#but someone recently asked me so eloquently to let them fuck

[milkyrrr]

Doubt

"SO IT WAS YOU?!" Moon clenched his fingers on the thin metal neck with special fury, lifting the Ruin high above the ground.

"Ngh, l-let, me-, tell-, ngh..." he answered brokenly, helplessly swinging his legs in the air in an attempt to find support. Due to the difference in height and strength, he could not resist, only clinging to other people's hands to loosen his grip.

"Moon, you're overdoing it." Solar growled, crossing his arms over his chest. He was on edge too. He was also very, very angry that he was being used as a damn "model" in order to resurrect Eclipse. But now Moon was really overdoing it with aggression.

"I don't care, I'm going to squeeze his neck until it breaks and this fucking psycho dies to hell!" Moon shouted, without even turning to the interlocutor.

"Moon, I'm warning you..."

"I don't care! That piece of shit came back because of him! The only thing I fixed turned out to be a problem again! Isn't it wonderful, huh, Ruin? Have you achieved what you wanted?! Did you want me to not hold back my emotions? So get it, get it to the fullest, you, fucking masochist-"

"That's enough." Solar, approaching them a couple of steps away, abruptly pushed the Moon away, standing between them. Moon clenched his fists, watching Ruin, coughing, slide down the wall, trying to come to his senses and gulping for air.

"I won't let him stay alive. I'll kill him." the programmer growled.

"You didn't give him a chance to say a word, but you immediately attacked him. I know he brought Eclipse back, he copied my data, but don't you want to hear why he did it? If you kill him, you won't get an answer to any of your questions."

"Yes, I don't need answers! I can do it without his loud and eloquent words! Just let me get it over with!"

"No. You're not yourself, again. Try to take a step towards him and I promise I will take the necessary measures. Chill out. You can't make decisions based on emotions." Solar turned to Ruin, who was staring at them in fright... He... He didn't look like someone who could coolly bring back to life the main enemy of them. Them, which he almost considers family.

"Thank you, Solar." Ruin coughed. Leaning his hands on the floor, he tried to stand up, but his legs quickly gave way, and he had no choice, just to continue sitting on the floor, bending his knees towards himself and clasping them with his palms.

"Why did you bring Eclipse back?" Solar asked coolly, watching the Moon out of the corner of his eye.

"I didn't mean to, I swear! Me... I was forced." he replied in a frightened and very quiet voice, staring at the floor.

"Recently... A strange little robot came to visit me... He looked like an artist mannequin, and at first I didn't even pay attention to it. He said something about the stars, Lunar, and.. Eclipse... I didn't take his words seriously until he suddenly came right up to me and grabbed my hand. My head, it is... It got very sick. I felt with every grain of my body how everything inside me was bursting at the seams. My new body is strong enough, but unfortunately, the protection has not been finalized... This strange robot threatened me. He said that if I didn't follow his instructions, he would kill me. He said that this pain is the least he can do to me." Ruin swallowed before continuing. It was as if an invisible lump had risen to his throat. "I didn't know what to do, really! I did exactly as he asked, I copied Solar's voice and part of his personality. I swear, I'm really sorry, I tried to resist it, but this pain, it reappeared and pressed very hard on me, as if my rays were slowly but stubbornly torn from my head so that I could feel each wire thinning and tearing, and the sparks at the ends hurt, burning from the inside... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I'm not worthy to be a part of your family, but I couldn't help it!" There was indeed desperation and helplessness in his voice.

"You are not just unworthy to be a part of the family, you are not worthy to live." Moon clenched his hand into a fist again. "Solar, let me through, I listened to the reason as you wanted, now I want to kill him even more."

"No."

This word was hard for Solar. But he understood that Ruin was just as much a victim as they were. He was just being used. You know, under pressure, you can make people do a lot of terrible things. And if the victim is naive and weak, then it is much easier to break it.

"What do you mean 'no'? He's still a traitor! Let me go, I say!" Moon started to boil again, but Solar turned to him, covering the figure sitting on the floor with his hands, hunched over with guilt.

"I said no. If you want to deal with everyone who is to blame for this, then go ahead. Because you know what? The Eclipse was created because of me. If I wasn't here, he would be too. I am the only native speaker of a code like it. So come on, show me your anger and hatred. Pounce on me like a wild dog, tear me apart."

Moon banged his fist loudly on the table next to him, after which he stomped loudly to the other side of the room, cursing under his breath. He stopped at the edge of the room and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Solar sighed, then turned back and sat down on his knees near the Ruin. Putting his hand on his shoulder, he said:

"It's okay, buddy. I understand that you didn't want to do this. Promise me that we'll figure this out together. I don't want you to be alone and at risk."

"I'm really sorry..." Ruin whispered. The theater attendant shook his head to the sides.

"I know. I see it, Ruin. Now get up. You'll be safer in kindergarten than here alone. Eclipse hasn't done anything yet, and I don't want him to do anything to you. As more supporter he has, as worse it gets."

"I'll try not to let you down! I swear!" he exclaimed, raising his head. Solar snorted.

"I really hope so..."

[sweetestlamb]

Addicted To You

Author’s Note: if anyone is still waiting for BMTL I have started writing and a new chapter should be here next weekend fingers crossed. Until then please enjoy this Sikhye fic, because I can’t seem to stop writing this post episode drabbles. I don’t have time to do anything with a true linear storyline so these are just really fun. 

Summary: It’s his first time.

She teases him incessantly. 

About marking their first day as a couple on his calendar, and then for blushing and smiling so hard that his dimples sink like craters in his face when she introduces him as her boyfriend for the first time. She finds it all adorable and squeals so loudly that anyone in a 100 foot radius knows about it. 

He’s embarrassed and tries to suppress his glee about finally having her to himself, but it’s hard because this is his first time. 

She is his first everything. 

His life was always grief and loss and picking up the pieces when someone else faded and he was left standing alone, footprints washed away by the waves on the sand. After losing his grandfather a piece of him also died, the little boy who yearned for love and family. The villagers had stepped up and slowly became his makeshift family but he kept a safe distance between them, they all had real families to go back to and he was alone in that big house. Even Gam-ri she had grandchildren and a son that he could never take the place of, he was just a substitute for the moment. 

So he’s unprepared for how loved he feels with Hye-jin, how open she is with her affection; a hand never too far from his body. A coy hand swirling on his chest as she proclaims how badly she missed him in a cute high pitched voice, the very same voice he teased her about before but he’s defenseless against it when directed at him. He feels like a school boy discovering love for the first time. Then it dawns on him that that is a fairly accurate description of what he is, he has never dated anyone. There have been women interested in him before but he would use the word ‘friend” like a shield and ward them off, one by one until there were no more suitors. He tried the same with her but she was a formidable opponent. 

“What are you smiling about? Are you thinking about me?” She interrupts his musing, shuffling over to him in a too big shirt and seemingly nothing else. He stares at her legs with owlish eyes, glancing between her face and her bare skin. She reads him easily, grabbing the bottom hem of his borrowed shirt and slowly dragging it up, instinctively he covers his eyes but temptation makes him peek through his fingers and her gorgeous dimples greet him cheekily, “I borrowed your boxers too, they’re so comfortable.” 

He almost collapses from her teasing, she’s been like this for a few days now; poking and prodding at his restraint. Even tonight, she had come over for dinner unannounced and then declared it was too late for her to go back home so she was staying over. Even though she lived right around the corner and he had even offered to walk her home. 

The plum wine and soju they drank earlier is still running through her bloodstream based on the lovely red flush on the apples of her cheeks and her neck. He yearns to feel their heat under his tongue. 

Shaking his head firmly, he coughs once clearing his throat and his head; the latter is barely effective. 

“Hye-jin ah?” 

She perks up at her first name on his tongue, moving closer until their bodies are melted into one. He pulls back leaving some much needed space between them. 

But he doesn’t get far with her tight grip on his thin cotton shirt. 

“Yeah, Du-sik......oppa?” There is a long pause before she utters the killing blow and he can’t control the arousal that swipes through his body like a typhoon, it makes his body feel tight as a bow on a quiver. 

She gazes up at him with hot glossy eyes and he wants everything so ardently. 

With a loud groan he folds his body, his head dropping onto her shoulders the thin curve bending with his added weight. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” He whimpers, stuffing his hands in his pockets so they won’t wander to any of the places they so desperately yearn touch. 

“Sleep with me.” Her tone is even and calm and instantly all he can hear is white noise and his brain screeching. Thoughtlessly he grabs her hips, needing to hold onto something to keep him afloat. Her curvy hips seem like the perfect floatation device. 

“What? When did you become this....bold?” He chokes out wondering where his cold, standoffish even cold dentist has gone and who is this devilish temptress in her place is? 

She giggles at his shocked gaping face, bopping him lightly on the nose. 

“I just want to snuggle, you always sleep on the floor. Don’t you want to sleep next to me and wake up to my face in the morning?” 

As if he could not want that. But he is terrified of her noticing what else is up in the morning. He’s just a man, he would have to be dead or comatose not to be affected by his beautiful girlfriend sleeping next to him in his clothes. 

So he knows that he should decline and take his place on the floor but he’s an idiot in love so instead he nods and lets her drag him off to his own bedroom, walking freely as if she belongs there and nowhere else. He tattoos the image in his mind, along with all the other things she has unknowingly done to captivate him. 

His bed as never looked smaller. Or more dangerous. 

He doubts they will both fit comfortably, and he swallows at the thought of them tangled up together. 

“Come here.” She pats the empty space next to her, beckoning him closer with the curl of a finger. He goes as if on a string, the puppet to her puppeteer. 

“I don’t think we’ll fit. I should just sleep on the floor.” He argues immediately but she ignores his complaints, dragging him closer and shoving him against the wall before curling into him and using his arm as her pillow. They are pressed so tightly he can count her lashes and see the faint sun kissed freckles on her nose. Fuck, she’s so damn pretty. 

“Why are you staring at me?” 

It’s moments like this that most confuse him, she plays with him like a cat with its prey taunting and pressuring him until he feels like he will pop but then as soon as he reacts, looks at her too hard she buckles and trembles in his arms. 

“Hye- jin ah?” He inhales deeply, her soft breasts pressed tightly against him their warmth and shape making him dizzy and hot. 

“Yes?” She whispers back, licking her lips before closing her eyes. 

“Tell me to stop.” He begs and he watches her emotive eyes jolt open and search his face before a illuminating smile washes across her face. 

“Never.” 

That’s the last of his control, grunting he wraps his arms around the small of her back dragging her closer almost sighing in relief when she’s already meeting him halfway, leaping at him and smashing their lips together. 

This is nothing like their kisses thus far, those have been sweet and tentative; both scared too push to hard. 

That is not the case tonight, immediately she’s pressing her tongue into his mouth and the faint taste of sweet plums overwhelm his senses making him feel drunk. She runs her hands through his hair, tugging at the root and he answers by freeing her from her ponytail, eager to see her hair spread out across his pillows. Agilely, he rolls them over until she’s flat on her back and panting underneath him. He takes a precious minute to drink her in, her lips red and swollen and her hair spilled across bed like ink from a bottle. She looks disheveled and wrecked already and it does scary things to his body. 

She watches him back for a moment before dragging him down to pick up where they left off, lips smacking and tongues battling until he has no idea where she ends and he begins, all he knows is dusikhyejin and he doesn’t want to know anything else. He jumps a little when he feels a small hand creeping up his back pushing his shirt up as it goes. He can barely focus with her devious tongue sucking at him and making him see lights and colors he’s never known before. Absently he wonders who else she has devastated like this before and he feels jealousy and the urge to fight everyone who came before him. 

“Focus on me.” She chides, lightly biting at his tongue and the pain swirls deliciously shocking him to his core.  That’s new. 

She tugs his shirt over his head and he can barely react before she’s surging up, latching onto his neck with a particularly hard suck, the suction pop of her lips releasing the thin skin loud in his ear.  

“Ughh fuck, Hye-jin” He cries out at the rough treatment, absently wondering if she’s left a bruise? he doesn’t......hate the the idea. She’s turned out to be quite possessive of him. He wants to belong to her. 

Unconsciously he begins to rock into her, his hard length pressing through the soft cotton of his sleep pants there is no possible way to hide his condition. When she wraps a leg around his waist and rocks back, stars explode behind his eyelids and he almost loses consciousness. 

“Is that for me?” She whispers sounding too seductive for his sanity and he pulls away sharply, recoiling to the side of the bed with his back turned to her. Shame bursts in his chest and he’s unable to look at her, what the hell was he doing? He must have lost his mind temporarily. Realization washes over him like ice cold water. 

“Du-sik? What’s wrong?” She places a hand on his shoulder and gently turns him back to face her, it’s clear that he is not the only one turned on right now. Her nipples are tight and hard through his shirt, he gulps looking away. Praying to every deity he can think of. 

“I didn’t mean for things to go this far. I meant to control myself.” He is terrified of scaring her away, making the wrong move that will put a quick end to their relationship. He feels like a bumbling child, he has a license for just about everything there is but not this, he has no experience in this field and he’s horrified that he will be bad, so bad that she will leave him laughing at his incompetence. 

But how can he say that to her? What woman would want to hear that from her boyfriend? He was a thirty-four year old virgin. It was laughable and pathethic. 

“Do you not want to do this?” Her voice is small, she too now unable to meet his eyes. It’s the same face she made when he berated her without knowing anything about her like a fool, she looks embarrassed and nervous. He can take the out and protect his unmanly secret for another day, but watching her shrink smaller and smaller before him makes him feel nauseous and her asking him not to lie to her replays in his mind. 

Taking a deep stabilizing breath he answers, “I’m not experienced.” 

His heart races wildly in his chest as he waits for her to process the information, and then he closes his eyes as she looks up at him in surprise. He wants for the onslaught of questions, Really? Why not? Are you virgin? Why did it take so long? All valid questions but they will stab him like well sharpened daggers nonetheless.  So he braces himself for the blows, clutching his fists. 

But as always she surprises him instead. 

“Can I be your first?” 

A question he never expected and those five words knock all the air out of his chest. 

“What?” He replies, dumbly unclenching his fists. 

“I want to be your first. Let me please?” She’s pleading now, looking like he has given her the best gift as if his chasity is the best news she’s ever heard. He is unable to answer, too flabbergasted by her ridiculous reaction. 

Her fingers trail up his pant leg, slowly until they reach the point where his length creates a tent in his pants and he feels like he can’t get enough oxygen to his lungs, maybe this is his end; sexual tension his demise. 

“Answer me. Du-sik.” She demands, stroking up and down but never touching where he needs her to and losing all inhibitions he pants out, “Yes, take me. I’m all yours.” And it’s the right answer because she smiles so brightly he’ll never be able to look at the sun the way ever again. Then she obliterates his thoughts and takes a hold of his heavy weight through his pants, fondling him firmly swiping a thumb across the tip. He blushes brightly when the move makes a wet mark decorate the front of his pants but she looks so proud of the reaction, his bashfulness fades away. 

