#and times where I should be writing I wasn't writing

[oceanicwriting]

my shirt.

summary: you and theodore have been dating for a few weeks now. one afternoon, he walks into your room without knocking, finding your body stretched out on the bed. what's so bad? you're only wearing his t-shirt and black underwear.

pairing(s): theodore nott x fem!reader

a/n: i was working on something a little more fun (theodore nott x vampire is coming), but it's taking me a little longer to write, so i brought something shorter for now. enjoy!

+18 smut, cowgirl, praising, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤ your body feels heavy, dragging your feet around the room as you lazily take off your uniform. you're not careful where the clothes fall, but that herbology exam had consumed any trace of energy left inside your body, and you just wanted to take the longest nap ever.

ㅤㅤㅤ you search for some pajamas in the dresser, but you can't find any clean ones. then, you spot the shirt theodore had forgotten the last time he slept with you. when you take it in your hands you can smell the soft notes of his cologne and decide to put it on to lie down in bed with your walkman headphones playing the music tape your boyfriend had given you.

ㅤㅤㅤ theodore, on the other hand, was on his way to your room after finishing his quidditch training. he really wanted to see you because he knew how exhausting your last Herbology exam had been. when he gets to your door, he makes a move to knock. however, he stops suddenly, thinking... after being in your bedroom so many times, would he still knock on the door? and maybe just for that one time, he should have knocked.

ㅤㅤㅤ you're lying on the bed wearing one of his t-shirts and black panties with a thin line of lace embracing your butt. even though he had seen you in skimpy clothes more than once, he had never seen you wearing one of his clothes and, for some reason, his body reacts to the attraction of your figure like never before.

ㅤㅤㅤ theodore leaves his bag next to the door, approaching you with stealthy steps. when he notices that you have the walkman headphones on, he carefully takes them off and gently moves your body to wake you up. it wasn't difficult because you're not a deep sleeper.

ㅤㅤㅤ —theo —you greet with a sleepy voice—. what are you doing here?

ㅤㅤㅤ he smiles, making your heart race at the tender gesture.

ㅤㅤㅤ —just checking on you. —theodore makes room on the bed, hugging you and kissing your face carelessly—. so?

ㅤㅤㅤ —it was exhausting, —you say, playing with his hair as his kisses move down your neck, making you laugh between your words—. you’re a little more affectionate today, aren’t you?

ㅤㅤㅤ you can hear the small growl that leaves his lips, feeling his hands move down to your waist.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what’s wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤ theodore pulls out from the crook of your neck, showing off his disheveled hair and pleading gaze. you can’t help but smile at the way his hands tangle in his shirt, pulling you until you crash against his pelvis and feel the hardness of his crotch.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you’re wearing my shirt. —you nod slowly, rubbing yourself against him—. and it looks so fucking cute on you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you think so? —you whisper against his lips—. or are you biased by something else?

ㅤㅤㅤ theodore laughs.

ㅤㅤㅤ —biased by your beauty. nothing more.

ㅤㅤㅤ you hug his neck, pulling him towards your face to kiss him softly. the movement of his mouth against yours is as calm as you had expected, slowly deepening the feeling of butterflies exploding in your stomach at the simple contact. your entire body itches at the way his hands press on your waist, demanding and strong.

ㅤㅤㅤ then, straddling one leg over him, you turn to straddle his bulge. theodore cups your cheek with one of his hands, preventing you from pulling away when he intensifies the kiss with the intrusion of his tongue. your hips, on the other hand, begin to move against him.

ㅤㅤㅤ there’s a wave of soft moans and gasps colliding every time you part to catch your breath. theodore pulls off his shirt shortly after he sits you on top of him, breaking the kiss with ragged breaths. he moves his hands up from your waist to the softness of your breasts, squeezing and playing with your hardened nipples.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i think if you wore my shirts more often i’d lose my mind, —he whispers, as you moan at the feeling of his cold rings hitting your skin—. my girl.

ㅤㅤㅤ you make a move to take off the garment, but he stops you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i want to fuck you with this on.

ㅤㅤㅤ the simple comment sends a heat to your wet core, and you unbutton theodore's pants to free his erect member.

ㅤㅤㅤ —come here, —he says, lifting his hand for you to lick two of his fingers—. come on.

ㅤㅤㅤ you shake your head, settling yourself on his lap and grabbing his cock to guide it to your entrance. theodore is perplexed for a moment but helps you by holding your panties to the side of your entrance, where you begin to take the length of his member between soft moans.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i just want you inside me, theo.

ㅤㅤㅤ he holds your body to help you carefully take the last bit of his member, gasping at the tight feeling of your hole and losing his mind at the way your weight presses against him. his hands travel over your body, which is adjusting to his size for a while, sending thousands of electrical signals to your brain.

ㅤㅤㅤ after a while you start to move in slow circles, going up and down little by little with the help of your legs and theodore's hands, who grunts every now and then at the feeling of your panties scraping his member already soaked with your liquids.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you're doing well, baby. —one of his hands travels to your ass, squeezing it and helping you keep a rhythm that manages to stir every part of your interior—. you're doing it perfectly.

ㅤㅤㅤ the feeling of theodore filling your insides feels like touching heaven itself. it's one where all the vibrant colors dye green and happy meadows, so happy that it's impossible not to want to stay there forever.

ㅤㅤㅤ from one moment to the next, your ups and downs become faster, always being held by the strength of your boyfriend who looks at you in ecstasy between his darkened eyes. the sound of your ass crashing against his pelvis was so delicious that you couldn't stop now that you heard it louder, feeling his cock sink deeper into you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —good. just like that, —theodore says, approving the way your body shudders even more on the length of his member—. you are doing it so well.

ㅤㅤㅤ your hands must rest on his chest from the increase in speed. suddenly, theodore’s free hand grabs the bottom of your shirt to bring it to your mouth. you look at him in confusion.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i just wanna see your breasts bounce, —he says, making you giggle and agree to take the bottom of the garment between your teeth, revealing the way your breasts move with you—. shit, you’re so cute.

ㅤㅤㅤ your movements haven’t slowed down, and theodore begins to pound upwards, drawing gasps from you that flush your cheeks in embarrassment. the sensation now begins to touch every part of your body, increasing a flame of pleasure that begins to burn everywhere.

ㅤㅤㅤ theodore brings his own thumb to his mouth, licking it and directing it to your clit, applying pressure and massaging quickly. you scream against your closed mouth, moaning and sighing at the wave of emotions traveling from your pussy.

ㅤㅤㅤ you could feel it, seven strokes later, his cock twitching inside you at the imminent threat of cumming. your body was close too, clenching your muscles and gasping for air. theodore hasn’t stopped stimulating your clit, while his hips meet your movement to deepen your sounds.

ㅤㅤㅤ —so perfect, love. just a little more. just give me a little more...

ㅤㅤㅤ —t-theo, i need you to kiss me —you say, letting the shirt fall from your mouth.

ㅤㅤㅤ you don’t know how, but theodore manages to sit up while he continues to help you with the thrusts and stimulates your clit, kissing you with difficulty at the lack of stillness. the kiss is what was missing so you could feel the sensations of your body reaching their point, shaking against his cock and clenching it as you feel his hot liquid fill you completely. you were done together.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i love when you do that, —he says, kissing your face as you catch your breath—. cumming in the middle of a kiss.

ㅤㅤㅤ his mouth leaves a soft peak that makes you laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i just really love your kisses.

ㅤㅤㅤ he smiles, cleaning everything up with his shirt thrown on the floor.

ㅤㅤㅤ —will you stay with me? —you ask, letting yourself fall onto the bed as theodore leaves his shirt in the laundry. a shirt that would soon stay with you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —of course, do you think i would miss the opportunity to sleep with you in those pajamas? never.

ㅤㅤㅤ he throws himself next to you on the bed, pressing you against his chest as he forces you to tell in great detail the herbology exam, listening attentively and leaving soft kisses every now and then. that was the life you wanted to have forever.

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

You can find part two here.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 1,862

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika recognized your skills and abilities, you were an intelligent and astute bastard in an environment that being pretty was related to being naive. You knew how to use your looks to your advantage and enchant people with your words, your charisma and your talent. What was your talent? The mechanics, specifically the mechanics with Shimmer. You knew how to use the drug to your advantage, manufacture the best pieces by combining the quality of your products with the functional guarantee of shimmer. You managed to earn loyal customers who were looking for high quality prostheses, weapons and even… other types of products. You were a versatile inventor and Zaunites appreciated it. You came to the Last Drop for that particular reason that night, Sevika had summoned you for a check of her mechanical arm and a certainly special commission. You pushed your way through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and Shimmer in the air, and looked for the tall woman. You spotted her at the back, sitting with three other individuals, gambling with a cigarette between her lips and a confident smile curving them.

"Good night, Sev." You greeted, to which the woman put her attention on you, exhaling the smoke from her cigarette.

"Well, well, well... You're earlier than usual." She replied, gesturing you over. "Come; I have something to discuss with you."

Sevika shooed her gambling companions, her attention focused on you and on that brown overall that you wore at every maintenance meeting. You used to unbutton the top, revealing your arms and torso in a tank top and accentuating your waist. Certainly the fact that you were sweet to Sevika's eyes made the meetings with you more pleasant.

Sevika poured you a glass of whiskey. "Two ice cubes, and with a little soda, as you like." Said the woman, having learned your preferences after two years working for her. You put the toolbox on the table, the exclusive place where you were gave you some privacy and calm to work.

"I see that you remember my whims." You smiled, sitting down.

She pushed the glass towards you, watching you sit down. "Of course I do - I pay attention to detail." Her eyes scanned your attire, taking a quick drag of her cigarette. "You look good, as usual."

"I won't discount for flirting." You teased, leaning back against the cushions with a smug smile.

"It wasn't a flirt." She replied, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm simply making an observation."

"You either flirt or fight, don't fuck with me." You smiled, sipping your glass. "The arm's acting up again?" You asked, aiming at her mechanical left arm.

"Yeah, it's been giving me a pain in the ass." She replied, rolling her left shoulder. "Not acting like it should; slower than usual."

"Mhm, tell me more." You asked, already putting the glass down to lean and start observing the prosthetic arm.

"It's been slower to respond to movements - and the strength has been weakened. It's also... overheating a little more often than usual."

'Overheating? It must be time for a thermal paste change." You assured, taking a screwdriver to start disarming the arm. "How's the shimmer working?"

Sevika rested her arm on the tabletop for you as you got to work.

"Shimmer supply is fine - no change there." She replied. There was a noticeable difference in the movement of her arm compared to the last checkup. "But I've been feeling a little... on edge lately. Shimmer usually doesn't affect me much with its side-effects... but..."

"Mhm?"

"I've been more irritable, frustrated." She replied, watching you closely. "It's like some kind of... primal urge of something."

"Huh. You sure it's the shimmer's fault?" You asked, you couldn't contain a smile. "Or maybe you need to visit the brothel more often."

"Trust me, I've been to the Pleasure House plenty of times." She responded playfully. "But you know damn well it's not the same thing."

"Huh, really? I thought you had your fair share of girls that could satisfy you."

It was no secret that Sevika was a regular customer in the red light district of Zaun, quite mentioned in the conversations among the people for being a fairly skilled woman in bed. Much more was said about Sevika than her lethality and character, her stamina in sex was mentioned, her fondness for the most vocal women, without preference between slim and chubby, but always testing the resistance of her bed partners. She's tireless said the hookers who had provided their services to her. And with the sexual appetite of a person like Sevika, the task of satisfying her was arduous.

"Oh trust me - they satisfy me, alright." She replied, her voice huskier. "But that's not what I need." She exhaled another plume of smoke. "I need to dominate someone."

"Geez." You stopped working on her arm, you rose your brows. "Getting honest, are we?"

"Only with you." Sevika replied, keeping her eyes on you. "You're one of the few people in Zaun I tolerate."

"Well, I don't think the arm has anything to do with your... sexual frustrations." You stated. "Actually, as soon as I change the thermal paste and grease the joints, your arm will work as usual."

You worked carefully on her arm, noticing the slight tremor in Sevika's right hand.

"I think you're overdoing Shimmer again." You said, unscrewing the last part to unclasp the prosthetic arm and pull it off. You laid it carefully on the table, continuing with your work. Sevika didn't complain, she trusted you enough to end up armless before you.

"That's rich coming from you. You probably have shimmer running through your veins right now."

"Huh." You smirked. "Too much work, too little energy." You excused yourself.

"I guess I can forgive you this time." She responded, watching you work with her prosthetic. "Besides, I need you to focus. I have a commission for you."

"A commission?" Your ears perked up, taking a sip of your drink. "Alright, I'm listening."

"I need you to make me something... special." She said, her voice low and huskier. "Do you think you can manage that?"

You scoffed. "What, a pipe?" You teased, but Sevika's answer dropped your jaw.

"A strap." She replied, her eyes slowly roaming over you. "Can you make one?"

You rose your eyebrows, certainly it wasn't the first strap-on you would make but it would be the first for Sevika. Many inhabitants of Zaun asked for prostheses or toys, you were a good manufacturer and your talent with the shimmer made your pieces reliable and high quality, but you certainly did not expect this type of request from Sevika.

You swallowed. "Sure, sure. I can." You said, your gaze fixed on the prosthetic arm.

"Good." She leaned back in her chair, taking another drag of her cigarette before continuing. "There are a few... specifications I want for it."

"I'm listening." you mumbled, annoyed with the way your cheeks blushed.

"7.5 inches, and it must have ridges along the shaft." She said, casually taking a drag of her cigarette. "Textured veins are preferable. Will you need a cast for that? I have a..." She shifted, pulling out a small pouch filled with coins - a small 'advance payment' for your services.

"A cast?" You asked. Your eyes were exorbitant before the coins that protruded from the bag, it was a good pay. Sevika never asked for discounts for your work, she knew it was worth every penny. "I mean, I don't really know any man I can use for a cast." You said sheepishly.

"You know you can get any Zaunite with a coin here." She teased. "Find a willing candidate - I'm sure it won't be too hard."

You were flabbergasted. "Are you suggesting me to hire someone to take a cast of his cock?" You asked with a subtle blush on your cheeks.

"I'm not suggesting, I'm telling you to." She replied, taking another drag of her cigarette. "This is a commission, and I'm paying you generously for it. You'll find a taker - I know you're a sweet talker when you need to be."

"I can't believe this." You sighed sharply.

"Oh, c'mon, you'll manage." She teased. "Just do what you do best. Seduce."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, can I take a cast of your cock? It's for a commission of mine'."

Sevika laughed heartily, enjoying this way more than she'd care to admit. "That pretty much sums it up, yeah." She replied. "I'm assuming most men won't say no, at least not with a pretty face like that."

"Huh. I think you're observant enough." You couldn't refuse an order to a customer as loyal as Sevika, it was a good pay. You just had to gather courage and find a candidate to take the mold, there would certainly be no shortage of suitors. The only problem is how they would take the offer, they would probably try to take advantage of you. You frowned, tensing at the idea of dealing with horny swines.

Sevika observed your frown, noticing the tension in your shoulders. She leaned forward, catching your gaze.

"Relax." She said firmly. "I'll be there with you. If anyone decides to be... insistent, I'll put them in their place."

Your shoulders relaxed. You trusted her, more than people believed. And you knew that Sevika would protect your integrity throughout the process, since she was a woman who kept her word, and her sense of protectiveness was simply unmatched.

"I'll take the measurements of your hip and crotch then." You finally said, looking for a measuring tape in the toolbox.

Sevika smiled pleased as she stood up from her seat. You knelt in front of her, unrolling the measuring tape to take the hip and crotch measurements. As you moved around, your hands touched her thigh, and your face came a few inches from her crotch.

"Lift your hips slightly." You said, trying to remain professional.

She lifted her hips slightly, watching you closely. "This good?" She asked, her voice betraying no hint of emotion.

"Yeah." You nodded. "Poor women that will have to keep up with you on a strap." You mumbled.

"Oh, the ladies will be fine." She retorted, a smirk on her face. "They'll enjoy it, if they know what's good for them."

"I don't wanna hear any details, thank you."

"Fine, we'll move on." She agreed, her eyes still fixed on you. "You're too focused on the details. I'll handle finding the... talent for the cast then."

"Fine." You finished taking the measurements, standing up. The size difference when you looked up at Sevika was... intimidating to say the least.

"You're too short." she teased.

"You're too tall." you said back, picking up your toolbox.

Sevika smiled, knowing it was time for you to go and time for her to resume her gambling session. "Tanner will walk you out." She said. "Make sure she gets home safe." She ordered.

You followed Tanner out the door, glancing at Sevika who was leaning against the table and crossing her arms with a smile on her lips. "Take your time, doll, I trust your work."

To be continued...

[ceesimz]

Lavender

A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)

Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3

“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.

“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”

“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”

“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.

“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”

“For the love of god, yes!”

Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere. 

These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.

With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.

“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.

“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.

You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.

Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.

The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.

From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.

You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.

This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.

All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods. 

Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.

For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory. 

Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before. 

Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from. 

This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge. 

All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses. 

The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.

You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.

And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.

Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market. 

You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.

Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.

Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape. 

Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.

The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.

You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.

“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch. 

As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard. 

You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.

There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you. 

If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.

The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.

Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home. 

“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?” 

You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.

It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.

“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”

—

Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.

It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.

You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back. 

Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it. 

Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.

The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it. 

However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.

You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought. 

The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you. 

You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.

When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.

For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.

“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.

“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”

It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.

The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.

“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.

“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.

It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.

“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”

Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.

“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.

“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”

The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.

Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes. 

If only you knew how much you meant to her too.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”

—

i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)

[mothekko]

Her woman.

Where Ambessa demands your attention after a long trip.

