stacked on your nightstand, and one in particular caught her attention—the "Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois." The choice of literature spoke volumes about your intellectual depth and cultural interests.

Moving her eyes around the room, Natasha's eyes lingered on the movie posters on the walls. 

In the corner, she noticed a collection of paint easels. 

With each observation, Natasha's respect for you grew. There was more to you than met the eye. 

“Right now, I need coffee,” You mumbled as you dragged yourself out of the room and past her. J.A.R.V.I.S. would lock the door for you. 

“Seriously? “ Natasha asked asked incredulously, her voice cutting through the air as you hurried past. 

“You won’t like who I become when I’m hungry,” You rolled your eyes. If she was going to have you up this early, the least she could do was not judge your choices. 

You made a beeline for the kitchen, groaning as the harsh fluorescent lights automatically flickered on. Tony needed to update these settings for something dimmer and less jarring. Ignoring the discomfort, you forced a K-cup into the Keurig, desperate for the promise of caffeine to wake you up.

As you turned around, you were met with the sight of Natasha sitting at the counter, her gaze fixed on you with a fierce intensity.

"I hope you're going to take all of this seriously," Natasha said, her tone firm and unwavering.

You paused, meeting Natasha's gaze with determination. Despite your initial reservations about the mission, you knew that Natasha was right. This wasn't just a game—it was a high-stakes operation that required your full commitment.

"Of course I am," you replied, your voice steady despite the tiredness that still lingered in your bones. 

Natasha studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with a nod of acknowledgment, she rose from her seat and joined you at the counter. Together, you prepared your coffees in silence, each lost in your thoughts. 

"You take it black?" You asked, tilting your head inquisitively as you prepared your coffee.

"What? Like my heart?" Natasha replied with a wry smile, her tone laced with a hint of humor.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Natasha's retort. "Fair enough," you remarked, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "To black coffee and black hearts, then."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "To get the job done," she countered, clinking her cup against yours in a silent toast. “Now can we get to the airport please, before we’re late?” 

“Oh, we won’t be late. I want to enjoy this.” You hummed. 

It was then that Natasha reached up to remove the baseball cap from her head, her movements fluid and practiced. As she fluffed her hair, you expected to see her familiar luscious red locks cascade down her shoulders. However, to your surprise, the vibrant red was replaced by a cascade of blonde hair.

You blinked in astonishment, momentarily taken aback by the sudden transformation. How had she bleached it so quickly? Had she slept at all? Natasha's hair was iconic—her fiery red locks were as much a part of her identity as her skills as a spy. 

As you adjust to the surprise of her sudden hair transformation, you couldn't help but blurt out, "Whoa, blonde? I never would've guessed. You look... different."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, and you immediately regretted them as you noticed a subtle shift in Natasha's demeanor. Her smirk faded, replaced by a stern look that hinted at a simmering annoyance beneath the surface.

Natasha's jaw tightened imperceptibly, her green eyes flashing with a hint of irritation. "Different?" she echoed, her tone cool and clipped. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

You winced, realizing too late that your comment had struck a nerve. "I... I didn't mean it like that," you stammered, scrambling to backpedal. "I just meant, um, it's a change, you know? But you still look great, of course."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your attempt to smooth things over, but the tension lingered between you. "Thanks," she replied tersely, her tone still tinged with annoyance. “We’re going to be late,” Natasha mumbled as she dumped the rest of her coffee into the sink. 

“We’re not going to be late.” You called after her. 

******************

"So, you're telling me no more flights are heading to Miami today?" You asked the flight attendant, a hint of irritation coloring your voice.

"No, ma'am, unfortunately, we're booked up for the entire week," the flight attendant replied apologetically, her tone sympathetic.

You sighed, frustration mounting as you realized the setback to your plans. "Is there anything you can do? It's urgent," you pressed. 

The flight attendant shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but all our flights are fully booked. You might have better luck with another airline," she suggested.

You couldn't believe it. You can't believe it. Because you were late, your seats were given to some other lucky couple.

Frustration bubbled up within you as you stood there, watching helplessly as the plane doors closed without you. 

Natasha's sharp gaze bore into you, a silent reminder of the consequences of your tardiness. You knew you had messed up, and now you were paying the price.

"We need to figure out our next move," Natasha stated firmly, her voice cutting through the chaos of the airport.

"We could rent a car," you suggested, hoping to salvage the situation with a practical solution.

"And drive a car to Florida for twenty-three hours with you?" Natasha replied tersely, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at her sharp retort, feeling a pang of offense at her implication. "Of course," you nodded, trying to maintain your composure. "Unless you have any other suggestions. Flying a Quinjet into Miami isn't exactly subtle of us."

Natasha's expression softened slightly at your response, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "Fair point," she conceded, her tone less biting than before. "I’m choosing the car."

“Anything for you honey,” You shook your head, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Natasha shot you a pointed look. Apparently, nicknames were off the table. 

As you and Natasha approached the rental car lot, you expected her to gravitate towards something sleek and inconspicuous. So, when she pointed towards a sporty sedan with ample trunk space, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Really? This one?" You asked, your voice laced with skepticism.

"Trust me," she replied cryptically, her tone giving nothing away.

“Okay, but you’re driving,” You tossed your suitcases in the trunk. 

“Why can’t you drive?” Natasha frowned. “You are the one that made us late.”  

You winced at Natasha's accusation, knowing she had a point. "Fair enough," you conceded, feeling a pang of guilt for your role in the tardiness. "But I'm exhausted from all the stress of the morning. Besides, you're the expert driver, remember?"

Natasha's frown softened slightly at your admission, but she remained skeptical. "Fine," she relented begrudgingly, sliding into the driver's seat. "But don't think this lets you off the hook."

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey,” You grinned, pushing your sunglasses onto your face. 

Natasha shot you a withering glare at the nickname, her expression bordering on annoyance. "Don't call me that," she muttered shortly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You raised your hands in mock surrender, unable to suppress a smirk at her reaction. "Got it," you replied, making a mental note to refrain from using any more nicknames in the future. “Can I call you baby?” You asked unable to resist pushing her buttons further. 

Natasha's expression darkened, her icy glare intensifying at the suggestion. "Absolutely not," she retorted firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

You chuckled softly, realizing you had crossed a line, but the temptation to tease Natasha was too strong to resist. "Just thought I'd ask," you replied with a shrug, settling back into your seat as Natasha revved the engine, ready to hit the road.

Twenty-three hours until Miami. -------> part 2

[philtstone]

psych is a show brimming with near perfect episodes so this is by no means a suggestion that it was lacking or failed somehow by not including these but here is a non exhaustive list of additional perfect psych episodes that exist in my head, ranked somehow

lord of the rings episode - shawn and gus are sent on a fetch quest through the santa barbara hills by their old elementary school teacher who claims his brother robbed him. it is revealed that lassiter attends the ren fair. henrys meddling neighbor is trying to steal his silverware. 9/10

alternatively, or indeed additionally, viggo mortensen guest star episode - viggo mortensen stars as shawns much softer spoken but equally eccentric cousin who owns a horse ranch out of town; someone is messing with it and he needs help. shawn spends the whole episode convinced that no one can be that cool and polite and handsome all at once and so he must be hiding something. shawn is wrong. the episode is titled “equine promises”. 10/10

rocky episode - shawn and gus must somehow pose as professional boxers to solve a murder that happened after a match fixing went awry. a top tier shules episode that can and does make me clutch a metaphoricalpillow to my chest while im watching because of how adorable they are. 8/10

episode that takes place in between right turn or left for dead and juliet wears the pantsuit - lassiter tries to figure out the reason shawn and juliet broke up because he feels honour bound to make good on his promise to kill shawn if it does turn out that he hurt her. the problem is both of them refuse to talk and the more lassie digs the more sympathy he feels for shawn. he becomes convinced that there’s something clinically wrong with him. meanwhile, gus and henry frantically and chaotically try to figure out if the moral thing to do is to talk to juliet or avoid her completely. shenanigans and multiple emotional yet subtle conversations ensue. 8/10

mission impossible episode - set sometime in late season seven, a case becomes so personal that for the first and last time juliet becomes willing to break the rules and participate in a shawn-and-gus con. it involves a fancy hotel and an arms dealer and juliet in a slinky black dress that is swoon worthy but tasteful. at some point gus has to lever shawn down an elevator shaft while shawn keeps getting distracted by how hot juliet is when she’s lying through her teeth to a mark. juliet (for the first and last time) rides shawns motorcycle to get out of a situation, because Symbolism. 8/10

this one isn’t really an episode but my dream for all characters from media is that eventually they become the family from spy kids and considering they plan on making psych movies well into old age i think thats perfectly doable. 10/10

[marsprincess889]

JYESHTA

The battle, the loneliness and the cost of victory

Mercury ruled, Mars's sign.

A very lonely nakshatra indeed. Jyeshta means "the eldest" and it's also known as "the best". But what does that all mean?

To understand Jyeshta, we have to remember that it's fully in the sign of Scorpio. The previous nakshatra- Anuradha, also fully in Scorpio, is its yoni consort. Scorpio is the natural ruler of the 8th house of death, transformation and the occult. It's shrouded in secrecy, yet Jyeshta nakshatra still manages to be one of the most notorious lunar mansions.

Jyeshta's symbol is a round protective talisman or an umbrella. It's ruling deity is Indra- the lightning god and the king of the gods, who is covered in eyes and thus sees everything. The goddess associated with Jyeshta is Dhumavati- an old hag who's always hungry. Jyeshta natives are known for their success in the material realm, but little do most know that there's a lot more to it than that.

We begin the story of Jyeshta with a somewhat outcasted underdog. They're not that understood, they are independent by nature, and most importantly, they do not trust a soul. Why so defensive, some might ask, but that's the eyes from which Jyeshtas see the world. Despite humble begginings, they're usually not pitied or treated as a victim. Since they do not like asking for help, they rarely get it, and honestly, that's the way they like it.

The underdog enters the world stage, immideately attracting attention because they do not follow anyone else's rules, but rather- their own. They have their uniqueness that protects them. Combat by combat, they defeat each and every one of their opponents and soon are seen as a new threat. With that comes jealousy, with jealousy comes resentment and/or respect. With all that comes fear. Jyeshta's power is "to rise, conquer and gain courage in battle". The battle is life, but what does it mean to rise and conquer? How does one outsmart their opponents? The answer is you simply do not fight them.

When you view someone as an opponent you automatically set yourself up for losing. The opponents are equals but since you're an individual and since you know that you can't trust anyone but yourself, why would you play by their rules? Why would you equate yourself to them? Jyeshtas honor their own uniquness by protecting their energy (mercury rulership, very similar to Ashlesha) and learning their lesson from the previous mercury-ruled nakshatra- Ashlesha, they only engage in a fight with worthy opponents. Jyeshtas know they're only one worthy opponent for them and that's themselves. So, they just work on being better and better, not getting distracted by petty and unimportant squabbles, literally rising above the unnessecary conflict and thus conquering everything they rose above.

But is success all there is to life? Jyeshta is the survivor, always thinking about the next step and enjoying the independence despite being so widely disliked because of their difference, because of their uniqueness and success. Sure, they're content being themselves, but as natural loners they struggle with emotional intelligence, hence their reputation as insensitive jerks for masculine people or rude bitches for feminine people.