“I’m taking them off,” she announces and all he can do is nod, all cognizant thoughts leaving the room. 

He tenses up as she pulls his pants and underwear down in one swift move, the first time that anyone else has ever seen him in this state of undress. His member jumps at the new face, throbbing for attention from another hand. Her hand.

“It’s perfect.” He chokes at the unusual compliment, what a shameless woman. 

“Hello my new friend.” She speaks to his cock and he would laugh like a maniac if she didn’t stroke him tightly from root the tip twisting firmly at the head and smearing his wetness down the full length, it’s embarrassing how wet he is already for her. Or it would be if it didn’t feel so good that he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into her hand with a punched out moan. 

“Do what feels good. There’s no license for this.” She sees right through him, observant as ever and he groans unable to disobey her command his hips moving on their own as they rock back and forth into the tight circle of her soft hand. He watches mesmerized as she releases him only to bring her hand to her mouth and slowly lick her palm, maintaining eye contact the entire time and he can’t stop the image of her licking him down there in that same lascivious fashion. That is almost enough to undo him. 

“You are evil.” He grumbles, throat closing as she wraps that now moist hand around his member and starts to rub faster setting a speed that makes his toes curl and his breath hitch, he throws his head back letting himself just feel, his bangs sticky with perspiration as his moans bounce off his walls. He is thankful to have no close neighbors to hear his wanton cries. 

“Say my name,” she whispers darkly, her face smothered in his neck again as she licks and sucks at the skin wildly, unreserved and he knows that is definitely going to leave some marks. He feels as weak as a lamb as he grinds against her, shaking when she focuses on the tip rubbing and stroking at his most sensitive place, wet sounds fill the air as she works him faster and faster until he feels all the blood surge down his body and mindless and lost in pleasure his mouth falls open, “Hye jin ah! Auhhgghh.” 

Those are his last words before his little death. 

Colors erupt behind his eyes as white gushes from him, flooding her hand so much that it drips onto his hip and then the bed. She continues stroking until it’s too much and he squirms away, winded and overstimulated. 

He feels so good. Too good. Weightless and brand new. 

This is why people have sex. 

Damn. 

“You’re rambling.”

Oh. He had been speaking out loud. Oops. 

“It’s cute. All I needed to do to break the great Du-sik was give him a handjob?” He blinks his eyes open at her bold statement, and is surprised to see a bright blush on her face despite her bravado. She is quite the enigma.

“I was broken before that. That just took me to the afterlife.” He compliments, and she blushes prettily at his praise, staring down and he looks down too seeing his spend on her hands and immediately he twists to get his shirt to clean her hand. 

So he’s wholly unprepared to turn and see her bringing the soiled hand to her mouth. 

“Wait- no. What are you doing?” He reaches out to stop her but she moves out of his reach. 

“I’ve never done this for anyone else, I also want you to be my first.” 

With those words she extends her tongue and licks at his essence on her hand, thick white on her tongue before she swallows and her throat bobs taking him in. 

Without a doubt, he belongs to her every inch and part of him. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Forgive Me: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you've sinned. but will your punishment be enough to absolve you of your transgressions?

wc: 1.3k

tw: NSFW (spanking, unprotected sex, ScAnDoLoUs BeHaViOr) If you're super religious, you might have a hard time with this one. Please proceed with caution. (oh lordt, I'm going to hell for this, please do not crucify me.)

masterlist

You walk into the small chapel with your purse held close to your chest, the sound of the reverend packing his things making you nervous. A chill runs down your spine, and you clear your throat, calling attention to yourself.

When Reverend Geto turns to you, his long black hair slides over his shoulder, and his onyx eyes widen a fraction. "Ms. Y/n." You offer him a small smile, dipping your head so you look at your shoes. "I haven't seen you around here in a while. How are things?"

"Fine," you breathe. "Things are just fine."

"I know you and Mr. Gojo were recently divorced. I sent you a letter; did you not receive it?"

"I did. Your words were very... eloquent." The smile the reverend gives you is sweet and full of kindness. "But I didn't come here to talk about that," you admit, sitting down on a pew. The reverend sits next to you, lacing his wide fingers together and sitting back a fraction.

"What can I do for you?" he wonders, tilting his head to the side.

"I've sinned quite a bit in the last few weeks..." you whisper, and the reverend nods.

"I see."

"And I was hoping for some kind of penance. I need to get back on track." The reverence doesn't speak but crosses his legs carefully, considering your words before murmuring,

"And what have you done that needs forgiveness?"

"I have lusted after someone who is not mine." Your confession doesn't make him flinch. Instead, he brings his laced fingers and mouth to meet, leaning forward. "And I have done so many times. Even before I was officially divorced."

"May I ask..." Please don't ask who, you mutter internally. "What brought these thoughts to you?"

"Mr. Gojo was never faithful." The reverend shrugs, knowing the playboy antics of his former parishioner. "My eye started to wander... and I--" you break off, words catching in your throat. Geto leans over to rub you on the back, encouraging you with nothing but this small gesture. "I almost sinned with my body, Reverend." At this, tears come to your eyes and you wipe away at them before he can see you begin to cry over the sham of a marriage and absolute failure of a life.

"There, there... but you didn't, Ms. l/n. You held out until the end, and for that, you are incredible. Most would have crumbled entirely." You lean into his touch, craving the feeling of a warm body near you, and he envelops you in a hug, tenderly whispering comforting words that should have eased your soul. But when you touch the hem of your sundress, you remember why you came here.

"How can I be absolved of my guilt, Reverend?" you wonder, and he pulls away a fraction, looking into your eyes.

"You must not let your guilt run your life. You are an unmarried woman now, and you are free to pursue your person of interest."

"What if that person isn't available to me?"

"Are they in a relationship?"

"I don't think so."

"Are they dying or dead?"

"No."

"Then you should pursue them. I would pursue my person if they were available to me, so why should you not do the same?" At his words, your heart skips a beat, and you pull away fully, resting your arm against the cool pew armrest.

"The Reverend has a crush?" you tease, and he looks away from you, rubbing his neck carefully.

"I've had a crush on this person for a long time," Geto murmurs, and you hum.

"Tell them how you feel, then. If I have to do it, you should as well."

"That's the thing," Suguru mutters, standing up and adjusting his tab collar. "It's hard to do when you can't find the right words to ease either of your sufferings."

"You're very skilled with words," you encourage him. "What would you say if you had the chance?" Geto places his hands on either side of the table in front of him, facing the stained glass window and lifting his head slowly. His hair falls down his back, and you half-expect it to blend into his black shirt.

"I would tell her she's beautiful and interesting; she's more than any man could ever ask for, but that she just doesn't know it." You smile sadly at these words, lowering your head.

"I'm sure whoever she is, she'll appreciate those words."

"And you? What would you say?"

"I would tell him that he's a gentle creature who deserves the world and whatever he asks for." Suguru chuckles, dropping his head then turning to face you again.

"A 'gentle creature who deserves the world', huh? That's beautiful. When will you tell him this?"

"I..." You think about the implications of your next words and hold them back. "Maybe next time I see him. You?" He looks over at you, undoing his tab collar.

"I just did." You inhale sharply, and your heartbeat quickens again, thumping wildly under your dress. "But I look forward to hearing how you maintain your newest relationship. He's a lucky man."

"My penance," you remind him, and he frowns.

"For what? Lusting after someone? Or for tempting me into sin?" Your lips part as he advances on you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "For making me lose my mind? Or for dreaming of you bent over a table and committing sacrilege in this holy dwelling?"

"Reverend..." you pant, feeling slightly faint.

"Dismiss my ramblings, Ms. l/n. I wouldn't dare encroach on territory I have no claim to." Geto drops your hand, walking back over to the podium. "Forgive me."

"No," you exhale, and he turns toward you, shocked. "You must also pay penance... for tempting me into sin as well. " The smirk on the reverend's face is wicked, almost so sinful that you consider your hell-bound fate with little regret.

_____________________________________________________________

And pay penance, you did.

You lay across the table in the reverend's dining room, sundress gathered around your hips as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. The smacking of flesh brings you back to the present, and you exclaim as another smack is delivered on the same asscheek.

"You're taking all of me so well..." the reverend moans, the table creaking under the weight. "This pussy is fucking tight."

"Yeah?" you breathe, and he nods, hair falling all around his face in the dimming light of the setting sun. The stream of light shines right above his head like a halo, and you can't help but feel overjoyed at the feeling of him pressing into you. "Oh, god. Help me," you pray to yourself, and Geto slides two fingers between your legs to play with your clit, nipping at your earlobe.

"So wet... just for me..." You huff out a loud breath, forehead pressing against the cool wood and eyebrows scrunching up in focus.

"I'm gonna cum," you whine, and Geto slams your hips into the wood repeatedly, picking up his pace significantly.

"I want to hear that sweet mouth when you do," he orders. "I want to hear you say my name." Your legs begin to give out and your find leverage on the table's edge, whispering repeatedly,

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

It only takes a moment more before you're cumming all over Geto's cock, quivering around his length, and being held up in his arms.

"Suguru," you pant as he continues to fuck into you, holding you by the neck from behind and making your ass one more time. He pulls out suddenly, still holding you as he grunts your name, warm cum coating your ass liberally. After a moment, he lets you back down and grabs a towel to wipe your backside.

"Have I been forgiven?" you wonder listlessly.

"I'm sure you have," Suguru murmurs, placing a trail of kisses down your back. "I know I've forgiven you." You smile, closing your eyes as you feel much lighter than before.

[stellocchia]

I just wanted to analize the conversation between Foolish and Tommy for a bit because I’m still thinking about it

I did technically intend for this to be a short little thing with just a couple of my thoughts on it but... brevity is NOT my strong suit!

So I put everything under the cut and obviously it’s all about the characters.

You can find the conversation here at 02:52:55 and onwards

What is extremely interesting about this whole conversation is that Foolish is mostly unaware of what happened prior to him joining and about most things that happened afterwards, meaning he has as detached and objective of an opinion as you can get. For example Foolish doesn’t know almost anything about L’Manburg, as it was destroyed before he joined and he also didn’t know that Tommy went in the prison to kill Dream (which is why he asks how that went when Tommy mentions it). That paired together with the fact that Foolish has proven to be quite a good listener is probably the reason why Tommy felt so comfortable opening up with him.

“No what do you mean you fought Dream?” “Well you know... you’ve seen Wilbur haven’t you?” “No, no actually” (as I said, completely unaware, though he did seem a bit worried at the idea of Tommy fighting Dream)

“Ghostbur’s uhm... Ghostbur’s not here anymore” “Oh did he pack up? Move out? Got bored? He seems like a free spirit” “Yeah he moved out to this little train station far far away. There’s a little train station, you know? Right near the world border. There’s a little train station” “Oh that’s cool! I wanna see that sometimes" (...) “There’s a little train station out near the world border and Ghostbur went but he left Friend” “He left Friend?!” “But we’ll get Friend to him soon, ‘cause then they’ll all be happy”

Tommy’s way of explaining things to others is always so fascinating to me. It’s childish and charged with emotions, but I don’t mean this negatively, because it gets the point across better then any grand and eloquent speaches really could in my opinion. How attached he was to Ghostbur is also extremely sweet and this is simply his way of dealing with grief: trying to find a practical solution (he was suggested to Tubbo to wash up and now his solution is bringing Friend to Ghostbur), trying to find something he can do to make things better.

“How much can you take Foolish? Blood! Blood! Does that upset you?” (it’s nice seeing Tommy being mindful of other people’s triggers since not many people are mindful with his)

“All I know is I’m proving that bitch [Wilbur] wrong! Because he told me- he told me I’m weak” (another example that the manipulation did work to some extent)

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about that [his revival] with you Foolish if I’m honest” “No, fair enough!” (and Foolish repaying the favour right after)

“I don’t really se how this solves the problem” “Well it doesn’t ‘solve’ the problem, it’s preventing the problem Foolish, alright? Have you noticed that all the problems come they don’t get solved, do they? Ends up with some madman screaming ‘I solved it’ alright? And now- and then look at him, alright, now he’s taken away everyone’s favourite man: Ghostbur, alright? Problems don’t really get solved in this server”

So, for context Foolish was commenting on how gathering stone didn’t seem like a good solution for Tommy to prove to Wilbur that he wasn’t weak, but Tommy’s answer is about more then that. There isn’t much he can do at the moment, not knowing what Wilbur is planning, so the only thing he CAN do for now is what he was asked and, hopefully, prove himself to Wilbur so that he may be able to stop Wilbur from committing atrocities before he starts. Also the “madman” he’s talking about could be Dream (the one who thinks he is a God and actually killed Ghostbur) as well as Sam (the one who thought the prison was gonna be a solution to the Dream problem and who let Ghostbur die) or it could be Wilbur (who seems so self assured about being right on everything and is now the one who replaced Ghostbur), any of them fits. It is also true that, so far, every problem that seemed to have been “solved” turned out to be far from it every single time. That said, of course it should not be Tommy’s responsability to get Wilbur on the “right path” nor should he bear sole responsability for avoiding disaster once more, but, by now, he’s convinced that that’s not the truth, probably because he sees himself as far more sacrificable then those around him.

“Well, how do we go about changing that [problems not getting solved]?” “That’s what I’m doing” “By gathering stone?” “No what I’m doing my friend is preventing the problem before it gets out of hand like it did before, alright?” (again, it’s all about prevention now through getting Wilburs trust and maybe steering him in the correct path)

“L’manburg! This was mine and Wilbur’s na- it was Wilbur’s nation! It was Wilbur’s which makes it all the more heart wrenching, alright?” (referring to his talk with Wilbur about L’Manburg, which does make it more heart wrenching)

“Now we were okay- I was okay when we were banished and I knew that we’d get it back and we’d talk about it, right? As you said: ‘peace is the option’. But here’s the thing Foolish, Wilbur didn’t wanna do anymore talking, he’d given up with that, because some people aren’t strong enough, alright, some people stop talking. You know the phrase ‘treat others how you wanna be treated’ Foolish? That’s a very important phrase (...) Wilbur disregarded that rule. He decided that he wanted to be treated poorly so he’d treat everyone else poorly” “Why do you think that?” “Honestly sometimes I don’t really know myself”

So a very interesting thing that emerged from this conversation is that Tommy has a much better understanding of Wilbur then most people originally assumed and he is possibly the only person (in universe) who has picked up on the fact that all of Wilburs “villain speaches” and behaviours were nothing more then him treating others like he thought he himself deserved to be treated, like sh*t. It’s also interesting that Tommy relates the concept of strenght here once again both with the ability to stay peaceful and, this time, also the ability to communicate properly with those you care about (probably because this are both things he himself lacked when he considered himself to be at his worst, meaning in exile and later with Techno). It is also to be noted though that, while Tommy is undoubtedly the one person who understand Wilbur best, he is still not aware of how bad his spiral had gotten because Wilbur never communicated it.