Ambessa Medarda x fem!reader Warnings: alcohol drinking, buff reader, reader is implied to be lesbian, slightly sub!ambessa, fluff, no-smut, kisses<3 mwah mwah. Word count: 968.

notes: ambessa my beloved (not just mine but of course my best friend's beloved too), i had this idea yesterday when she cried cause every reader is always the girly girl type, never a big woman with big everything (including her arms 😛), anyway, enjoy reading as I did writing :3 xoxo

MEN AND MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ambessa was not a fragile lady, no. She was far from this. First, she was the type of mercilessly war dog everyone heard about. Her fingers were not as delicate as some women tried to imagine.

Oh, and you knew it. You knew her hands were stronger than any other woman you ever had an affair with. She was delicate, but rough. She was firm and strong, and for God’s sake, you could listen to all the girls and boys in the whole Noxus almost moaning for her, just by seeing her walk on the streets. She didn't pay too much attention, she had her business with you. She came back from war, her fatigue was noticeable in her letters, and you analyzed them perfectly, all of them.

As much as you knew about her weariness, she always asked you for a visit, and how could you deny the woman who gave you your position as high guard in Noxus? The more time passed, your attention was drawn to the dark streets of Noxus, scantily clad women didn't attract you, even though it was the complete opposite for you and they sometimes tried to attach themselves to your belt, along with the axe and sword that were in the hem of your pants and back. The icy wind touched your hair, two braids made by the war general framed your face. It wasn't usual for you to leave your hair loose, but after weeks, or months, without seeing each other, the braids were Ambessa's only request.

You looked across the horizon, all the tents closed and quiet, but that one... that central one, which you knew who was inside; the candles flickering in the air were warming someone. Ambessa was waiting for you. As you approached the place, your muscles tensed in suspicion as you entered the tent. You sighed and Ambessa looked back, a smile from her brightened up her face. A woman like her? Smiling? You're lucky.

“Night, ma’am…” You said, the smell of alcohol around the place was a little too much this time, but well, it’s Ambessa, after all. “Too much to handle this time? Or drinking for fun?”

She didn’t answer you, not like she usually does. She silently invited you to sit next to her, moving the wine bottle to the side on the floor. Cautiously you walked through the tent, until you reached her side, and before you could even sit down, she settled her head on your waist. Her mind was heavy with thoughts.

Ambessa without her usual clothes, smiling, and laying her head on you? Of course something was wrong. But this kind of wrong is not so bad, not at all. At least she was showing some affection. 

“Listen, darling… don’t ask any questions today… I just want you to be good for me.” She said, she doesn’t look drunk. Does she? “These months without you made me so bored, you know…”

You kindly touched her hair, asking yourself what you should do in that situation. 

“Ma’am, you’re not drunk, are you?” You laughed, looking a little closer. You touched her face, checking her eyes, and suddenly, she removed your hand and sighs deeply. 

“You know me too well, sugar. Maybe I should pretend harder next time…” You finally felt like everything was okay, she was lying and that’s all. “Are you gonna sleep here tonight?” she took a sip of wine “Or will I wake up with a boy calling me out for being too sleepy?”

A sigh escaped your lips, a frustrated sigh now. You looked straight at her, sitting by her side. 

“Listen, ma’am, I always told them to send a woman to wake you up, look at me, do I look like someone who likes any kind of boy here?” She shook her head. “That’s what I thought. And, who said you’re too sleepy? These boys around here have no fucking respect for you…”

You pulled the woman closer, holding her tightly. She was warmer than you, obviously because you were outside thirty minutes ago, but still, that makes your heart skip a beat. Again you move your hands to her cheek, and she looks at you with those shining eyes.

“What a beautiful woman I see…” You said. And then, you gently kissed her lips, in a simple way. You used to kiss each other, nothing new. But it was definitely special this time. You felt like it was. Her hands, which had been resting on her thigh, now moved up so that they could rest on your waist. “Won’t you tell me about your…”

She shut you with a finger to your lips, kissing you again calmly, caressing your war scarred face. Your arms, which were a bit stronger than hers, held her against your body, feeling how fast her heart was beating.

“I have to be careful… or you’ll become stronger than me, imagine if they put you in my place?” She made you chuckle softly, moving a hand down to rest on her back.

“You’re making no sense, ma’am. I could never replace you. But I’m happy you noticed…” 

“Well… I always notice, sweetheart.” She gave you a peck on the lips, snuggling into your chest. “You’re my woman, and I know when you get stronger.”

She said it so casually, with her closed eyes as if she was almost asleep; you wouldn’t doubt it. She had just arrived from a long trip after all.

“Your woman…? Mhm… yeah, you’re definitely sleepy. Goodnight, ma’am… I’ll wake you up tomorrow…”

You could hear a “finally” coming from her as she snuggled into your body. You picked her up, taking the woman to the bed, blowing the candles, pulling the blankets over you, finally spooning her from behind and nuzzling her neck.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Worship

Summary: Geta confronts his spouse after a situation and the tables are turned in the way that he wasn't expecting.

A/N: Yes the summary sucks and I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, but please let me know if this was decent. I don't tend to write shorts or scenes that lead to more that often. I tried to make this gender neutral, hopefully I did okay 😅.

“Worship me!” 

Emperor Geta approached his spouse with a beast like hunger, his hand moved to grab their chin roughly. His dark brown eyes darkened as he forced their head to face him, searching their face for any sign of reluctance. Their eyes narrowed in indignation at the tone that their husband chose to speak to them, perhaps Geta was upset or a council meeting had not gone his way, but they refused to let him take out his frustration out on them and not think to speak about it. 

With a lack of response from his spouse, Geta repeated himself, “Are you deaf? You know I don’t like to repeat myself, I said worship me.”

"I heard you" they said. "But I don't care much for your tone and refuse to let you treat me this way.” 

Geta’s sharp gaze narrowed further still at their words, his temper flaring up in a matter of seconds. His fingers clamped down harder, the pads of his fingers tightening.

“Did I give you the impression I was asking for your consideration, beloved? No. I don’t care how the hell you like me to speak, you’re going to listen to what I say and do it without question.” 

They scowled and ripped away from him, "Keep speaking to me this way and acting as you are and I won't hesitate to cut off your cock.”

A snarl formed on the man’s face at their threat, it was uncommon for his spouse to be so blatant in their refusal. They were usually so docile in his presence and his requests. 

He clearly wasn’t happy.

“Is that a threat I hear?” He growled out, his fingers balling into a tight fist at his side. “You would dare make threats against your husband’s manhood?” 

"It seems like you are lacking it without my help,” they scoff. "You can't speak to me curtly with no explanation and expect me to treat you with respect you aren't giving me.”

That snapped the man’s self control and the look in his eyes turned feral in an instant, his hand shooting out to wrap around their throat as he took the last few steps towards them. He pinned them against the nearest wall, his body pressing forward to trap them between him and the cold surface.

“You insolent little -.” He hissed, his grip on their neck constricting. “How many times do I have to warn you not to speak that way to me? I am your husband.”

They smirk and pressed closer, "Go ahead, do your worst, husband.”

A dangerous look flashed through the man’s eyes as he leaned in closer, his body practically flush against them. The anger, the lust, the need. It was all swirling around inside him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. He’d always thought their spouse was cute when they fought back.

“You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? I should teach you a lesson, beloved.”

Their hand reached out and tugged at the belt of his robe, "Do you think I deserve to be punished?"

A shiver ran up his spine as he felt them tugging on the belt of his robe. His self control was a mere thread at this point, the sound of his heavy breath filling the air between them.

“You’re damn right,” he responded gruffly, his hands moving to loosen the tie of his robe just enough for the sash to fall open. The fabric of his robe hung open, exposing a strip of the bare skin of his chest. “On your knees, now.” 

They hum in thought, "I don't think so, husband.” They stepped away from Geta and moved to sit comfortably on the edge of their shared bed. "I think it's you that needs to do some groveling.”

His expression darkened the moment they stepped away, his eyes narrowing once again. He’d been so close to them, so damn close to having them under him where he wanted. But they just had to be difficult.

“Me on my knees?” He repeated incredulously, taking a couple of steps in their direction. “You expect me, a god, the Great Emperor himself, to grovel? You must be delusional.”

They crook a finger and teasingly requests him closer, "But aren't I your spouse and therefore a god in need of worshipping?"

He paused and growled in frustration as they beckoned him closer with that teasing crook of their finger. 

But they were right.

They were the spouse of the Emperor, another god in the flesh. He let out a sigh before slowly approaching them, his hands moving to rest on their thighs as he stood in front of them.

“Damn you. You know I can never resist when you say things like that.”

They wrap their arms around his neck and give him a sultry smile, "But you love me for it, don't you?"

A shiver ran down his spine again as their arms wrapped around his neck, their smile was just as powerful as their words against him. A slow smirk formed on his face as his hands skimmed up the length of their thighs, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of their own robe.

“Yes,” he purred out, his gaze flickering between their face and the cleavage of the robe. “I love you, but you know just how to drive me insane.”

"Well?" they say. "How do you intend on worshipping your god? Or will I have to find myself another.”

A dark look flashed through his eyes at the mention of his spouse finding another to worship them in the way only he should. Geta would sooner cut his way through an army of men before he let that happen. They were his, no one else’s. His hands gripped their thighs tighter, fingers digging into the plump flesh as he lowered himself to his knees before them.

“You’re not going to find another,” he growled out, his hands moving underneath the fabric of their robe as he looked up at them. “I’m the only one worthy enough to worship a god like you.”

They cup his face and smirk, "Then worship.”

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: A collection of tweets by bobby 🐀 #BENIGN DEVI… @/bobby_speeds that read:

"the System really convinced Shen Qingqiu that the Jade Guanyin token could be used to save his life later, so he held onto it despite wanting to return it, and then when the time finally came to use it, the System withheld it until it was too late to actually save his life

"I know I'm just theorising but like, it's SUCH bullshit that it had to "load" the item. That had literally never happened before, but it just soo conveniently meant that SQQ had no choice but to choose another "scenario pusher"

"It wasn't enough for SQQ to just pull out the token, calm Binghe down and let them talk about their feelings, which by ALL rights should have been what happened, if SQQ and Binghe had just been people in a real world instead of characters in a narrative

"but it just doesn't make for an interesting climax, so it couldn't be allowed to happen. the audience (the in-universe readers of the revised PIDW, but also, like, us) would have found it underwhelming, so who cares how badly it traumatised the people involved??

"The System is just so fucking horrifying when you look past the cutesy emoticons. It acts cheerful and silly all while threatening SQQ with death or punishment and will happily make anyone suffer in the interests of "the narrative"

"I won't ascribe malicious intent to the System. It's an unfeeling entity that exists for no other purpose than to create an interesting story without regard to its characters' lives, but that in itself is way more scary.

"people LOVE watching characters suffer. I love it!! I like happy endings but I NEED an interesting middle. reading it, analysing it, thinking about it. the maigu ridge scene is horrific, but I'm literally deriving entertainment from it right now!! I'm having fun writing this!!

"and I hate the system so much, but what would this story be without it?? can any of us honestly say we'd enjoy this story half as much if SY had woken up in PIDW and lived a peaceful life of spoiling his disciples with no abyss and none of the major conflicts that resulted?

"The System is just the most incredible villain. It's terrifying and uncomfortable but it's us!! it did those things for US!! for our enjoyment as readers!! and we ate it up. we loved it. WE did that to them.

"The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System (Image of a Tumblr post that says: “Based on my obsession with the concept of The Narrative I think we should invent a new kind of tumblr/twitter discourse where we argue that it's inherently immoral to write fiction because its prevents characters from exercising free will” / “'girl help my characters are unionizing'”)" End ID]

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 touchy-feely w spite rookanis enjoy 🪶

"Rook, can I ask?"

"Hmm?" She looks up from her notebook. His habit of logging each hour of the day is working its way through the entire team. If he glances down, he could try to make out the words. But she has a habit of mumbling out what she's writing, so there's no need, really.

The flames of the candles cast dark rings under her eyes. They match, this way. Quiet nights in dim light, comfort in the dark.

"Spite says that, when I fall asleep, you spend time with him?"

"Sometimes," she says, turning a page. Her sparkling lip oil stains the barrel of her pen. In the soft yellow candlelight, it looks a bluish-purple.

"If I'm awake at the same time- don't apologize! You've got nothing to be sorry about, and I don't wanna hear it." Sentence finished, she caps her pen with a small click, pushes the notebook aside and reaches across the table for him. The top of her chest pushes against the wood, both her arms extended, as she peels his hand from his arm, one finger at a time. "It's not like sitting him down with chalk and parchment is a bother."

"He says he woke you up, last night." It almost makes him think, in some small, hasty part of his mind, that maybe they should no longer sleep apart. Even when they're both awake, Lucanis can feel the way Spite settles down beneath her touch. On particularly restless nights, when they're all up, they will sit down with a drink, and Spite will run his hand through Rook's hair and stick his head through the curls, and she'll laugh at the way she sees her own hair stand from her head like witherstalk. He hates how these nights come to be, but treasures them regardless. Some of his most prized memories, when they sit together on his cot in the pantry, barely awake.

Her fingers lace through his. Her nails squeeze into his palm. He remembers this well, her curling his fingers into his own hand, yet somehow sneaking her own inbetween. She'd closed her hand around his like this and held tight, for but a breath - back at Weisshaupt, before waving Solas' dagger into the face of her goddess.

"I don't mind. I wasn't sleeping very well, anyhow."

"I don't want you to feel like you need to babysit my demon. You're not a wet nurse."

"It's like talking to a waterwheel." She lifts her right hand and flicks the forefinger against his temple. "I do not mind it, Querido. Rather spend some time watching him draw than waking up and having to search all Thedas for where he's gone."

Wouldn't wake her. If she minded. I like her. You like her. She likes us BOTH. Won't hurt her. NEVER hurt her. Ours to protect.

If only Lucanis could believe that. He doesn't even necessarily doubt Spite's intentions - he's afraid Rook won't turn away or defend herself to keep Lucanis from harm. Spite could threaten to set her breathing body aflame and she would let him so her touch wouldn't burn Lucanis' skin.

They're both so stubbornly self-sacrificial, in this way.

When Lucanis focuses back on Rook, she's still looking at him; just past his hairline, with her unnerving, steady gaze and her wide eyes.

Her attention is on him entirely, but still avoiding meeting his eye directly; she knows it distresses him, knows he's constantly fighting against it, ready to wait for him for as long as it'll take.

Her dedication is terrifying. It's endearing, too, somehow.

"Tell me what he does." When she moves to sit down next to him, rather than at the head of the dinner table, they don't let go of each other's hands. She traces a finger along a vein in his inner forearm. If he squints, he can pretend her lifted pinky finger is hooked around Spite's.

No pretend! She is. Touching ME.

"Last night?" Her finger reaches the crook of his elbow. She blows out hair from her face. Her fingernail pricks at the vein bulging from his skin at the joint.

"Well, I was tossing anyway and then - oh. Thank you, Spite." The demon moves her hair from her face, both hands through the tresses and holding them behind her ears. Spite cheers. Lucanis feels like crying. The ease in her off-handed acknowledgement of his demon, the way that she cares more about him than about his possession - he's glad she's starting to turn in the direction she feels Spite's pull.

"He's- Spite- he's at your service." Her eyes snap back to his, ready to tease, because they both know Spite never said that.

Then, she sees his expression, the furrow in his brow, his glassy eyes, the purse of his lips - and she lets go of his fingers, frames his left cheek in her hand and rubs under his eyes. She's always so kind and gentle with him. It hurts in his chest to think of it.

"Talk to me." Soft, and quiet. Her hand rests protectively over the flesh under his elbow. He rubs his thumb over hers. "What's wrong? Let me help." He doesn't know how to say what's bothering him. She sees his hesitant nod, watches him swallow and wet his lips, and waits for him.

She shouldn't have to constantly wait for him.

Let me talk to her. I tell her. What's wrong? So wrong! You just want to kiss her. So do you! I won't make her wait.

"Kiss me?"

"Are you asking, or telling?" But she rises from her seat anyway.

THANK YOU. It's the first time Spite thanked him for anything.

She sinks back into her seat, and he moves to follow her. There's a surprised noise in her throat, then a giggle, and her hand moves from his arm into his hair.

She's soft, and warm, and his, and he's never felt more alive.

"Here," she mumbles into his mouth, lets go of his head for a moment, to pull his hands to her waist, in her own hair. "I won't break."

Lucanis is convinced he imagines her shiver when he flexes his fingers against her hip, slides down to hold her close by the back of her neck.

She's strong. We're strong. She can take us! That's not where this is going. It COULD BE.

Her fingers are on his jaw, delicately, as he sighs and pulls back. Just enough to no longer kiss with every spoken word.

"What did he say?"

"It's not for gentle company." Rook snorts.

"I'm hardly gentle company, Lucanis."

And yet, she nuzzles her nose into his hairy cheek. As if she might burst unless she touches him.

He knows he might.

"You're gentler than most. You're the only company that matters." He barely has to move his thumb to the side of her neck, below her ear, for her to move. Her hair sticks to his lips, held into place between their foreheads.

"I don't know if you notice, but - you lean into Spite's touch. You look out for him as much as you do for me. And you look out for me entirely too much, already. Let me finish, please." He hears her intake of breath, feels the sudden cold on his skin before she takes it. She doesn't move, but he can tell from the twitch of her fingers that she relents.

"When you just thanked him for holding your hair, I.. I don't know. It overwhelmed me. That you care about me, enough to deal with Spite." Just speaking it takes all his breath, like he'd spent all day sprinting uphill with weighted ankles.

Rook hums.

"Feelings are hard. But this isn't. You aren't. You don't know half the things I would do, if it meant you breathed a little easier."

"Thank you." It's all he knows to say. She won't listen to his apologies. He's not brave enough to admit her commitment only makes him breathe harder.