A Jyeshta story- The Queen's Gambit

I want to analyze a fictional Jyeshta story that has been brought to life on screen- The Queen's Gambit. The writer of the novel - Walter Tevis had Ketu in Jyeshta nakshatra. Ketu represents your stored primal creative energy, past lives, the past in general, the father's lineage and a person's daemon. A daemon is basically the opposite sex version of you who is the personification of your creative and sexual energy. Walter Tevis wrote about the archetype of a Jyeshta woman, making her the protagonist of his story. Considering that I haven't read the book, I'll analyze the Netflix series that it inspired.

Chess overall is a very Jyeshta game. It's a competitive sport but it requires concentration, intelligence, discipline, talent and skill. If you make one miscalculation, then you're lost.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Our protagonist, Beth Harmon, begins as an 8 year old girl who lost her mother and was taken to an orphanage. There she never looked at elders the same way that others did, having a critical mind and an independence and uniqueness to her that set her apart from others from an early age. She was exceptionally good at maths and unusually so, considering her age. One day, she goes into the basement and finds the custodian_ Mr. Shaibel playing chess with himself. She's immideately drawn to the game and doesn't leave him alone until he explains the rules. Since then, she's hooked.

She eventually leaves the orphanage, getting adopted by a childless couple at 15. She already thinks like an adult and treats her new mother's authority like it's nothing and she's not really challenged in that. Jyeshta is the stage where you're the authority, you're the only one who's responsible for yourself, you're the eldest, the wisest and that energy makes others want to depend on you in one way or another. It's where you find the strength in yourself to make everyone else submit. So, Beth started to earn money by playing chess. It's important to note that her new mother had a drinking problem and despite that, Beth didn't drink herself before she thought she deserved it. Only after achieving some success does she slowly start getting addicted to substances, her addiction increasing as her success grew bigger.

Being the best in the game was not exactly easy for Beth, as she struggled with her love life. Jyeshtas are often not concerned with the emotional aspect of life, despite having a certain sensuality to themselves. They're naturally closed off and because of that many people find them mysterious. They won't hesitate to to attack anyone though, but their every move is calculated and planned.

Beth was bullied at school and that's a common Jyeshta theme (see my The Princess Diaries post) but she never paid any attention to it and later we see the mean girl she was at school with living a completely different life than her- the one that she would not want. The scene perfectly captures the difference between the Jyeshta archetype and the masses. Jyeshta is focused on winning, defeating themselves and by that defeating their opponents so they have little time for anything else. In contrast, her high school classmate was married and with a child, living a typical suburban American life.

In another scene, we see her success and loneliness turn to arrogance and rudeness as she encounters and old opponent, friend and ex-lover who was living a simple life and showed his contentment with that. That shows a more negative and quite a sad side of the Jyeshta archetype.

She hits rock bottom, starts to lose her focus and at the last minute, when she has no money to fly to Moscow for the tournament, a helping hand comes in. We'll get into why she accepts that help.

Her helper was her childhood friend from the orphanage_ Jolene, who was snarky and honest to her from the start. It's very telling that she was Beth's first friend. Jyeshta is a full-circle moment, it's the growing into your own power after you've defeated your past self, after you've managed to move on from past pains. When Beth had had closure with Jolene and after attending Mr. Shaibel's funeral, she goes into the orphanage and enters the basement. She sees how he had all the newspaper pages about Beth taped to the wall. Beth breaks down and cries. After confronting the core part of herself, she accepts help from Jolene because she's already healed that part of herself, so she'll have no unwelcome ties with Jolene, only the one she chose. She's conquered herself from that time and now is free to rule it. The only thing that was left to do was to go out there and be herself, because after you defeat yourself, there's truly no one else to defeat.

She defeats the Soviet champion and and makes peace with all parts of herself. When she's about to leave Moscow Beth gets out of the car and takes a walk, truly enjoying life. With the war with herself behind, she remembered why she's so good at chess, because she truly loves it so much. She enjoyed the competition and the tension, she loved the battle. There was no reason not to, not when she was unafraid of being who she was. After all these combats, she realized that there was only one real enemy-herself, and defeating that enemy requires bravery, the strength to bear the hardship and skill, a lot of skill to survive and all of that based on cunning.

When you realize that, the world is your oyster. It's all a game, and it's your game, you're alone.

She sees a big group of old men playing chess with each other in a park. Beth stops by, and the men, recognizing her, invite her to play. Beth sits down, smiling, knowing they'll both enjoy the game she takes her gloves off and says...

If you liked this PLEASE like, comment or reblog, or even message me. If you have jyeshta or if you know them or if you like The Queen's Gambit, definitely let me know what you think. This was a bit stressful, considering my ketu is in jyeshta and it was not easy to dig into the deepest parts of myself. This series came out while i was going through a ketu antardasha that shook me to the core and it spoke to me so much. Anyways, thanks for reading, love you and take care 🤍.

[fortuna-et-cataclysmos]

S5 finale: wrapping up the "running out of time" theme

So I have been mentioning frequently that there is a theme of "running out of time" in season 5, but I wasn't able to make out the meaning of it, until now.

We can say that there are three situations where the theme explicitely manifests:

Gabriel: After receiving a cataclysm wound in Destruction, we often hear Gabriel repeat that he is running out of time. The entire Intuition episode is based on that premise.

Ladynoir: This is the most obvious manifestation of this theme. In Jubilation, Ladybug and Chat Noir live a dream just to be constantly reminded that their perfect life together will end when they wake up to reality. I call it Ladynoir, but actually it is Maribug's love and romantic relationship with Chat in general.

Adrinette: This is the most subtle one, but it is there. Notice how Marinette needs to ease into a relationship with Adrien, and Adrien is doing his best to cut her slack, so much so that he says in Derision, and I quote: "We've got time." Soon after, Adrien is sent to London.

If you think I have forgotten other strings of running out of time, feel free to let me know!

Now let's look at these three strings individually:

Gabriel running out of time

This one is the simplest one as it starts very early on in the season, with the episode Destruction where he gets the cataclym wound, and ends in Recreation with his "sacrifice." Also worthy noting the names of the episodes. What starts as Gabriel running out of time in Destruction is concluded in Recreation with him making his wish, accomplishing his wish, and dying. We can consider this thread concluded.

2. Ladynoir running out of time

Of course, the first episode that comes to mind is Jubilation. In Jubilation we (and the blorbos) learn that they actually desire to be together, romantically. And indeed they get to live a perfect little life in their dream, ignoring the increasingly bigger alarm clocks that are trying to wake them up. Except that at the end Ladybug realises that they must wake up (duty calls!), and she abandons Chat Noir in the dream universe, broken.

From here on, nearly every episode is a warning for Marinette against being romantically together with Chat Noir:

Determination: Marinette accepts that she has feelings for Chat Noir, her reaction to that is crying

Passion: Ladybug's crush on Chat Noir leads to her being distracted and making many critical mistakes in their fight

Reunion: is a cautionary tale about Ladybug and Cat Miraculous holders falling in love

Illusion: (I haven't watched this in a while but I think nothing relevant happens here)

Elation: Marinette is nearly akumatised because of her love to and rejection by Chat Noir

The overarching message from Jubilation to Elation is that: if Maribug ends up with Chat Noir, it'll be a disaster.

So Marinette decides to close up her heart to anyone, and after a brief depression, Adrien finally convinces her to be with him and they become an official couple. From this point onwards, the key ship becomes Adrinette.

Does that mean that Ladynoir has run out of time? Not necessarily. They just decided to love each other in a different way. I should remind here that even though we tend to polarise the sides of the square as fandom, the creators have repeatedly told that the love square is one, there is one love.

The Ladynoir relationship has a direct connection to the Adrinette dynamics because after all, they're the same two people.

3. Adrinette running out of time

Now that Adrinette is finally together, they should have all the time in the world, right? Right? It's what Adrien says, after all.

But I couldn't shake this sense of urgency throughout this season. Every time they said that they had time, it made me feel like they actually don't and they don't know it. And it was exactly what they wanted to make us feel: with Adrien's move to London, it turns out they didn't have time. Worse is that, Adrien actually knew that he'd need to move to London but he couldn't tell it to Marinette, he kept it a secret all the way till he was shipped off to London.

And there is a parallel between Jubilation and Revolution here: in both episodes, their dream is shattered, they share one last dramatic kiss, and they are torn apart from one and other (@asukiess had a big brain time and pointed this out back when Revolution aired).

But now, in Recreation, Gabriel is gone. Everything is fixed? Everyone will be happy, right?

Well... No.

As I pointed out in a previous post, the world that Gabriel creates is a bit too bright, too perfect. The show is notorious for associating the sun with fake happiness at this point, while the "real" moments are rainy and/or dark. And let's see the colour palette in the end:

Another detail that makes me put on my tinfoil hat:

They're not very visible on the static image, but there are white butterflies flying over the flower arch. Those could be symbolising the end, as a reference to how Ladybug releases the purified akuma at the end of each episode. But it might also have a second meaning, a reference to how this world was in fact created upon the ideals of Gabriel.

And that can't be good for anyone. I explain more the consequences and aftermath of this episode in the post I mention above, but basically this world is Gabriel's ideal, and it is far from being a good place for neither Marinette, nor Adrien.

One main reason why: Gabriel has left Marinette with the truth about the Monarch, and she agreed to keep it a secret from Adrien. But we know that it will eventually come out. Either she tells it to Chat Noir, or maybe Lila plots something, but it won't remain a secret forever. And when it does... it will have tremendous impact on not only Adrinette, but also Ladynoir.

This world is a fantasy world where Marinette and Adrien have ended up together, just like in: Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, Oblivio, Jubilation. And at one point the alarm clock will ring, the hammer will drop, and both Ladynoir and Adrinette will run out of time. Except that this time, we may not be able to revert back to the status quo.

Gabriel has left them with a tickling time bomb.

[pedroshotwifey]

Hello lovely. Can I request #36 and Frankie please?

Thank you thank you

Hey, babe!! So I did something a bit different since I had two requests with the same number, and ended up making Frankie a sub in this one! If it’s not your thing or you simply don’t like it, there are absolutely no hard feelings and I would be glad to rewrite it with a sub reader ❤️

Pairing: Sub!Frankie Morales x Dom!F!reader

Tags/warnings: toys (dildo, cockring), anal sex (m), piv sex, dom reader, orgasm denial, top reader, sweet nicknames, fluff, smut, degrading names (once), probably overstimulation, double penetration (not rly lol i just think im funny)

W/C: 1.6k

Summary: Frankie gives you control for the night and you make sure he gets the most out of it.

Needy

“Oh, what a good boy,” you coo as you walk into your bedroom, peeling off your coat as you go. The sight that greets you is indeed worthy of your praise.

Frankie is sitting naked on the bed, his chest flushed where he’s leaned up against the headboard. His cock is in one hand, red and swollen from the multiple orgasms you already know he’s denied himself of—just as you’d instructed in the text you sent him when you left your work an hour before. He’s even put a cock ring at the base to make sure he follows your rules.