“Now Wilbur, he was a good man- he IS a good man, deep inside him, alright?” “So you’re saying that there’s still redemption for him?” “Well he’s been a good man deep inside him, but he’s been a bad guy for a very very long time” (Short introduction to Tommy’s concept of “good” or “bad” in season 3. He has gotten a lot more nuanced over time realizing that the world isn’t simply black or white)

“You believe in second chances?” “No I don’t. I don’t really believe- I- that’s not a thing for me Foolish, is just that... *sigh* I believe that everyone has got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him” (A little bit more about his concept of morality, this time explaining that he doesn’t really believe in giving people a quantifiable number of “chances”, but more so in the fact that everyone has capacity for good, which also implies that everyone has capacity for bad, but he chooses to hang onto the first one for those he cares about)

“Now I just think Wilbur’s being a bad guy, and that’s okay! We’re all bad guys, everyone messes up. You learn the most from your mistakes” (he also moved on from the fear of becoming a “bad guy” now it seems by noticing that your mistakes don’t define you as a person and that they are opportunities to better yourself)

“He’s made sooo many mistakes, so many that have hurt so many people, but, what this is gonna be about isn’t giving him a second chance, isn’t giving him a third chance, is not about chances! Foolish, it’s about not giving up on the people you care about”

And this is the culmination of all the previous point. The idea of chances implies that you’re gonna give up at some point if the person doesn’t changes (which is a healthy thing to do, by the way, sometimes it’s better to cut people off when they aren’t good for you) and Tommy doesn’t believe in that. He believes that everyone has some good in them and perhaps, if you stick by them long enough, that good may shine threough. Now this is a nice concept in theory, but in reality if people wanna change it has to start from themselves (wether that be changing an opinion or needing to reach out for help) and it’s especially not a good idea to stick by someone if they are harmful to you. I’m sure no one likes Wilbur being in this example, so think what would happen if Tommy applied the same mentality to, say, Dream, someone who has hurt him more then anyone else and who considers him less then human (more like his propriety) and who’s most probably never gonna change since he never regretted anything he did: would you still think that the idea of “never give up on people if you care about them” would be a positive one? This sadly is an example of excessive selflessness on Tommy’s part that ends up being self-destructive.

“You consider yourself to be the ‘good guy’ or the ‘bad guy’?” “That really depends who you ask, doesn’t it? You know? You ask Dream he’s say I’m- he’d say I’m his little- I’m his little play- his little toy that he plays with, you know, it doesn’t- Foolish honestly I used to consider myself the ‘good guy’, the fucking second in command going around going ‘yeah let’s do this!’ but I- recently- this past- this past like six months or so Foolish everything got so much harder then it was before, but because before it was us fighting the bad guys and everything was so clear, it was all so clear! But it’s not been clear for so long”

A few things to unpack here: Tommy once again demonstrating quite a bit of awareness that he didn’t always have about Dream and how he now views him (this has been a gradual and difficult realization for him and it is still clearly hard for him to talk about it) and then explaining that things simply got more complicated then they once were (which is an important thing to keep in mind, because Wilbur missed all of that, he missed the world becoming shades of gray) and that he really doesn’t believe in ‘bad guys’ or ‘good guys’ any longer.

“It seems like you’ve been the hero, you’ve been the viallian, the conquerer, the saviour and, even now, I still have no idea of what you exactly are” “It’s up to you to decide, isn’t it?”

Now this can be interpreted in a few different ways. It could be that Tommy has simply given up in tring to define himself since others keep insisting in putting him into small little boxes that don’t fit him. It could be that he simply refuses the labels and leaves it up to others to decide what he is in relation to them. Or it could be something else entirely and I’m leaving it up to you to decide.

“Unlike you I don’t really have a choice. I have to try and be who I want to be, ‘cause if I don’t... very bad things are gonna happen on this server. Now Wilbur’s back Foolish I can’t- quite frankly no one can risk that, so I don’t really have a choice”

And this is how it ends on a quite hopeless note actually. By this point the responsability to solve problems has been put on his shoulders so many times that he doesn’t really think he has a choice any longer and he also recognizes Wilbur as a genuine threat to the server as a whole if left alone.

[bamf-jaskier]

Who the Fuck is Philippa Eilhart?

I don’t know if you’ve been following Witcher news lately but Philippa has just been cast!

Of course, many show-only fans might not be familiar with her character and game-only fans might not know how different her story is in the books, so I’m here to give a relatively brief overview of her plot line in the books. Warning: lots of book spoilers ahead as well as the standard graphic violence that is the norm in the books.

With that, Hi! I’m Aaliyah and this is Part 6 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subject from The Witcher books.

The first time we meet Philippa in Blood of Elves, she is an advisor to the King of Redania. Dandelion is brought before The Redanian Secret Service because they wish to know Geralt’s whereabouts. 

Excerpt:

Dandilion glanced at the fourth person present at the meeting, who until then had remained silent. Philippa Eilhart must have only recently arrived in Oxenfurt, or was perhaps intending to leave at once, since she wore neither a dress nor her favourite black agate jewellery nor any sharp make-up. 

She was wearing a man’s short jacket, leggings and high boots – a “field” outfit as the poet called it. The enchantress’s dark hair, usually loose and worn in a picturesque mess, was brushed smooth and tied back at the nape of her neck.

“Let’s not waste time,” she said, raising her even eyebrows. “Dandilion’s right. We can spare ourselves the rhetoric and slick eloquence which leads nowhere when the matter at hand is so simple and trivial.”

Here are some of Dandelion’s thoughts on Philippa:

Dandilion divided women – including magicians – into very likeable, likeable, unlikeable and very unlikeable. The very likeable reacted to the proposition of being bedded with joyful acquiescence, the likeable with a happy smile. The unlikeable reacted unpredictably. The very unlikeable were counted by the troubadour to be those to whom the very thought of presenting such a proposition made his back go strangely cold and his knees shake.

Philippa Eilhart, although very attractive, was decidedly very unlikeable. Apart from that, Philippa Eilhart was an important figure in the Council of Wizards, and King Vizimir’s trusted court magician. 

She was a very talented enchantress. Word had it that she was one of the few to have mastered the art of polymorphy. She looked thirty. In truth she was probably no less than three hundred years old.”

Then, Dandelion leaves to go back to Geralt and Philippa follows him in the form of an owl:

A big grey owl glided down to the sill without a sound. Shani cried out quietly. Geralt reached for his sword.

“Don’t be silly, Philippa,” said Dandilion.

The owl disappeared and Philippa Eilhart appeared in its place, squatting awkwardly. The magician immediately jumped into the room, smoothing down her hair and clothes.

“Good evening,” she said coldly. “Introduce me, Dandilion.”

“Geralt of Rivia. Shani of Medicine. And that owl which so craftily flew in my tracks is no owl. This is Philippa Eilhart from the Council of Wizards, at present in King Vizimir’s service and pride of the Tretogor court. It’s a shame we’ve only got one chair in here.”

Geralt is trying to hunt down a wizard, Rience, who is trying to get Ciri. When Geralt is about to kill Rience, Philippa lets Rience portal away and Geralt, Shani and Dandelion are quite upset:

“Philippa!” shouted Dandilion, still holding the weeping Shani. “Have you gone mad?”

“No,” said the witcher with some effort. “She’s quite sane. And knows perfectly well what she’s doing. She knew all along what she was doing. She took advantage of us. Betrayed us. Deceived—”

“Calm down,” repeated Philippa Eilhart. “You won’t understand and you don’t have to understand. I did what I had to do. And don’t call me a traitor. Because I did this precisely so as not to betray a cause which is greater than you can imagine. 

A great and important cause, so important that minor matters have to be sacrificed for it without second thoughts, if faced with such a choice. Geralt, damn it, we’re nattering and you’re standing in a pool of blood. Calm down and let Shani and me take care of you.”

Of course, this is all a part of Philippa’s larger plan to hold a coup and gain political power. Vilgefortz hired Rience and if Geralt had found that out then Vilgefortz would be revealed as a traitor to the Brotherhood and Philippa couldn’t have that happening before her coup.

The next time we see Philippa is in Time of Contempt at the banquet on Thanedd Island. She talks to many of the guests, here is a short conversation between her and Geralt:

“There’s no caviar.’ (Geralt)

‘One moment.’ (Philippa)

She looked around quickly, waved a hand and mumbled a spell. The silver dish in the shape of a leaping fish immediately filled with the roe of the endangered shovelnose sturgeon. The Witcher smiled.

‘Can one eat one’s fill of an illusion?’

‘No. But snobbish tastes can be pleasantly titillated by it. Have a try.’

‘Hmm… Indeed… I’d say it’s tastier than the real thing…’

‘And it’s not at all fattening,’ said the enchantress proudly, squeezing lemon juice over a heaped teaspoon of caviar. ‘May I have another goblet of white wine?’

‘At your service. Philippa?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m told etiquette precludes the use of spells here. Wouldn’t it be safer, then, to conjure up the illusion of the taste of caviar alone, without the caviar? Just the sensation? You’d surely be able to…’

‘Of course I would,’ said Philippa Eilhart, looking at him through her crystal goblet. ‘The construction of such a spell is easy as pie. But were you only to have the sensation of taste, you’d lose the pleasure the activity offers. The process, the accompanying ritual movements, the gestures, the conversation and eye contact which accompanies the process… I’ll entertain you with a witty comparison. Would you like that?’

‘Please do. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘I’d also be capable of conjuring the sensation of an orgasm.”

She is quite ruthless and cutting and while Geralt remains upset about Rience, Philippa, in true sorceress fashion, has already moved on. As well, she is explicitly queer in the books which I talk about here

Later, Geralt gets up in the night to go to the bathroom and stumbles upon Philippa attempting a coup. Triss temporarily blinds Geralt and Philippa and Tissaia exchange tense words. Philippa sends Geralt away with Dijkstra, offering him mercy despite him finding out about her coup. 

However, Geralt gets away from Dijkstra and goes back to Thanedd where a full-battle is going on. 

Turns out, Tissaia and Philippa’s fight cumulated in Tissaia releasing Vilgefortz and lowering the barrier as seen in this passage:

“They’re still fighting,’ said Carduin, grinding his teeth. ‘It’s hot down there, one spell after another…’

‘Spells? In Garstang? But there’s an anti-magic aura there!’

‘It was Tissaia’s doing. She suddenly decided whose side she was on. She took down the blockade, removed the aura and neutralised the dimeritium. Then everyone went for each other! Vilgefortz and Terranova on one side, Philippa and Sabrina on the other… The columns cracked and the vaulting collapsed… And then Francesca opened the entrance to the cellars, and those elven devils suddenly leapt out… We told them that we were neutral, but Vilgefortz only laughed.”

Geralt then runs in Keira Metz who was thrown out a window and she explains that after Vilgefortz was released the Scoia’tael (Elven and Non-human fighters who are allied with Nilfgaard sort of) attacked: 

“Sorry. How did the Scoia’tael get here?”

“They were hidden in the cellars. Thanedd is as hollow as a nutshell and there’s a huge cavern under it; you could sail a ship in if you knew how. Someone must have told them the way—Ouuuch! Be careful! Stop jolting me!’

‘Sorry. So the Squirrels came here by sea? When?’

‘God knows when. It might have been yesterday, or a week ago. We were preparing to strike at Vilgefortz, and Vilgefortz at us. Vilgefortz, Francesca, Terranova and Fercart… They conned us good and proper. Philippa thought they were planning a slow seizure of power in the Chapter, and to put pressure on the kings… But they were planning to finish us off during the Conclave… Geralt, it’s too painful… It’s my leg… Put me down for a second. Ouuuch!”

Later, there is a flashback to Philippa and Tissaia’s fight:

‘Enough!’ Philippa slammed her fist down on the table. ‘I shall satisfy your curiosity, Carduin. You ask who is preparing a war? Nilfgaard. They intend to attack and destroy us. But Emhyr var Emreis remembers Sodden Hill and has decided to protect himself by removing the mages from the game first. With this in mind, he made contact with Vilgefortz of Roggeveen. He bought him with promises of power and honour. 

Yes, Tissaia. Vilgefortz, hero of Sodden, sold us out to become the governor and ruler of all the conquered territories of the north. Vilgefortz, helped by Terranova and Fercart, shall rule the provinces which will be established in place of the conquered kingdoms. It is he who will wield the Nilfgaardian scourge over the people who inhabit those lands and will begin toiling as the Empire’s slaves. 

And Francesca Findabair, Enid an Gleanna, will become queen of the land of the free elves. It will, of course, be a Nilfgaardian protectorate, but it will suffice for the elves so long as Emperor Emhyr will give them a free hand to murder humans. The elves desire nothing so much as to murder Dh’oine.”

Tissaia states, “That is a serious accusation. Which means the proof will also have to be as weighty. But before you throw your proof onto the scale, Philippa Eilhart, be aware of my stance. Proof may be fabricated. Actions and their motives may be misinterpreted. 

But nothing can change existing facts. You have broken the unity and solidarity of the Brotherhood, Philippa Eilhart. You have handcuffed members of the Chapter like criminals. So do not dare to offer me a position in the new Chapter which your gang of traitors–who have sold out to the kings, rather than to Nilfgaaard–intend to create. 

We are separated by death and blood. The death of Hen Gedymdeith. And the blood of Lydia van Bredevoort. You spilled that blood with contempt. You were my best pupil, Philippa Eilhart. I was always proud of you. But now I have nothing but contempt for you.”

I won’t go into detail for the sake of brevity, but Philippa ends up escaping Thanedd unharmed after her failed coup and we don’t see her again until Baptism of Fire when she is forming The Lodge. 

Here is an excerpt of her pitch speech about The Lodge to the other mages:

Philippa Eilhart stood up, her dress rustling.

‘Distinguished sisters,’ she said. ‘Our situation is grave. Magic is under threat. The tragic events on Thanedd, to which my thoughts return with regret and reluctance, proved that the effects of hundreds of years of apparently peaceful cooperation could be laid waste in an instant, as self-interest and inflated ambitions came to the fore. 

We now have discord, disorder, mutual hostility and mistrust. Events are beginning to get out of control. In order to regain control, in order to prevent a cataclysm happening, the helm of this storm-tossed ship must be grasped by strong hands. 

Mistress Laux-Antille, Mistress Merigold, Mistress Metz and I have discussed the matter and we are in agreement. It is not enough to re-establish the Chapter and the Council, which were destroyed on Thanedd. In any case, there is no one left to rebuild the two institutions, no guarantee that should they be rebuilt they would not be infected with the disease that destroyed the previous ones. 

An utterly new, secret organisation should be founded which will exclusively serve matters of magic. Which will do everything to prevent a cataclysm. For if magic were to perish, our world would perish with it. 

Just as happened many centuries ago, the world without magic and the progress it brings with it will be plunged into chaos and darkness; will drown in blood and barbarity. We invite the ladies present here to take part in our initiative: to actively participate in the work proposed by this secret assembly. We took the decision to summon you here in order to hear your opinions on this matter. With this, I have finished.’