"Not for this." She kisses his cheek, just above her own fingertips.

It's not like she can't hear the way he chokes on his own breath, trying to swallow the sounds out of existence.

Her chair creaks underneath her. Her fingertips move, hold him by the curve of his ribs, grabbing over his back to hold the cinch buckle of his waistcoat.

She kisses him like he's the only thing keeping her alive, swipes her tongue over his, and when he mimics her attentions, she whines.

Their foreheads knock together just outside of painful, and they laugh together.

"Still want to know what he said last night?"

"No. Don't stop."

"Never."

🪶

Rook: You're not hard.

Rina[me]: You don't know his PANTS, de Riva.

Dee: Make him breathe HARDER.

Rina[me]: ALRIGHT BET

[~rina]

[marzipanandminutiae]

wait wait hold on

Eggers and Depp intended Nosferatu to be read as a twisted Gothic love triangle about a woman struggling with her dark sexual desires?

then why didn't they. make EVEN A SINGLE CONSCIOUS MOMENT OF HER SCREENTIME. seem like she was REMOTELY into Orlock?

"she calls him to her!" yeah, once. when she's a lonely child. and then he long-distance rapes her for years with no evidence of any consensual contact after she realized what he was

if you wanted it to not seem like clear-cut rape, maybe she should have expressed any sentiment at all towards the vampire besides disgust, anger, and hopeless despair? even in a conflicted way? if you wanted her to seem repressed, maybe she shouldn't have displayed a robust, healthy sexual attraction to her husband that he matches in ardor?

(Physical arousal is involuntary so I need more fodder than that)

like I'm here for some twisted Gothic love. I write kinky fucked-up Crimson Peak fanfiction. but you have to give me something to actually suggest that there's any desire there at time of canon, guys

I love the movie as an analogy for long-term sexual abuse and as a rare twist on the Vampire Forbidden Love story where a woman actually is victimized and is allowed by the story to be angry about it, without being a pure chaste Madonna figure in her actual consensual sex life

but if that wasn't what they were going for...they missed the mark badly

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(H:SR/GFL) A Cold Night with Seele, Bronya, Natasha, and Serval

I'm freezing my ass off right now and decided to write this in a vain attempt to get warmer

Seele was relatively used to the cold, and so was every citizen of Belebog and the Underworld.

Still, that did little to comfort her S/O, who was shivering inside their shared home.

(S/O) "M-Man, why did our heater have to break down now?"

Seele sighed and sat herself next to S/O on the couch, leaning back into it.

(Seele) "A replacement is coming in tomorrow, thankfully. Just tough it out till then."

Her eyes drifted over to S/O, who had both arms attempting in vain to warm themselves. A second or two passed before Seele's cheeks was dusted with pink, as she leaned over to S/O.

Letting herself grab them and hold them close and already start to warm up with their body heat.

(S/O) "S-Seele?"

(Seele) "This...should be good for now, yeah?"

(S/O) "Better than just a blanket, heh..."

She refused to meet their gaze, instead just holding onto them tighter as S/O reciprocated, the two of them not saying much of anything and enjoying each other's warmth.

And Seele couldn't help the small smile forming on her lips as she snuggled closer to S/O, her embarrassment doing a good job of keeping her warm.

(S/O) "...That being said, can we grab a blanket too?"

Though that comment made her just scoff and roll her eyes playfully.

(Seele) "Sure, lemme grab one you big baby."

Even with Bronya's heater at full blast, tonight's storm was particularly fierce.

(Bronya) "S/O, are our blankets sufficient enough?"

(S/O) "As much as they can be, I'm still a little cold though..."

(Bronya) "I see."

Bronya looked around her room, trying to find an extra blanket or layer of clothes for S/O, until an idea came to mind.

(Bronya) "S/O, would you come here for a moment?"

(S/O) "Hm? Sure."

Before they could ask what was up, she gently took their hand and dragged them into bed, before promptly taking them into a hug.

S/O simply smiled and let Bronya get in close, the cold already fading from the room.

Though Bronya was a little flustered, little acts of affection like this in private was where she was fully confident.

(Bronya) "Is that better, my love?"

(S/O) "Hah, yes, my lady."

Giggling at the nickname, she rests her head against S/O's, the two of them not taking long to drift to sleep.

Natasha had a rather fluffy blanket, so the cold in the room wasn't too bad. But even just a little nip in the air would be a good excuse for her to get closer to S/O.

Not that they had any complaints, of course.

Natasha rolls to her side and grabs S/O, her head resting against their back as her arms snake around their stomach and holding them close.

(S/O) "Hm...? Nat?"

(Natasha) "Oh, don't mind me. Just needing to get warm real quick."

S/O could only laugh at her playful tone, shuffling closer to her to close the distance.

(S/O) "I'm not a teddy bear, you know."

(Natasha) "You're right. You're even better."

Serval hogs the blanket at night, leaving S/O absolutely freezing much to their dismay.

They have to shake her a few times before she groggily opens her eyes.

(Serval) "H-Huh? Hm...wassup?"

(S/O) "Serval, you're stealing the blanket again!"

Serval mumbles something incoherent before shimmying inside her mini-cocoon, allowing the blanket to cover S/O.

They were about to close their eyes until they were yanked by Serval's strength, into her arms as she nuzzled closer and wrapped the blanket around them.

(Serval) yawn "That better?"

(S/O) "...Y-Yes..."

She gives them one last cheeky smile before resting her head on their chest, letting S/O blush madly before quickly falling back asleep.

...And in the morning, she'd somehow have the blanket entirely around her again.

[buckets-and-trees]

Stella.

Stella.

This response is such an incredible gift! I can hardly begin to express how much it affected me to relive this chapter with you, and with such thought and insight! 🥹

Are we harboring perhaps a little crush here? + she’s not just starstruck or someone easily swooned by celebrity status.

Right on both counts! How could one not harbor a bit of a crush on America's golden "boy" but who is so clearly grown into being a man?! Especially after his nomad period and aging up like fine wine after. BUT she also has a level head on her shoulders.

I immensely enjoy writers working with all the things that the Blip would cause...

I would say that while it wasn't the first thing I knew about the Reader, it was in the first ten percent of things that I mapped out. There are a couple of major plot points that it will tie into later in the story, so I won't say anything about those, but one of the reasons it really felt like something I wanted for this Reader's backstory is that it gave a balance to Steve's other half if HE stayed and SHE blipped. As a unit, they could carry both persepctives and experiences together.

I love how competent we see Pepper be here, how she’s been so good at putting this team together.

...I forgot I put Maria Hill on this team.🧍🏻‍♀️ This chapter was written when I was verrrry deep into my rewatch of The West Wing and the presidential candidates were getting security/military briefings. At least I was thorough then! But I also didn't have any major plot points planned for international/military things to be affecting the candidates during the campaign, I just wanted to be thorough. AND I also remember when I wrote her onto this campaign team, I felt a very strong YEAH, BECAUSE WE DO NOT ACCEPT HALF OF WHAT HAPPENED IN SECRET INVASION!!! It just felt right hahaha.

After all, he is from a world where marriage wasn’t so focused on romantic love. But since he is a romantic, I’m definitely looking forward to them falling in love.

The reasoning Pepper lays out also has some elements of my own views of marriage - in that it HAS TO BE more than only romantic love, because marriage is hard work (as is anything worthwhile/that you invest in/that can grow). AND ALSO that married women should never be relegated to being only a trophy wife or a house wife (and I say that very specifically in that if those are roles that women want to have, then they should, but they should hopefully not be boxed into a corner).

I'M SO GLAD YOU LOVE HER! And not just this moment, but the other moments you mentioned that I was stitching little bits of character into her. Partly for Steve to fall in love with, but ... partly because in a lot of my Readers, I want it to feel like clothes that the person reading it can put on and wear for a while. Sometimes a costume, sometimes to deal with a complex issue, sometimes to have a wild time/experience something we otherwise never would... But when I write confident and driven readers or readers who are direct, I put a lot of what I would aspirationally hope that I could be into those characters, if that makes sense? I don't want them to be perfect, but I want them to have backbones and dreams and ambitions and reason and logic and real feelings that motivate them. For me, it's empowering - and if fiction gets to be an escape, sometimes I want to escape into healthy leading lady energy, and hope that that's what others reading this story can feel, too. 🥹

Oh, I’m intrigued by this. Is she a widow too?

🤐😏

This isn’t even a thirst trap, it’s a heart trap, and that’s worse.

this has the delightful found family vibes – which are definitely highlighting some major loss in First Lady’s background, I mean, she has to have a hint of craziness and not a lot to lose to jump into this headfirst – that I always enjoy in fic.

BINGO! Part of Reader's wiliingness to agree is the nature of being untethered to the life she was living.

But oh! Sam just! Sam is such a fantastic character/figure in the MCU, and I wanted to give him some good moments + parts to be part of this story, because Steve has strong ties to the important people in his life, you know? And so this story ending up having a strong inclusion of side characters started in this chapter, and although it's Steve x Reader, they couldn't be in a bubble - especially not given the campaign story shell, so I wanted to make everyone around them count/have significant roles to play.

"He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface." + this is definitely hinting towards how he’s not just the perfect soldier or the good man but human and I am always here here for it. And we love Sam for recognizing all this in his friend.

It's so important to me to have characters that feel real, and I think... well, I think there can be this tendency around SOME people in MCU fandom (not all, but some), who hate and dismiss Steve's character for just being this perfect paragon boy scout idea of Captain America, and he's so much more. If we go to the Cap v. Iron Man, I think we see the same dismissal over Tony is just selfish but these are both only ASPECTS that they present, pieces that they struggle with, and when they're further and further explored, we see the complex layers. The complex Steve is the one I love to read and strive to write. And Sam giving a briefing here to our Reader about his character gave me the chance to put the marker in the sand and say it's the kind of Steve I was hoping to put in here, too.

And....also....

Sam - to be frank - is doing some damage control.

Because it sucks that Steve didn't come to this breakfast. THIS BREAKFAST WHERE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO MEET HIS WIFE FOR THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW.

Reader is being very optimistic still, not letting it get to her, and definitely GENUINELY enjoying this time with Sam, but.... it still is what it is. Sam: not lying about anything, but definitely hyping his boy up so you don't resent Steve or feel defeated or insecure.

I know it's the delicious sort of slow burn when they don't even lay an eye on each other in the first two chapters.

BURN, BABY, BURNNNNN! IT'S GONNA BE SUCH A BURN, STELLA!

And, as I said in the very beginning of my response, this was such. a. gift. Doing basically a close re-read of this with you/through your comments also comes at SUCH an opportune/unique time because I just posted chapter 11 last Friday and I think I now have it tied down to just four more chapters, and it's reminding me of some of the key things that I had planted seeds for in the beginning, and some of them I know I've got strong threads that have already wrapped up, some I still need to wrap up but are on track, and some that I can circle back to that I forgot (like, oH HEY, WE'RE PROBABLY GONNA SEE MARIA HILL NOW because I did forget her 😩).

You are a goddess.

I'm sorry to hear that 2024 ended in such a drain and strain on your energy, and so I hope that 2025 can be a gentler and kinder year for you! Sending you so much 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 both for spending so much time on this commentary and just for you in general.

Red, White & True: Manhattan & Brooklyn (1/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson Word Count: 4k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Pepper Potts has persuaded Steve Rogers to step up and help again - but this time in a battle to The White House. She invites you to consider a key position.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Prologue | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[MAY 15 - Manhattan, New York]

You try not to hold still while you wait in the lobby, but you’re nervous and the longer you sit, the more difficult it is to resist drumming your fingers, tapping your foot, jiggling your right leg as it’s crossed over your left, or even just chewing on your bottom lip.

You’re not anxious at all over meeting with Pepper, but what has you on alert is the possibility that you could theoretically meet Steve Rogers, former Captain America, today.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. The lobby of Stark Industries is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern design. The large windows let in plenty of natural light, making the space feel open and inviting despite its corporate purpose.

Your mind wanders back to your college days when you’d walked into a different Stark Industries lobby for the first time, a hopeful intern wanting to make a difference at the then-new Stark Foundation office. Pepper had been very involved in building the Foundation at the time, and had become a key mentor and - as the years passed and you left Stark Industries - a dear friend. She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

Back then, she’d become like the older sister you never had, seeing you through some of the difficult years figuring out how to be a real adult. Now, here you are, waiting to potentially join a presidential campaign she’s orchestrating for none other than Steve Rogers.

The receptionist's voice startles you out of your reverie. "Ms. Potts will see you now."

You stand, smoothing down your carefully chosen outfit - professional, but not stuffy. As you follow the receptionist down the hallway, your mind races with possibilities. What position could Pepper have in mind for you? Your background in political science and your years working in non-profit management seem like they could be useful, but you can't help feeling a little out of your depth.

As you approach Pepper's office, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. The door opens, and there she is - Pepper Potts, looking as poised and confident as ever in a crisp white blouse and tailored navy suit. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her smile is warm and welcoming.

"It's so good to see you," she says, embracing you in a quick hug. "Come in, please."

You step into her spacious office, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Pepper gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from her desk, and you sit, trying to keep your nerves in check.

"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," Pepper begins. "I know it's been a few years since we’ve been able to catch up - even before the Blip.”

You were among the half who disappeared - still such a strange concept to grasp though you were supposedly settled back in. “I was happy to come! And of course I don’t mind a trip on the Stark Industries dime,” you say with a grin.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Pepper settles into her chair, folding her hands on the desk. "So, I know I told you we’re putting together the campaign team for Rogers for America, but I'm sure you're wondering more specifically why I called you here."

You nod, leaning forward in your chair, eager to hear Pepper’s vision.

"We're putting together an incredible team," she begins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been reaching out to some of the brightest minds in politics, economics, and social justice. We have former White House staffers, grassroots organizers, and even a few unexpected faces from the private sector who are eager to contribute their expertise."

You are instantly intrigued, trying to imagine the caliber of people she's describing. Your mind races with possibilities - perhaps that brilliant campaign manager who orchestrated the upset victory in the last Senate race, or the economist whose revolutionary ideas about sustainable development have been making waves in academic circles.

"We've got strategists who are anticipating every move our opponents might make," Pepper continues, "and communications experts who can craft messages that will resonate with voters across the political spectrum.”

You listen intently, trying to pinpoint where you might fit into this powerhouse group.

"There's Maria Hill," Pepper continues, "who's handling security and intelligence briefings. She's got connections that'll be invaluable. Then there's Peter Parker - you might know him as Spider-Man - he's officially our youth outreach coordinator, but he's also got a brilliant scientific mind that we're tapping into for policy development."

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of Spider-Man.

Pepper leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. "But here's the thing - we're not just assembling a team of political operatives and policy experts. We need people who understand the heart of what we're trying to do, who can see the bigger picture and help keep us grounded in our core values."

Your heart begins to race as you start to realize where this might be going.

"That's where you come in," Pepper says, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I've watched your career over the years, how you've navigated the non-profit world, building coalitions and making real change happen. You have a gift for bringing people together, for seeing connections that others miss. Your experience gives you a unique perspective that we desperately need."

Your heart races as you process her words. You had assumed you might be offered some kind of advisory role, perhaps in fundraising or event planning. Maybe even appearance management or offering occasional input on strategy. But from Pepper's tone, it sounds like she has something more substantial in mind.

"Where do you see me on this team?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've been putting a lot of thought into this," Pepper continues, her voice filled with conviction. “You know we’re doing something unconventional. Did you read the presidential plan?”

You nod. Steve’s bid for President of the United States was still technically not public knowledge. You had signed an NDA - being told only that you were receiving a proposal Pepper wanted your input and consultation on, with potential to join the team if you supported the initiative, and just silence if you didn’t.

“It’s bold, idealistic, aspirational; but it’s also unapologetic, has clear plans of action, and could be transformational in ways we haven’t seen in living memory,” you give your assessment.

“And it’s something you could see yourself being a part of?”

You take a deep breath, but smile genuinely. “I couldn’t sleep the first night after you sent it over. I couldn’t stop reading, hoping, re-reading, imagining possibilities!”

“Good,” Pepper responds. “Perfect.”

“Put me to work wherever you need me!”

“I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.”

“Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!”

Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Future First Lady.”

You feel your jaw drop in shock, almost hitting the ground as your mind races with disbelief and anger. The room feels like it's spinning as you struggle to process the weight of her words.

"What?" you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "Pepper, I... I don't understand. First Lady? But that would mean..."

Pepper holds up a hand, her expression serious. "We're not just running a campaign here. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country. Steve is an incredible man, and he needs a partner who understands the complexities of modern America, not just a trophy wife, someone who can connect with people from all walks of life."

You shake your head, still reeling. "But I'm not - I mean, Steve and I aren't even - we've never even met!"

"I know," Pepper says softly. "That's part of the plan. We want to show that leadership isn't about who you're married to or what your last name is. It's about vision, compassion, and the ability to bring people together."

Pepper leans back in her chair, her expression at least revealing some concern over your reaction. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?"

Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

But you're on a roll now, your initial shock giving way to indignation. "Explain what? How you thought it was okay to offer me a position that requires me to be married to a stranger? Use me to score points?”

"I understand your reaction," Pepper says calmly, "but please, hear me out. This isn't about scoring political points or creating some sham marriage. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Go on," you say, your voice tight, “because you’re still trotting out marriage.”

"We can’t outright ignore traditional expectations and polling numbers. If Steve were running as the nominee for either of the major parties, we could probably win without him being married, but since he’s running as an independent, he needs a wife. That being said, we want to move away from the traditional concept of the First Lady as just the President's wife," Pepper explains. "The vision is a First Partnership. Two people who work together. There’ve been a few First Ladies who have done more with their platform and position, and that’s what we would want for you, too.”

You chew on your lip, not persuaded yet, but a little less angry.