You made sure to be specific. It’s not often that Frankie requests for you to be in charge, but when he does, it’s usually because he’s trying to get his mind off of something. So you always do the best you can to completely take on the part and distract him. You love it when he’s in the more dominant spot, but you also love getting to be in control every once in a while. And you know Frankie does, too.

You pass him without a second glance and walk to the desk to drape your coat over the chair. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You huff a small laugh through your nose when you get no response. “You can talk, baby boy,” you tell him. You do take note of his good behavior, though. He waited for you to give him permission, just as he should have.

“Yes, I’m enjoying myself,” he breathes, and you can hear the eager truth in it.

You turn back around and smile at him. “I’m glad.” You start to strip out of your clothes, thinking about how you want tonight to go. A grin spreads across your face as you kick your shoes off, but you keep it out of sight of Frankie for now. “Go get one of your toys. Let’s make this even better,” you instruct.

Frankie tries to hide his own excited smile as he slips from the bed, but you see it. “What kind?” he asks.

“Any one you want, baby.”

You’re stripped down to your bra and panties by the time Frankie returns with a smallish dildo and a bottle of lube. He brings them both to you and you reach up to plant a small kiss to his lips. “Perfect. Go get back on the bed for me.”

He watches you for a moment, letting his gaze linger on yours for a moment before nodding and walking back to the bed. You swat his ass as he goes, which makes him shoot you a glare, and you raise an eyebrow in playful warning. You strip the rest of the way before you join him, toy in hand.

“Alright, show me,” you tell him as you climb onto the bed in front of him. His cheeks flush a bit, but he does as you say and parts his thighs, lifting them up and apart enough with his hands to reveal his asshole to you. You smile and lick your lips. He looks gorgeous, his weeping cock resting against the rolls of his stomach as it gets scrunched from his positioning.

“Ask me to open you up, sweetheart.”

His throat bobs before he indulges you. “P-please open me up,” he obeys quietly. His poor cock twitches as the words leave his mouth, betraying how aroused he is despite the sliver of embarrassment he’s showcasing.

“What’s that, honey?” you taunt. “Speak up for me.”

“Please open me up,” he looks into your eyes as he begs, letting you see the desperation there.

“Okay, I’ve got you, sweet boy.”

You pop open the bottle of lube, squeezing some onto your fingers before using your other hand to warm it. Frankie’s breathing picks up as you trail one hand down his cock and all the way down to his tight hole, where you insert your middle finger. He bites his lip at the intrusion, his face already contorting with the relief of having something inside of him. A few pumps, and you let a second one join, making him moan and squeeze around you.

“There we go,” you coo proudly. “Doing so good for me.”

He keens at your praise, eyebrows knotting together even as he does his best to keep his brown eyes open and pleading. You start to scissor your fingers, and his legs slip as his hips buck, trying to get you deeper. You laugh and slip him another finger.

“Needy boy.”

You finger him faster, crooking your fingers and finding that spot that makes him whine so prettily. You wait until he’s panting and starting to sweat before you remove your fingers, smiling wickedly as he protests. “N-no, please!”

“Just wait, honey, you’ll like this better,” you assure him as you reach behind you for the dildo. You coat it generously with lube and bring it to his hole, watching his eyes roll back as you start to slip it in. It’s not very big, but you know it’s his favorite because it always settles against his prostate and makes him see stars. He has bigger ones, but they just don’t hit the spot like this one does.

You slip it all the way to the base, listening to Frankie’s sweet moans tumble from his lips. When it’s in all the way, you don’t pull it out, but instead take your hands away and help him lay his legs back down comfortably. You can tell he’s questioning you, but he doesn’t voice it. You can see the exact moment it hits him right because he lets out a strangled yelp as his weight pulls him down on it.

He’s almost too distracted in trying not to drool to notice you taking his cockring off. You lean over him and set it on the nightstand, and then climb onto his lap and line the tip of his cock up with your already soaked cunt.

You love the way his eyes widen when he realizes what you’re doing, the panic that flashes through them as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to handle it all. You’re slipping down onto him before he can say anything, however, already moaning at the familiar stretch.

“Oh you feel soo good, Frankie,” you purr. Frankie just whines and grips the sheets, dueling his composure as he focuses on not coming the second you’re fully seated. Your toes curl at the feeling of him so deep inside of you, and you smirk upon knowing how he must feel right now.

You put your hands on his shoulders and use your knees to lift up slightly, and when you bounce back down, Frankie moans in a way that you swear should be fake. But it’s not. Because you know that as soon as you pushed back down, that toy he’s seated on slammed into his prostate.

It’s genius, honestly, and you’re not exactly sure how you haven’t thought of this before, keeping him sandwiched and forcing every thought from his pretty head. You moan when you look back down at his face. He looks thoroughly fucked, and you haven’t even started. His body is covered in sweat already, revealing his struggle.

You don’t show any mercy as you start to bounce atop him, focusing on getting his cockhead to slam into you just right. The sounds that he makes are filthy and unlike anything you’ve heard before. He’s whining and groaning and panting and moaning and you can’t get enough. Trapped between two sources of pleasure, you don’t think he can get enough, either.

“Oh, there you go, baby. You moan like such a pretty little whore for me,” you paint the words onto his lips, and he seals them with a sloppy kiss. You slip your tongue into his hot mouth, and you devour him as you start to feel your high approaching. His whines turn even more high pitched, and you know he’s there with you. Your fingers find your clit, and you start to rub tight circles to get you closer.

You quicken your pace, tightening that coil in your abdomen until it snaps and you squeeze like a vice around Frankie. His entire body jolts as he comes with you, moaning wildly and trembling the entire way through. His arms come up to wrap around you, his hips buck repeatedly—though you’re not sure whether he’s trying to get away from the senses, or get more.

You moan right along with him as you ride out your orgasm. Tears are streaming down his face, and you can’t help but lean forward and lick up one of the trails through your pleasured state. He feels so fucking good pulsing inside of you and filling you with his seed, even after you come down from your high.

You wait until his body stops shaking before you reluctantly slip off of him and scoot back to pull the dildo out. A string of warm lube comes with it, and the sight is almost enough to make you want to do it all over again. But you don’t, you instead toss the toy carelessly off the edge of the bed and lean forward again to gently kiss Frankie, who’s finally settling down a bit.

You’re glad the fan is on above you, cooling your bare skin as you lay down with Frankie, who has a massive, blissed-out grin on his face. You cuddle up with him, just as he likes to do right after sex.

“How was that, baby?” you ask, a little nervous since you went a bit harder this time.

“Fucking perfect,” he laughs quietly. “Thank you.” He moves over you and kisses you softly, cradling your cheek with one of his large palms. You smile into it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and basking in the bliss of simply holding him.

******

Look here if you would like to read more requested fics or request one of your own!

[444takeomi]

YOU’RE PERFECT

: ̗̀➛ summary: your boyfriend always seems to know how to make you feel better when you're insecure

character(s): shinichiro sano

warnings: female reader, nsfw, unprotected sex, mentions of body image issues and insecurities, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, mating press, creampie, mirror sex, love-making, praise, dirty talk, lots of body worship, crying during sex, v v sappy

wc: 4.2k

a/n: this one took me quite a while to write as it's very personal to me, i still kinda hate how it turned out but i hope some of you can relate to it and find comfort in it as well. i tried to be as non-specific as possible when describing the reader’s insecurities so apologies if it comes across as a bit vague, i tried my best ahahah

it was another one of those days, one that had you looking at your own reflection and hating everything you saw in front of you.

feeling uncomfortable in your own skin wasn’t exactly anything new to you, having felt unsatisfied with the way you looked for as long as you could remember. with that being said, today in particular had left you feeling much worse about yourself than usual, and you found yourself unable to refrain from picking apart your entire appearance. despite your best efforts at reassuring yourself that you didn't look as bad as you thought, nothing you said was able to provide you with any sort of comfort — if anything you just felt even more hopeless.

it had come to the point where it was almost hard to believe that the person staring back at you in the mirror was actually you. the sight of your own body straight up disgusted you, and you just couldn't understand how it was possible for someone to be so hideous. it was hard to even look at yourself — had it always been this bad? you didn't even want to think about it.

the way your clothes clung to your body did nothing except highlight how blatantly disproportionate your features were, and you were starting to regret your choice of not opting for something baggier when you got dressed this morning. oversized clothing was the only thing that you felt suited you nowadays, the loose fabric swallowing up your figure and concealing all of your flaws, temporarily putting your mind at ease and making you forget about the hard reality of what was hiding under those clothes.

you really tried to distract yourself, to do anything other than spend the entire day wallowing in self-pity over something as superficial as your appearance, but your feelings of self-consciousness persisted no matter how hard you tried to ignore them, which led you to where you were now — clothes scattered across the floor as you stared at the reflection of your bare figure, managing to somehow find fault in every part of yourself.

you knew that your boyfriend shin was living proof that you were indeed worthy of love, but you often found yourself wondering if you were really good enough for him — he was so handsome and tall with such a perfectly toned body, and not to mention he was the most hardworking person you knew, and overall was just an absolute sweetheart who always put everyone else's needs before his own.

he was so wonderful, and you couldn't help but think he deserved someone so much better.

it made matters worse when you subconsciously started comparing yourself to all the other girls shin had asked out in the past, focusing on everything they had that you lacked, appearance or otherwise, and you couldn't help but notice how they all had one thing in common — how absolutely gorgeous they all were. you wondered if shin was just settling when he finally asked you out, it would make sense given the fact that all those girls were clearly far more attractive than you ever were.

shin always looked at you with nothing but adoration, and even if at times you were unable to understand exactly why, it was still clear that he loved you with all his heart. however, no matter how hard you tried to block it out, you always found yourself listening to that little voice in the back of your mind — the one that repeatedly told you how unattractive you were, that you weren’t deserving of love, that you weren’t good enough.

you were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear as your boyfriend came home from work and greeted you from downstairs, too preoccupied with the heavy feeling in your chest as you fixated on every imperfection you saw whilst you stared at your own reflection. shin was a little worried upon not hearing you answer him, used to your usual cheerful welcome as you paused whatever you were doing to give him a warm hug and ask him about his day.

he began searching the house for you, checking each room before making his way upstairs, just to make sure that you were okay. he opened the door to your shared bedroom, and you watched through the reflection of the mirror as he walked in, feeling the sudden urge to cover your body with your hands and hide yourself from his gaze.

shin’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight in front of him, and he couldn't help but whistle lowly as he took in your naked figure in its entirety. he looked you up and down, in complete awe as he wondered how someone could be so beautiful without even trying. he felt a little giddy at the thought of you doing this on purpose to surprise him, especially after he'd had such a long day at work. he could feel his cock twitch in his pants as he shamelessly checked you out, his mind beginning to wander as his dark eyes clouded with lust.

“damn, baby. what did i do to deserve all—” shin paused, abruptly cutting himself off upon seeing your saddened expression as you turned to face him, “hey, what's the matter, sweetheart?”

you shook your head at him, averting your gaze in hopes that he wouldn't see the tears that were beginning to well up in your vision.

“it's nothing, i’m fine,” you sniffled, fingers coming up to gently pat at the corners of your eyes, “i just want to be alone right now.”

you didn't want to lie to him, in fact you desperately wanted to tell him everything that was on your mind, wanted him to comfort you and reassure you like he always did whenever you felt like this. the last thing you wanted to do was push him away, but at the same time you knew that you couldn't keep doing this to him. it was obvious how tired he was after a hard day's work, and the last thing he needed right now was you burdening him with something as pathetic as your own insecurities, but here you were.