Then, later on in Baptism of Fire at the first official meeting of the Lodge Philippa discusses how she wants to make Ciri Queen of the North. 

“Who, then, is to be this Queen of the North?’

‘A girl from a royal family,’ Philippa calmly replied, ‘in whose veins flows royal blood, the blood of several great dynasties. Very young and capable of producing offspring. A girl with exceptional magical and prophetic abilities, a carrier of the Elder Blood as the prophecies have heralded. A girl who will play her role with great aplomb without direction, prompt, sycophants or grey eminences, because that is what her destiny demands. 

A girl, whose true abilities are and will be known only to us: Cirilla, daughter of Princess Pavetta of Cintra, the granddaughter of the Queen Calanthe called the Lioness of Cintra. The Elder Blood, the Icy Flame of the North, the Destroyer and Restorer, whose coming was prophesied centuries ago. Ciri of Cintra, the Queen of the North. And her blood, from which will be born the Queen of the World.”

After this, Yennefer, who was brought to the Lodge agains her will (although she is a member) escapes with Fringilla’s help in order to find Ciri and Philippa is furious. 

The next time we see Philippa is in The Tower of the Swallows and it is when Yennefer is hunting down Vilgefortz and contacts Philippa for help:

Philippa stared at her from under lowered eyelids. “If you believe,” she said finally, “that you've won peace, time, or security with this declaration, then you've miscalculated. Make no mistake about it, Yennefer. 

When you fled from Montecalvo, you made your decision. You chose to stand on a different side of the barricade. If you are not with the Lodge, you are against the Lodge. Now you're trying to forestall us from finding Ciri, and the motives that guide you are opposed to ours. 

You act against us. You do not want to allow us to use Ciri for our political purposes. You shouldknow that we will also do everything in our power to make sure that you cannot use the girl for your sentimental purposes.”

“So, it’s war?”

“Competition.” Philippa smiled toxically. “Competition only, Yennefer.”

“Decent and honorable?”

“You must be joking.”

“Obviously. Though on at least one specific issue, I would like to have an honest and genuine conversation. And, incidentally, it involves a favor to me.”

“Speak.”

“Over the next few days, maybe even tomorrow, events will occur whose consequences I cannot foresee. It may happen that our competition and rivalry suddenly has no meaning. For the simple reason that one of the competitors will not be there anymore.”

Philippa Eilhart narrowed her blue-shaded eyes. “I understand.”

“Ensure that I posthumously gain back my reputation and good name. I will no longer be held for a traitor or an accomplice of Vilgefortz. I ask this of the Lodge. I ask this of you, personally.”

Philippa was silent for a moment.“I deny your request,” she said finally. “I'm sorry, but your exoneration is not in the interest of the Lodge. If you die, you die a traitor. You'll be a traitor and criminal to Ciri, because then it will be easier to manipulate the girl.”

“Before you do something that could be fatal,” Triss said suddenly, “leave something behind for us…”

“A will?” Yennefer said.

“Something that allows us to… continue. To find Ciri. Because we are primarily concerned for her health! For her life! Yennefer, Dijkstra has found some traces of… some traces of certain activities have been found. If Vilgefortz does have Ciri, then the girl faces a horrible death.”

“Be quiet, Triss,” Philippa Eilhart hissed sharply. “We are not trading or bargaining.”

“I will leave you the information,” Yennefer said slowly. “I'll leave you the information on what I've found and what I plan. I’ll leave a trail you can follow to her. But not in vain. If you will not facilitate my exoneration in the eyes of the world, then to hell with you and with the world. But at least grant me exoneration in the eyes of the witcher.”

“No,” Philippa denied the request almost instantly. “That is also not in the interest of the Lodge. You will also remain a traitor and a mercenary sorceress to your witcher. It is not in the interest of the Lodge for him to furiously attempt to avenge you. If he despises you, he will not attempt to take revenge. By the way, he's probably already dead or will die any day now.”

“The information,” Yennefer said dully, “for his life. Save him, Philippa.”

“No, Yennefer.”

“Because it's not in the interest of the Lodge.” A purple fire kindled in the sorceress’ eyes. “Did you hear that Triss? There, you have your Lodge. You see their true colors, their true interests. And what do you think of them? You were a mentor to the girl, almost – as you put it – a big sister. And Geralt…”

“Do not attack Triss’ relationships, Yennefer.” Philippa retaliated with her own fire in her eyes. “We will find and rescue the girl without your help. And if you succeed, that's fine, a thousand thanks, because you will have saved us the trouble. You tear the girl out of the hands of Vilgefortz and we will be happy. And Geralt? Who cares about Geralt?”

“Did you hear that, Triss?”

“Forgive me,” said Triss Merigold dully. “Forgive me, Yennefer.”

“Oh, no, Triss. Never.”

I know this is a long scene, but it’s so important and isn’t one I felt right in slicing up. This establishes Triss’ true betrayal of Yennefer. Just prior to this, it is practically stated that Triss and Philippa slept together and despite Triss’ love for Yennefer her loyalty to Philippa is stronger in this moment which makes this hurt so much more. Philippa is also so cruel to Yennefer in this scene, denying both Geralt and Ciri the truth of her motivations as to better manipulate them. It really showcases how her lust for power overrides her empathy. 

The final time we see Philippa is in Lady of the Lake when Ciri is brought before the Lodge. Here, Philippa describes what their plans are for Ciri:

“You are coming with me,” Lady Owl (Philippa) said, breaking the heavy silence, “and Sile to Kovir, to Pont Vanis, the summer capital of the kingdom. As you are no longer Cirilla of Cintra, during the course of the audience you will be presented as an adept of magic, being protected by us. 

At that audience you will meet a very wise king, Esterad Thyssen. You will meet his wife, the Queen Zuleyka, a person of singular nobility and goodness. You will also meet their son and heir, Prince Tancred.”

Ciri was beginning to understand and rolled her eyes. Lady Owl did not miss that detail.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “First of all you must impress prince Tancred. Because you are going to become his lover and give him a child.”

“If you were still Cirilla of Cintra,” Philippa continued after a long pause, “still the daughter of Pavetta and granddaughter of Calanthe, you would become Prince Tancred’s legal wife. You’d be the princess and later the queen of Poviss and Kovir. Unfortunately, and I tell you with genuine regret, fate has deprived you of everything. Including your future. You will only be his mistress. His favourite.”

Then Later: 

“Your’s and Tancred’s child,” Philippa watched here with dark eyes, “will ensure the future and status of this Lodge. Take note that it will be a great thing. You will be a part of it, because right after the birth you will sit with us at this table. We will teach you. You are one of us, even if you do not want to admit it yet.”

“On the island of Thanedd,” Ciri overcame the tightness in her throat, “you said I was a mindless tool, even a monster, Lady Owl, and now you say that I am one of you.”

Then, the Lodge asks Ciri what her last name will be, Philippa and others offering theirs but Ciri declines in favor of choosing Yennefer’s:

“Thank you, Lady Philippa,” Ciri said after a few moments, squeezing the head of the sphinxes in her hands. “I also feel honoured with the proposal to take the surname de Tancarville. However, it seems to me that my new last name is the only thing that I can choose for myself, I thank the two mistresses. But I want to be called Cirilla of Vengerberg, daughter of Yennefer.”

Ciri requests to go and see Geralt and The Lodge votes on this and Philippa is the deciding vote. At first, she is hesitant but then Ciri shows her a vision and Philippa says this: 

“This Lodge,” Philippa said at last in a firm voice, “is to decide the fate of the world. So, this Lodge must reflect the world. Here, equilibrium and wisdom does not always mean cold and selfish, calculation and vileness, and sentimentality is not always naive. On one hand, iron discipline and on the other responsibility, resistance to violence, gentleness and trust. Cool reason… And heart.”

“I,” she said into the silence that reigned after her introduction, “cast the last vote. I will take into account one more thing. An element that without balancing anything, balances everything.”

“Following her gaze, everyone looked at the wall, to a mosaic of many multicolour tiles depicting the snake Uroboros, biting it’s own tail.

“That thing,” she continued, staring with her dark eyes at Ciri, “is destiny in which I, Philippa Eilhart have only begun to believe in recently, which I have only recently begun to understand. Destiny is not the way to providence or comfortable fatalism. Destiny is hope. I am full of hope that it will become what we want to happen, so I give my vote to Ciri - Child of Destiny, Child of Hope”

In the pillared hall of Montecalvo the was silence for a long time. From outside of the window came the hunting cry from a sea eagle.

“Lady Yennefer,” Ciri whispered. “It means…”

“Come, my daughter,” Yennefer whispered back. “Geralt is waiting for is and it is a long road ahead.”

This is the last time we see Philippa, but based on what we hear at other parts of Lady of Lake, we know she does not have a happy ending. After this, the Witch Hunt begin, a period of time when the Clergy hunted and murdered sorceresses and destroyed their pictures and images. The Witcher Hunts themselves could be an entirely separate post there is so much there. 

Many sorceresses, Philippa included as later considered Martyrs but she was killed viciously by the clergy as described in this passage from Lady of the Lake:

…As well as many of the other faithful, St. Philippa was also besmirched with betraying the Kingdom, inducing riots and plotting a coup. Willemer, a heretic and sectarian, unlawfully appointed himself the title of archpriest, and ordered St. Philippa to be thrown into a dark dungeon, and to plague her with cold and hunger, until she confessed to her sins of which she was accused and repented. 

Also various instruments of torture were used to try and break her spirit. But St. Philippa with disdain, spit in his face and accused him of sodomy.

The heretic had her disrobed and whipped her with barbed wire and placed sharp splinters under her nails. While unceasingly preaching about his faith and denouncing the Goddess. But St. Philippa laughed at him and recommended to him to heal his sick mind.”

“Willemer then gave the order to have her taken to the rack and stretched, while tearing her body with sharp hooks and burning her with candles. Although thus tormented, St. Philippa showed no weakness in body and indeed her resistance and endurance seemed almost superhuman. 

The executioner’s arms went limp and with fear they retreated from her. Then the filthy heretic, Willemer, began to threaten them and told them to continue the torment. They burned St. Philippa with red-hot irons, pulled her limbs out of their joints and pulled at her breasts with blacksmith tongs. And although she passed away from this torment, she confessed nothing.

The shameless heretic Willemer, we read in the books of our holy fathers, later suffered for this punishment and it was that lice and worms began to eat him alive, his entrails rotted away and he died miserably. 

His carcass carried with it a foul stench and nobody wanted to bury him, and so he was dropped in a swamp.

For the suffering and death of St. Philippa the eternal memory of a martyr’s crown rightfully belongs. Let us give the Great Mother Goddess praise for her lessons and teachings. Amen.

The Life of St. Philippa, Martyr of Mons Calvus

The Book of Martyrs Compiled in the Breviary of Tretogor, For the 

Contemplation of the Holy Fathers and Mothers.”

Needless to say, Philippa’s hunger for power and The Lodge end in ruin. There are very few happy endings in The Witcher and this is just another example. 

So that’s my overview on Philippa! I had to cut some scenes and moments in the hope of keeping it short, but I hope it was still an enjoyable read. If you want another character/topic WTF post leave something in my inbox and I will get to it when I can. 

[felixfelicisfics]

More Than An After Thought (James X Reader)

Summary: James and the Reader have been friends for years. After years of the Reader silently pining, James asks the Reader on a date. However the Reader can’t get over the years James spent chasing after Lily. What changed? Why now?

Requested By: @msmb​

Word Count: 1,998

TW: None

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first fic on this account! Remember requests are always open! Thanks for reading! <3

---

The patchy noise of a playing record fills the room. You bob about while tidying up your hair and putting the final details on your outfit. You step in front of the mirror and take a look at yourself. You smear a bit of rouge on your cheeks and the tip of your nose and gingerly to your lips. You catch yourself humming along to the old jazz record James had gifted you. 

James had been your friend of many years. The two of you knew the very worst and best parts of each other and it was a rare sight to catch one of you walking about the halls of Hogwarts without the other. “Potter and L/N are entirely inseparable” your classmates would say “They practically share a mind”. And you did. That is, besides one thing. You had been pining over James since your second year. He, however, did not reciprocate those feelings until recently. For as long as you, and well everyone in your year, could remember James only had eyes for Lily Potter. Damn that Lily. She was nice enough but you couldn’t help but be jealous of her, and more particularly how James looked at her.

You shake the thought of Lily from your mind and continue touching up your final ensemble, for James was to be at your dorm any minute to pick you up. He had, rather surprisingly, asked you out to dinner last friday in Potions specifying that it was “a date kid of dinner”. You were completely overjoyed when first invited. However, with time to think you’ve become suspicious of James’s true intentions. Right as the clock hit seven o’clock a knock came at your dormitory door. A knock that was surely James. 

“One moment!”

You run to slip on your shoes and grab your bag. James’s slight chuckle can be heard on the other side of the door.

“C’mon Y/N! We said seven. You’re usually more punctual than this.” There's an air of teasing in his voice that your nerves mask.

You throw the door open and apologetically smile. James is dressed far more formal than usual in a button up tucked into a pair of plaid slacks. He holds a modest bouquet of delicate flowers. He stops and looks at you like a deer in the headlights. 

“You look great Y/N. Absolutely stunning.” He smiles nervously.

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself”

There’s a silence, which is uncommon between you two. Finally, James clears his throat and hands the bouquet to you. 

“Here, these are for you. I overheard you telling Remus you like the ones that grow outside the Quidditch field.”

You take the flowers and smile, your worries fleeing, and look back up to James.

“These are wonderful, thank you.”

You set the flowers inside your dorm before meeting James at the door once again.

“So where are we off to?” you ask.

“That’s a surprise.” James grins and holds out his hand for you to take.

Your heart pitter patters every so slightly as you take his. It’s warm and strong yet his grip is delicate and gentle. The two of you descend the dorm stairs and weave through the passages of Hogwarts until James opens a door and the sun pours over your face. There, on the grounds near the Black Lake sits an extravagant, candlelit picnic near the edge of the Black Lake. A gasp escapes you and you look excitedly at James. When your eyes meet his lit up face you see the wide smile plastered on his face. The joy and excitement practically drips from him when he notices how content you look. You both walk out towards the picnic blanket.

“James. This is so sweet. Did you do all this?”

“I had a little help. I bribed the house elfs to let me use the kitchen. It wasn’t easy but I finally promised them that Sirius and I would stop taking eggs from the kitchen to throw at Snape.”

“You really ought to stop that y’know. You’ll get expelled soon enough”.”

“Nah ol’ Sniffleous Snape wouldn't go to Slughorn and tell.”

“If you say so.” You roll your eyes at James’s mischievous nature. “So what all do we have here?” 