“We have an opportunity to show what a healthy partnership in marriage could look like to new generations. You’re my first and only choice because of your skills, experience, and the vision I know you would bring to the table. But you’re also my first and only choice because I think you two are well-suited for each other.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Pepper raises her hand to stop you.

“You and Steve don’t have to put on a show and be madly in love - that’s not what I want, that’s not what he wants or expects either.”

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?”

Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

“But you’re telling me he did agree?”

Pepper nods. “He did.”

You unconsciously rub the empty space on your left ring finger. “Couldn’t we just get engaged and leave the question of a marriage for whether or not he wins?”

A soft laugh falls from Pepper’s mouth. “He actually asked the same thing.”

“And…?” You raise your eyes expectantly.

“The public would rake us over the coals and accuse us of only doing it as a publicity stunt. The campaign would become a gossip column on your relationship status and nothing more.”

“But isn’t it a publicity stunt?”

“We can spin a marriage that seems to appear out of nowhere. Steve’s always been a private person when it comes to his personal life. We will tell people you met through me - which is true. I thought you were well-suited for each other - which I do. When people asked why the wedding just before announcing his bid for the presidency, we tell them you two didn’t want your relationship status to become the big question on everyone’s minds so they can focus on the platforms and policies instead and that every marriage takes work regardless of the length of the courtship.”

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process everything Pepper has said. The idea of marrying someone you've never met, let alone becoming the First Lady of the United States, seems utterly surreal. And yet, there's a part of you that's intrigued by the challenge, by the opportunity to make a real difference on such a grand scale.

"I need some time to think about this," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pepper nods understandingly. "Of course. It's a lot to take in. But I want you to know that I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you were perfect for this role. Not just as a political partner, but as someone who could genuinely connect with Steve."

You raise an eyebrow. "You really think we'd be well-suited?"

"I do," Pepper says with confidence and warmth.

You rub your ring finger again, but this time you see Pepper’s eyes drop to watch your unconscious action, and you quickly stop. Her eyes, when you meet them again, are full of sympathy. You both lost husbands, but you don’t want to talk about it, yet again, and you don’t want to bring up a painful subject for her either.

She can read that in your tight-lipped smile.

So instead she says, “I can give you three days to think it over.”

You sigh and rise from your seat to go. “I don’t know if that’s long enough, but if you give me three days or three weeks, I don’t think it will change my decision I’ll land on. Give me the night to sleep on it. I think I’ll know by tomorrow morning.”

[JUNE 4 - Brooklyn, New York]

Three weeks later, your life has been packed up and put in a truck on its way to the new brownstone in Brooklyn that’s been acquired for you and Steve to move into, and you’re sitting at a table in a café a few blocks away, waiting to meet your future husband for the first time over breakfast. Every time the bell rings over the door, you dart your head to see if it’s him, but he’s evidently running late.

As you wait, checking to see if you have any messages on your phone, the bell over the door chimes once more. This time, when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. A tall, athletic man with dark skin and an easy smile has entered the café. You recognize him immediately as Sam Wilson, the new Captain America. Your heart sinks a little as you realize Steve isn't with him.

Sam spots you and makes his way over, his stride confident but casual. As he approaches, you notice the way his eyes scan the room, a habit born from years of military training and superhero work. He's dressed in civilian clothes - a leather jacket over a simple t-shirt and jeans - but there's no mistaking the aura of strength and capability that surrounds him.

"You must be the future Mrs. Rogers," Sam says with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Wilson. Steve asked me to come apologize and explain - and to have breakfast with you, if you’ll have me.”

You nod, forcing a smile, and shake his hand. "Of course. I understand.” You motion toward the chair across the table from you, inviting him to sit. “I know campaign prep must keep him incredibly busy."

Ever since you’d accepted the proposition to marry Steve Rogers and join him on the campaign trail to the White House, your own life had turned upside down, giving you hardly any time to breathe, and you’d been told this was only a mild version of what your own schedule was going to look like once Steve formally announced.

“Former President Bartlet agreed to meet with him, and the schedules ended up aligning this morning for Steve to go up to New Hampshire for a sit down,” Sam explains.

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.”

“I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.”

His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

In return, your smile becomes a little warmer and easier. “I can’t help being a little disappointed - since I was hoping to finally meet my future husband - but he’s unemployed and you’re technically Captain America, so I guess it’s really an upgrade.”

Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

“Just promise me he’ll actually be at the ceremony tomorrow?” you ask. Your tone is light, but Sam calls your bluff.

His laughter fades, replaced by a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he'll be there. Wild horses couldn't keep him away. Or androids. Or aliens. Or wizards. Or..." He trails off, realizing he might be overdoing it. "You get the idea."

You nod, appreciating Sam's attempt at humor. "I hope so. It would be pretty awkward to explain to the press why the groom was a no-show at his own wedding."

"Trust me, Steve takes this very seriously," Sam says, his tone becoming more earnest. "He may not know you yet, but he respects you and the commitment you're making. He's not the type to back out or let you down."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "I suppose I should get used to schedule changes and last-minute adjustments," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

"It's part of the package," Sam agrees. "But so is having a team of people who have your back, no matter what." He leans forward, his eyes meeting yours intently. "I want you to know that includes me. We're not just colleagues in this; we're family."

His words touch you deeply, and you feel a bloom of warmth in your chest, the firs time you’ve felt grounded since you agreed to do this. "Thank you, Sam," you manage to say. "That means a lot."

The waitress approaches, he orders coffee, and you both order breakfast.

As she walks away, you take a sip of the drink you’d ordered while you were waiting before, mulling over Sam's words. "Can I ask you something, Sam? You know Steve better than almost anyone. Do you think...?”

You hesitate, uncertain if you should voice your doubts to Sam. But his open, friendly demeanor encourages you to continue, and you’re going to need to learn to trust this new circle of people you’ll be surrounded with.

"Do you think this is crazy?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Marrying someone I've never even met, maybe becoming First Lady... it all feels so surreal."

Sam leans back in his chair, considering your question carefully. "Crazy? Maybe," he admits with a small smile. "But then again, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my time with the Avengers. This? This actually feels like one of the more normal things I've been part of."

You can't help but chuckle at that, some of the tension easing from your shoulders.

"Look," Sam continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I won't lie to you. It's not going to be easy. The scrutiny, the pressure, the constant demands on your time and energy - it's going to be a lot. But if anyone can handle it, it's Steve. And from what I've heard about you, I think you're up for the challenge, too."

Sam pauses as the waitress returns with your breakfasts and his coffee. Once she's gone, he continues, "Steve doesn't do anything halfway. When he commits to something, he's all in. And he's committed to this - to you, to this campaign, to trying to make a real difference."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. "And what about... us? Steve and me, I mean. Do you think we can make this work? Not just for the campaign, but as a real partnership?"

Sam's eyes soften. "Steve's one of the best men I know. He's loyal, compassionate, and has a moral compass that doesn't quit. But he's also been through a lot, and he can be... guarded. It might take some time for him to open up fully."

You absorb this information, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity about your future husband. "I appreciate your honesty, Sam," you say softly. "I guess we'll both be navigating uncharted waters."

Sam nods, taking a sip of his coffee before responding. "True, but you won't be doing it alone. Not only do you have the support of the team, but I think you and Steve might surprise yourselves. You both have a strong sense of purpose, a desire to help others. That's a solid foundation to build on."

You pick at your breakfast, mulling over Sam's words. "I just hope we can find some common ground beyond the campaign," you admit.

Sam leans in, his expression earnest. "Like I said, when Steve commits to something, he gives it his all. That includes relationships. He may be reserved at first, but once he lets you in, you'll have his unwavering loyalty and support."

You nod, feeling a bit more reassured. "I appreciate that. I’m not some hopeless romantic, I’m not looking to be swept off my feet, but I just hope we can find some chemistry, some spark beyond just being political partners."

Sam chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Steve might be from the 1940s, but he's still a red-blooded man. And you," he gestures at you with his fork, "are definitely his type."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?"

"Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “

Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

Sam grins. "Trust me, once you two actually meet, you'll see what I mean. Just don't let that 'aw shucks' routine fool you. He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Sam shakes his head, still smiling. "Nah, I'll let you discover that for yourself. Where's the fun if I spoil all the surprises?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, keep your secrets. But seriously, Sam, thank you. For breakfast, for the pep talk, for everything. I'm really glad I got to meet you before tomorrow."

"Me too," Sam says, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and unexpected partnerships."

You clink your own mug against his, feeling a surge of warmth and camaraderie. As you finish your breakfast, the conversation flows easily between you and Sam. He regales you with stories of his adventures with Steve, carefully omitting any classified details but painting a vivid picture of the man you're about to marry.

You learn about Steve's dry sense of humor, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, and his surprising skill at sketching. Sam describes missions where Steve's quick thinking saved the day, but also quieter moments - movie nights with the team, intense debates over board games, and Steve's ongoing struggle to catch up on pop culture.

As Sam talks, you find yourself leaning in, captivated by these glimpses of reality, getting to know more about the man behind the myth. And even if the next twenty-four hours will be a whirlwind of you choosing and getting fitted for your wedding dress; interviewing candidates that have been vetted for your personal staff - assistant, pr strategist, stylist, initiative director; and a bachelorette party; you feel like you’ll be able to face it all with the bit of reassurance you’ve gained by spending this time with Sam.

next part: LAS VEGAS & CLEVELAND

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week, usually posted on Fridays.

[gguk-n]

heyy could you maybe pls write a charles x reader fanfic where she is a doctor and they met bc he has a broken dick 😭😭

OMG!! This ask is haunting me bc if a hospital finds out you are with your patient, too many issues🤣🤣. Also, it's unethical, power imbalance😳😳 ig. Anyways, I tried not to think too literally.

Unethical

Charles Leclerc was a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari. Charles Leclerc was Monegasque. Charles Leclerc had recently broken up. Charles Leclerc was stressed. Charles Leclerc couldn't get an erection.

Charles was extremely embarrassed with what he was dealing with. He broke up with his girlfriend because of having erectile problems. He couldn't believe he was having to deal with it in his twenties. He wasn't sure what was the cause; he was supposedly fit, he ate well, he had fun when he wanted. But right now, he wasn't sure why he wasn't able to stay hard. This was a conversation he had with his older brother, who laughed at him first and then told him to see a doctor. Charles knew he had to see a doctor but he didn't want to.

After much pressure from his brother and mother, who Lorenzo informed as soon as he had found out. So, now Charles was sat at the clinic waiting his turn, surrounded by many men in their later years waiting their turn. Charles looked around and made contact with a few men who would tisk as they made eye contact with him. Charles wanted the ground to swallow him.

"Mr Leclerc, you're next" the receptionist called out. Charles stood up and followed her to the room. "Have a seat, the doctor will be here soon" she said, robotically and left Charles in the room.

When Charles thought he would see a doctor for his dick, he thought it would be some man in his fifties but a man nonetheless but right now, stood in front of him one of the prettiest girls he's seen in a while. She was gorgeous and Charles may have wanted the ground to swallow him then, but now he wanted it for real.

"Hello, I'm Dr Y/L/N. You must be Charles Leclerc?" she greeted. Charles quietly nodded. "If it's okay, can I call you Charles?" she asked and he nodded. "Could you confirm your age?" she asked again. "27" he replied. Charles was rubbing his hands up and down as the pretty doctor smile at him. "So, Charles, I see you're here because you aren't able to hold an erection?" she asked. Charles wanted to run away, but he held his head down. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about Charles. I'm here to help you. If you could answer some questions for me. I'll try to help you the best I can" she reassured.

After a while, and answering multiple questions Charles felt at ease. He wasn't sure why he was this scared. "From what you've told me Charles, I think it's probably stress induced. So, I'll refer you to a psychologist and they should be able to help you. If it doesn't improve, please do come back" she instructed Charles. Charles nodded along as she wrote down some stuff and handed him a paper. "Thank you" Charles said taking the paper. She just smiled, "Bye Charles" she said preparing to leave.

"Dr Y/L/N" Charles called out as she opened the door. She turned around to look at him, "When's your...um...shift end?" he asked rubbing his neck. It had taken a lot for Charles to ask her but her face was apologetic; "I'm sorry Charles. But that won't be possible" she spoke slowly. "Why? Are you taken?" he rambled. "Charles I can't date my patient" she stated and walked out. Charles walked out with shoulders slumped.

Charles got treated. He didn't have any issues with his dick. But he wasn't able to see Dr Y/L/N after that until he was back home and visiting his mother salon. That's when he saw her, sat on one of the chairs getting her hair done. "I have a son. He's great, drives for Ferrari" his mother boasted. "Maybe you two could go out some time" she suggested. She just laughed, "I'm sure he'll fancy a model." "No" Charles interrupted suddenly. She looked at him shocked. "I'm not you patient anymore" was the first thing he said after a while. "I know" she muttered. "Will you go out with me? You won't regret it" he said biting his lower lip. "Okay" she nodded. His mother was smiling at them, shaking her head.

[cripplecharacters]

hi, i dont know exactly how to word this but uh i have a design where i gave one of my characters a prosthetic/robotic limb, and uh im after reading the faq part, specifically about the robot arm (because it kinda applies to the character). and im just thinking "god i messed up" because of the nature of the limb is that the hand can be swapped out for a gun.

i dont mean to be ableist, to be honest ive only started recently researching how to properly write disabled characters.

am i a bad person for not knowing about the robot limb thing before??

Hello,

No, not knowing something doesn't make someone a bad person. It's normal to not know something and helping with that is literally the concept of this blog. People ask us things they don't know about, we inform them. This is just the learning process.

The course of action after having a misinformation corrected in the writing context is to either rewrite or retcon whatever that is that's wrong. If you've already finished writing, keep it in mind for the next time you write so you don't make the same mistake and instead represent disabled characters truthfully next time. If you post your writing online you can leave a note that you have since realized X character wasn't researched enough and leave a link to the post you mentioned. This way you can educate people because 99% of people don't know this and don't think about researching this.

There is a degree of responsibility when it comes to writing about minorities and the absolute bottom line is listening to the actual people. If upper limb amputees tell you to stop doing something, you should just stop doing it. Ableism comes in when someone refuses to do better after being informed, not when someone doesn't know something - otherwise literally everyone would be a bad person since no one was born magically knowing this.

mod Sasza

Thank you for your ask!

This is a blog dedicated to shedding light on ableist tropes, if we expected the people of Tumblr to know all these tropes beforehand we wouldn’t have made this blog! Personally, I don’t think most people who play into these tropes are coming from a bad place, especially people making little stories for themselves and their friends [and even people making huge franchises, but there is disappointment from their lack of any research or care]. Just be sure to do your research and have fun moving forward :] (smiley face

Mod Rot

[shinischis]

Was thinking about a lil kaishin hc again, as I always do, but then again, I'm me, ans I thrive for side effects of the aptx antidote

Post Conan, I think shinichi would have a lot and I mean ALOT of side effects. Having grown in the body of a child for... let's say 2 years maybe? (I think it'd take a while to finally take down the Black org and when they actually do, the antidote isn't there and they have to end up taking down other branches of the organisation for anything about the poison and then they cheer).

First of all, My favourite one, he has chronic pain. It's mostly from the amount of temporary antidotes he's taken, so the size of bones and muscles changing so many times, yea, that kinda develops it.

He'd have that on and off pain where when it'd come to a random time, he'd just feel ache and stinging everywhere. The first time it happens, he thinks it's the antidote not working and that he's gonna turn back to Conan, but it happens MULTIPLE times for weeks, so he ends up building up a fake name and identity with his mother's help and gets it checked out.

I like to think that shinichi would hide it from kaito during their getting together days. He doesn't wanna worry people anymore, so he ends up unintentionally hiding it, the only people who know are haibara, since she's his kind of doctor, then there's the professor for obvious reasons cuz shinichi just tells him everything, and then Ran. He doesn't directly tell her, she just witness it .

Kaito only finds out when he's coming back from a heist where he noticed that shinichi wasn't there. So he kinda doesn't care to change put of his KID uniform and just barges into the house through the window, and there it is, Shinichi sitting on the bed with a heating bad on his lap and painkillers in hand.

It's hard for shinichi to explain it, so haibara is there instead, and kaito doesn't get it at first and doesn't know what to do, shinichi is fine with that, ye never intended to have kaito deal with it, but then is later surprised when the pain comes back again and suddenly kaito is the most professional care taker put there, (he totally didn't spent the next hours after finding out about it just doing research and going around as an intern or student in hospitals to see how professionals deal with it).

Shinichi doesn't think he's ever fallen for a man harder, he's squealing and kicking his feet at the next moment he can.

Another one I really like to write is the him not realizing hes not conan anymore, and so is his body (and we actually wintesses that in an ep and i found that really funny).

I feel like from changing between the body of a 7yr old to an adult so many times, it's just cause an alternation in everything in his body. I think he'd forget that he should eat in amount that an adult should, and ends up with a kids serving , or even when he's eating out with anymore, like kaito or heiji, one of them just goes "You're not Conan anymore yknow?" And then he just mentally slaps himself and orders something else.

Other than that there's the childishness, shinichi, as shinichi, not Conan, saying alele KILLED me, and he might definitely keep going with that or other terms he's used to. I feel like whoever someone's amazed at how quick he works , he'll just send them that childish grin all happy and stuff. The person who'd catch onto it most is Takagi, he's all like. "Conan used to do this too... hmmm.. what if- no- but- no"

In kaishins pov, I think shinichi would mostly act normal, he's used to being himself around kaito, so it's easy to adjust to him being back again, but maybe he'd make the voice or say something when hanging around with someone who knew him purely as Conan. And kaito would tease him about it for the rest of that night.