“no, you're not,” needless to say shin wasn't convinced, easily seeing through your rather weak attempt at hiding how you were truly feeling from him, “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong.”

you sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat as you desperately tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. how could he be so perfect? he was always so kind and caring, so patient with you regardless of how exhausted he was after working so hard to provide for the both of you — you didn't know what you did to deserve him.

“why do i have to look like this?” you turned back towards the mirror, voice wobbly as you finally broke down crying, “i— no matter what i do i never feel good enough. i’m so sick of feeling like this, i just… i just wish i was pretty.”

“oh, sweetheart, come here,” shin came to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he looked at you through the reflection of the mirror with so much love in his eyes, “you know i think you're perfect the way you are, i just wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

shin was familiar with your insecurities, and he always tried his best to console you despite the fact he couldn't possibly understand why you felt so negatively about yourself. he hated seeing you like this, hated seeing you unhappy with the body he loved so much, it made his heart ache. he didn't know why you constantly talked down on yourself, didn't know how you could be so blind to your own beauty when it was so obvious to him.

he wanted to show you the way he felt about your body, wanted to make you feel loved and desired. he knew that while he wouldn't be able to completely alleviate your feelings of insecurity, regardless of how much he wanted to, he hoped that if he carried on showing you exactly how much you meant to him that in time you would start to realise just how amazing you were.

“shin, w–what are you doing?” you asked, voice faltering as you felt his hands beginning to caress your sides, before they came to rest comfortably on your hips.

your breath hitched in your throat as he began placing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders, his hands kneading the flesh beneath his palms, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch as your eyes fluttered shut and you let out a sigh of pleasure.

“showing you just how gorgeous i think you are,” he replied lowly, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear, “is that okay, baby?”

“shin, you don't have to,” you insisted, biting your lip as he began sucking a hickey onto the skin of your neck, “you've— aah— you've had a long day, you should rest.”

“want you so bad,” he mumbled against your skin, pressing his erection into the curve of your ass, “been thinking about you all day, please?”

his words were making you needier than you would've liked to admit, looking into his dark eyes through the mirror as you began imagining all the things he was going to do to you. shin always made you feel so loved during sex, worshipping every inch of your body and telling you just how beautiful you were. the thought of that alone made you squeeze your thighs together as you nodded, knowing that despite how self-conscious you were feeling, deep down you really needed that kind of treatment right now.

you let out a soft gasp as he picked you up, carrying you over to the bed and carefully laying you down before hungrily pressing his lips against yours. you melted into the kiss, a small whine escaping your throat as soon as he pulled away.

“shhh, let me take care of you, pretty.”

you felt as his lips softly brushed against the valley of your breasts, his dark hair tickling your skin. he looked up at you, smiling fondly as you turned your head away in an attempt to avert your gaze elsewhere, embarrassed by the intimacy of it all. shin took your hand in his, gently squeezing it in hopes of reassuring you a little, before his head dipped back down and he began peppering more kisses over the entirety of your chest, his other hand squeezing your waist before coming to cup one of the mounds of flesh in his palm.

“my baby’s got the prettiest tits, i'm a lucky guy,” he told you, taking your nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the hardened bud, his thumb running across the back of your hand that was interlaced with his own.

you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling too self-conscious to look at your own body as he touched you. as much as you tried to suppress them, several needy mewls and whimpers slipped past your lips as you softly ran your fingers through his hair. shin couldn't help but groan against your skin as he sucked your tit into his mouth, feeling his cock starting to leak in his pants as you arched your chest into him and the sounds of your sweet noises filled the room. once he was satisfied, he released your nipple with a pop, and you felt him eagerly switching to your other breast as he began giving it the same treatment.

after making sure both of your tits had been shown plenty of attention, he went back to kissing along your body, his lips trailing down your tummy as his hand came to gently rub and massage at your hip. you opened your eyes and immediately felt yourself stiffen — instantly noticing the way your stomach looked in your current position, and you just hoped that shin wasn't paying any mind to it.

your feelings weren't lost on him, he noticed the way you tensed up ever so slightly whenever he touched you in certain places, noticed the way your gaze seemed to land anywhere but his eyes. you were so easy to read, your reactions alone telling him everything he needed to know. shin couldn't help himself as he came up to kiss you once again, feeling the heat radiating from your face as his lips gently brushed against yours, before taking your hand that was still entwined with his and bringing it down towards the obvious tent in his pants.

“feel that? feel what your pretty body does to me?” he groaned, your fingers brushing against his aching cock, “you make me so fucking hard.”

you looked down shyly, feeling your face growing even hotter than it was already as you squirmed underneath him — his compliments and praises made your stomach flutter and goosebumps prickle across your skin.

shin made his way between your thighs, prying your legs apart as his lips began trailing sloppily along your skin, gently squeezing the soft flesh beneath his palms. you could feel yourself growing embarrassingly wet as you watched him, excitement beginning to pool in your gut as his dark eyes locked with yours and his mouth gradually made its way closer towards your awaiting heat.

“such a pretty pussy, m’gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he drawled, staring at you in awe before he started pressing open-mouthed kisses over your slit, splitting your folds apart with his tongue and groaning at the taste of your slick.

shin was entirely fixated on you as your face contorted in pleasure, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath as he took your clit between his lips, his mouth hungrily latching onto the swollen bud. one of your hands instinctively came up to cover part of your face, worried that your expression was off-putting and that you looked especially unattractive from this angle, but your boyfriend wasn't having any of it. he grabbed hold of your wrist, guiding your hand away and granting him a full view of your cute face, watching in infatuation as your brows furrowed and your mouth fell slightly agape.

he couldn't help but growl into you, the vibrations making you jolt in pleasure as you let out a squeal, feeling yourself throbbing against his tongue as you clamped your thighs around his head. shin lifted your legs over his shoulders, giving him complete access to you — he could feel himself slowly losing all remaining self-restraint as he proceeded to absolutely devour you. he continued to slurp at your clit, flicking his tongue over the nub and moaning loudly into your folds, unable to stop himself from humping the mattress below him when you began eagerly grinding your pussy against his face.

that familiar feeling started to build up in your gut, his mouth already drawing you towards your release. before you even had the chance to tell him you were close, you felt your orgasm rip through you, throwing your head back as your whole body tensed up and incoherent, broken whimpers of his name fell from your lips. both of your hands came to tangle themselves in his hair, rolling your hips against his face and practically suffocating him with your cunt as you rode out your orgasm.

once you had come down from your high, shin began stripping himself of his usual white t-shirt and jeans, and you watched as his gorgeous body was revealed to you in all of its entirety. you couldn't help but feel your thoughts of insecurity starting to resurface once again, overcome with the urge to hide yourself from him even after he had just been between your thighs. it didn't take long for shin to notice the way you suddenly began to shy away from him, and so he pulled you into another soft yet deep kiss, holding your face in his hands and gently caressing along your jaw as his lips moulded with yours.

after the two of you pulled apart, he briefly pressed his forehead against yours, his fingertips lightly brushing up and down your arm in a soothing manner, before his hands settled themselves on the backs of your thighs. he pushed your legs upwards and folded you in half, pressing his hardened cock against your pussy as he began to gently glide the head over your soaked folds, sliding the tip right against your sensitive clit. you cried out, your walls clenching around nothing as you clutched onto his shoulders, nails pressing crescent shapes into his skin.

“patience, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and softly nibbling on the flesh.

you felt as the tip came to rest at your entrance before he carefully slipped himself inside of you, his thick cock stretching you out and filling you to the brim. he let out a low grunt as you clamped down on him, biting his lip as he stilled himself inside of you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“you're so beautiful, can't believe you're mine, my pretty girl,” he continued to murmur sweet praises against your skin, his hand interlocking with yours as he began thrusting into you.

“shin, i— mmmh! ahhh, please—!” you mewled, indistinct babbles and whimpers falling uncontrollably from your lips at the feeling of every inch of his cock dragging slowly against your walls.

“i know, baby, i know. just— fuuuck, just sit back and let me make you feel good, okay?”

it was all too much, but in the best possible way. everything just felt so right, from the feeling of his chest pressing against yours to the way he meticulously worked his hips into you at the perfect angle. a sweet slapping sound began to fill the room, alongside the combination of his needy groans and whines about how good you felt in your ear, mixed with your sobs of pleasure at the feeling of his pubic bone brushing against your clit. shin looked at you with so much love, like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on — it made tears start to well up in your eyes, but this time they weren't from sadness.

in that moment you just felt so appreciated, to the point where all of your insecurities and self-critical thoughts momentarily left your mind as you completely lost yourself in pleasure, unable to think of anything else aside from how good it all felt. your boyfriend’s thumb came to wipe your tears away before his lips locked with yours, the pair of you moaning desperately into each other’s mouths as his thrusts picked up in pace, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as he fucked you deep.

shin was reluctant to break the kiss, addicted to the feeling of your lips against his in combination with your walls squeezing around his cock. however, the way his lungs were practically begging for oxygen didn't give him much choice in the matter, and he found himself gasping for breath as he pulled away, his eyes squeezed shut as his brows furrowed in pleasure. you reached upwards to hold his face in your hand, the other refusing to let go of his own as you interlaced your fingers together. shin leaned down to press his forehead against yours as his hips began to stutter, his pace faltering as he felt himself drawing closer to his own release.

“fuck— baby, m’gonna cum. gonna cum deep inside this pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he growled, feeling as your walls clamped down on him at his words, “yeah, you like that? want me to cream inside this tight little cunt? fill you up nice and full?”

“mhm, yes please— ahhh! want your cum, shin, please don't stop, i— mmh, need to feel you…”

“that's my good girl. take it, take it— fuck, that’s it, baby. such a good girl for me.”

he finished with a few sloppy thrusts, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he fell over the edge, his hot cum shooting into you in several thick ropes. you could feel your clit throbbing as you clenched around him, the heat between your thighs continuing to grow as you watched shin ride out his orgasm.

his cock began to soften as he gently slipped himself out of you, watching intently as his cum dribbled out of your hole. he was well aware that he had reached his high before you did, eager to get you off again and bring you to another orgasm — tonight was supposed to be about you, after all. before you could oppose, he sat you at the edge of the bed with you in his lap, facing you towards the mirror so that you could look at yourself.

“wanna make you cum on my fingers, baby,” he mumbled into your ear, spreading your legs apart as his hand made its way between your thighs, “want you to see how pretty you are when you cum nice and hard for me.”

two of his digits circled your entrance before he slowly pushed them inside, taking note of how easily they slipped into you after having previously stretched you out with his cock. he began curling them upwards, softly massaging your g-spot while his other hand came to caress your waist, travelling down towards your hip and then back up again. shin placed several kisses along your neck before his hand suddenly picked up in pace, the heel of his palm smacking against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you and a wet sticky sound proceeded to fill the room.