You gaze at the quilt topped with a half a dozen mini platters and small containers of delectable food. And lying in the middle, the crown jewel of it all, lyes a pitiful cake decorated with strawberries and sprinkles. The both of you sit opposite to each other and look at the feast James had put together. 

“Well let’s see we have apple tarts and some sandwiches here. A couple of boxes of chocolate frogs, and a couple of ciders. Oh! And then some chips. Yeah. Ah and the cake. You like strawberries, yeah?”

“Yeah. Strawberry cake is wonderful.”

“Well don’t wait on my account go ahead.” James chuckles and hands you a plate.

You take it and begin to fill your plate with the delectable foods before you. James serves himself as well and while doing so you catch each other’s glance on and off, which would make both of your cheeks ever so slightly hot. The slight breeze tickles your skin. The sun has nearly set and the floating candles illuminate your romantic picnic. You glance up to catch James eye. His skin and eyes glow in the firelight. Somehow he looked even more handsome in this light. His eyes travel over you, as if climbing your body to reach your eyes. You feel the steady, strong rhythm of your heart. He draws closer to you, leaning in. 

Your heart begins to race. You have waited so very long for this. It feels as though his lips are miles away and so very close all at the same time. Your mind races through all the times you’ve thought of how this would go. All the scenarios, the daydreams, the what ifs. How have you known your feelings for James this long and not have shown him. And then it hits you. 

Lily.

For years James has fancied Lily. You watched him flirt and gaze and fawn over her. You gave him advice, you listened to him go on and on about how ‘It’s finally it Y/N! I think I know how to win Lily over’. You watched him buy her flowers, and call her beautiful, and plan her picnics… just like this one.

You pull yourself away and pick at your cake, avoiding James’s confused look. There’s a moment of silence before you hear James clear his throat. 

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” James asks.

Before you can begin to think to stop yourself you ask,”Why me?”

“What?” 

This time you look up to meet his eyes. Not missing a beat you ask once again,

“Why me, James?”

“I don’t understand what you-”

“What did Lily turn you down so you figured you might as well not waste the food?”

James furrows his brow and sets down his plate.

“What? Where is this coming from Y/N?”

“Why me James? What’s with the sudden interest? What, you need a rebound because I’m not here for that okay. So just tell me what’s actually going on.”

“Y/N I don’t-”

Tears well up ever so slightly. A weight in your chest sinks down to your stomach. You should’ve known. Why would he chase Lily so long and suddenly magically have an interest in you. It’s impossible, childish even to consider it true. You’re simply nothing more than a rebound, leftovers, a second choice. 

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake I gotta go.” you sniffle before standing up.

“Y/N wait! You don’t understand.”

James stands and grabs your hand, gently but firm. You face away from him so he can’t see the singular tear running down your hot face. You freeze in your spot. A chill of embarrassment washes over your body as you feel his eyes on you. 

“Now damn Y/N will you just wait a second!” He says.

You want so badly to be anywhere but here. With anyone but him. But a part of you clings to the pleading in his voice. 

“James just get it over with. Stop fucking with me.”

James takes a deep breath and takes a step closer to you. 

“What I was going to say, before you decided to run off, was that I don’t want to mess this up. You and I, we’ve always had this connection. And I know you feel it too. Everytime we’re together and our hands brush or you meet my gaze a little longer than usual my heart flutters. But I cast it aside because I didn’t want to ruin our relationship as well as I assumed you didn’t feel the same way. Y/N, you’re my best friend; but recently I’ve come to realise it’s always been a little more than that.”

“But James, what about Lily?”, you ask.

“Lily and I will never happen. She has no interest in me and quite honestly the more I chased the more I lost interest in her and… fell more in love with you.” 

You can feel James’s gaze grow stronger on you. You whip your head to face him, releasing your hand from his grasp in the process. 

“Oh I gotcha, so Lily’s off the table now so you’ll just have to have the leftovers. Is that what I am to you? An afterthought?”

“No, Y/N, of course not! You’re just there for me! I’ve been so stupid, flailing myself about at someone who doesn’t give a damn about me when right in front of me is you, Y/N. You make me smile and laugh so hard my throat hurts. You come to everyone of my Quidditch games and cheer with all your might. You call me out and keep me in check when I go too far. Your eyes make me feel like you can read me like an open book which terrifies me but in a strange sense makes me feel seen and loved. I love you Y/N. You’re not a second choice. There’s no bloody competition when it comes to you.”

It’s silent for a moment as James looks to you for a response. You’re stunned by his burst of eloquence. You take a step towards him and a fear grows in his eyes. As you finally reach him you wrap your hand to the back of his neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss.

He kisses you back immediately. The kiss felt desperate and yearning; as both of you run your hands tenderly to cup each other’s faces.  Everything in your body feels like static. Excitement flows throughout you. It’s exactly as you imagined, quite better actually. James’s lips are soft and his kiss is warm and smooth. You feel years of pining and frustration melt away in the kiss.

James pulls away softly, “Now, I believe there’s a very romantic and tasty picnic waiting for us. If you’d like to join me?”

You smile, your worries dead and gone, “Absolutely.”

James takes a step back and holds out his hand for you to take. You take it and the both of you step back onto the quilt and resume your date, now giggling and recalling all the times you wanted to tell one another about your hidden feelings. The stories flow back and forth til the sun sets right over the Black Lake. And with the sunset the both of you blew out the candles and lied on the quilt, full from the meal, and gazed at the stars in a comfortable silence. Completely content. And still utterly overjoyed by your first kiss. James intertwines your hand in his, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah James?”

“This is so much better than being friends.”

“I think so too, James.”

[stickyy]

Can I have a gn reader x Aizawa? Maybe a college AU where Aizawa doesn't know how to handle his crush because he was awkward when he was young and ended up a bully who was handsy. Thank you!

EEEE this is my first ask so i hope you like it anon! :D thanks so much for requesting!

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone or encourage any of the behavior outlined in the following text. this is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such. :)

wordcount: 2299

warnings: dubcon, verbal abuse, slight dumbification, forced oral sex, brief mentions of gagging/vomit (doesn’t actually happen), aizawa is an law student asshole, quirkless!AU, ooc? more likely than u think

notes: im not like a writer so when i put this in word count and saw it was 2k words i gasped-

MIDTERM

Without a doubt, Aizawa’s the smartest student in your Civil Procedure lecture. You admire him; you’re both first years, but he already has an incredible work ethic and results to show for it. He works two part-time jobs to help pay for school (alongside his impressive scholarship), studies into the late hours of the night (mostly due to his being kept awake very loud roommate), and, despite a bad habit of regularly showing up to your 8 am class slightly hungover, still manages to produce the top marks in the class. 

You’re envious of him, because you’re the exact opposite. Your tuition is paid in full by your parents, you have a wonderfully quiet apartment all to yourself, and you study as best you know how, only to practically fail every assignment. You wish you could be surprised, but the material is a dreadfully bland concoction of boring procedure and esoteric theory that you rarely get further than three or four pages into a chapter. You want to like law, you really do, but there’s something about the intricacies of drafting lawsuits that goes in one ear and out the other. It’s no surprise that you sought out Aizawa’s help, desperate to at least pass the class with a decent grade. 

You wish you hadn’t. 

You don’t understand what you do that bothers him so deeply, but something about you coaxes cruelty from somewhere dark inside of him. You always scurry towards the back of the lecture hall to grab a seat next to him, doing your best to be quiet and unassuming, but he shoots you a venomous glare or a soft flurry of harsh words. And you get it, to an extent- some days you walk into class chattering a little too loudly on the phone, and on others you loudly shuffle around in your book bag to try finding the notes that you attempted to start for this lecture (if you even brought them that day). You know it’s annoying, but you also know you don’t deserve the downright verbal abuse he throws at you for it.

“It’s hard to take notes if you forget your textbook. Try being prepared for once,” he’ll sigh as he slides his textbook to you. Like a good student, he took notes for lecture the night before, but it still took some convincing for him to spare you his textbook.

“Do you ever shut up?” He’ll interrupt you as you babble about your difficulties understanding the most recent lecture. You want to retort, tell him off for being rude, but the words die in your throat; he radiates an annoying apathy that makes you doubt the efficacy of anything you say to him.

“You wouldn’t fail every assignment if you actually studied. Or maybe, you’re actually just stupid?” He’ll quip as you clutch your paper, a red ‘47’ scrawled in the upper corner of the page littered with your professor's critiques and question marks. By contrast, Aizawa’s paper is pristine, donning a singular red mark of ‘98, nice work!’.

With a well placed glare and the sour baritone of his voice, laced with exhaustion, it’s always enough to make your stomach drop from shame and embarrassment. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow anyone to speak to you that way, but your grade was a dire situation, and with the midterm upcoming, you forcefully swallow your pride and ask him for his help.

You have to beg, but Aizawa agrees to tutor you the day before the midterm. This grade is a make or break for the class- if you do poorly on this exam, you’ll have to drop the lecture to salvage your gpa, putting you half a semester behind your peers. It’s motivation enough to deal with his poor attitude, and the two of you end up reviewing in an empty studying room on the top floor of the library. You began the session alert and determined to catch up, but studying with him shows you just how far behind you are. The textbook sounds like foreign poetry coming from his mouth; Aizawa is nothing short of eloquent when explaining the complexities of something as boring as filing lawsuits, and you spend most of the two hours spent just zoning out, completely unable to focus.

“You’re just wasting my time at this point.” The break in his cadence snaps you out of your trance, unfocused eyes meeting his tired ones, slightly lidded in annoyance, “Are you even trying to remember the material? Or are you just expecting me to spoon-feed it to you?”

Your throat catches, forcing you to swallow a lump as you attempt to ignore his words. 

“I am trying! I just don’t understand why there are two approaches, is all,” You whine, flipping back through your sparse notes to find the section that contained the explanation. 

“I went over that almost 3 chapters ago. If you were paying attention, you would’ve stopped me by now. It’s hard to believe that you even got into this school, if this is how you studied in high school. Did your daddy pull some strings with his buddies in admissions?”

Your eyes narrow, searching harder for the correct section in your notes. That’s a pretty low blow, and even if he’s not completely wrong, it still stings. You now know for a fact you didn’t even read this part of the text, but you keep your eyes trained on the page. At this point, you’d do anything to avoid looking at Aizawa, lest you begin to cry.

“Don’t be an asshole,” is all you can muster, voice shaking with unshed tears, “Would it kill you to be a little nicer? It’s hard to focus when all you do is insult me.”

“It’s hard to focus?” He repeats, his tone a sickly sweet mockery of yours. “Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s my fault. You’re a lot dumber than you think, if you even think at all. The midterm is tomorrow, and we’re just now getting into chapter five. Don’t get mad at me for actually trying to study; if I was holding your hand through it all, we’d still be on chapter one.”

Your vision blurs and a single tear hits the lined paper of your notes, causing the ink to blur as the drop absorbs into the page. You clench your jaw and take a breath before standing up, opening your backpack to put you things away. You didn’t have to take this abuse, you could study on your own. Even if you did poorly, you’d have some of your dignity left.

“It’s pretty rude to just walk out on someone trying to help you,” Aizawa says after a moment, closing his notes shut. “Not only do you give me a headache every single morning, but I try to tutor you and you want to leave without even thanking me? I’m busy, you know? I take time that I don’t have to spare just help your sorry ass out, for free, and you’re not even capable of learning anything from it.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and move to leave, but you find yourself face to face with Aizawa, his tall frame blocking the door, arms crossed over his chest, and a thoroughly disgusted expression plastered on his features. 

“I should charge you a fee, just for completely wasting an afternoon. Absolutely ridiculous,” His tone is a juxtaposition to his demeanor; he sounds more amused than annoyed, a jeer underlying the words. It makes you feel sick, and you’re suddenly grossly aware of the fact that you're alone with him, the only method of escape blocked. It feels dangerous, and you want nothing more than to be at home, alone and safe.

“H-how much?” You stutter meekly, eager to appease him. “I don’t really have any cash on me but if you have Venmo-”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Your heart starts to jackhammer against your ribcage and panic sets in. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to ask him to elaborate. You may not be very bright, but you have a good idea of what he’s going to ask for, and you can think of a million things you’d rather do instead.

“I know your pretty little skull is practically an echo chamber, so listen closely, okay? We both know that no matter how hard you try, you won’t be ready for the exam by the end of tonight, and I have to work in an hour and a half. So, if you behave and do what I ask you, I’ll let you copy my exam answers tomorrow. Understand?”

You’re silent, paralyzed by fear. A part of you wants to run, desperately, but your mind drifts to the midterm. You know that without any help, you’ll surely fail.

That’s how you end up on your knees in front of him, tears finally streaming down your face from choking on his thick cock. 

“That’s it,” he groans breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as his head presses back against the door, “I knew you were good for something. I bet this is how you convinced your other teachers to give you a passing grade, huh? A few cocks down your throat-fuck, to save your gpa, I wouldn’t put it past you, dumb slut.”

You hate this- hate being reduced to just a mouth for him to fuck. You hate how he sneers down at you, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. You especially hate the treacherous way your spine tingles and heat pools low in your stomach at his amused growls and degrading remarks. He’s just as cruel with the way he fucks into your mouth, disregarding your comfort entirely, hand in your hair roughly guiding your head over his length. He’s almost painfully thick, stretching your lips wide, tickling the recesses of your throat in a grotesque way. You try to wiggle away slightly, just to take a small breath; you’re beginning to feel dangerously lightheaded. You begin to pull your head away but he thrusts his hips upward, holding your head down and  forcing your lips to wrap around the base of his cock.

“S’okay, baby, just relax that empty little head of yours, no need to breathe right now,” he sighs, watching you struggle against him with a smirk, watching the fear bloom in your chest and your mind buzz with the lack of oxygen. Your thrashing shifts his cock in just the right way and you violently gag, eyes widening with the painful sensation. You’re almost convinced he’s going to let you pass out, right before he yanks you off of him. You cough violently, gagging a few more times, drool spilling out of your mouth.

“Throw up on me and a failing grade will be the least of your problems,” he growls, and the threat is a sobering reminder of how fucked up this is. You meet his expectant gaze, and reluctantly return to the task at hand. You can hold out just a little longer, you tell yourself; his hips are beginning to move on their own accord and you know he won’t last much longer. All you have to do is hang on and it will all be over soon.

You know that he’s just a bully, that you’re just doing what you have to do in order to pass this class, that you’re worth more than your grades, that you aren’t stupid- but the dark part of your mind questions if he’s right. Maybe you do belong on your knees, because what do you know? Maybe you are just a dumb slut; there’s no need to study if the only thing you’re good for is swallowing.

The shameful thought forces a new torrent of tears to pour from your eyes, gagging once more on both your tears and his cock, and the look of pure despair on your face pushes him over the edge. Aizawa yanks your head from his cock with a curse and you flinch as his hot cum hits your face. There’s a lot of it, the viscous seed slowly dripping down your face. The sensation is downright disgusting. You feel dirty and used, your throat sore, knees burning, lips swollen from his brutal assault. He presses the tip of his cock on your cheek, smearing his load all over your skin with a cruel laugh.