The part where his body has alternated is in like. His immunity, which would make him sick a lot more, or blood issues. That guy would 101% get anaemia from that kids serving he eats throughout the day (he definitely forgets to eat) , so you just find the guy all pale and zoning our more often and always tired. It gets to a point where he passes out when out of a trip with kaito, and kaito being himself, DRAGS shinichi to a near by medical center or doctor them finds out shinichis iron or haemoglobin level is like, 4 when the normal is 12, and kaito is struck harder when he finds out it takes A LONG time to get it back up to normal again.

Not to mention he always has some cold or fever, hes basically making kaito his personal 24/7 illness caretaker, and at first it's sweet, kaito being careful and stuff ti starting to think shinichis faking it (he's going through his denial era, don't mind him) and he's all huffy and just forces shinichi to stay in bed all day, then realizes it's real and goes all sweet again.

Shinichis reaction to all this? Tired, he just wants to go on cases and heists but he's always watched by kaitos doves to do that.

Umm that's all for today, thanks for coming to my kaishin rant

[sucodelaranja86]

Wait whoops I js reread the rules n it said no gender specific IM SORRY LMAO😭

I dooo have another request for u tho since u said u wanna write!!

Could we get a Cho Hyun-Ju (yes another cuz I love her) x reader where we realize we have feelings for her n rant to it about to one of the players (maybe the old lady who gives us advice n teases) n dont notice that shes nearby, basically hearing everything we say until we notice n freeze up n then move away in embarassment which leads to us avoiding her cuz were nervous n dont wanna be seen vulnerable?

- gotcha!! : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader.

summary: you have a massive crush on your friend and don't know what to do, so you seek help. And who is a better help at giving advice than the elders? However, a certain someone also heard your little talk.

warnings: none.

genre: fluff.

A/N: YOUNG-MI LIVES YAAAY

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ "Please, you guys need to help me!"

Jang could only watch your absolutely flustered face while Young-mi cutely laughed by her side. Your request was unusual, and she was sure that if she somehow was starting to understand the youngsters, all of that effort was going through the drain right now.

"Di-did she say something a-about me?"

Young-mi only busted out laughing once more as Yonsik held his own. Jang could only hold an annoyed expression, while the other two were clearly having the time of their lives.

"How are we supposed to know, you buffoon! She is your close friend, not ours!" Jang said, her patience running thin.

"Don't be so mean!!" you protested with a huge pout on your deep red face.

After a good pause for them to laugh at your attempts of asking them about Hyun-ju, Young-mi finally managed to catch her breath. You have never seen the small girl laugh so much in her entire life (not that you knew her for a long period of time anyways).

"Maybe you should try talking to her personally, Unnie." she adviced you. Even if she still found the newfound situation incredibly funny, she still hoped the best for you and Hyun-ju. Both of you were good people who helped her when she needed the most, and she couldn't be more grateful. She really looked up to you two, and sometimes you felt like you couldn't disappoint her.

"Well, maybe i could give it a try. I wouldn't want to risk the friendship we already have. But, by the way, where is she?" you asked, confused on why she still wasn't by their usual spot already.

"She said she was going to the bathroom, maybe you should go after her! Ha!" Yonsik said in a teasing manner, but the idea didn't seem so bad to you. You hesitantly get up, ignoring Yonsik's teasing and giving Young-mi a slight pet, and only after heading to the bathroom.

However, as you crossed a certain turn in the mess of beds, you stumbled across no one other than Hyun-ju herself.

"Hyun-ju...?"

She was beaming red. Her usual composed manner fading slightly when she saw you. You could quickly tell she had heard every word that came out of your mouth.

" -i need to go."

"No, please, stay."

Both of you were trembling. In her case, it was anxiety. But in yours, you have never felt so embarrassed in your entire life.

Was she about to reject you? To end your friendship? To say that you were gross to even think about her in such ways, and-

"Can we talk?" she asked after recomposing herself, albeit not completely.

"We don't need to. I understand and accept it. I'm so sorry for even thinking about our friendship in that way, i..." for a long moment, you were at a loss for words. What were you thinking for even-

"I feel the same way. I have felt, for a long while."

. . .

Now that's what you weren't expecting.

"Could you- Hyun-ju, could you please repeat what you just said? I don't think I've heard you well."

"I love you."

-

"These 2 are taking too long in the bathroom! Do you think they-" he was quickly smacked by his mother before he could even begin to mutter another word.

"Let then be."

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 6

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5)

I meant to post this on January 1st since we didn't get a new episode that day, but then I got distracted making gifsets and writing other meta. Oh, and I was also busy finally watching the show with my mother. Whoops. But my thoughts on episode 6 are finally here! ENJOY <3

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume they use the rude guu/mueng with each other unless I point out a significant pronoun switch.

To recap: Style has spent all of last episode coming to terms with the fact that he was falling in love with someone who regularly kills people. By the end of the episode he has come to a conscious decision that he wants to be with Fadel no matter what. Fadel ends up spending the night in Style's bed where they have a significant conversation about trust before they make love. "Making love", because love is finally most definitely involved in the act.

No. 1: Morning Cardio

It's the morning after and probably the very first morning in their relationship that they wake up together. They bicker and Style finally gets his morning cardio in. All is good, all is well, everyone is happy, no one is sad. I desperately try to repress any memories of how this episode ends in order to get through this scene without sobbing. I end up crying anyway as I think about how the first time they hooked up Fadel abandoned Style on the floor of a cold, dark room after punching him in the gut and now Fadel is lying on top of Style, cuddling and kissing him in a warm room filled with the brightest sunshine.

Anyway, so Fadel wakes up Style who really doesn't want to get up yet. Fadel chides Style for not setting an alarm. But Style won't lie there and get scolded again and so he immediately scolds Fadel back: "I told you to hold back and you didn’t listen to me, either." And since everyone loves the language tidbits so much, here is the literal translation of the "I told you to hold back" part:

Last night I told you to stop เมื่อคืนอ่ะ กูบอกให้มึงหยุด [mêuua keun - àh • guu - bòk - hâi mueng - yùt] last night - [particle] • I - tell - for you to - stop

As grumpy as Style is about being woken up and having to get out of bed, there's a lot of amusement in his voice when he says this and his facial expression is also warm as he looks at Fadel. But then he closes his eyes again and immediately goes back to being a little morning grump as he dramatically laments that his body is sore and that he oh so sadly can't go to work. Fadel is now so relaxed around Style that he finally starts cracking jokes and playing along with Style's antics, offering to take Style to the hospital while trying to scoop Style up bridal style (haha. style. 🤭) in order to take him just there. But it's too early in the day for these games and Style really does not wanna leave the bed just yet. And so he impatiently complains about Fadel trying to carry him, and then explains: "I was just being overdramatic." In Thai, the word that was translated as "overdramatic" is สำออย [săm-oi] which my native speaker friend defined as "pretending to be weak about something" and explained that it's a negative word that is mostly used to make sarcastic remarks. That would certainly fit with Style's slight morning grumpiness. I also looked up the word on thai2english which defines the word as following:

[to] look for sympathy (by acting excessively sad or crying)

Style wasn't exactly crying when he complained about his body being sore, but he sure was looking for sympathy. So he clarifies that he was only pretending and that Fadel didn't need to maneuver him out of bed and then goes on to say: "I know you’re like a block of walking ice, but you should learn to read between the lines." In Thai Style uses the word อารมณ์ [ah-rom] here which translates to "mood" or "feeling" or "emotion":

An ice wall like you should learn to read other people's mood/emotions. กำแพงน้ำแข็งแบบมึงอ่ะหัดอ่านอารมณ์คนอื่นบ้าง [gam-paeng náam kăeng - bàep - mueng - àh - hàt - àan - aa-rom - kon èun - bâang] ice wall - like - you - [particle] - practice - read - mood, emotion - others - some

And Style's current mood is "staying in bed" and "wanting to be babied". The message finally reaches Fadel and he pushes Style back onto the pillow. He props himself up above Style and comes back to what Style was saying about his muscles being sore. "They say we should hit it right where it hurts. It’s like exercising. That’s how your body builds stronger muscles." Style responds with a challenge: "Thanks for the trivia, but I don’t see why you’re telling me this." In Thai he actually phrases it like a question:

[...] but what are you telling me this for? แต่บอกกูเพื่ออะไรเนี่ย [dtàe - bòk - guu - pêuua à-rai - nîia] but - tell - I/me - what for, why - [particle]

(Alt. translation: But why are you telling me this?)

I personally prefer it phrased as a question because it makes the challenge a little more direct. With the exception of rhetorical questions, a question encourages a response. With Style phrasing it like a question, Fadel is pretty much obliged to respond because a question is expected to be followed by an answer. And the answer is? "You need to exercise daily."

Fadel leans down and starts pampering Style with kisses. By now Style's morning grumpiness has faded away completely and is replaced by contentment instead as the lyrics "And now I'm yours / All yours, baby / Now I'm yours" play. Now they are officially each other's. They are officially in love.

No. 2: Awkward Encounters

Unexpectedly, Style's dad returns from his fishing trip just in time to catch Fadel leaving the garage. Style walks in on his dad having a very awkward interview with Fadel and comes to Fadel's rescue. By now Style is much more awake and in a considerably brighter mood than he was right after waking up. His dad immediately starts teasing him about Fadel, but Style isn't having it. He shoots his dad down by calling Fadel his "friend" (part of me wonders if he does that because maybe Fadel and Style haven't really discussed how open/official they wanna be with their relationship outside their inner circle of KB/FS and he doesn't just wanna drop the news to his dad without checking in with Fadel first), he lets his dad know he is being embarrassing and then gently sends Fadel away, releasing him from this very uncomfortable situation that he was suddenly trapped in. And I just adore the way Style stares after Fadel, watching him leave without tearing away his gaze:

Even when his dad starts making a teasing sound, Style takes a moment to fully process that his dad is talking to him while he himself is too busy looking at Fadel and having his attention and thoughts fully on his boyfriend. It's only when his dad starts speaking properly that Style finally turns his head towards him. His dad continues to tease him but even with Fadel gone, Style still isn't in the mood for it and quickly changes the topic to his dad's fishing tip. And their ensuing banter is very endearing because you can just clearly tell how important Style's dad is to him and how much they genuinely like each other. And a little detail I also love is how Style's dad wears a vest similar to the one Style wears later in this episode.

(Btw, y'all, Style stares after Fadel for so long that I had to go with using only every 3rd frame to make the gif fit in the 8mb size limit. That's how long Style stares for jgkdkjfdg)

Side quest: To Play or Not to Play

Now, if you read my previous metas and especially my ep3 meta you'll know that I've been arguing for Style not actually being into sleeping around all that much. Now, you could take Style's dad asking Fadel "Are you his one-time thing or are you taking him seriously?" as confirmation that Style is a player after all. However, I still don't think so. First of all, I'm not gonna believe it until Style has said it himself and even more importantly his actions and behavior also convince me otherwise (considering how many lies all the characters in this series constantly tell) and second of all, I'm not sure Style's dad himself actually knows whether his son sleeps around or not. After all, this is the same man who only the other week said "I forgot you like men". And also the way he was so surprised about seeing an unfamiliar face coming out of his house lets me think that Style usually doesn't have any random over-night visitors. Not to mention his dad being surprised about Style's type ("Oh, well, who’d have guessed that’s your type?").

And all that isn't to say Style never has a one-night stand. I'm just saying, I don't think it happens on a regular basis. As I said in my ep3 meta, I think Style makes very deliberate choices of who he sleeps with and that is also confirmed in episode 5 when Style mentions how his dad tried to set him up with some mechanics but Style wanted to be able to choose for himself. If Style does have one-night stands, it seems like he either never brings them home or he simply just doesn't sleep around often enough for his dad to be in any way used to it. Personally, I think it's the latter. I think Style gets picky about who he sleeps with, because to him sex matters (as discussed in my ep4 meta as well).

Oh, and also in Thai the dad uses the expression หลอกฟัน [lòk fan] which is a colloquial phrase which my native speaker friend explained as "to trick someone into sex". And by the way, Style himself uses that exact expression in episode 4 at the Rise Up meeting when he bitches about getting nailed and bailed. And now I'm a bit angry at myself that I felt too awkward to ask about this phrase back when I was writing my ep4 meta, because the "tricking" connotation of this phrase definitely adds some nuance to Style's anger in episode 4. But coming back to episode 6, I think Style's dad isn't necessarily saying this because of his son's potential love life habits and it's more him being a bit of a protective dad who wants to make sure the people his son keeps company with aren't gonna cause heartbreak to his son.

No. 3: Make the Most of It

Style and Kant meet for a drink and Kant gets right to the point: "If they really decided to carry out their operation tomorrow, and got arrested by Captain, what should we do?" Style doesn't like the thought of Fadel (and Bison) being arrested and suggests a solution: "Let's stop them." Kant reminds him that he can't just walk up to Bison and outright tell him to abandon the mission and Style agrees that Kant would not make it out of that situation alive. "Unless you leave him right now", Style says. Or more literally:

Unless you get out of his life from now on. นอกจากมึงจะออกจากชีวิตไบซันตั้งแต่ตอนนี้ [nôk jàak - mueng - já - òhk jàak - chii-wít - Bison - dtâng-dtàe - dton-níi] apart from, except - you - will - depart, leave - life - Bison - since, from - (right) now

It's not like the literal translation is a big difference from the official translation, but I just thought "leave his life" sounds more dramatic and I'm sure some of you will appreciate this little tidbit of info as well.

Style doesn't know if Kant can simply just just get out of Bison's life or not but what Style does know is that he himself certainly can't just drop out of Fadel's life to never see him again: "But as for me, I’m getting kinda attached to Fadel". Or what he actually says:

But to be honest, I've already begun to worry about Fadel. แต่เอาจริงๆ กูเริ่มเป็นห่วงฟาเดลแล้วนะ [dtàe - ao jing jing • guu - rêum - bpen hùuang - Fadel - láew - ná] but - honestly, seriously - I - begin - be worried - Fadel - already - [particle]

Thai doesn't have verb tenses, so I think a possible translation would also be "I'm beginning to worry about Fadel". Personally, I think present perfect tense is more fitting, since last episode Style already told Kant "I’m beginning to worry about him now", which – something I missed it in my ep5 meta in my hurry to finish before episode 6 dropped and have since added to the post – but what Style says in reality in episode 5 is:

I'm worrying about him now. ตอนนี้กูเป็นห่วงฟาเดลแล้วว่ะ [dton-níi - guu - bpen hùuang - Fadel - láew - wâ] now - I - be worried - Fadel - already - [particle]

(Alt. translation: I'm worried about him now.)

In episode 5 Style says nothing about "beginning to" worry, no, in episode 5 he clearly states that he is already worrying about Fadel and so I think it makes sense to interpret his statement in episode 6 as "I've started to worry about Fadel", since it's something that began in the past (episode 5) and is still ongoing as of this point.

Anyway, so Style questions if Kant would be able to get out of Bison's life and lets him know I myself can't get out of Fadel's life now that I've started to worry about him. We immediately see proof of his worry as he practically begs Kant to hurry up with getting the boss behind everything arrested so that this mess can finally come to an end. And once again we see that Style is quite the optimist: "Those two will be free, and we can go on with our lives."

I think it's not just optimism that led Style to say this words, but also bit of wishful thinking and most importantly, a lot of hope. He is well aware that the situation is messy and difficult, but he still hopes, hopes for the best, hopes for a happy ending for them all. There's gotta be a way, right? If Captain Christ only wants their boss, then everything will be fine, right? But Kant reminds him of the bitter reality: "You think Captain would let them walk? They kill people for a living. If they ain’t shot dead on the spot, they’d at least get a life sentence."

I think deep down Style already knew this, but actually hearing it out loud hits different. I think it's only now that it truly sinks in for him that it will likely be the very last time he'll get to spend time with Fadel. Style sinks back into the bench, looking miserable. Kant moves over to Style's bench to comfort him: "We can only make the most of what we have now." For once, Style isn't in the mood to talk. He grabs his drink, clinks cans with Kant, and they both try to wash away their worries with beer. It's not helping. Style stares dejectedly into the air.

No. 4: Please Don't Be Mad

(Side note: in my ep3 meta I couldn't quite tell if Style went to the bar to purposely seek out Fadel or not, and well, I have my answer now hahaha)

Just like Style already mentioned to Kant and to us, him and Fadel are spending their evening at the heavy metal bar. Fadel tells him that this is the first time that he didn't come to the bar alone and Style tells him "Happiness shared is happiness doubled". Style is serious, he really means it. He is here because he wants Fadel to be happy, wants them to be happy together. Fadel makes heart eyes at him. Style gives a little smile back. Fadel gets the tickets. The ticket seller informs them that the band will be playing for the last time. Style looks serious again. The band isn't the only one having a last time. The ticket seller continues: "It’s gonna be a memorable night." Style looks towards the ground. This hits different for him. "You’re right," he finally says, "for me, tonight is certainly going to be a memorable night." And again, his tone is serious. His words hold a certain weight to them, he really means what he says with all his heart. Then he looks at Fadel. Style was speaking to the ticket seller as he was saying this, but really, it's a message to Fadel. I'm going to remember this night, he says, I'm going to remember you. Style may not be able to tell Fadel about how this will potentially be their last night together, but at least he can be honest about his feelings. This night matters to Style, and it matters a lot. The knowledge of this possibly being a goodbye weighs on him and we can tell by the way just how serious Style has been throughout this short sequence. Not the loud, bubbly boy that we've all grown to love. I think Fadel can also tell that something is off about Style, because he raises his eyebrows at him and stares at him quizzically for a moment before he turns to enter the bar. Style follows him.

Once inside, Style is looking rather tense. There is something on his mind that he needs to confess but that he struggle to say. In the end it does burst out of him. "I don’t really like heavy metal," he shouts in the middle of a heavy metal bar. It makes for a funny moment, but Style is clearly distraught. Fadel says he already knew that and Style is relieved that Fadel isn't angry. Now, I've had some thoughts about this.