“look at you, so fucking gorgeous,” he told you, looking at you through the reflection in complete awe as his hand began roaming across your body, “so perfect here… and here… and right here, too.”

the more you stared at your own reflection, the more different you felt from earlier. your eyes no longer seemed to gravitate towards everything that you thought was wrong with you, and it was as if you were just simply seeing yourself as you were in that present moment, just existing within your body. you couldn't take your eyes off the mirror and suddenly you found yourself wanting to watch — wanting to watch him touch you, wanting to watch his hands trail over every part of your body, wanting to watch yourself fall apart because of him.

you wanted shin to watch too, how could you not when his eyes showed nothing but love and adoration for you and your body?

you could feel your legs beginning to shake and you found yourself frantically bucking your hips into his hand, your orgasm rapidly approaching as you grabbed onto his wrist and abruptly fell over the edge once again. you began gasping and whimpering as your vision turned white and you creamed all over his fingers, and shin watched your reflection in admiration as you came down from your high — the only thing he could think was how beautiful you looked in that moment as you completely let go, your eyes rolling back as you were consumed by pleasure.

once you had fully rode out your orgasm, shin gently removed his fingers from you, the two of you sitting in a peaceful silence knowing that words didn't need to be exchanged right away and you could just enjoy one another’s presence for a moment. he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as his lips brushed against your skin.

“are you feeling a little better now, sweetheart?” he asked you, finally breaking the silence.

“mhm, definitely,” you nodded, feeling yourself starting to smile, “thank you, shin.”

while you were aware that this feeling wasn't going to be permanent, and that there would still be days to come in the future where you would feel unsatisfied with your body again, you knew that if nothing else, your sweet boyfriend would always be there to help you slowly start to love yourself a little more.

“i should take a shower,” he pondered, unable to stop himself from grinning as he added, “care to join me?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to fight back a smile but ultimately failing as your expression mirrored his own and you nodded, feeling as he excitedly took your hand and led you towards the bathroom. the two of you stepped into the shower, the warm water running over your tired bodies as you helped wash away the sweat and cum from each other’s skin. as to be expected, you both found yourselves unable to keep your hands off each other, and one thing slowly led to another which ultimately resulted in the two of you fooling around once again, not that either of you were complaining.

and afterwards shin pulled you into his chest and just held you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he mumbled soft praises into your skin that were barely loud enough for you to hear. although there was one which you were just about able to make sense of, and you felt your heart flutter as you realised what it was that he had said to you.

“i love the way your body feels against mine.”

please do not translate, repost, or share my writing on any other platforms eg. tiktok

[ceruark]

Yandere MBTI - Volo

credit: Yandere MBTI system created by the amazing @ddarker-dreams! used with permission. words: 938 cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, manipulation, abduction. a/n: i have a phD in voloism

Final Assessment: CAMS

Cruel

“Then perhaps the day will come when you will suffer and agonize as I do now…”

Volo is as cruel as they come; as Cogita said, he’s a wretch, and he acts the part. He’s just so bitter and spiteful toward the world that it’s hard to believe he’d be kind to someone he took interest in. 

No, he’d be infuriated. He’s got his sights set on rewriting the entire universe— he doesn’t have time for such trivial feelings, and you’re just a distraction Arceus sent with the intention of getting him side-tracked. He hates himself for having something as pitiful as a crush, and rest assured, he will be taking it out on you.

On the surface, he appears to his darling as he would to anyone else: a helpful, humorous merchant who can be a bit sly at times, but harmless nonetheless. He’s always in the right place at the right time, appearing out of seemingly nowhere to help you when you’ve found yourself cornered by Hisui’s fearsome dangers. He would use this front to lure you in, but rest assured, internally he’s degrading you. He’s constantly snarking to himself about how easy your stupidity and naivety are going to make things for him.

You won’t see his true face until you’re in his clutches, his nails sunk too deep to shake him off. If you ever so much as raise your voice at him, he’s putting you in your place, reminding you of all the times he’s had to save you from Hisui’s harsh terrain and wildlife. You’re absolutely helpless without him, and you should show nothing but respect and love for him, who has devoted precious time and attention toward taking care of you. You’ll never survive without him, and you should show your appreciation for your savior by keeping your mouth shut and your head lowered.

Despite all of this, though, I feel as though a part of him would be somewhat reverent of his darling— all the friendship-evolved pokémon on his team speak to a softer side of him, and it’s in his nature, of course. He’s so obsessive over Arceus that anything else in this godforsaken universe he deems worthy of his attention and devotion would be worshipped in a similar manner. This manifests in such ways that you’ll never recognize it for what it is: tenderly stroking your hair while you sleep, tediously meal-prepping to ensure you’re receiving all the nutrients you need to be in good health, and mentally cataloguing all of your likes, dislikes, and fears to ensure that you’re comfortable when you’ve earned it and terrorized when you’ve displeased him.

Aware

“Ah, that is a problem, isn't it? What shall we do about that, indeed?”

Volo knows that you don’t love him back, and even if you do, he knows damn well that he isn’t deserving of it considering everything he’s put you through. But at the end of the day, he simply doesn’t care. He already believes he's the chosen one entitled to catching Arceus and rewriting the world, so who else could possibly be more worthy of his beloved? And what’s more, you were sent here by that merciless god to stop his heretic plans— you were sent here for him. Though having your affections and being worshipped by you like he so deserves would be nice, it’s something he can do without. So long as you’re by his side, where you belong, nothing else matters.

Manipulative

“Ah, I do beg your pardon. I suppose I must seem to be behaving strangely!”

There is not an honest bone in this man’s body.

As aforementioned, he’s pulling strings from the beginning to get you caught in situations where you’ll have to rely on him to get to safety so that you’ll start seeing him in a positive light. 

Even after he has you where he wants you, he won’t stop. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you at his side by ensuring that he’s the only person you can rely on. He’ll tarnish your reputation with Jubilife Village and the clans so that you’re isolated from anyone in Hisui who has the power to help you. He’ll allow you to get hurt in the wilderness so he can come to your rescue and prove to you just how much you need him. He’ll show just enough affection to leave you feeling conflicted— you’ll resent him for his actions, but never enough to overcome the guilt that would come with leaving him alone.

Strict

“But not to worry. There are still corners of the Hisui region where we can stash you away in secret.”

Volo wants you all to himself, and he’s not willing to share your attention or affection with anyone else, regardless of whether they’re a family member, a friend, or— Arceus forbid— something more. He already sees himself as being the one destined to remake the fabric of reality itself, so he doesn’t believe there’s any reason for you to associate with people other than him. Besides, if things go his way, you won’t remember any of them, anyway.

He’s even worse after his defeat at the Temple of Sinnoh. He disappears off the face of Hisui, and he takes you with him. In a distant, unfamiliar region, you have no choice but to find comfort in the only person you’re familiar with. At this point, all the bitterness and hatred in his heart cause him to lash at you in crueler ways than ever before, yet cling to you even tighter— a combination that is sure to leave you both crumbling in each other’s arms.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Carmy's type

I have already gone over why the C person felt attracted to him and why he allowed her to prey on him the way she did. If you wanna take a walk down memory lane, here is the post:

Now, on Carmy's part, there are more layers, of course:

IMO Carmy's type is the CHALLENGING type.

And I know what you may be thinking, that nothing was challenging about the C person because she made herself extremely available for him from the very get-go. Well, yes and no. Yes, as a young adult, she did. BUT as a teenager, there was a mutual attraction at school, and yet none of them addressed it. She thought he was too much of an introvert and he was indeed too shy. Also, IMO that reads as: Carmy was in no way, shape, or form part of the "cool kids" gang, even though he really wanted that because Mikey was, and Michael was his hero, and the C person was a nerdy girl that was trying to fit in,

Omellete | 02x09

so socializing with the stuttery, uncool, "never-had-any-girlfriends" kinda guy, wasn't gonna help her push her "fitting in" agenda, so she didn't even try.

Pop | 02x05

Therefore, the only reason why he started a relationship with C in the first place was that he wanted to get her out of his system because back in HS she did represent a challenge for him, which he couldn't face, so she was a "pending" challenge, he had the chance to cross off his list of unfinished business. Obviously, this business was unfinished because it hadn't even started to begin with, but she gave him the chance to remove her from his own bucket list:

Being popular ✅

Getting laid ✅

Dating my frustrated HS sweetheart ✅

So she represented a distraction from whom he really wants and deems out of his league -at least until he can get her that star- [because, in his head, they are not really getting it together, he's doing it for her to give it to her, it's his offering to prove himself worthy of her. Till that happens, he will feel scared shitless of really going for Syd, so he went for the consolation prize instead because it was just easier and it still meant he was taking on an old challenge he could finally overcome.]

What he liked about that relationship with C was the exit she facilitated.

So he wouldn't have to deal with his real feelings, which I already addressed in previous posts

To distract himself of whom he really wants, and he thinks he's not good enough for:

Syd.

The great news is that now he crossed C off his list, he can move on (after he fucking apologizes or can work out some kind of symbolic closure).

We all know that, by now, he knows exactly how he feels for Sydney.

Even though in the beginning he may have underestimated the depth of his feelings for her:

By the time he crawled his way out THAT panic attack, he was widely aware of exactly what she meant for him and to what lengths he was willing to go to be with her and be worthy of her love.

No wonder he "broke up" with C that same night, whether he intended to do it or not. What he said in that walk-in was on his mind anyway, and it may have come out at the wrong time in the wrong way but still, he wanted out of that relationship for sure, once he knew the place Syd had in his heart.

No more amusement and enjoyment, diversion and entertainment:

It was time to get serious and really take on ALL his new challenges, facing them head on.

Hear me out:

His type is: CHALLENGING and Syd is exactly that for him.

The new challenges he took on, because he LOOOOOVES challenges to re-validate himself through them, are the restaurants. Yes, plural.

First, The Beef:

Then The Bear:

Then Syd's star:

The daily rotating menu:

In other words:

SYD

Because all those paths lead to her in one way or another, they are all synonyms in his head. They all represent his love for her and all he does because of her.

Even when he was working on trying to flip The Beef and elevate it, he only could do it because he teamed up with Syd, he couldn't do it with the team against him.

Syd was the game changer and that's why she became his new challenge eventually. That inspiration, drive, and PURPOSE he got from her, were what ended up making him fall in love with her.

Bonus track: I already mentioned this on my meta, as shown above, but it BEARS repeating, that when they get the star he will make his move. So that takes us straight to S4.

Moreover, he has to, to break his own pattern and grow.

So, he will see himself as finally worthy of Syd, once he gets the star for her (like I said, in his head, they are not doing it together, he's doing it for her). Let's not forget that reality is distorted for him, due to trauma. But that's changing because he broke down and survived, he faced his nemesis and made it in one peace, and he got HIS closure,

so as long as he doesn't lose Syd in the process he's gonna be fine next season. And we know he didn't lose her, we know she stayed. She chose him over Shapiro. S4 is gonna be all about his and their recovery.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[iwonderwh0]

I like the idea of Hank discovering about Amanda not as something new and unexpected, but rather the missing piece of information the existence of which he kinda deducted himself from all the evidence in Connor's behaviour that is really evident of there being someone to cause it to be the way it is. At first Hank just takes a note of some weird reactions like excessive defensiveness when questioned about something that Connor himself for some reason assumes to be worthy of feeling guilty about and over-explain himself even when it's something neutral, in fact, like getting distracted from something "more important". Same with completely "unmotivated" attempts to hide something, him stopping himself from talking when he has, in fact, a lot to say assuming ahead of the time that he won't be listened as it's not important enough if it isn't directly affecting some of his actions towards their current "main objective". Taking blame for things outside of his control as well as getting frustrated about them on some really personal level as if genuinely believing that he's somehow responsible and Hank must be angry and disappointed with him for those things happening. Unprompted "confession-sessions" and on the contrary lie about things that don't really make much sense to lie about.