Through your panting, you keep your eyes closed for a little bit, hoping that maybe this is an awful nightmare and you’ll wake up in your dorm, with an extra day to study and a little more hope in your heart. 

The sound of a camera shutter rips you from your fantasy, opening your eyes to see Aizawa grinning at his phone. You’re too shocked to say anything, only staring at him incredulously from your position on the floor in front of him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know?” He hums as he tidies himself up and grabs his bag. “So photogenic, I’ll be able to get off to this for weeks. Who knows what good you’d be if you were dumb and ugly.”

You didn’t notice that you had stopped crying, but the fresh tears and sound of your own sobs call your attention to fact.

“Try and clean up before you leave, alright? I know you’re a little too stupid to remember, but I don’t think it’d be a good look for you to walk around covered in cum.”

The door clicks closed, and through your sobs you look around at the room, only to notice that there aren’t any tissues left laying around. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

(But at least you get an A- on your midterm.)

[toddtakefive]

Honestly, I've been coming up with a LOT of prompts out of no where recently, so here's just a list of them...

1. "That was funny!"

"Really? But you've never found my jokes funny."

"What! Yes I have!"

"Uhm... *proceeds to list every time they've found their jokes not funny*."

2. "You ever wondered where babies come from?"

"You did not just ask me that."

"What! It's a genuine question!"

"You're twenty-three!"

3. "Why are you calling me at three A.M from a landline?"

"I made some smoothies."

"...ok?"

"Well do you want one?"

4. "Tell me again how we got from you throwing up in your moms car, to a fucking holding cell?"

5. "Your dad is scary, man."

"That was my brother..."

"..."

"..."

"You have an older brother?"

6. "As much as I love being held at gunpoint, can you maybe stop getting us into situations where we are HELD AT GUNPOINT?"

7. "It's not that high of a jump."

"Honestly, it's not high enough."

8. "Is your home screen a picture of my hand?"

"One, why are you on my phone, two, how do you know my password, and three, did you seriously recognize a picture of your hand from four years ago?"

9. "Your mom hates me."

"She likes you!"

"She threw a plate at my head."

"Well, Mazal tov right?"

"That's for marriage, and you know it!"

10. "Do you think I could win a fight with a bear with my nothing but my fists?"

"Why?"

"Someone said they'd pay me fifty bucks if I did."

11. "Didn't you get those shoes in eighth grade?"

"Maybe."

"Dude, we're seniors."

12. "I know gays own pool scenes or whatever, but I really would apprecite if everyone stopped making out in my pool."

13. "You said you're royalty, right?"

"That I did."

"Would you behead me if I asked?"

"...What?"

14. "It's honestly so tiring carrying all the looks in this group."

"Babe, I love you, but you carry a fourth of them at best."

15. "So I'm in trouble for expressing my opinion?"

"No! You're in trouble, as you so eloquently put it, for breaking the kid next doors nose!"

"He called me a loser..."

16. "You'd be a lot easier to deal with if you didn't argue with everything I said."

"I don't do that!"

17. "And if you look closely here, you'll see that I didn't pay attention to this class at all and I gave up half way through making my presentation."

"Can you stay after class? We need to have a little chat."

18. "Just because I stare at him all the time and want to know what it's like to hold his hand, and like kiss him and whatever doesn't mean I have a crush on him!"

"You are so much stupider than I thought you were holy shit."

19. "So this issue is done with, alright?"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"..."

"..."

"But you owe me another capri-sun."

"OH. MY. GOD."

20. "Are you reading fanfiction?"

21. "Duck!"

"Haha, quack."

*gets hit in the face with a ball*

22. "You're staring at the batter."

"I'm watching the game."

"No, you're staring at the batter on-deck."

"Shut up."

23. "So, what's it like working at a coffee shop."

"Absolutely riveting."

"Really?"

"No."

24. "Are you eating my cereal?"

"Perhaps."

25. "This is the height of betrayal! I can't believe I have a crush on you!"

"I win one game of jenga, and suddenly peoples crushes on me jus- wait you

have a crush on me?"

26. "You look like a stringbean."

"And you look like a damn fool each day, but I never commented before."

27. "Are you gonna eat that?"

28. "Pleasing people is so hard."

"Pleasing- YOU JUST TOLD MY DAD TO GO FUCK HIMSELF!"

"I never said I was any good at it."

"You're TERRIBLE at it!"

29. "You're Jewish, right?"

"You've known me since kindergarten, I thought you would know this already, but yeah."

"So like, if I were to marry you would one of us just have to like, convert?"

"...why are you thinking about what would happen if you married me?"

30. "Why is multiplication so hard!"

"I'm sorry. Did you, a fucking PHYSICS MAJOR, just say that MULTIPLICATION was hard?"

31. "My computer brokle again."

"I fixed it a week ago."

32. "Why do you do that?"

"Huh?"

"That thing with your nose. You like scrunch it up all the time."

33. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Sorry, I was looking at your beauty mark!"

"I have a beauty mark?"

34. "I'm gonna commit a crime!"

"Let's go back a few steps. Why are you mad?"

35. "Looking good there, cutie."

"Are you seriously trying to flirt with me after running face first into the shop door?"

"You saw that?"

"All the cashiers saw it."

36. "Killer shoes."

"Thanks, I stole them."

37. "Not to be poor or anything, but can I borrow five bucks?"

"Did you seriously start that sentence off with 'not to be poor or anything'?"

38. "Crazy how you're effortlessly cute."

"Crazy how you're effortlessly annoying. But thank you. You're honestly not that bad yourself"

39. "Good news! I got a number from the girl I was talking to."

"And the bad news?"

"It definitely wasn't hers."

"How do you know?"

"Cause she wrote down yours."

40. "Hey, can you help me get this cat out of this tree?"

"Who are you...?"

I'm definitely not gonna be writing all of these, so @justanaveragefangirlsblog feel free to use literally ANY of these!

[2dmenenthusiast]

Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special

its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚

Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend. 

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)

You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.

“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.

You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.

As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.

“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.

“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”

You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back

at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.

Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”

Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.

He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”

“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.

Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”

“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”

You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”

“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.

You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.

Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”

A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.

“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”

Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”

“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.

“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”

“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”

“Fuckface.”

“Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”

You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.

“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”

He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.

“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”

Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.

“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”

“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”

“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.

“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”

“And you couldn’t just refuse?”

“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.

“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”

“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”

You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”

“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”

You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.

“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”

Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”

“Watch it.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.

“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Um… Katsuki?”

“Hm.”

“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”

“Our power didn’t go out.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit.”

You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.

“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”

Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.

“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”

“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”

“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”

Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.

“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh. 

Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.

“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”

“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

BFCD Reviews by Nesha: Final Space, Season 3

Everybody that know me know that I’m high class #Quillective trash and my main thoughts and feelings go out to Quinn Ergon and Gary Goodspeed - precious Gemini gems, and of course the BABIES: Little Cato, Ash and Fox #NeshaLuhDaKids I had some attachment to Avocato once upon a time, but that n***a got on my LAST nerves this season, so we currently at “Do you, Boo” status by the end of S3, and eventually, yes, I’ma get to why that is. 

Disclaimer for somebody who stumbled across this post because of the fandom tags - I am an independent partaker of this content, not “part of the fandom,” and my audience in particular is NOT for everybody. SO: If you may have been criticized in the past for casual racism, tone deafness to Black women’s concerns or accused of misogynoir or antiblackness, leave now. 

If you don’t like cussing, AAVE, general ratchetness and mean lesbian energy, you too might wanna go. A bitch can be eloquent, but I type like I talk, at times, so it is what it is and I don’t curate for kids, dudes, or nonblacks. That’s just what that is.

I wanna start with Ash Graven. This season is about Ash more than anybody else, despite the fact that there was a lot of emphasis on Avocato’s toxic ass man pain and growth in Quinn and Gary’s relationship, ULTIMATELY, nobody in the crew did more coming into fruition as Ash did, and I have a lot to say about her, because I have a lot of feelings.

♡ Ash Graven

1. Ash is a kid. Lol. Everybody got very confused because of the unnecessary transformation that Invictus gave her. Ash did not “grow up,” her body was altered. That’s a fuckin kid in a woman’s body. A kid who has previously been living with survivor’s guilt, parental abuse/neglect/exploitation, chronic trauma, and a disastrous superpower that most people could not be trusted to carry. She’s a child having a coming of age moment in this season that is mostly molded in manipulation. If you hate on Ash, go fuck yourself. ESPECIALLY if I’ve caught you stanning other characters who have been shit characters, in this fandom or not. Ash was dealt a shit hand and nobody had her back but her brothers, and she’s done what she could and thought was best to care for them. Anybody that missed that - just don’t have kids, K.

2. Ash has no parental guidance. As far as she knows, the only adults who have ever had her back are dead and the ones that she’s stuck with now, she GAVE a chance to try to trust them. She gave Quinn a chance to try to see some of Nightfall (the only adult that we’ve seen not exploit her) in her. She gave Gary a chance by choosing him over Clarence, when she had to make a choice. She even gave Clarence’s ass another chance - with which he responded by dying to not fail her. Now, she has Gary, who just a few days or weeks ago, idek, forced her to try to summon her powers while she was both injured and also upset over having to leave her brother behind - TO SAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND! And she got snatched away in the process and left behind with the enemy, to be mentally assaulted and returned changed, only to have them not trust her.

I love Quinn too. I love her dearly. But the facts were that she was dying and having an episode that nobody could really help with, and Gary didn’t take the time or consideration to think about the stress that he was putting on Ash by putting her in the position to make her feel like she needed to save Quinn for him. Whether or not she was the only one who could, that is a lot to put on a child, and not only did he do it, but he didn’t even seem to think that hard about it whenever he then left her ass. Sure, he was glad when she was returned, but that was a fucked up situation that yet another adult put her into, and the first thing that he should have wanted to do when seeing her was to apologize and try to make it right. It was a huge miscalculation to treat her as a potential enemy that he and Avocato needed to vet. EVEN IF that’s what she was to them, both of them should have had the sense to assess while still treating her as the kid that they supposedly knew.

3. Most of her trauma has been recent and continuous. She looked up to Nightfall, watched her die, and had a meltdown. The events from Season 2 (with Clarence almost killing Fox and leaving him to die, her leaving his side to help out, seeing that Sheryl was treacherous to her own son, losing Nightfall), and the events that are taking place in Season 3 are only in the span of a few months.

They were only stranded for a month whenever we see them surviving together. That girl has had more happen to her to hurt her than to help her and nobody around her BUT Little Cato has been sensitive to that. And they are all fucking adults.

These things being noted - changing Ash’s design was the absolute worse fucking thing. Aging a girl up to make the bad things that follow more palatable is what that seems to be. Ash is still a kid. And THEN, they allegedly made her a queer kid. I say allegedly, because that “reveal” was so poorly done and subtle and weak that I, an almost 40 year old queer, didn’t realize that that’s what they meant whenever they said that they were gonna reveal somebody as a character who is part of the LGBT community.

So... FS production just gon’ decide not only to transform her body into that of a woman, when her mind is still full on traumatized child and hormonal teenager, but also, she likes girls, and they didn’t even do it in a cohesive way that added to the story. They threw it in, like, “BTW, she likes girls, and also, she’s full grown now.” then immediately went for the “Villain” lever, and bitches just ate that shit up. Fuck y’all, forreal. 

& Fox

He didn’t deserve that shit. And, I know a lot of people felt that he was pointless and boring, but his ass was sweet and caring and searching for love and acceptance. As a background character, I liked him. But, he was literally just fodder for Ash’s downfall, which was unfair and problematic, considering that his ass is definitely Black coded. Don’t play. He was voiced by a Black man, spoke with a blaccent, and definitely would be read as Black if you wasn’t looking at him and seeing an alien. They gave him a sacrificial negro trope, the big friendly negro that can kill you but loves everybody trope, and they used his death to just push some narrative forward to set up the one verified queer character as a villain. They got they ass in a vehicle and rolled right over another Black character, and another queer character. Chile...

 ♡ Little Cato!!!

My precious have not been getting some good for too long, and I have had it. He’s not focused on so much this season as he is in the background of other people’s stories, but a very important takeaway is and will always be that Little Cato, aside from Fox, really was the only one here who consistently treated her like she mattered, so it made a lot of sense that he could be the catalyst for her finally having ENOUGH with these people.

I really wish that he could have found out the truth about his past from Avocato, because that’s really who OWED him that truth, but Ash did the thing that I’d expect and told him, to be honest with him. She even told him that Avocato wanted to tell him and that she took that right away from him, because she didn’t believe he deserved it, and I’m respecting her for that, too. I wish she could see how much it hurt Little Cato for her to try to take him away from his home. 

Little Cato has lived before, for a while, and he’s not mature enough to behave as a man, but he at least has a loving foundation to draw from, and having had that support, this is more of his home than it is Ash’s. He doesn’t know how to explain that to her, and she doesn’t know how to understand that for him. Just a tragic situation for two kids with a lot of problems.

♡ Quinn Ergon & Gary Goodspeed

Quinnary notes that might not be featured in the BFCD Reviews by Nesha:  (Quinn Ergon/Nightfall x Gary Goodspeed) rundown - 

I've had two favorite parts of this season so far and they're very mediocre things that you wouldn't think would be like my favorite part but they are. One of them was that the first thing Gary does when she wakes up is to ask her about her sister (someone obviously very important to her who he's previously promised to allow to let live through Quinn's memory and says he wants to hear about her when he's trying to keep Quinn from dying). Because... He really did care and wasn't just saying something to keep her.

Quinn's mother fucked her up in a way that is so frustrating because Black mamas really will traumatize you about their younger kids. That shit hurt. You showed your daughter dead bodies to make her think about that in the event that your other daughter might be in battle? Bitch wtf

Whenever we say that Black girls are programmed to put everybody ahead of us, that's unfortunately not just including Society, it's in households too. And Quinn comes from this place where that is her reality... Then she meets Gary and he doesn't even register for her as anything special. He doesn't appear impressive or incredible in any way... But he (admittedly) weirdly locks on to her and shares himself - thinking that he's showing himself to her, and ultimately he DOES. And he wants to see her too, beyond all this, who she is, at her most humane. He wants to know about her sister. About someone who mattered to her enough to have the helm of her trauma when she was out of touch with reality. Very soft. Very sweet.

The other was when they were talking about how they met and stuff and Gary absolutely cringed thinking about how corny he was when he approached this woman. A lot of dudes never do that. The complaint of earlier seasons that Gary was overbearing, obsessive and creepy , if you missed the fact that he has terrible abandonment issues from his father’s death and his mother’s rejection, here we have him, in his adult state, looking back at the way he was and being embarrassed about it, and that’s growth!