I'm not sure this confession was really about Style's music preferences at all. It kinda reminds me of how, remember episode 5 of Bad Buddy when Pat "confessed" to Ink, but it wasn't really about his feelings for her at all but rather Ink and that confession served as a stand-in so that he could get the weight off his chest without having to open the real can of worms? Yeah, I think we have something somewhat similar happening here. Now I do very much think Style was absolutely telling the truth when he said he doesn't like heavy metal music. After all, we did see him jamming out to a song that was very much not heavy metal music, so the content of his confession definitely wasn't a lie. But I do think it served as a bit of a stand in for all the things Style CAN'T confess to right now. And there is a lot that Style could and should and probably also kind of wants to be confessing to: the fact that he knows of what Fadel does, the fact that Kant has informed the police of Fadel and Bison's next mission, the fact that said police will be awaiting the brothers there, the fact that this will likely be Style and Fadel's very last night together. Not to mention the fact that Style hit on him for a car before he fell in love for real. But as Kant pointed out earlier that day when they were having a drink together... It's not like they can just walk up to the brothers and just say it. The brothers are killers after all. And in a way, I think Style's confession serves not just as an attempt to be more honest with Fadel but also as a way to assess how Fadel will react if he learns that Style actively lied to him.

Style looks almost a bit too upset and guilty for it to be just about his music preferences after the truth is out of his mouth.

The situation is a bit awkward, because he ends up yelling it loudly in a room full of heavy metal fans, but I don't think he really cares about that more than a whoops in this moment, because what really matters is: "You’re not mad at me, are you?" There is so much urgency to it, his expression kind of pleading:

I'm sorry that I wasn't being honest with you. You're not mad at me, right? You're not mad that I lied to you, right? Please don't be angry with me. Style is so very stressed about this. Fadel's reaction is important.

And Fadel? Is not angry that Style lied. In fact, to Style's surprise, Fadel actually already knew the truth about him (foreshadowing, anyone? 👀). Style is veeery relieved about this:

มึงไม่โกรธอ่ะ กูก็สบายใจแล้ว [mueng - mâi - gròht - àh • guu - gôr - sà-baai jai - láew] you - not - angry - [particle] • I - [sentence link] - happy, pleased - already

In the subtitles Style says "All I want to know is that you’re not mad at me" here. I checked the original line with a native speaker friend who translated it as "You're not mad, then I'm relieved" (and if you put the Thai line into Google Translate it also spits out "If you're not angry, I'll be relieved") which I think matches what Dunk is portraying here through his body and his facial expression a lot better. However, the official English translation summarizes the whole point of the confession very nicely: all Style wants to know is how Fadel will react to the fact that Style actively lied to him and he's desperately hoping that Fadel won't be angry to find out the truth.

And then Fadel isn't angry. And tells him that he wants to see the real Style. Style tilts his head at him, not looking entirely convinced despite the huge relief just now. There is still a lot Style is currently keeping from Fadel, things that are a much bigger deal than his music preferences. Style is still keeping truths from Fadel, still lying to him. And then Fadel drops: "But still, liars should be punished." This has Style genuinely stressed again. There is almost a bit of fear in his voice when he inquires what the punishment will be as he reluctantly lets Fadel drag him away. Style now knows that Fadel won't be angry at him for lying, but there will be consequences (a punishment) (again: will this be foreshadowing? 👀).

No. 5: Fake Fan

Turns out Fadel's punishment isn't all that scary after all, even if Style isn't too hyped about it. Nevertheless, he patiently sits there and lets Fadel paint his face without stopping him. But no matter his patience, Style still can't let Fadel do this without at least a verbal protest. He points out that that Fadel isn't wearing face paint either and is almost kind of offended. YOU aren't wearing any so why are you making ME do it? Style then questions if Fadel even has the skills for what he's doing. Unlike before, Fadel now easily gives up information about himself to Style without hesitation: "I used to wear the same makeup as my favorite band."

A major running theme that we've had going on over several episodes now is how Style keeps trying to get Fadel to loosen up and to have fun. We saw this happening in episode 1 already when Style tried to get Fadel to play along when he made him get the pin off his shirt himself (which actually happened even before Kant made Style hit on Fadel). We saw it in episode 2 when Style pretended they were on a cooking show and provided commentary while Fadel was preparing a customer's food. We saw it in episode 3, when Style follows Fadel to the heavy metal bar for the first time and tried to get Fadel to party and to scream a little. We saw it in episode 5 when Style convinced Fadel to wear the matching couple shirts, pulled him into a dance, and even got him to sing karaoke. And what's more, we've also seen Style trying to get Fadel to socialize. And yeah, of course a lot of what Style was saying and implying about Fadel doing things with Style specifically he said because he was actively hitting on Fadel, but I do think he genuinely meant it when he said things like "But some things are better done together" (episode 2, sports field) or "How’d [having a good time all by yourself] even work? You need someone to 'scream' with" (episode 3, heavy metal bar).

So Style has been trying to coax Fadel out of his shell pretty much since the beginning, has been trying to get him to just enjoy life, has been trying to pull him out of his loneliness. And he's doing it again here: the moment Style learns of Fadel's old hobby, Style immediately suggests Fadel paints his face too. Matching make-up for the two of them. It's something that Fadel clearly enjoys and also they'll do it together. Obviously. Because some things are better done together. And happiness shared is happiness doubled. But Fadel refuses, because he never lets anyone see him with band make-up on.

And now we get even more running themes: only moments ago Fadel said "I want to see the real you", but this is something that goes vice versa for Style as well. In episode 5 he told Fadel "I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you" and while this was mostly in reference to Fadel's secret hitman identity, this sentiment counts for everything else about Fadel too. And if Fadel enjoys wearing his favorite band's make-up, then Style will also like him for that. Style wants see Fadel's real him and he wants Fadel to be the real him, to live the real him. "How long are you going to live someone else’s life?"

And it's not just that. After ep5 I was discussing the double date scene with @secriden in our DMs and she talked about how Style was giving Fadel a safe space to participate in all that socializing by being even sillier than Fadel so that Fadel didn't have to be embarrassed about dancing silly dances or wearing silly couple shirts. And I think the very same thing is going on here. Fadel never lets the public see his painted face, whether it's out of fear or embarrassment or something else. And Style offers for them to wear matching make-up. "Try just being someone you want to be," he says, "We’ll do it together." Fadel isn't alone in this, Style is right here, by his side, with him. A safe space. "There’s nothing to be afraid of." Not if Fadel is with Style. Style will support whoever Fadel is underneath his thick, icy walls no matter what. Style is set on it. And tonight, potentially their very last night together, Style will gladly wear make-up for Fadel and Fadel will wear make-up too for his own happiness. They'll do it together and there is nothing to fear when Style is with him. Well? How about it?

Fadel is quiet. He lets Style grab his face and paint on him. Style gives Fadel an encouraging nod, like See? It's not that bad. It's not that scary. I'm right here with you. Be happy. Be you. I love you.

Now, the tear tracks that Style draws on Fadel's face are obviously foreshadowing to how this episode is going to end with Fadel crying because of Style's "betrayal". But honestly, the very first time I watched it? This foreshadowing went right over my head. Admittedly, I was also running on just 3h of sleep that day because I'd been up all night finishing my ep5 meta so I could post it before the new episode dropped and took a 3h nap around noon, so that might have also been a factor in that, but yeah, it totally didn't occur to me that the episode could end in Fadel's real tears (not sure if that made the last scene better or worse tbh). No, the thought that I had instead while watching the episode for the first time was: "Are those the tears that Fadel never got/gets to cry?" And to be honest, I do hope later down the line we'll get a scene where Fadel finally lets it all out, let's out all the pain from all the trauma(s) he's been through while Style is right by his side, supporting him through it, is there for him. Because they'll do this together and Style will always be ready to happily offer and create a safe space for Fadel, just like he did in episode 5 when he was asking Fadel about his parents or when he was trying to get Fadel to let lose and dance a little in the bowling alley or now when he's offering to wear matching make-up with Fadel. And when Fadel cries (and I hope he will cry, and not just from Style's "betrayal"), then Style will offer a safe space for Fadel to cry in, too.

No. 6: (Bitter)Sweet Happiness

Both in make-up, they now proceed to have the time of their lives at the concert, smiling the brightest smiles. They even get to take selfies with the band. Fadel is happy, and so is Style. I think this may actually be the most carefree we've seen Fadel in the entire series so far and it's all thanks to Style.

After the concert they end up standing by a glass window. "Thanks for coming with me," Fadel says and Style looks at him with the warmest, most loving, most adoring expression.

Of course Style accompanied him here. He had promised Fadel in episode 3 already that he would make Fadel 'scream' at some point (that is to have fun, basically) and now they're both here, Fadel is having a good time, and Style is happier and more in love than he could ever have imagined. Fadel continues his little thank you speech: "If it weren’t for you, I’d probably have sat alone over there." Style knows this very well. He saw him sit all by himself last time, refusing to have fun with Style. He saw Fadel stand by himself in the crowd. And even then he was of the opinion that "You’re supposed to have fun with your friends at a place like this". And now Fadel is here. Having fun with him. And there is absolutely no need for Fadel to thank Style, because just getting to see Fadel smile makes Style happy already.

However, as the night is coming to an end the happiness Style has been feeling is overshadowed by the knowledge of what is about to happen next. It's overshadowed by the knowledge that this is almost certainly the last time they'll get to spend time with each other like this. "You wanna come over tonight?" Style asks, "I want to cuddle you to sleep." He doesn't want this night to end. He wants to hold on to Fadel just a little longer, wants to hold him for as long as possible before all of this is over. And best case-scenario, he also manages to stop Fadel from going on the mission like he suggested when he was getting drinks with Kant.

He looks at Fadel with hopeful eyes. But Fadel declines. Style's dad is home and besides, Fadel's got work tomorrow. Work? This has Style listening up. He seizes the opportunity, just like he did back in episode 5 on the floor of the garage. He starts subtly grilling Fadel: "Grocery shopping? I’ll help." Which, by the way, is actually: "The market? I can go with you."

ตลาดหรอ เดี๋ยวกูไปด้วยได้นะ [dtà-làat - rŏr • dĭieow - guu - bpai - dûuay - d^^ai - ná] market - ? • moment - I - go - too, with - can - [particle]

And that makes me cry a little, because the market one of their spots by now. Like, of course Style would gladly go to the market with Fadel. But Fadel isn't going to the market. He tells Style he's doing something else. But Style already knows exactly what Fadel is doing and where he's going. Once again Style tries to get Fadel to spill the truth: "You’re doing a lot of second jobs, aren’t you? What else do you do besides working as a host? You can tell me. I won’t judge." I promise you I won't judge you for being a hitman. I already know this and I'm cool with it. And if you would just SAY it out loud already then I could tell you not to go through with the mission tomorrow. Then I could keep you by my side just a little longer. Please tell me. Style looks at Fadel with big eyes, full of hope and encouragement.

But Fadel does not say what Style wants him to say. Style is disappointed.

He leans back against the glass wall, upset. In the gif on the right it actually almost looks like he could start crying any moment now:

Fadel is confused, but amused, assuming Style is probably just being his usual overdramatic self. He laughs and asks Style what's wrong. Style side-eyes him, still upset and pouting.

This is potentially the last time they'll be together. Tomorrow Fadel will probably get arrested. Tomorrow Fadel will probably be taken away from him. And he can't even talk about it. Can't even stop him from going.

Fadel continues on:

You act like we're not going to see each other again just because we won't be spending the night together. แค่ไม่ได้นอนด้วยกันเองทำอย่างจะไม่ได้เจอกันอีก [kâe - mâi dâai - nawn - dûuay gan - eng - tam - yàang - jà - mâi dâai - jer gan - ìig] only - not - sleep - together - just - do - like - will - not - meet/see each other - again

Style might not be able to outright tell Fadel that he's acting like that because they actually, for real may very well never see each other again when the night is over, but at least he can try to be as honest about his feelings as possible: "It’s been a good night. I don’t want it to end." I don't want to say goodbye. Fadel tries to console him. "When I’m back, there’ll be more nights like this." Style so badly wants to believe him.

He looks at Fadel with big, hopeful eyes. You promise? Fadel nods. And I think, despite Style knowing that the police will interrupt Fadel's mission and that it won't go smoothly and will likely end in his arrest, I think despite all that deep down Style holds Fadel to that promise. And we can once again see how optimistic and especially how hopeful of a person he is. Now matter how bleak the situation seems right now, Fadel has promised to come back and Fadel has promised that they'll have more nights full of happiness together. And a promise is a promise, right? You can't simply just break it. And so Style hopes for the best. He might not be able to get him to stay but at least Fadel will be back. Because he promised.

They seal that promise with a kiss. And it's interesting, because Style doesn't immediately close his eyes when Fadel goes to kiss him but instead looks at him for a moment longer. And then his eyes keep fluttering open for a moment. It's almost as if he can't tear his eyes away from Fadel, as if he can't help but use every opportunity to look at Fadel, to catch every last glimpse of Fadel while he still has the opportunity to do so. They break apart and Fadel tells Style that he's (also) very happy tonight and Style (re)confirms his own happiness. They lean their foreheads against each other. And again, Style can't really close his eyes and fully sink into the moment the way Fadel can. It's like he tries to close his eyes but they keep fluttering open a second later because he just can't keep his eyes away from Fadel, is compelled to keep looking at him while he still can, while Fadel is still right there with him. And even when they break away from each other and turn to look out of the window towards the stage, it takes Style a couple of seconds to tear his eyes away from Fadel, who is already looking elsewhere:

After they've turned around, their hands find each other. And I think in that moment Style really needs that support through his distress and I think Fadel can feel it, even if he can't figure out what exactly is up with Style and why he is acting the way he's acting.

No. 7: Moving On

Fadel and Bison's mission has passed. Kant's brother nearly got caught in the crossfire. Kant wonders if Bison saved Babe. Kant guesses that Bison saved him. With that he also implies that if Bison was the one saving Babe (since Bison is the one who actually knows and recognizes Kant's brother), the one taking the shot must've been Fadel, implying that Fadel would have injured or killed Babe. But Style, who has been spending a lot of time with Fadel and has slowly been getting to know the real Fadel underneath all those walls, just can't imagine Fadel would shoot a random kid. When he asks Kant "You think Fadel would shoot Babe?" it's definitely in defense of Fadel. And that's interesting, because so far he's always been supportive of his bestie and his investigations. He hasn't always been happy about it, but he still never fought Kant about it. This is the first time we see Style actively go against Kant to stand on Fadel's side instead.

Style continues: "You think he knows you’re a snitch?" I think this is partly still a bit of an attack on Kant in his defense of Fadel in the sense of What, does Fadel to have a reason to kill your brother because you did a shitty job staying undiscovered? and partly a genuine question to find out if Fadel would actually have a motive to shoot Babe on the off chance that he did mean to do that. Not that Style actually believes that, though.

Kant says no and says that his work is over and that he's done being a snitch. This should be good news to Style, but Style doesn't look very comforted. In fact, Style barely acknowledges Kant's words. His mind is somewhere else, is with someone else. "I want to see Fadel." Once again we aren't simply just told through text that Style worries about Fadel but we are also shown. And on top of worrying, Style also misses him.

As so often when Style expresses genuine care and attachment to Fadel, Kant immediately disapproves: "Style! You have to get over it. You can’t ever get together with him. Move on." In Thai, Kant uses the word ตัดใจ [dtàt-jai] when he says "get over it". Thai2english defines this as:

to part with something, to give up something (somewhat unwillingly)

Style is unwilling to give Fadel up. He can't part with Fadel, no matter how much he knows he should if he wants to get out of that mess of a situation. "It’ll become a funny story," Kant says, but Style isn't laughing. He is miserable.

No. 8: Will They or Won't They (Come Back)

Fadel and Bison's mission hasn't gone to plan (neither for them, nor for the police), they've gone completely MIA and our two remaining love struck boys that were left behind now stop by the restaurant in the hopes of meeting them there in person if they're already not picking up their phones. However, Style and Kant find the restaurant abandoned as well. Style looks a little disappointed when he states that the diner is closed, but he's not necessarily all that surprised and he is definitely very concerned. Kant walks away from him to check the inside through the windows just in case and Style follows him. They run into the black cat and end up having a little chat.

And what's interesting about it is that during that little chat Style isn't even all that depressed, despite still not having any clue whatsoever about Fadel's whereabouts. In fact, he actually sounds kind of cheerful when he asks and talks about the cat, unlike in the scene before where he was simply just miserable. Style's tone as well as his expression do both get more serious when he says "I guess [the cat] misses Bison, then. He’s a food source, after all", but no matter how troubled he is about the whole situation, no matter how worried he is about Fadel's well-being and no matter how much he misses him, he won't let himself wallow in misery.

Kant says "Why do I have a feeling that this isn’t over? They can’t run forever, that’s for sure. If they haven’t completed their mission, they will definitely come back" and once again we see Style's optimism and bright outlook on life when he replies "I guess you’re right. Before things went down, you saw how attached they were to us". But similarly to the scene in the beginning when they were having drinks, Kant comes back with some realism: "No matter how much you love someone, you gotta prioritize saving your own butts, right?" Style thinks about it for a moment and raises his eyebrows like Yeah, I guess that's true...

Once again, his expression gets more serious and his smile fades but we know he's not giving up any hope of meeting Fadel again whatsoever, because he'll be back in a week to check on the restaurant again. And let's be real, the series might not have shown this to us but we all know Style went to the diner every single day of that week. Possibly even multiple times a day.