Basically all the evidence of behaviour of someone who was in really toxic relationships with huge power imbalance. Something that although ended still followed him into the way he perceives all the relationships he's a part of and his role in them. Even when it's completely different he still holds some kind of expectations from what was learned before.

So, Hank gradually builds up his suspicions about there being someone important in Connor's life before instead of just abstract idea of CyberLife, and when he finally learns that, yes indeed, he's internally like "I knew it. I fucking knew it."

[lisa-grdjc]

more NegaPosi angler thoughts…🎣

practically dissecting the entire scene (as painful as it is) atp but i simply can’t get over the way their body language and expressions are animated throughout their argument and compiled all the random little things that just… really got to me (⬆️). like. how it starts off so subtle, with an averted gaze, some fidgeting. and it keeps us on edge, bc we know they’re bound to reach a breaking point if they keep chipping away at each other’s patience (spoiler they do, a few secs later—)

(what’s also so satisfying to me is how clean and consistent the animation has been overall and im not exaggerating when i say each frame is screenshot-worthy. gotta appreciate a top tier animation especially for such an underrated gem ; its one of the many strengths of the series and i had to point that out even tho it’s not really what i wanted to talk abt in this very self-indulgent post)

indeed there were times where i was momentarily distracted and couldn’t rly focus on the dialogues so i had to replay some parts—and im not ashamed to admit it was whenever takaaki was on screen. cuz i was too busy staring at him and his lethal face card—(actually that’s been my problem in every episode since he’s been introduced, seriously, he’s attractive as fuck, and his voice and its playful, velvety lilt is to die for, ok? but. it’s different in that episode’s case)

bc i believe this is the first time we’re seeing takaaki looking so pained and angry and violent after having known him for almost ten eps out of twelve being sunshine incarnate and the sweetest guy you could ever imagine—and it shook me to my core.

im a simple person. basically, kind characters who’ve always been depicted as cheerful and carefree (often wth a sad backstory and traumatic past) who suddenly find themselves wth said past catching up to them and you can see the very moment their facade starts to crumble apart—that shit does smth to me and boy do i eat it up every goddam time. it hurts so good.

so yeah seeing that kind of devastated look on takaaki’s face caused me the emotional whiplash of the century and im positive it also chemically altered sth in my brain.

mind you this is all without mentioning how he was fighting with a (dying) person who means so much to him and whom he cares about more than anything and how it must’ve been tearing him apart to hear those words coming out of hiro’s mouth with his little brother’s death still plaguing him and—

yea im not ok

[hualianisms]

TGCF Audio Drama Ep 12 pt 2: XL gambles himself in exchange for one night of HC's company

[context: see part 1 translation. basically, after the Gambler's Den dice-throwing scene, SQX & LQQ need a distraction to investigate Ghost City, so XL gambles against HC to cause a distraction. XL asked for HC to accompany him for one night as the prize if XL wins. HC has just agreed.]

HC: Alright.

Ghosts: (shocked) Chengzhu agreed!

HC: However, what this gege seeks is of considerable value. It's also my first time.* Accordingly, the stake you bet on must also not be arbitrary.

XL: Of course, it cannot be arbitrary.

HC: However, there's a small matter gege must be reminded of. The last thing gege has on his person, he has already lost to me yesterday.

XL: Ah… Yes indeed. Please wait. I will search again. …Um… I…. Here… (searches his sleeves and pockets and finds nothing)

Ghost 1: I say, Daozhang, if you really have nothing to gamble with, why not just use your clothes to gamble with? Every time you lose one round, take off one layer of clothes!

HC to ghost 1: Shut up.

Ghost maiden: Daozhang, what is that which you're wearing on your neck?

XL: (takes out the necklace of HC's ashes) Are you referring this?

Ghost maiden: This ring looks like a really amazing treasure.

XL's thoughts: This is what San Lang gave me…

HC: This gege, do you wish to bet on this ring, and gamble with me in a game of victory or defeat?

XL: …I can't do that.

HC: Oh? Why not?

XL: This item is far too precious, it cannot be carelessly handled and disposed of.

HC: It's been given to you, so it's yours to do with as you please. Why can't it be carelessly handled?

XL: That's all the more reason I can't. This is the kind of gift I do not accept. If I do accept it, then of course I must treasure it, only then I can be worthy of the sincere intentions behind it. How can I possibly use it to gamble, and squander it away frivolously?

Ghosts: So that's how it is, there's even these sincere intentions behind the gift!

Ghost Maiden: But this can't be used, that can't be used, then Daozhang, what do you have left?

XL: (Sheepishly) …It seems… The only thing left is me.

HC: Alright.

XL: (blinks) …What?

HC: You.

Ghost maiden 1: Wonderful! If you lose, you can sell yourself and come here to wash clothes and fold bedsheets for old Chengzhu, serve tea and pour water for him!

Ghosts: What a great idea! Yeah! Yeah!

SQX: You'd better not agree. This bet has no winning odds!

XL: Alright, I will place my bet!

HC: (chuckles) Great.

Ghosts: Xiao Daozhang, you will definitely lose!

SQX: (gloomily) This time, we're really done for!

XL to SQX: Don't worry. This time I might not lose. You guys, go quickly [to investigate Ghost City].

[Translation notes:]

*This line is likely also innuendo (subtextually). the CN line here literally means "It's also the first time for me", which on the surface mean HC's first time accepting such a request. But the subtext seems to imply it can also mean HC's first time (sexually). The ghosts clearly interpreted the sexual meaning as they were gossiping later in this episode that "Someone wants to gamble for Chengzhu's 初夜!" 初夜 refers to "wedding night" i.e. the first night of a marriage where the marriage is expected to be consummated for the first time.

Essentially HC is saying, since XL wants something of such great value' (HC's company; subtext implying HC's first time), then XL must also give something of equal value i.e. "You". I interpret it as HC deliberately trying to leverage the value/rarity of XL's request as an excuse to get something just as intimate from XL in return. The way HC said "You." was so slow and seductive hahaha

Bonus: there's also a part later in this episode where the ghosts are gossiping and hilariously misinterpreted. A ghost said "I heard that Chengzhu's brother wants to gamble him and steal away his wedding night" (aka first time) 😭 As that line is from the uncensored revised novel, I assume MXTX wrote it to make fun of how censorship wants to turn hualian into just Very Good Bros.

[myers-meadow]

Aftermath of the Amulet of Bhaal: Halsin x tav

Title: Aftermath of the Amulet of Bhaal

Pairing: Halsin x tav/reader.

Summary: After killing the hollyphant and impressing the Murder Tribunal, you've gained the Amulet of Bhaal. Perhaps you should've taken a different path to getting to Orin and getting Lae'zel back, but you didn't. Now you're at camp, bloodied and disgusting, and you only want Halsin.

Based on my playthrough and my tav, who is a tiefling. I describe that they have long hair and horns. The smut is vague enough that no descriptors or anatomy is described. Established Astarion and Halsin romance.

Warnings: 18 +, mild smut at the end. Tav is not a good person.

Wordcount: 1800

Divider by Saradika-graphics

You return to camp covered in blood. The jitters of fear still have you feeling jumpy, and all your companions show their disapproval at the most recent completed quest. The amulet of Bhaal hangs heavy wrapped around your wrist. It would take nights upon nights to forget their expressions, their words. Astarion, who was with you as you bathed in the Murder Tribunal's pool of blood, seems less shaken. Somehow, despite sharing so much with him, you keep away that night. You yearn for another's comforting words. The only one you can stand right now is Halsin.

"I hope aquiring that amulet was the lesser of two evils," is all he says, and his tone holds the faith he has in you. It's more than you deserve.

You sigh heavily, feeling his eternally kind gaze on you, his desire to want to assume the best case scenario. "I'm- I need a bath. Will you join me? If you don't mind, I'd like to have your company."

When he silently agreed, a great relief washed over you. Not feeling up for soiling the waters of a bath house with the amount of flaking blood that dried on your skin and in your hair, you opt for the river, quite a ways outside of the city. It was a secluded spot, just over the hill, the part of nature you camped nearby before reaching the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Halsin senses your desire for quiet, and he doesn't break the silence between the two of you. Wading in the river is almost a shock to your system with the cold of the water. Halsin stays behind on the river bed to undress properly, but you don't bother. Only after you got the worst of the blood from the armour did you take each piece off. The blood's seeped into every small crevice it seems. What you don't take off, is the amulet. Taking care not to wet your hair, you scrub thoroughly. Your mood improves as the water around you tints pink.

Halsin looks at you curiously, and you raise your eyebrows at him. You lean down to splash your face with water.

"Is it better now?" you ask, wiping the water from your eyes and rubbing behind your ears.

"Well..." he says, trying to find a kind way to say it, "your hair is still red."

"Oh." is all you manage. "Of course."

Then you laugh, and he joins you. You wade to the riverbed to undo the ribbon and the pins and let your hair down, untying the long braid.

"Have the others told you what happened?" you ask, with your head upside down, scrubbing at your scalp.

"Only the basics." He's letting you tell your side of things. A pang goes through you as you realise his consideration for you, his trust.

"We found Sarevok, who is... frightening. I don't even remember the conversation, I was too distracted by how to get through it. Maybe he got me wrong, perhaps the Emperor interfered for Bhaal to have deemed me worthy, or perhaps I have indeed killed as many as they deemed enough." You flip your hair back and look your lover in the eye. "Gods know I've killed more than my share."

You finish up washing your hair, wringing it out as you step onto the grass. Halsin is waiting for you, sitting up, leaning on his elbows. Usually, you'd be eager to drape yourself atop of him, skin to skin, but not now. There was more to be said.

"Somehow I convinced Sarevok of something evil, and he said I was worthy of becoming an 'Unholy Assasin'. As amusing as the title is, long story short, I killed the hollyphant and he had me bathe in a pool of blood."

Your love nodded. He reached out to pull you to him, and you gladly fell into his arms.

"We weren't even looking for the murder tribunal, we were just looking to get Lae'zel back... None of us were prepared to fight, but that doesn't even matter." Finally you force yourself to look at him. Take his head in your hands. "You expected better of me. Better, like we did in the Shadow-cursed Lands, in Moonrise. I've disappointed you, and many of the others."

He presses his palm to your hand, leaning into your touch like a dog eager for praise. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. You were there, we weren't, we have little right to judge."

You recoil at his words, his understanding tone. "No! Halsin- no. By all rights, you should break up with me. I killed a holy being! This is not the person you admire. You and your big heart... You like me because I didn't take the easy way out back then, you liked my courage, my determination to do what was right. Truthfully, this is who I am. I knew it was wrong, and I knew I should have pushed through, no matter how scared I was of Sarevok, but I didn't. We've fought worse foes, with worse odds. Yet I took the easy way out, just because it was the path of the least resistance."