A close third is whenever at the beginning of the Season he says "Quinn it's been a month eventually you have to open up to me about what you've been through" and she says "I will in time" and he respects it but he reiterates that he's there whenever she needs him. I don't think that people realize how revolutionary that kind of statement is especially for a character like Quinn to hear - who has always felt like she had to take charge, had to take the lead, had to make the sacrifice.

Even when she realized that she was dying, she didn't want to burden him with the information. Not even like ‘a thing that she knew if that could help prevent it and she didn't want him to have to go after it,’ but... she didn't even want him to have to deal with knowing about it!

Maybe she thought that she would just drop, maybe she didn't realize that he was going to have to see her in that condition. And then once she realized that he was going to have to see her in that condition one of the first things she says is "I should have told you." Girl is on her deathbed wishing she had done it differently, for Gary's benefit.

I saw somebody on Twitter tried to come for her about not going to Gary after he killed Fox (you know, shortly after her surgery to save her from the very brink of death, and listen... Quinn comes to see about Gary when she can. She’s done it several times. In fact, I’ma make a whole POST about Quinn and Gary moments SPECIFICALLY to point out to haters in the main tag - where they got Quinn Ergon, and by extension, me, FUCKED UP.

Stop Playing in Quinn Face

HI! HELLO. ACTUALLY MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS SEASON IS THAT QUINN AND GARY JUST FUCKED. THANK YOU VERY MUCH. THANKS. OK. Back 2 bidness

See.. after Gary and Quinn got over the humps of Quinn’s Final Space poisoning... everyone got it... nobody told her until Avocato was mad and told her during a lash out, and let me say something about Avocato’s fucking audacity this season... 

♡ Avocato (Note: His name is A-V-O-C-A-T-O. Some of y’all be tryna stan and y’all can’t even spell his name.)

I done seent Avacata, Avocata... That’s not that dude name. Be writing whole ass expositions about some other Ventrexian n*gga. Hope this helps:

AVOCATO. Listen, boy. YOU decided to be a traitor to your people and your king and queen. YOU decided to dedicate your cause to the Lord Commander and lied to your son his entire life about killing his parents, raising him, and never talking to him about it.

Yet and STILL - whenever you had the chance to finally tell him, you ain’t do the shit. Lord Commander gave you the perfect ass opportunity - WHEN IT CAME UP, and even then, with that boy looking you dead in the face and being glad that now he knows everything... you ain’t Ventrexian man up.

Then, whenever you were supposed to be checking on Gary after his traumatic murder fight with Fox and Invictus, you turned it around and literally made it about you. attacking him in the process and only after a physical fight did you apologize. (And y’all still didn’t get back to what had happened to Gary, which was no real fault of his own). 

Fast forward to after you willingly agreed to stay behind and fight and y’all lost. Now, it was Quinn’s turn to be the center of your blame and you lashed out at her because everybody is dying, despite the fact that y’all agreed to stay behind and fight, nobody even told her that y’all were sick, AND you still wasn’t 100 with Little Cato. 

You just had a lot of mothafuckin audacity this season, Avocato, and I personally was not here for the shit. Even when Ash blasted yo ass, your main thought was to threaten to kill her if she took Little Cato, instead of assuring her that despite what you’ve done, Little Cato was safe with you. No, she wouldn’t have listened to you. But, the words you chose tell us about who you are and how you are. You a war mongering killer that don’t ever take responsibility for his shit, and even in those brief moments that you do, its always somebody else’s problem. 

I’da thunk that LC getting snatched away would be humbling for you, but I guess you were chosen by the writers for minimal growth. Bye, Avocato. Witcha bitch ass. We is not cool right now, but you do you. Hope you find some growth up there in ya ass, where ya head been. 😁 Can’t believe I mourned yo ass. You coulda stayed dead as hell.

FINALE NOTES:

OK BITCH OK THIS FINALE WAS HYPE!

Let me pull it up so that I can liveblog it for the shit that I need to conclude this journey. 

We start out after Ash done took Little Cato and burnt off. Gary and AVOCATO done said they finna go get they son. Chile, I cannot handle Biskit voice. I like that lil’ dude but ya voice, Mane. I can’t with it. 

OK OK OK... Whenever Quinn comes up to Gary to talk to him and say potential goodbyes, she look like she wanna say some and that makes me think about whenever she looked like she wanted to say something in season 1 and didn’t. Quinn as grown a lot in her feelings for Gary, but she still has that hard time with talking about her feelings, but I love that you can see them in her face.

Chile... these folk was kinda taking they time gettin started, huh? Knuckas, do y’all remember that everybody finna die of FS poisoning? Lol. Also... why didn’t they start hallucinating and shit? I guess its not until it covers ya face? 

NIGHTFALL. 😥 I love you, Sis. I miss you. But, “Because I’m you and WE think of everything...” YES. I HAVE BEEN SAYING THAT! EVERYBODY EXPECTS QUINN TO THINK OF EVERYTHING AND WHENEVER THEY DON’T THINK OF THE THINGS, SHE GETS BLAMED FOR MAKING THE TOUGH DECISIONS THAT NOBODY ELSE COULD EVEN MAKE. Underappreciated, really. And people still mark Nightfall as a villain, despite the fact that she not only sacrificed herself, but also came specifically to help another Gary. Sidenote - Nightfall didn’t actually pursuit Quinn’s Gary until Quinn was trapped in Final Space and she thought she got a signal from him. So, I’m still salty AF that she been labelled as a villain just because people don’t like her, when her actions have all been to try to help. Here is no difference. She thought of the things that she didn’t think a younger version of her would think of, and left it for Quinn to find. Nightfall be on RNS, and most of y’all didn’t deserve her.

Quinn’s identity crisis is so sad, but I liked that Nightfall EVEN thought about that. And Sheryl... you kinda starting to grow on me. I hate to give shitty mothers who find compassion in old chance a try, but she do seem to really be giving it a go. 

Ash is so fucked up that she rushes right into the devil’s arms. This reminds me of when trafficking victims go back to their abusers because they don’t have the resources to adjust in the system. 😪 She REALLY believes what she’s saying. She really feels like Little Cato is safer with Invictus with the Team Squad. That’s sad as fuck, bruh. 

THE. ACTING. AND. ARTWORK. IN. THIS. CONFRONTATION. SCENE.

Avocato... I’m proud of you for FINALLY taking responsibility ad opening up about it. Little Cato’s reaction is precisely how kids in the system are, as well. They wanna be at home with their parents, no matter who their parents are or what they’ve done. and Avocato meant what he said and did what I referred to earlier as “Ventraxian man up.”

“I’m sorry we failed you,” from Gary was so important. Because, they technically did fail her. Had Ash seen the same amount of love from Gary as she’s seen him give to others, she might have been more receptive to the truth and less susceptible to lies. But, as she had just said earlier, it was too late for kind words. She’s currently beyond accepting them from him. For a brief moment, it breaks through, but without that ability to know love from an adult properly, she can’t accept that apology right now.

H.U.E. with his big robot, Lord Commander...EYE. There’s so much happening right now bitch processing has left the room girl. Biskit did so damn much this episode. And it was good to see everybody on the team have a moment to help things, instead of like one person having to handle the bulk of things. 

Quinn’s begging voice... its such a contrast from whenever she sent out the SOS in season 1 and was afraid and angry. Like... the desperation here shows her softness. 

Ash’s RAGE Bitch...

Gary’s “I love you...” She looked so happy! And then she just sat with it. I feel like she definitely loves him too, but she doesn’t communicate that way. But, her FACE. She was just... did she think that he didn’t before, or was she just speechless because she didn’t expect to hear it? Because, we gotta be real... Sis probably has not ever heard those words from anybody before. And that first time, when it’s really there is a DOOZIE. She had an abusive mother, a seemingly jealous or competitive sister, and we saw how nobody in the Infinity Guard respected her ass when she was serving them the real. I think this is the first time she’s been in love or felt it and when Gary said it, she had to collect herself. The way she ran to him and jumped into his arms??? SHIPPING CRACK. And Mooncake was a part of their hug too. I have a lot of feelings about this dynamic since Quinn and Mooncake are the only characters that we’ve seen Gary have these “love at first sight” reactions to and Mooncake is the first character that I recall Quinn being nice to in S1. 

So.. my heart was very full when they ripped it from my chest moments later. Mooncake has been watching Team Squad members be self sacrificing for a little while now, and he loves his family and Gary so much that he rushes straight towards danger. (Sure, I don’t think that he estimated how powerful Ash could be at this moment), but he had to at least consider that he might be caught or left behind.

Bitch, Ash is GONE. She said, “Fuck all y’all!” Not knowing whether or not Mooncake is destroyed makes it very hard for me to know how much I can stand this, but I also want to hope that he is gonna survive. Quinn having to make the decision to lightfold is hella sad, but even though Gary is destroyed, he has to know that this is exactly how Ash must’ve felt whenever he had to make the call to leave Fox behind. She hated to do that to Gary. She even seemed more regretful about it than Gary did whenever he had to leave Fox and when he left Ash. Sure, its because she loves him more than he loved Fox and Ash, but its a terrible position to be in to have to hurt somebody you love like that. On the other hand, they gave her hella shit for them not escaping when could have the first time, so naturally, she was going to make this decision. 

It very much sucks that Invictus is free and my brain can’t eeem FATHOM what that means for everything and everybody, but the Final Space poisoning left the Team Squad’s system, so maybe there is a rejuvenation of some sort in Invictus’ power? Or does Final Space poisoning leave your system as soon as you leave Final Space? I don’t think that was clarified. 

Anyways, I still don’t hate Ash. Y’all can say whatever about it, but I see sad white boys get forgiven all day every day on this site, and I’m upset, but I’m not letting my baby go. I’m not cheering her on, but unless she dies, I’m gonna hope for the best for her, like I said here. 

DAMN this season was some shit. Ionknow if I’m emotionally capable of watching another season of Final Space in progress. If they make it back for another season, I will most likely just wait until the end to dive in and let them shock my senses all at once instead of on a weekly goddamn basis, because GODDAMN GODDAMN GODDDAMN!

@andromidagalaxie @daintyurbanprincess @shslargue @space-finally​  The Quinnary Moments Masterlist probably won’t be ready by Quinn’s birthday, since her birthday is the day before Juneteenth, but I’ve started on a little fic that I might have the first installment of posted by then. We shall see. 

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Here is my JOURNEY during my first watch of the first two seasons of the show. (I watched Season 3 in progress and waited until it was over to write up this review) and my probably incoherent tag of whenever I do me a lil’ liveblogging: Nesha Watches Final Space, and here is my review on Quinnary: BFCD Reviews by Nesha: (Quinn Ergon/Nightfall x Gary Goodspeed) FINAL SPACE

[angeli-marco-writes]

Steve Rogers - Promise

A/N - So, this is my first marvel imagine? I haven’t watched all the films yet, I’m halfway through and watching them all in chronological order, but I couldn’t resist because I love Steve Rogers. So much. Once I’ve finished watching, I'll probably realise a shit tonne of mistakes in this, but please don’t judge. Apologies for any typos and incorrect information. GIF credits to owner.

Warnings - angst, smut so 18+ please; fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do it), borderline ‘captain’ kink, 5k.

Summary - you’re an admin worker in stark tower, an average working girl except for one thing, you have a superior memory, one that has aided you many a time. But when you’re leading Cap on a mission and it gets cut off, is it because of your memory, or are you just letting your crush on Steve cloud any reasonable thinking?

YOU LOVE YOUR JOB, there’s no denying it. You’re young, a Brit in America, just working to help with your future, but after how well it’s been going recently? You don’t think you’ll want to leave. 

You’re an admin at Stark Tower. Not that one is really needed with all of Tony’s tech, and the fact that everyone is more than capable of sorting themselves out, it’s just fun to be around. Not only do you complete all the stenography and spreadsheets that don’t necessarily have to do with anyone specific, but you also do many of the more artistic plans and are everyone’s personal therapist. You probably don’t help your own cause - leaving your door propped open with a book to let anyone drift in and out of their own accord at any given time, unless you’re properly working, and then they know to find you in your office. Yes, your very own office.

Recently, with you becoming more and more familiar with the workings of all the residents, growing more knowledgeable of their work lives, picking up the lingo and everyone’s gladness at your perfect, imperturbable memory, you’re slowly being given more tasks. This could be anything from mission reassignment to looking through months old footage, but you’ve been helping out over the system on a couple of missions. You really feel like one of the team even though you know you’re far from it. Sleeping in the tower helps, as well as being welcomed by everyone every meal time that you sit together, especially the way they test your memory trick and always seem completely amazed at how you remember the most obscure details. Anything from the exact positioning of a birth mark on someone that Natasha took down the first week you began working, to the precise measurement of metal that Tony needed to complete a new project, to the freckle on Steve’s bare ass that one time he had to use your shower-

That escalated quickly. 

Currently, you’re in your office, daydreaming and completely wistfully thinking. You have no trouble remembering every conversation you and Steve have ever had, not that many admittedly, but he’s always been so kind to you. He was the first one to truly make you feel part of the team, welcoming you with a hug before holding you at arms length and brushing a crease from the arm of your blouse. You’re not really sure if he’d seen anyone dress that way, since all the girls he was around were always in their kick ass clothes, gym shorts or comfies, so you wandering around day in day out and wearing frilly Victorian-era blouses paired with short, tight pencil skirts and Louboutin stilettos may have been a shock to his system. It wasn’t with any agenda in mind that you did this, merely a mix of modesty and business woman style. Every word Cap has ever said flies through your mind, the impeccable memory of the way his exquisite nylon suit clings to him in all the right places... 

Steve is the only guy you’ve fancied for a while, the only person you’ve ever really gone for emotionally, and all of that is because he’s such a cute human being; so genuine, so upbeat around you, so supportive, and his smile. Goddamn his smile. He’s just too cute for life, which is also why you should really be concentrating, considering you’re supposed to be monitoring his mission. 

“Y/N, are you there? I think somethings happening, someone’s here that we didn’t know about, where do I go?”

His usually soft voice is frantic, and you can tell he’s a little scared, since this was supposed to be a simple solo mission, in and out, but now you’re having to recite an escape route. 

“Turn left at the end of that corridor, half way down there’s a grate on the wall. Pull it off, climb inside.” You tell him as calmly as you can, but even your heart is beating out of your chest, breathing laboured and a slight sweat forming on your forehead. 

“I’m in, sweetheart. What next?” Not the right time for your heart to flutter at his words, especially not the time to imagine the way his raspy morning voice would curl around those very same Few words...

“Follow the route, it’ll bring you out in a downstairs kitchen area that was empty last time I checked, I’ll look again...” you trail off, clicking off the one screen with the dot of his whereabouts to check the surveillance, and he seems to be safe. 

You hear his breathing calm down as he crawls through the ventilation system, but even as you flick through every camera that you’ve been able to access in the building he’s in and the surrounding area, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary apart from a couple of unconscious, probably dead blokes scattered across stone floors.