No. 9: Something Special to Eat

A week later and we see Style checking on the restaurant again, this time without Kant. And to his surprise and utter joy, the lights are on! Fadel is back and he looks well! Style stares at him through the window, breathes a small huff of relief, then shakes his head a little like he can't believe his eyes, like he can't believe that what he is seeing is real. As I mentioned before, I'm absolutely convinced Style went to the restaurant every single day for the past week and now it turns out that he was right not to give up, not to lose hope, to stay optimistic like he always is. Style's joy about Fadel's return manifests in his whole entire body as he hops and skips through the restaurant doors.

Once inside, Fadel doesn't seem surprised to see him. He doesn't even say hello, but immediately opens up with the words: "I was thinking of going to your place. But you were more impatient than me, huh?"

Language side note, for all you language nerds out there... In Thai the "you were more impatient" is actually only implied, not explicitly stated:

I haven't gotten round to go see you yet. กูยังไม่ทันไปหามึงเลย [guu - yang - mâi tan - bpai hăa - mueng - loiie] I - yet - not be able to (do sth in/on time) - go visit - you - [particle] You came running to see me. มึงมาหากูซะละ [mueng - maa hăa - guu - sá - lá] you - come visit - I/me - [particle] - [particle]

(For the second sentence I decided to translate it as "you came running" because the particle ซะ [sá] can imply that the action should be done quickly. And Style did come running very quickly the moment Fadel was back.)

And when Style replies "Where have you been?" his words are also a little more dramatic in the original, as is fit for his personality:

Where did you disappear to for so long? มึงหายไปไหนตั้งนานอ่ะ [mueng - hăai bpai - năi - dtâng naan - àh] you - disappear - where - for a long time - [particle]

(It's basically "Where have you been for so long?")

A whole week is a long time to not see your boyfriend, especially when you know something bad has happened and you have no idea if he's alright or not. And so Style rightly complains. Fadel says that his phone broke and that he had to change both his phone and his number. Style throws him an almost disappointed look. He knows that this is a lie (or at least the "my phone broke" part probably is. Fadel might have had to change his number for real when he went into hiding). And more importantly, it only explains why Fadel wasn't replying to his texts. It does not answer Style's question of "where have you been?" and so Style is left none the wiser. Fadel says that he was busy and Style continues to complain: "And you didn’t think to contact me a little? I was worried sick about you, you know?" And we saw that. We got to see how Style was worrying when he was longing to see Fadel after hearing how Babe nearly got injured and we saw it when Style checked the restaurant at the very least two times, once with Kant and once by himself (and let's be real, he definitely went more than twice, we just didn't get to witness it). We see it even now in the way he complains to Fadel about him ignoring Style for a full week. Style thought he was saying goodbye to Fadel at the concert because the police would be ripping Fadel away from him but then that didn't actually happen because Fadel managed to escape and Style spent a full week worrying about him, missing him, longing to see him. And then Fadel is back and he's doing well and he didn't even think to tell Style about it. Style has every right to complain and Fadel should know it, too.

Fadel complains about Style's complaining and then offers to make him food like a peace offering and/or an apology. And fun fact, when he says "Anything you'd like to eat?" in Thai it's:

Anything special you wanna eat? อยากกินอะไรเป็นพิเศษป่ะล่ะ [yàak - gin - àrai - bpen pí-sèt - bpà - lâ] want - eat - anything - that is special - ? - [particle]

I'm telling you, when I heard Fadel say the words "eat" and "special" in the same sentence I immediately expected Style to say "you". I think I even said the word "you" at my screen when I watched the episode for the first time. And then Style DIDN'T. He just... didn't say it. When it was literally right there. I'm truly disappointed in him ngl.

Style does not say "you", instead he sits down and let's Fadel decide on the menu and compliments his cooking. Fadel is immediately sus about the sweet talking and asks: "Did you do something wrong?" Style doesn't know that this is a very pointed question, has absolutely no idea that Fadel is currently suspecting him of snitching to the police. "No," Style replies, but his voice doesn't sound entirely genuine. It's not a full lie but it's also not entirely sincere. Did he do anything wrong? It's hard to say. Technically he isn't the one to tip off the police so technically this isn't something he's done wrong. Style also knows a lot more than he should and that's also not something that he's necessarily doing wrong per se, but it's still something he's keeping from Fadel which could be considered wrong. And one could also say that not explicitly warning Fadel about how the police would be at their mission wasn't right. So technically there is something he did do wrong and that he could be feeling guilty about. No matter whether he really did do something wrong or not, Style chooses to deflect and distract anyway. And he changes the topic to something that really is completely true this time: "I just really missed you." Although, when he says "Is it so weird to get a little affectionate?" it's almost a bit of a challenge. Tell me again how I'm doing something wrong. Style continues: "You know, all this time apart really frustrated me." And there we finally have it. The "I want to eat you" bit.

I think at this point it's pretty obvious that Style is being genuine about his flirting, but I just wanna point out that what I noticed before about how Style acts when he truly wants Fadel continues to hold up: instead of being loud and performative, Style gets quiet, goes almost into a whisper by the end of the sentence. And he also gets handsy with Fadel. He reaches for Fadel's nipple specifically and it works. Fadel is very much distracted. But he stops Style because this is not something Fadel wants to do in the middle of his restaurant in front of a wall of glass windows (probably? Who knows with them 🤷🏼‍♀️). Fadel decides on making spaghetti for Style who approves and fondly smiles at Fadel. They keep holding on to each other's hands for as long as possible as Fadel turns around to walk off and I cry and then I cry some more about the way Style once again can't tear his eyes away from Fadel.

No. 10: Oh, I Wish That You Hadn't Pulled the Trigger

It's later in the evening, Style has presumably finished eating (and maybe Fadel, too?) and now they're both wiping down the restaurant. And once again we see something that I've been talking about for the last few episodes now: Style likes helping. Fadel explicitly tells him that he doesn't have to help and that Fadel will do it himself, so likely Style just grabbed the cloth and started wiping without a second thought while Fadel had his back turned. Because helping people is something that comes to Style naturally. He wants to help. And so he insists on continuing to help with the cleaning and, if it makes Fadel feel better about it, offers Fadel to think of it as payment for the free food.

And I know this meta is actually about Style, but I see Fadel watch Style for a moment after Style said that and I can't help but remember how Style was there in episode 3, helping Fadel out at the restaurant when Bison was nowhere to be found and now Style is here again, helping Fadel out at the restaurant without hesitation and of his own free will and I can't help but think that this is probably one of the things that Fadel has come to love about Style. Style is here and he helps and supports Fadel no questions asked. Which make the news he is about to hear even more painful. And right on cue, Fadel's phone rings.

Fadel steps outside to talk to Bison. In the meantime inside, Style moves on to wipe the next table. He lifts his head just in time to catch Fadel looking at him through the window. Style smiles at him fondly.

Style is so happy that Fadel is back, is so content to be around him. The night of the concert wasn't a goodbye after all. He had bid farewell to Fadel internally already but now he gets to have a new beginning after all. Style is overjoyed.

Then Fadel comes back inside, proceeds to turn on some music and Style is confused as to why he would do that. Fadel asks if he can't get romantic and Style calls him out for scolding him earlier about Style being too sweet and cheesy only to turn around all of a sudden and wanting to be romantic after all. Style has absolutely no idea that Fadel sees him in a completely different light now, but I think he can tell that something is kinda off and that the phone call might have had something to with Fadel's sudden change of mood. So Style asks what Bison said. And Style being Style who cares about his loved ones also wants to know if Bison is with Kant. Fadel confirms. Style comments that Bison probably missed Kant. And right after the sentence is out of his mouth, for just a split second before it cuts back to Fadel we can see a very pleased smile form on Style's face.

Bison wasn't the only one missing someone. Style was too. He was missing Fadel so very much and he was worried sick about him and now Fadel is back, Fadel is standing right in front of him in the flesh and everything is all good in this world. Of course, Style is pleased.

And then Fadel says "I also missed you". Style's eyes widen in surprise, his expression serious now. Ever since they officially started dating Fadel has been saying things like "we're on trial" and "I won't ever trust you 100%" and while he did admit to being very happy earlier in the episode at the concert, I think Style wasn't really expecting Fadel to suddenly be so open about his feelings, almost out of nowhere without any obvious triggers. But then Fadel continues his confession by telling Style that there is no one messing with him when Style isn't there. Ah, there he is, that old nagger that Style has come to love. A compliment that comes in the form of an insult. That's more like him. Style is amused and in a lovingly teasing, but also slightly serious tone asks if he's just an annoyance to Fadel and whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. Fadel is quick to assure him that it's a good thing: "Having someone to miss is good. It makes me want to go to the market and go jogging with the hopes of running into you."

Did you notice that I changed something in Fadel's wording just now? Because the official subs wrote "grocery shopping" instead of "the market" and once again I just don't understand the decision to translate it like that because the market is literally one of their spots!! It's not the action of grocery shopping that's important here, it's the place!!! Because Fadel is likely doing some of his grocery shopping at a supermarket too, but it's when he shops at the market place specifically where he has memories with Style!!!

In fact, let me just share Fadel's exact wording of the whole bit:

Having you to miss is a good thing. การมีมึงไว้ให้คิดถึงเนี่ยมันดีนะเว้ย [gaan mii - mueng - wái - hâi - kít-tĕung - nîia - man - dii - na wóiie] having - you - to - miss - [particle] - it - good - [particle] It makes me want to go to the market, มันทำให้กูอยากไปตลาด [man - tam hâi - guu - yàak - bpai - dtà-làat] it - make that - I - want - go - market go jogging in the morning, ไปวิ่งตอนเช้า [bpai - wîng - dton cháao] go - run, jog - in the morning because I'm hoping I'll get to meet you. เพราะหวังว่าจะได้เจอมึง [próh - wăng wâa - jà - dâai - jer - mueng] because - hope that - will - get to - meet - you

And also a little bit earlier when he tells Style "I’ve got no one messing with me when you’re not there":

Without you, there is no one messing up my life. ไม่มีมึงอ่ะ ไม่มีใครมาป่วนชีวิตกู [mâi mii - mueng - àh • mâi mii krai - maa - bpùuan - chii-wít - guu] without - you - [particle] • no one - come - be chaotic - life - I/my

This confession is a parallel to his "I hate that I don't hate you" confession: In episode 4 Fadel said "I don't like you messing up my life" and now in episode 6 he says "Without you, there is no one messing up my life". In episode 4 Fadel said "I don’t like myself when I look for you on the morning jog or at the market" and now in episode 6 Fadel says "It makes me want to go to the market and go jogging in the morning with the hopes of running into you". In episode 4 Fadel said "I don’t like that I miss you." and now in episode 6 he says "I've missed you. Having someone to miss is good."

It's his confession from episode 4 but this time it's romantic and Style even points it out very amusedly, but is also very happy about it: "Are we officially entering romantic territory?" Fadel says that he wants to do what lovers do and Style tells him "I don’t want you to do what you don’t want to do". Or in his exact wording:

I don't want you to do anything that isn't you. กูไม่อยากให้มึงทำอะไรที่ไม่ใช่ตัวเองนะเว้ย [guu - mâi - yâak - hâi - mueng - tam - arai - tîi - mâi châi - dtue eng - ná wóiie] I - not - want - that - you - do - anything - that - not - yourself

Fadel told him at the concert that he wanted to see the real Style, but the same goes the other way around. Style wants Fadel to be the real him, too. And he doesn't want him to do anything that isn't the real him. But Fadel replies:

But I can be like you want me to be. แต่กูสามารถเป็นอย่างที่มึงอยากให้กูเป็นได้ [dtàe - guu - săa-mâat - bpen - yàang - tîi - mueng - yàak - hâi - guu - bpen - dâai] but - I - be able to - be - like - that, which - you - want - for, to - I/me - be - be able to (cont.)

It's a loaded statement. And it has Style confused.

It's the exact opposite of what Style wants. Style wants Fadel to be himself, Style doesn't want him to live a life that Style tells him to live. Style doesn't understand and while there are questions written all over his face, he doesn't ask any of them out loud. He stays quiet and smiles a little in uncertainty (He's currently living through a happy little romantic moment with his boyfriend, right? Right?? That's definitely what's happening here, isn't it???) as he waits for Fadel to continue and to maybe elaborate. Fadel takes a step towards him and says:

I think... I already love you. กูว่า...กูรักมึงแล้วว่ะ [guu - wâa... guu - rák - mueng - láew - wâ] i - think... i - love - you - already - [particle]

(Alt. translations: "I think... I love you" or "I think... I love you now")

Style is delighted to hear these words. Distracted from his bemusement from only seconds ago he smiles a satisfied smile. He's been so open and honest about his own feelings and finally Fadel is opening up too and giving back. Style happily kisses Fadel in response.

He, too, loves Fadel. He loves him and he's missed him and he's been worried sick about him when he didn't hear from him for a full week and didn't know how he was doing and now Fadel is back, Fadel is well, they get to have more nights like the night of the concert together, they get to be together for longer than Style thought they would. Life is great.

After they part, they lean their foreheads against each other. When they did it at the concert, Style's eyes kept flickering to Fadel's face. Here at the diner Style can sink into the moment and into the touch a lot more now that he knows this isn't gonna be the last night he'll be together with Fadel. (I've hit image limit, but here's a parallel gifset.) He does look up at Fadel at one point, almost as if to check if Fadel is still there, that he is real, that this is not a dream. And maybe it's also to check on him, since he's been acting a bit weird since the phone call. But then Style closes his eyes again and sinks into the moment one more time, just like when Fadel leaned into him. The two move into a hug as they sway from side to side. Style can neither see nor feel Fadel's tears dropping onto his back.

Of course I'm gonna have to wait to see what future episodes bring before I can say for sure, but honestly speaking, I do think Style can kind of tell that something is off about Fadel after his phone call with Bison. Style immediately clocks that Fadel is behaving strange the moment Fadel turns on the music, Style calls Fadel out for suddenly being romantic when only shortly before that he was telling Style off for being sweet, he gets confused when Fadel goes "I can be like you want me to be" when that's the exact opposite of what Style has been asking for and there is also something in the way Style really sinks into the forehead touch but then his eyes open and flicker to Fadel as if he's checking on him (almost as if he was also checking that Fadel was still there and hasn't gone away again, as if Style can feel that Fadel is in the process of saying goodbye to him). Fadel is in a weird mood and that mood probably does reach Style. But the thing is, Style is missing a key piece of the puzzle and even if he can tell that something is off, to Style it still looks like a happy picture. To Style it still is a happy picture. And what Style doesn't know, but what we, the viewers, can very much see coming is that this happy illusion will burst soon enough.

[wandixx]

Date in the Ghost Zone

@seamistagle

Sorry it took so long, I've cjaged ideas, like, five times along the way because my dating expirience is almost none existant. To make up for that, I decided to write them kissing (i also have no expierience in that) but anyway, I hope you'll like it

“Hi starlight!” a voice rang from her ceiling. At this point, she didn't even startle, too used to Danny's dramatics. Popping out of nowhere, halfway through solid objects was so low on the list of shenanigans that she didn't even respond until she finished a scene of the “Hello, Megan!” episode she was rewatching. That's what he got for not using the door and knocking like civilized humans should.

“Hello sunshine“ She leaned back in her chair and smiled at her boyfriend “What brings you to my humble chamber?”

“You're busy this weekend and it's not a question. We're going on a date” he said, determined and anxious in a way that usually translated to ‘I have an unconventional date idea and I hope you like it’. Her smile widened. She loved Danny's unconventional ideas.

“Sure love, do I need to bring something with me?” She started slowly flying up, careful to not be fast enough to bring Danny's attention to it. He took a moment to consider her question but eventually shook his head.

“I'll get everything ready. Just come to Amity on Saturday morning and let everyone know we will be offline whole weekend”

Her smile got a bit softer. Whole weekend with Danny sounded like a dream, especially after a period when life stuff kept them apart for almost a month.

“Alright,” she just needed to stall a little longer. “Can I make cookies though?“

Just a bit higher, less than two feet.

Danny visibly brightened, looking every bit like an angel from an old painting. 

“I'll never say no to your cookies”

“I know,” she said and kissed him. His lips were cold and dry as if he spent just a bit too long on the snow, like always when she made out with him as a ghost. She loved every millisecond of the experience. 

Obviously, she also loved when he was human, warm and soft and breathing.

She just adored every bit of her boyfriend, okay?

She let go to take a breath, relishing in a way Danny blushed and spluttered. He was an adorable mess every time she so much as smooched him. 

(She said, as if she wasn't exactly the same).

“I love you. See you on Saturday“

“Yeah… See you”

***

Danny carefully stared at M'gann when he phased blindfold off her face. It wasn't as much of a surprise as he wished it could be, there wasn’t many places where could he go to from his house, especially ones that she didn’t see already. But he wanted to give her just this little thing, so he lead her in a little bit further.

She seemed to like it, if his reading of her emotional projection was correct. Apparently he should know it instinctually but he was just tad too alive for the instinct to kick in. From what he knew about M'gann, she liked it. Maybe.

“It's… really green”

Danny blinked. How was he supposed to respond to that?

They both snorted the moment they caught each other's eyes.

“I mean… you warned me but wow–” she said, clearly suppressing out right laughter “–even air is green”

“That's Ghost Zone for you! Green over green with green undertones”

That won him a laugh. Ancients, there weren't many things more beautiful than this laugh and he was willing to do far too much for it. 

“Alright, let's go, I have so much to show you. We won't be able to get to Martian sector now, but if you want, we can save more time next–”

“Later. Show me around now, please”

“As you wish”

He grabbed her wrist to lead the way.

***

Danny didn’t stumble when landing on the snow, he didn’t. He just kinda slipped and almost ate dirt or well, ice. M’gann of course was graceful as if she was born in the air. Actually, for all he knew, she could be.

This was not a moment to think about it.

“Welcome to Far Frozen, literally and figuratively the chillest place in the Ghost Zone” he said with a cheeky grin, trying to sound like and overenthusiastic tour guide. They both quite enjoyed when he was in this role.