He remains silent after your tirade.

You scoff (recognising the same tone that Astarion uses when you're kind to him, he's rubbing off on you). "Your heart is too big."

"If it's so big, there certainly is space for you." He seems unperperturbed.

Somehow, through the anger, falsely directed outward, a sob shakes your shoulders.

"I'm not a good person." You wipe at your eyes. Halsin's thick arm encircles you as he pulls you to his warm chest. Skin on skin.

"You always tell me I should be more selfish in what I want," His voice is light. Then, just a murmur right by your ear; "you should trust me more, in my judgement, in my loyalty."

You smile bitterly. "If you know me so well, you know I'll let you do anything. Even though you deserve better, I'll forever be the selfish one."

With a big hand on the back of your head, he holds you steady as he kisses you deeply. He keeps it up until he's completely stolen your breath away, heaving chests pressed against each other, lips to a forehead, silence and the moon and the trees reflected in the river besides you.

As soon as you open your mouth to say something else, to object to his kindness, he kisses you again, deeper, until you're clutching your arms around his neck tightly. With his free hand, he pulls at your skin, kneading lovehandles, waist, thighs, breast, shoulderblade. You feel mallable when you're with him, but in a good way. Like clay that can be so beautiful if it's treated right, if someone were to look past the grey shapelessness, to see your potential. Not like with Astarion, you can't help but think, as Halsin sucks on your tongue. Halsin growls softly. With Astarion, you feel like a puppet, a doll for him to dress up, to have you positioned on a shelf all nice and sweet, waiting for him to come by and take you down and play with you.

Halsin allows you to pull back, you're panting hard.

"Halsin..."

"Say you'll have me. Say you'll be mine," he says, breathless. "Allow me this selfishness, if nothing else."

You smile and nip at his lip. With how tightly you're pressed against him, you feel the jut of elbows, and are surprised to realise that that limb is yours. "Anything for you."

He laughs deeply now, his joy juts at your belly. You're warmed by the realisation that perhaps his words are true. His affections and arousal certainly feel as true as anything. The kiss turns hungrier, it grows teeth. You tug at his hair, and let him consume you. He's fond of your horns too, using them to guide you to him again and again. With a hand wrenched in between your bodies, you touch his weeping cock. Are you in his lap? It feels like it, but the world is spinning. You'd only have to lift your hips and sink down on him...

"Fuck, I don't deserve you," you curse, brows knitted together, Halsin bites at the tender flesh of your neck. It feels like completement. Like a reward for something good you must've done in a past life. Everything but him fades. His hot breath on the shell of your ear makes you whine. He's so beautiful.

"I'll have you forever, if you let me," he says. He tastes you again, deeply, deeply. You're not exactly setting a pace, as both of you are too concerned with being close, but somehow it feels better than anything in the world. You moan instead of answer.

"More, more..."

"It's never enough for you, is it?" He laughs. Perhaps there is a mean streak in him yet.

He fulfills all your wishes. His fingers dig into your hips painfully, adding edge to the pleasure. You need him to be your rhythm, your heartbeat. After another wet, messy kiss, he blinks up at you and the gold shows through. It drives you wild to see how much he's still holding back, even as he's leaving bruises in his wake. The pleasure grows and grows, stretching thin like a worn down thread - until it snaps. It happens so suddenly it makes your head swim. He follows not long after, chests bumping into one another. Sweat sticks to your shared skin, like two slugs who've temporarely become one, fluid dissolving the barrier between you.

Halsin lets himself fall backward, taking you down with him, and you laugh. Still, he holds you close, arms wrapped around you. The soreness sets in immediately after, as the glow fades. When you move your head to look up at your lover, you feel the love bites he left behind. Nothing ever disgusts him, you think, not the sweat, nor the drool, nor the blood. With a finger, you trace the features of his face. Sweat cools in the night air. He smiles under your attentions. You wonder if he loves you. You wonder if he knows just how fond you are of him.

His voice is a rumble as he speaks again. "Do you see now, my heart?"

You hum something that doesn't mean anything, but somehow that is enough for him.

"Kiss me," he says, voice but a whisper. Hazy, you lean up and kiss him properly. He lets you take the lead this time. After, you rest your head on his chest, his chest hair soft against your cheek. He plays with your hair, traces your horns. Sleepiness overcomes you, and your love shushes you until you've slipped away entirely.

[privateanxieties]

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 1)

Summary: For what it's worth, you don't know the man who's pointing the gun at your face. It's strange how one goes from bakery owner getting robbed to wanted fugitive. Oh, and then there's the target you put on your own back by associating with one Frank Castle. Surprisingly, you two have a lot in common.

Words: 4.1K

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For what it's worth, you don't know the man who’s pointing the gun at your face. It is difficult, in these circumstances, to convince yourself that this was somehow brought on by choices made in the past, even with the sophisticated talent you have for self-condemnation. He's not a disgruntled ex-boyfriend, or an unstable relative you sassed one too many times over Thanksgiving dinner. He isn’t one of your past mistakes. He's just some guy. 

He's aiming an M1911 somewhere below your clavicles and shouting words you've never been on the receiving end of, and in the time it takes him to do so, you're successful in finding one good thing about this whole experience: at least he isn't making one of your employees stare down the barrel, even if they have to watch you do it from a few feet away. Eliza and Ramón are adults, enrolled in the local college and with bills to pay, but to you they may as well be children. 

The man has a stutter you only notice when he calls you a bitch for the second time, deeming you too fucking slow in emptying the cash register into his bag. You wonder how he reached the conclusion that four hundred dollars would be worth the hassle. Who robs a bakery on a Saturday morning? People sleep in, especially in a small town. Or, most people do. The dark-haired man sitting all the way in the back with a half-eaten stack of pancakes looks wide awake. You don't know him either, but you don't think he's from around here. 

It's weird, in a way, that you aren't really thinking about what's happening in front of you. A bubble has fogged up your attention, and all that you remark upon is how the mellow 80’s playlist you picked out for today hasn't abruptly stopped playing. Thus, you'll always remember the current song as the soundtrack to your first time getting robbed. While you gather the bills from their slots in the register, it strikes you that you didn't have a song for other firsts in life. Not that there were that many worthy of background music. If anything, this feels fitting precisely because you couldn't have predicted which song would be playing when some asshole would pull his gun on you. What used to be lyrical perfection to you will likely ring a little apropos, from now until forever. You will, indeed, be waiting on a sunny day after this — many thanks to Bruce Springsteen for distracting you. 

"Are you deaf, bitch? Move it over. " 

The bubble evaporates. Yeah. Real grateful. 

You're going to do as he asks, because you are not alone. You won’t risk any lives, even if the Colt's safety has been on this entire time. You wonder if it's even his gun, by the way his hand curls around it clumsily. No real, hardened criminal would get so close when they have a ranged weapon, and maybe you’re right, but you won't take your chances. Speed in retrieving your own weapon is not the issue here — it's that if you do, you have to use it. You're not so sure it's the best course of action, even if the skin at your back itches against the warm metal nestled there. 

He's young. He didn't even bother covering his face, and the eye-watering lime green of his jacket is the very opposite of stealth wear. Maybe he's desperate, or maybe this is his first time too, though you don't think it'll be his last, especially since you've so far let it go smoothly for him.

You pause. This will give him the confidence to do it again some time, with someone else. Someone who isn't trying as hard as you to keep their impulses in check. Someone who doesn't have any urges at all, acting only on adrenaline and principles. 

You've always believed you weren't made out of the same things others were, and that's always proved true in the most unflattering ways. When you were followed home eight years ago and instead of freezing in fear, your body fought back until the skin barely clung to your stalker's face. When your first boss out of high school cornered you next to a dumpster to ask for a favor in return for the loan he'd given you, one that you'd already paid back, and he found himself short a couple of inches— terrible for him, because that was pretty much all he'd had. 

When Mark Davidson, a name you'd never forget, tricked your grandmother into signing away her house, and then his own turned to embers just two days later. It doesn't take you long to make a decision. It didn't take Mark very long to figure out the culprit behind his real estate mishap either, but only one of you walked away from the old quarry in that faded industrial town. 

There is, you realize, a choice being presented here. None of the other instances felt this ambiguous; either you fought, or you went along with an injustice and suffered for it. Plenty of people fight back out of a desire to protect themselves and their property, and plenty more do the exact opposite out of a desire to keep their lives. You aren't sure where you fit in this particular situation. The past has taught you time and again that you're part of the people who fight, but that has only ever resulted in a trail of smoke and no place to call home, because while fighting is one thing, not knowing when to stop is another.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?! I said move it over. ”

You didn’t have to do what you did. You could’ve stopped hitting when your stalker fell limp. You could’ve quit your job. Taken Mark to court instead of resorting to arson. Instead, you went with your instincts. You’re staring down the barrel again.

People catch on quickly in small towns, and having a reputation in the way that you used to is only good for warding off trouble. The bad people don't want to get close. But, neither do the nice ones. 

This is a nice town. Lively, warm. The people are bearable— even good, on occasion. Thoughts of your elderly neighbor are quick to surface, and the knowledge that Hazel expects you back home weighs heavily in favor of doing the very thing you're not used to doing. She'd be awfully disappointed if Sunday breakfast was canceled because you decided to give in to your worst impulses and fight like a rabid dog in the face of whatever provoked you. 

The man thrusts the gun even closer to your face with a slight tremor, a show of impatience. 

This is a good place to be. You never went back to industrial Auckney, and you don't want a repeat experience to follow you here like it followed you throughout the previous three towns where you tried to build a life. You don't want to have to leave. You don't want to make Hazel sad. So, you choose to let him go. You let it go. 

And just like that, you hand it over. There's no magical moment, no switch that flips. Making a decision that goes against your every instinct is a learning experience. You're not sure how suited you are to this new path. 

From there, things are quick to end. Once he's got a hold of the money, he backs out of the modest premises all wild-eyed, looking like he expects the cops to pull up at any moment. He's watched too much TV. Nobody even called them. A moment later, he takes off running down the street, green jacket like a neon sign against the stretch of asphalt. 

Breathe.  

Your rigid fingers unglue themselves from the counter's laminate surface and you finally turn your back, the gesture bordering on unnatural. As you do, your gaze settles on Eliza first. A nineteen year old girl with a frame that could be blown away by the wind is looking right through you, her fingers moving erratically against the blacked out touch screen of her phone. 

Five small steps bring you to her. You try to steady her shaking form while removing the phone from her hands. 

"Hey, it's okay. It's over, he's gone," you reassure her, but her breathing has picked up too quickly to go back down with just a few kind words. 

"Need to— I need to call the police. I—" 

Your hands find her shoulders as you hold eye contact and try to soothe her to the best of your ability. 

"You don't need to do anything other than breathe. I'll handle this. If you want to call someone, call a friend to come pick you up and drive you home. Ramón, you too. Take a few days off." 

The college junior throws you the strangest look you've seen in a while, but he too is shaken enough that he doesn't have the energy or the will to protest. 

"Come on. Go sit down for a bit. Both of you," you tell them, reaching under the counter for a bottle of water that you hand Ramón, silently gesturing towards the back room. A different environment would be good for wracked nerves. 