“This is the Yeti part, right?”

“Exactly! And the main prize goes to- oh!”

Something small and fluffy hit him in the stomach, tiny hands wrapping around him and forcing breath out of his lungs.

“Phantom!”

“Icefang! It’s great to see you kiddo!” he said, hugging little yeti back. “And you guys too!” he yelled, so group running up to them could hear him.

There was something incredibly funny in a fact that there was group of ghost children who treated him as this cool older friend. No way anyone on the living side could ever consider him that.

“Who is that?” one of them asked, pointing at M’gann like there was anyone else they could mean. She smiled and waved at them.

“This is Miss Martian, my girlfriend!” Ancients, they were together for months and being able to call her that still made him giddy “I’m giving her a tour through coolest places in the Realms”

“It’s nice to meet you all, Phantom talked a lot about you”

He wouldn’t say he talked a lot about them, but he certainly mentioned them from time to time… Like the time when he spent half an hour excitedly explaining how Snowstorm managed one fight move he thought them or how Snowdrop made him really cute drawing or… okay, so maybe this counted as a lot.

“Hi, what is girlfriend?” Icefang asked, cocking his head to the side while other kids stopped behind him and also peered curiously.

“Did you say girlfriend?! It’s a special friend with kissing and saying dumb things!” Snowstorm yelled running up to them, clearly winded. Danny hoped they were late because they had to finish dinner or something instead of getting into yet another trouble. They were magnet, really, Fenton Luck wasn’t as bad as- “Like Snowflake and Frost Junior!” nevermind, little shit could be in all the trouble they found. These two were famous among his little group as an embarrassing teen couple and equating him and M’gann to them was an untrue insult, thank you very much.

Kids giggled, because of course they did. Danny rolled his eyes. M’gann seemed to catch enough to realize the weight of the ‘they’re just like Snowflake and Frost Junior’ insult.

“I’d say that Snowstorm is lying but I know you won’t believe me. Sorry I won’t play with you, today I wanted to just walk around with Miss Martian. We will play extra long next time, alright?”

M’gann leaned on him a bit, projecting tiniest bit of playful possessiveness, as if she tried to tell kids ‘mine now’ and barely stopped herself from laughing. Icefang looked up, up, up at her, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted, like she was most hated person in the whole world. Maybe she was actually. From kids perspective she was someone, who was taking away his cool friend.

“We should put her through Trial of Ice” he almost hissed, like it was the worst thing they could do to her. It certainly wasn’t, but he still would prefer to not go through that.

Danny cursed inwardly, because he really should’ve remember about that when he decided to bring M’gann here. It was supposed to be calm pretty date not… that.

There was quiet ping in the back of his mind, a warning that the Mindlink was established.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” she asked, without an ounce of fear.

“You’ve certainly fought harder battles, but they probably won’t leave us alone unless we do it”

“Isn’t Trial of Ice a family thing?”

“Have your family done that?” Snowstorm asked, in this truly condescending way that only preteens managed to access.

“Well, they haven’t met her and they’re human so…”

“You see? We’re picking up their slack. Now, enough yapping, Phantom go over there, to your place”

“We can evacuate if you don’t want to indulge them”

It certainly wouldn’t make kids happy, but he didn’t want to pressure Meg into anything.

“Why would we?”

Well, who was he to disagree with all of them. He walked over to the place Snowstorm pointed.

“How will it look like?” she asked out loud, leaning down a bit to be closer to kids level “It’s probably obvious to you, but I don’t know the rules”

She looked at them like it was genuinely important to her, like it was almost life and death and Danny was once again reminded why he loved this girl so much and that he could and would commit great crimes for her.

Icefang perked up like an overeager puppy. If there was one sure way to buy his favor it was by letting him share his knowledge. Or have cookies, cookies also worked.

“You have to prove your decli- degi- deti-”

“Dedication”

“Right, that, thank you Briarheart, and show that you’re worth being Phantom’s special kissing friend. To do that, you need to get through us and kiss him while we will do all we can to stop you, mostly by throwing stuff at you. You can use your powers but if we hit you ten times you loose and can’t be Phantom’s kissing friend anymore”

“You can’t fly out of the throwing range for more than ten seconds and can’t phase through the ground”

“Alright, I get it. I have one question. One of my powers is that I can move things without touching them, can I just use it to move Phantom to me?”

“No, he has to stay were he is”

“That’s what I thought, thank you”

Snowdrop tugged at small bit of Snowstorm’s fur and started signing rapidly. Danny was learning Yeti Sign Language but it was slow going, mostly because of everything else he had to get done at the same time. But he was learning when he had time! He even understood a few signs! Not enough to actually catch what she was saying but… Yeah, no, he should do better.

“Good point Snowdrop”

“I didn’t see what did she say?”

“You can just say you can’t read yet Icefang. She said that we should put Phantom through Trial of Ice too. It’s always to ways thing”

“Aw, thank you sweetheart”

“We won’t be good for the task though” Briarheart Junior pointed out, always the rational one “Phantom is our friend so we won’t put up good fight against him. Someone else needs to do that”

Yeti kids all started nodding with various levels of enthusiasm. Snowstorm seemed to already think about logistics and candidates since, again, it was Snowstorm, their involvement could only mean chaos.

“Give us two weeks, we’ll be back with candidates by then”

M’gann looked like she tried to hold back laughter. Instead, she nodded and thanked them again. Snowstorm told everyone to move to their positions, with M’gann exactly one hundred twenty three ‘big steps’ away from him. Then Icefang got to use new trick he learned and made wall around Danny. It was less than one feet high, but they really didn’t need anything higher. He was sufficiently praised for it, which made him smile brightly enough to rival the sun.

For all it’s worth, Trial of Ice was pretty boring when he was the prize. Don’t get him wrong, he was proud of the kids whenever they did some trick he thought them and M’gann ‘fighting’ was one of the hottest thing he could imagine, but still. He itched to join.

Or maybe not. He liked what he was seeing. M’gann changed her clothes into something resembling her night suit, just in white and pale blue to better match surroundings. It looked good on her, emphasizing lines of her body and how they changed in the movement, in such way that he couldn’t drag his eye away from her. He didn’t often get the chance to admire her like in action, to look at the way she was in the air, when she evaded attacks, all grace and power and precision. Usually he was right next to her, or if sidelined, too stressed for her life to ever really look.

He could appreciate this chance.

It made him once again wonder how he managed to get someone as amazing to date him. Like, really, how did it happen?!

This train of thought was abandoned when after last refined loop M’gann descended right in front of him. He looked at her face, maybe bordering on staring but how could he not? How could he not stare at her freckles highlighted by the teal blush from all the exercise? How could he not stare at her perfectly shaped lips, now that he knew how they felt against his?

Damn it, he wanted to kiss this girl five minutes ago.

M’gann leaned forward, close enough that puffs of their breaths mixed together.

“You realize I can still hear all of your thoughts?”

He did, actually, not realize that.

“Good thing, I’m not thinking about anything you shouldn’t hear then”

She finally did kiss him after that, though unfortunately it was just a quick smooch (he said as if it didn’t leave him just a little bit brain scrambled for a moment and wait did she use blackberry lip balm? It was hard to tell when their lips barely touched). Then she grabbed his elbow and dragged him up and away before he fully caught up what was going on. Mock noises of disgust turned into open protest when kids realized they were getting away.

Danny and M’gann kinda laughed as they were sprinting away before kids could caught up to them. It took him a moment to calm down enough to scrap whatever he knew about Far Frozen, so he could point them somewhere where they could hide out until kids got distracted (about half an hour at most).

They dipped into some small ice cavern and curled up next to each other, still slightly shaking from giggles. There was enough room to sit straighter and keep personal space but they didn’t want to.

M’gann laid her head on his shoulder.

“This is so weird, you know? Nice, but weird. Like uncanny valley but without uncomfortable part. Or at least not as much of uncomfortable part”

***

M’gann wasn’t sure why she kept talking after Danny hummed with small projection of curiosity. It would probably just sour the mood, but it was maybe a little too late now that she started.

“It’s just… you know, it’s all so similar to M’arzz. Which is great! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it! I missed it, even if I didn’t realize it! But you know, it not the same,” her voice broke a bit, and she felt an arm circling her back. She took a moment to gather herself “They were all so emotive and loud, I almost started reading their minds because it couldn’t not be deliberate. But it was. Kids didn’t look to different from my peers back home, I could certainly imagine them playing with shape-shifting and testing this type of form for longer time. It’s colder than Earth but too cold to actually be M’arzz. Everything is going on above the ground which isn’t dangerous here but I was raised knowing it was not safe. We also have this thing about proving our worth but it’s with heat instead of ice and right before the wedding instead of right from the get go. It’s all just kinda itching.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”

“Um, sorry. I haven’t thought about it. I should. Do you want to go back? We can chill in Amity if you want to. Or, you know do something else on the living side”

“No, no, no it’s fine, I like it. It’s nice. It’s familiar, but in a good way. There isn’t really a way for me to just go back and it’s nice to have it even if a little bit”

Danny shifted a bit, as if he tried to look at her, but she kept her face buried in is arm. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should’ve swallowed nostalgia and just keep going. It was such a great time before too.

There was nudge at her mind, clearly deliberate even if clumsy. Absolutely incomprehensible, like Martian’s babies and toddlers did it.

Another nudge, more defined but still unable to carry any ideas more sophisticated than vague invitation to connect.

“Danny?”

“Do you want to talk telepathically? To make it better?”

Oh. Oh.

“Sure. Thank you,” she took a deep breath, trying to collect herself once again “Are you trying to make me cry today? You’re lucky I don’t wear make-up or it would be all ruined”

“You would be stunning anyway. I don’t think there is anything you could do to not be, let’s be honest”

“And now you’re trying to sweeten me up, you dork” She roughly dried her eyes against his suit. It’s absolutely useless to this purpose but she wanted to hide for a bit longer.

“I am not sweetening anyone up, it would have to be untrue for it to be that’

“Oh shut up”

“Never~”

“It’s not even my true form”

“M’gann, Meg, my starlight and love of my Afterlife. When I saw your true form I was so enamored my brain ceased higher functions. I watched ‘Hello, Megan!’ because you liked it, but the main character was just… kinda meh in terms of looks. Do you understand? I think you’re beautiful because it’s you, not because of anything else. No matter what form you’d choose to be in, I’ll love it and want to be as close to you as you’ll let me”

M’gann finally raised her head and with small startle she realized that between their faces were only inches. There was still small blush on his cheeks and his eyes were almost hipnotizing, with the way they focused on her like she was only thing that mattered. His hair was ruffled from wind, just asking to run finger through it. Once again their puffing breaths were mixing but this time they were alone. They could savor it, they could-

“Great One? I was informed you came with your suitor?”

Of course. They couldn’t even kiss in peace.

Thankfully, encounter with Frostbite, even if awkward, was quite short. She didn’t have anything against the yeti, really, she couldn’t even begin to tell how much she appreciated help he extended to Danny but still…

It was not the type of moment she wanted to be interrupted on.

Thankfully older ghost caught it, despite both of them trying to be subtle, and didn’t seem to be too angry about it, so soon they were on their merry way to ‘'one more place’ Danny wanted to show her.

He even brought back up the blindfold, which made her stomach do funny things. She was excited to see what Danny wanted to show her, but also…

There was something really intimate about flying blind, not in a way even their deepest kisses were, but in the absolute trust she had to have in him. In the Ghost Zone she couldn’t even navigate with her telekinesis and telepathy like she could try on the living side. In the Ghost Zone, she had just Danny, and this made something as simple as getting off the ground, into the air all more electrifying in the way that would be almost scary, if she was with anyone else.

She got a little worried when instead of lightly holding her wrist like he did before, Danny caught both of her hands and grasped her like he didn’t plan to let go for the rest of eternity.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course”

And then they were off, faster than she’d ever dare when blind, faster than they usually did, faster than they sometimes went when racing even. Danny kept her close, practically clinging.

Then they were falling and twisting and turning like on some crazy roller coaster and it was breathtaking in both best and worst ways because they were close and it was exciting but she had no idea where they were going or when were they going to turn. Her stomach was doing funny things. Actually, she liked that. She liked that a lot. Especially when Danny slowed down a bit and brought her to his chest before kicking off again.

This was electrifying.

She let out a little yelp when they stopped abruptly and gently landed on the snow. For a long moment they both just stood, panting with soft giggles, getting of off adrenaline high.

***

Danny’s breath caught in his throat again when M’gann grasped sides of his face. It was a bit clumsy, with fingers getting on his mouth and ear but it just made it all more… more.

After few months in relationships he should probably get better at handling all the times she did things like that. As it was, he was barely able to focus on anything other than fingers in his hair and cold hands on his cheeks.

“It was amazing”

He shuddered when she whispered in his mind. It used to terrify him beyond belief, the idea that someone could hear all his thoughts, could touch his very being, made him rebel on the most instinctual level. Now, when M’gann did it, when by just being next to him she rewrote his brain to associate her with mind-reading, it was intoxicating.

“I know, you’re welcome” he managed to stuttered.

She leaned closer, obviously aiming for his mouth and it took all of his will to not meet her midway. They stayed just close, with Danny’s eyes fluttering each time warm puff of air hit them.

“Never do it again”

Instead of answering, he put his hands between her shoulder blades to bring her closer, reached up to cross the remaining distance and kissed her.

Oh, it was definitely blackberry lip balm. He loved it. He loved it all so much.

He loved the way her lips felt brushing against his, cold and smooth despite the time they spent in cold. He loved the way he could almost feel her heartbeat, pressed slightly above his own heart, how he could hear it above his own blood rushing in his ears, faster that it was when they were flying moments ago. He loved the way her hand moved through his hair to press against the back of his head, a wordless command to get closer. He happily complied, adjusting slightly and almost locking on her closed mouth. One of his hands moved lower as he rammed forward, kissing her with enough fervor that she had to arch back a bit. Like that he couldn’t reach her without climbing to his tiptoes, but he didn’t mind.

Her mouth opened slightly, so he took invitation for what it was and started to devour what she had. As he was, draped across M’gann’s chest, with her hands barely holding on his neck, her lips against his and her tongue brushing against his teeth, the whole world could disappear and he couldn’t be bothered. Being this close, with her, was all that mattered and all that could fill his brain.

It got sloppy, when hand laid on the small of his back, full body shiver making their teeth clank. Before he got himself at least a little bit together other hand appeared in his hair. It yanked him back on just the right side of painful, while the arm around his waist pressed him forward and all at once he couldn’t find his footing, bend back so much that if his hand didn’t grasp the edge of M’gann’s cape they could probably touch the ground. Other one by miracle stayed on her neck.

He was fully at her mercy and there was nowhere he could rather be, hanging in her arms all nice and docile. He was stuck in almost addicting cycle of telepathic projection of his excited-eager-confident and M’gann's giddy-greedy-restless response and how it made him all fervent-dizzy-thrilled and how much he could feel it, how intimate this type of closeness was, how kiss dissolved whatever it was that made sensing emotions so much harder and more muted at any other time.

He let himself be handled and adjusted sometimes grasping her hair when he felt too much, in the best way he could imagine, but frankly he forgot about everything else after that.

They had to let go at some point, to catch breath if nothing else but they stayed close. Close enough that he could smell the lip balm that by now was probably mostly on him. Close enough that their noses would touch if they turned their heads just right. Close enough that he could count her freckles and connect them into little constellations, as if her skin was map of the space that gave her to him.

It wasn’t rare, for them to be this close, but it never changed the fact, that when he caught her eyes, half closed but striking, sparkling in the cold blue-green light in the way that was almost iridescent, he couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t be mad to get lost in them. He wouldn’t be mad to be trapped forever, like mosquito in amber with which her eyes shared color.

“Okay, you can do that again”

He needed a long moment to realize why that would ever be in question or what she was referencing, or were they were and what they were doing before. By the time he scrambled his brain again, M’gann’s eyes were closed and she was going for another kiss. He tilted her by the chin just slightly away, because they came there for a reason and he wanted to fulfill said reason before he totally forgot.

M’gann looked back at him, slightly dazed, straightening just a bit. She brought him with her, so his position was just a touch less parallel to the ground, which was also nice.

“I have nothing against round to but before that, I wanted to show you something”

He waited for a moment until she full caught what he was saying. It was overwhelmingly exhilarating to see that she was affected by it just as much as he was. When she nodded, he turned her chin to the left, slowly so she could fully admire the view.

He didn’t turn. He knew what she could see, the breathtaking spectacle of Far Frozen, the wonderful mix of futuristic and traditional, shining in the Ghost Zone’s lights like under aurora. He knew this view well.

Arms around him went almost lax, so he slipped and fell on the snow. He could catch himself or stay were he was, close enough to smell her ever changing shampoo, but he preferred it that way.

“Oh… it’s… It’s beautiful”

He propped himself up on his hands and looked up at her, at the curves of her face and shape of her nose and the little scar she could shape-shift away but just didn’t want to. He looked at her hair, the way her red contrasted with Zone’s ambient green and snow’s reflected cold white and how disheveled it was from flight and the kiss and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to brush his fingers through them until they were neat again or ruffle them even more during another kiss.

He looked the golden clasp of her cape, slightly greener ever since they learned he could be summoned and figured out how to make M’gann always have this chance. He looked at the red ribbons crossing on her chest, only thing she kept from her ‘true’ form, only symbol she let herself keep from the home she could both hate and miss. He looked at her fingers, covered in freckles like the rest of her, short and slender, grasping at the improvised railing now that they weren’t holding him. He looked at the way her back curved as she leaned forward to see better. He looked back at her face, at her slightly opened lips and wide opened eyes and her raised eyebrows. He looked at her open, almost child like delight over something he, at this point, seen as almost mundane.

“Yeah, beautiful”