The two make their way towards the kitchen, and your eyes soften at the way Eliza has leaned into Ramón's embrace, quiet sniffles soon cut off by the stainless steel door. You aren't breathing quite right yourself, but you can live with it until things are settled. You can. You have to, because you aren't leaving this town. Not over some prick with shaky hands and horrible judgment. 

"Ma'am?" 

Instinct surges, and this time you can't force it back down. Fingers drawn to the Kimber's grip at your back, the movement feels almost liberating when you turn on your heel and lock target onto what startled you. Not that you'd ever admit it. You can't believe you didn't hear him coming until he was right there, staring at you with narrowed eyes. The dark-haired man in the back. Your only other witness. 

His hands go up in the universal gesture of surrender — or at least no harm intended — but it's too late. You've pulled a gun on a customer, and despite the fact that you kept your finger off the trigger, the damage is done. Lowering the weapon feels like a personal failure. You should've done this to the right person, less than three minutes ago. The man who's now in front of you has nothing to do with your misguided choice. 

But, he isn't leaving. Despite what you just did, he's looking at you in a way you can't decipher. Maybe he's one of those people who are hard to read, or easy to misread . Is it concern, or something else? On second thought, maybe you don't really care, unless he is a local and you've just tipped your hand in the long run. He certainly doesn’t look like the type of person to settle down in a place like this. If he’s just passing through, you can live with putting a gun in his face, as long as no one else saw you do it. 

"You alright?" 

The question surprises you, as does the way he asks it — genuinely enough, but the look he's pairing it with makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. He's watching too closely. There's too much knowledge behind his eyes, and something within you stirs uncomfortably. You don't even try for innocent. Instead, you put the .45 back where it came from and sigh, looking as dejected as possible. It isn't hard to do. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I'm a little jumpy after… all that." 

The man takes in your words quietly, a single nod his only response. 

"Hell of a quick draw, that." 

You blink in surprise. Answering the remark is tricky. Is it praise, or judgment? Both? What do you say to either? You can't let too much time pass before you answer, as that would be an answer in itself. You settle on hiding the truth in plain sight. 

"Probably wondering why I didn't do that earlier, huh?" you ask, a nervous huff coloring your words. You lean on the counter separating you from the man, painting yourself a version of fragile that you hope translates well to his watchful eyes. But, to your dismay, he shakes his head, scanning you even more closely than before. 

"Nah. You had kids in here. Couple bucks ain't worth dying for. You did the right thing." 

It's not what you want to hear. It's also not something you think he's entitled to say, as though he's some kind of authority figure. What makes him so sure this was the right thing to do? You don't think it was. The more time elapses between now and the robbery, the more regret pools in your chest. You're having a hard time with the follow-through part of your decision to let it go, and he is most definitely not helping. 

The vexation makes your jaw tighten and the corner of your mouth turn down just so, and the all-knowing eyes studying you take notice. The words spill out before your brain can catch the mistake. 

"I don't see a badge on you, mister." 

It only takes him a second to pick up on the scorn in your remark, but to your great annoyance, he doesn't seem offended. On the contrary, the smirk rising to the surface suggests sardonic amusement. It also paints his face with the kind of insufferable attractiveness you’ve always been agitated by. 

"Should be glad about that. A cop probably would've done something stupid. He'd have gotten someone shot, tryna be a hero." He speaks words you can't help but feel are directed more at you than a theoretical police officer. Yet again, you don't bite your tongue, speaking with the same stiffness in your jaw. 

"Maybe. Or maybe he'd have just shot him down before the guy could pull the safety back on his own gun." 

"So why didn't you?" he counters immediately, the low timbre of his voice almost making his words vibrate through you. 

You breathe in sharply through your nose. The challenge in his tone is more curiosity than genuine provocation, but it still doesn't sit well alongside your growing frustration. Another veiled truth finds its way past your lips as you hold his hardened gaze. 

"Like you said. Couple bucks ain't worth dying for." 

He considers your answer for a moment or two, and then it's as if something hidden from view pulls his features into a different scene. A softer look takes hold, and on a man of his size and projected disposition, it looks almost out of place. Almost. You're not sure if the sudden change means he knows you weren't talking about yourself. 

He shuffles on his feet imperceptibly — not a mark of discomfort so much as it is, you suspect, restlessness. He clears his throat once, and then his eyes are no longer on you. 

"You uh, gonna call the cops any time soon?"

At his question, your gaze follows his a few inches to the right, where Eliza's phone rests atop the counter. It's where you placed it intentionally, so that she'd forget about what she wanted to do. And from the way he asked, you wonder if he's onto you about that.

"I'll file a report later. No need for them to show up. Not like they're gonna catch him," you say dismissively, finally leaning away from the counter and straightening your posture. You put some distance between you and him by taking one step back, wordlessly signaling that you’re done talking and hoping he's astute enough to pick up on body language cues. The slightest pursing of his lips tells you he is. Conversation over. 

He lingers only one more moment before he offers a final nod in your direction, turning in a distinctly controlled way that reeks of military habit and walking off. Only, he stops just short of reaching the door, and his hesitation makes the tension in your jaw return. He doesn't fully look back at you as he speaks. 

"It'll give those kids peace of mind. You should call 'em." 

You hold back a scoff. 

"Are you familiar with the cops in this town?" you drawl, a twinge of sarcasm flowing off your tongue. 

"No, ma'am. Can't say I am." 

The half-smirk you can still glimpse pulling at his lips beckons you to wipe it off, but you manage to hold back. He's almost out the door, anyway. 

"Well, for the record… We'd be safer with a labrador for defense. At least it's got teeth."

"That right?" he grins as if you've tickled his funny bone. He doesn't seem to have all that stellar of an opinion about the police either, if his jab about the theoretical cop is anything to go by. He's still not looking at you, and you don't understand what the hell he's stalling for. Typically, anyone witnessing what he did a little while ago would be out the door the minute it was over. And yet, here he stands, after you pointed a gun at him. Still.

"Yeah, that's right," you confirm, hoping this is finally the end of the exchange. 

It sure seems that way for a short moment of blessed silence.

"Is that why you picked a Warrior?"

His eyes finally veer towards you, smile completely gone. The muscles in your back are suddenly taut once more, and your lungs fill with air they greedily keep for a few seconds longer than they ought to. You don't know what to say. You're not sure why he's bringing up the model of your firearm, like he isn't even bothered that you shoved it in his face earlier. Maybe he's not. Maybe he's a weirdo. Maybe you're trying to convince yourself he doesn't know exactly what you're thinking, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

A scowl fights for control of your features as your hands twitch by your sides. You're still high on anger and guilt and growing resentment for not doing what you were itching to do earlier. Right next to those feelings, the desire to preserve the image it's taken you four years to build is putting up its own fight, albeit much less valiantly. You just want to be alone with your thoughts. Just a moment where you don't have to pretend. You don't know how long you have before your employees return from the kitchen.

"I don't follow," is what you say instead of telling him to get the hell out already.

It's not the right thing to say, because he fixes you with an unimpressed look and takes a couple of steps back inside. You've never had your bullshit called this efficiently, let alone by someone who doesn't know you.

"They didn't name it that 'cause it's meant for defense . And that ain't no standard issue you got there. I'm just— Look,"

You can't resist the urge to make a fist when he closes the distance again, ending up right back where he started. The only thing separating you once more is the service counter, but with the way he's staring you down, it might as well not exist. He looks away briefly, like he isn't sure he's going to say whatever words are already forming on his lips.

"It's none of my business. I get that. But I know that look in your eye, 'cause I've seen it a hundred times before. So I'm just gonna lay it out, alright?" he says, not asking or waiting for permission. "You're gonna go home tonight, and you're gonna toss and turn and not sleep 'til dawn thinkin' about what happened here. And you're gonna want to even the scales, or whatever bullshit you're telling yourself right now. But I'm telling you not to. Once it starts, that shit never ends. It follows you everywhere. Every goddamn place you set foot in."

The gruff voice, steady and so determined it infiltrates some deep part of your mind, softens on the very end of the sentence that you have no doubt will be the thing you'll actually think about tonight.

It follows you everywhere.

You should've told him to fuck off ten minutes ago. If you had, you wouldn't be standing here, trembling in anger. Or, at least, not this type of anger. The air you forcibly breathe out does not ease the tension.

Whatever desire to hold back that was present before is overpowered in its entirety by one single element. One thing that could easily define your life up until this point, and probably in perpetuity: not knowing when to back the fuck down. If he wants to have a go, well, who are you to deny him?

"Getting awfully personal there for someone whose name I don't even know. Sure you're not projecting a tiny bit?" you incise, a pitying pout meant to yank his chain blooming on your lips.

"Is that why your finger's twitching?" he shoots back, gaze locked on to the left hand resting by your side, except for the consistent movement of one particular finger. You abruptly stop, but it's hard for knowing eyes to mistake a trigger itch for anything else.

He knows that you know that he knows what you're thinking.

"Look, mister," you begin, absent a polite tone. "Whatever you think I am or am not going to do, you're right: it is none of your business. But seeing as it's so important to you, let me give you some peace of mind ." Throwing his words back at him makes you feel better, like you're slowly gaining an upper hand in whatever battle this nonsensical exchange is.

Pausing, you lean a little closer to him unnecessarily, an air of defiance permeating the space between you. You're sure it's both him and you contributing to it. You bite the inside of your cheek briefly right before you open your mouth again.

The distinct squeak of the back door swinging open halts the flow of words before it even begins, and Eliza soon enters your peripheral vision. For one short moment, the interruption riles you up, but you realize that this is the best way to ensure he fucks off once and for all. Just focus on someone else. Anyone else. You're happy to avoid that unnerving stare for the rest of your life.

Your stand-off finally ends when the young woman reaches your side, and you break your gaze away from the man's in order to give Eliza your attention, as well as to clearly send the message he's been having trouble getting. You aren't interested in his lecture, or the way you can still feel his eyes on you for a few more seconds after you've looked away.

It's only as you talk to Eliza about having her mother pick her up that you finally hear the man's quiet sigh of defeat, though it sounds more frustrated than upset to your ears. Good.

Then, just when you think he's given up, a hand slaps against the counter with a crinkling sound, the familiarity of it leaving no room for interpretation. You're about to throw him a look and sass him about having already paid for his meal, but before you can, he's already started walking off.

Your lips purse as you watch him exit the building, gait once again reminiscent of military custom. It's self-assured yet stiff, and you're pretty convinced at this point that he must've served. Whatever. Some rando with a chip on his shoulder has no business getting a rise out of—

As you look back at Eliza, a cursory glance to the bills he laid down has your muscles tensing again, and you resist the urge to go out after him. It's not the four hundred-dollar notes that piss you off. How he knew the exact amount handed over in the robbery wasn't much of a surprise to you, what with how keenly he’d watched everything unfold.

It's the two singles laid out on top of the pile that really get under your skin, a simple message he went out of his way to send.

Couple bucks ain't worth dying for.

.

.

-to be continued-

A/N: I'm in my Frank Castle era so strap in folks. I love soft!Frank but we're going to be getting a lot of asshole!Frank in this one, which I argue has the potential to be even more delicious. We'll have fluff, smut and all the goodness of Frank and Reader antagonizing each other while being mad about each other. Chapter 2 is ready to post for Friday!