“I’m in the kitchen, but there’s no doors in here, no way out.” He says. 

Fuck.

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“Yes there is Steve, it’s on the north wall beside a faux, oversized spice rack. It has a silver handle and it’s an oak door, exactly like my bedroom door.”

He pauses, his heart rate thrumming heavily, “sweetheart there’s no door here, there’s no spice rack, just old built in cabinets and flat walls. You must have misremembered.”

“Shut the fuck op Steve, I’m doing what I can,”

Your usual eloquence is out the window along with all of your chill, sounding mildly like a road man as you frantically tap between the screens. He’s right though, his only way out is to climb back in the vent and hope to god, well, or Thor, that no one finds him there, but that may be too late.

“Try the cold tap on the sink, I don’t know exactly what was said but I distinctly remember someone talking about it. Stay calm for me Cap, please.” You want to beg for him to be ok, to come back in one piece, because this isn’t a normal mission, you’re emotionally attached. 

He takes a deep breath and walks over to the tap, but as soon as he touches it, all surveillance is cut off, your computer goes black, and you can’t even hear his breathing anymore. 

“Steve? Cap, come back to me, can you hear me? Steve?” With each call of his name to which he doesn’t respond, you grow more frantic. The lights are still on so you know that it’s not the mains, but you’re not educated with circuits, so you do what you can to reboot your computer, only for it to show up with your bland screen of spreadsheets, sans anything about the mission or Steve.

Your hands start shaking, lip quivering and mind overwhelmed with stress. It’s over, you’ve lost Steve, fucked up the mission, you’ll be out of a job, and the worst part? You broke a promise. 

“Promise you’ll keep me safe out there Y/N?” Steve asked, his cute little smile twinkling in his eyes and making your whole body go giddy.

“I promise, but you have to promise that you’ll come back in one piece.”

“That I can do, for you.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around your body and placing a kiss to your hairline. 

You haven’t been at the compound long enough to know whether this is normal for Steve, or for anyone, or if he’s just a natural flirt. Whatever it is, you feel too guilty to face him again if he even comes back alive. 

Slowly, soft sobs start to escape your lips without you noticing, tears slipping down your cheeks and dampening the neck of your blouse. You can’t help the guilt that overtakes you, the fear that you can’t even reason, and that’s when you hear a soft knock on your door.

“Can I come in?”

It’s Natasha. You nod gently as she takes a seat in the corner of your room, throwing her feet up on your coffee table so nonchalantly that it’s almost not a challenge of authority. 

“What’s up? Didn’t you have to radio for Cap?” Once again you nod, hastily wiping the tears from your face and smoothing your skirt out. “So, why are you crying?”

You like Natasha, of course you do, but you have normal people emotions and a little more conscience, unable to stand the thought of anyone even getting a papercut on your watch. 

“He went off, the computers crashed, and it’s all my fault.” You say, standing up and moving to shut your office door, locking it for safekeeping, because if Bucky finds out then you’re dead. 

Natasha grabs a lollipop from your sweet bowl and sticks it in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s flirting. She’s not, that’s just Natasha. “Care to elaborate?”

You take a sharp breath, “someone was there that we didn’t calculate, I had to get him through the ventilation system to an abandoned kitchen that I KNOW had a door, my memory doesn’t glitch, so in the time it took for Steve to get through the vents, someone must’ve closed off the door, but I’m not sure how. Then he just went when he touched the only possible thing that could be an escape route. Fuck, what if he’s dead?”

You feel tears bubbling up in your eyes again, blinking harshly to keep them away. 

“So what if he is? You’re smart, you’re panicking, so you’ve obviously done everything. It sounds harsh but you can’t get too attached. Just listen out and he’ll come back of his own accord, but if he doesn’t then we’ll have to deal with that later.” She says, grasping a hand around your shoulder before  stepping over the threshold to the main compound, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Maybe she thought tough love would work, but she has a point. You’ve done everything you can, so now it’s just a waiting game.

You keep an ear piece on you but shut your office for the night, heading out to the bar to pour yourself a more than healthy sized glass of wine. You unbutton your shirt a little and slide down the wall to your favourite reading spot, in one far corner, you set up some cushions and bedding. You’re the only one that uses it, but you could swear that you’ve seen Steve eyeing it up before. So you sit, tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving you with mascara-stained tear tracks, the first few buttons of your shirt recklessly undone, and your heels flung elsewhere. You bring the bottle over with your glass, and you pick up a book to keep you distracted. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, guilt slowly building, occasionally calling Steve’s name to check if he’s come back on the system, but there’s nothing. Nothing until the lift doors open, and out walks a very bloody Cap with his suit half on and a skin tight white t-shirt clinging to his upper body.

The tears don’t stop falling from your eyes, but you close your book anyway. You would stand up, run to hug him, but your legs can’t hold you up, so you stay seated, all your words caught in your throat as Steve edges further across the common area towards you. 

He offers you a shy smile, virtually collapsing into the carpet only metres from you. Slowly his head lifts, hair falling into his eyes, and he holds his arms out. 

“Oh god Steve,” it’s him. Really him. You feared he’d be a hologram or something, your eyes deceiving you from their soreness post crying. But he’s here, you can tell from the overly memorised display of veins in his bicep when he offers you his arm. 

“It’s me,” he nods, edging a little further towards you as you crawl closer and settle into his grip. 

Your tears flow freely, dampening his shirt. Neither of you says a word, he just grips you closer to him, cuddling your legs into his lap to soothe you.

After a while, Steve fidgets, and you find your eyes dry. 

You angle your head upwards, your well kept chignon completely haywire. Steve’s face is covered in bruises and dried blood, but his eyes don’t look at all worried. 

“What happened?” You whisper, words vibrating through his chest. 

“The tap was a trick, or maybe I twisted the wrong one, but all the lights went out and I was shocked, I had to attack a few guys but I made it out, albeit bruised.” He swallows, running a shy finger over the curves of your face. “Were you worried about me?”

You nod, clutching him close. He chuckles and draws circles on your back through your shirt, just his soft touch more comforting than anything else. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart, is my nose broken though?”

You look at his nose, softly smoothing over a hell of a bruise, before placing a gentle kiss to the bridge. 

“No, trust me. In British comps, fights happen daily, and my ex was in with a bad crowd, always in fights. I had to deal with all kinds of injuries, and your nose is not broken. Be grateful because it hurts to sort it out.”

He laughs and brings you in.

“You deserve so much better than someone like that. I was worried about you when I was out there you know...” he says.

A strange conversation transition, but who are you to judge. 

“I was so scared, I thought you’d died,” ah shit, here come the tears again, “Natasha told me to just wait it out like I wasn’t completely emotionally attached to you. Bloody hell, Steve, I’d be responsible if you died.”

He cooes sweet reassurances in your ear, wrapping his arms entirely around your torso while the join between his neck and shoulder becomes your sanctuary.

“I’m emotionally attached to you too if that helps,” he whispers in your ear, so quietly that he hopes you didn’t hear, instantly regretting it. But with the soft kiss you place on the sweet spot just below his ear, he brings up all his courage to angle his head just right, capturing your lips in his in the sweetest of kisses. 

You gasp into the kiss, your reaction giving Steve means to believe you didn’t like it, instantly pulling away and dropping his hands from around your body.

“I-I’m sorry, you’re upset and I took advantage of that, and I haven’t really been with anyone since, well...”

“Shut up and kiss me, Steve.” You command, cutting off his rambling, your hand cupping his cheek. 

His hands slowly make their way around your body, fumbling for the bottom of your blouse and subsequently unable to find where your shirt ends and your skirt starts. You giggle a little into the kiss, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss by delving his tongue into your mouth. You place your hands over his and guide them to your chest. For a second, he seems confused, his lips halting their massaging movements on your own, until he finds the open buttons at the top of your blouse. He pulls his lips away for a moment, breath mingling together in the air. His smells of strawberries, you note. He glances at you for reassurance, something which you eagerly give, so he begins. His hands slowly work their way over your chest, fingers fiddling with your buttons as you wait patiently, completely submissive for Steve to do whatever he wants to you. 

He pushes the material from your shoulders, and you untuck the back of it from your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, revealing your bra. Though now you see Steve eyeing it up, you realise it’s not really a bra at all, rather two triangles of flimsy fabric with some bands and strings attached, one of your only bras that doesn’t show through a sheer blouse. The way his eyes are boggling at your tits though, you guess he likes it. 

An unwitting blush creeps up your neck and cheeks, suddenly feeling cold under his scrutiny.

“You can touch them if you want,” you chuckle lightly, fearing that you’ll sound like an inexperienced teenager if you say more. 

Steve blushes as crimson as you, his large hands leaping at the opportunity to feel you. You throw your head back in pleasure as his cold thumb rubs over your nipples, making them hard to the touch, and the rest of his hands get to work massaging and kneading your boobs, pulling down the fabric to softly kiss your bare skin. 

Although he hasn’t done this in a while, well, a lifetime, he still knows how to do it realllly well. 

Your hands fly to his heart, keeping him there, his lips switching between your breasts until you grow a little more needy, grinding down on his bulge. 

“You wanna do this?” He asks, voice a little hoarse but still silky. 

“Yes, Steve. Fuck, just take me.”

“Language,” he chides jokingly, but despite that, he agrees. 

Clearly he doesn’t need to be asked twice, because he has you flipped beneath him with your back on your cushions in your reading corner, his lips attaching your neck. 

You fumble with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head between kisses and suckles to a sensitive spot on your neck. He’s carved like a Greek god, abs toned to perfection, his tanned skin rippling with any given movement. He feels so soft too, skin tender beneath your fingers, trailing them gently across his back and torso to simply feel him. The contrary of gentle skin and solid muscles is one that makes your mouth water with desire, bringing Cap’s lips back to your own, palms pressed firmly against his back. You go in deep this time, licking his mouth and devouring his taste. To your surprise, he kisses you back with even more fervour, so passionate that you lose track of any thought swirling in your mind. 

“Suit off, now.” You call breathlessly, watching on as Steve clumsily tries to peel off his trousers by using the sleeve of his suit. He’s moving so recklessly that with an abrupt movement he’ll snag the fabric, ripping the suit that makes him look heaven sent. 

“Here,” you giggle, offering a hand out which he gladly takes, letting you shimmy the tough material down his legs, only blocked by his clunky boots which he kicks off at the same time as the suit, haphazardly leaving them wherever they fall in the lounge. “Fuck.” Is all you can choke out. The serum worked on everything. Even with his briefs still on, you can see his cock twitching within its confines.

“You’re wearing too many clothes now,” he faux scolds, leaping atop you again, kissing your collarbone as his hands work their way down your body. 

First he unhooks your bra properly, throwing it off and you both hear it land on the glass coffee table from the way your clasp knocks the glass. Next he moves onto your skirt, unzipping it, your hips raising of their own accord to accommodate his actions, slipping it off alongside your tights, revealing your bare legs to him for the first time. He doesn’t care about any of the natural marks that grace your skin, merely that you’re sitting in just your panties and only for him. 

“God you’re so beautiful,” he says.

He runs his palms over your thighs, just feeling your skin beneath his. His touch is soothing, as is his presence, allowing you to feel open towards him. You tilt your legs a little more open, revealing to him the small wet latch that graces your not-so-sexy work underwear. 

“All for me?” Steve asks, eyes innocent and doe like. 

If he’s really this sweet and naive then you’re gonna fucking ruin him. Sweet Jesus what you wouldn’t do to that man, starting with your incredibly well hidden Captain kink, though it may not be hidden much longer.

He brings a finger up to your core, pushing your panties to the side to run a finger up and down your slit. He audibly moans while collecting your slick from between your folds, fingers rough in contrast to the part of his body that you’re gripping onto, though you’re not sure quite where from your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Ready?”

You nod, bracing yourself as he rips your panties off and pushes one finger inside you. He feels brilliant, his fingers so much longer and better than your own, already bringing you jolts of pleasure from its presence. 

He draws it out before pumping back in again, continuing his movements. Your forehead falls against his bare shoulder, small gasps of pleasure escaping your open mouth.

“More,” you pant, ready to feel more of his intoxicating ministrations. 

He nods obligingly, slowly adding a second finger, continuing his gentle assault on your pussy. God, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex, just his two fingers pumping in and out of you brings you more pleasure than you’d care to admit. 

“S-stop,” 

He looks up at you, immediately withdrawing his fingers, covered in your juices and glistening in the moonlight. You flush far too deeply at such a simple thing. 

“I need to feel you already, please.”

You sensually drag your finger all over his bare chest, hearing his breath hitch in his throat. He nods vigorously, hair falling in his line of vision, but scrambles to be on top of you properly, hands either side of your head on your array of cushions and his legs steady, trapping you completely beneath him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna take advantage of you, y/n. You’re so beautiful and perfect and I want your first time with me to be something you’ll remember forever.” He says sweetly, but despite his kind words, you can’t help but chuckle for a solid few seconds before he realises what he’s said. 

“Ok, but are you sure you wanna do it here rather than my room? Yours is out of the option, everyone will assume you’re dead if your book isn’t there anymore...” 

once more you chuckle, as does he, bringing your hand up to cup his jaw. 

“I’m sure, Steve, now get inside me before I change my mind and wake Bucky up,” you quip. 

He knows you’re joking but gets to work anyway, swiftly getting rid of his brokers and ungracefully kicking them off as you watch him. He may be hot but even Loki’s magic may not be able to make him elegant. 

As soon as he’s back in his previous position and you see is dick slapping against his stomach, hard and already a little red, you can’t help but gape. His too-tight boxers didn’t do him justice because now you’re worried he won’t even fit. 

He sees your worried face and panics, “We can go back if you want, we don’t have to do this.”

“I want this Steve, shitting hell-“

“Language,” he chides, interrupting you, allowing you to cock your eyebrows at him, a look to say ‘is this really the time?’

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, just go slow because you’re huge.” You finish, smiling at his dorky smile and flushed cheeks. 

Of all the things he could blush at, he chooses a compliment. Such a dork, you think to yourself, unable to stop the contagious smile creeping onto your face.

“I’ll be careful with you, I promise.”

And that he is. 

“Oh, and call me captain.”

That’s something you knew he’d have a kink for, making you smirk a little too. 

He runs the head of his cock through your folds to father a little lubrication before pushing in, very slightly and very gently. He bends his arms and kisses all over your face with the new leverage, feather light kisses of pure affection before you give him a breathy whisper, resembling of a ‘more’, so he pushes in a bit more again, repeating the process until he’s buried to the hilt inside your aching core, clenching around him without Steve even needing to do anything. 

“Can I start moving?” He asks, awkwardly shifting his weight above you, but you nod vigorously, kissing him urgently as his lips begin to move. 

He starts off slow, gradual thrusts, ensuring that he finds every weak spot inside or you, making your toes curl already and your legs knot around his waist, his tongue still dancing with yours. 

He increases his pace after a while, bucking into you faster, making you moan out his name and clutch onto his wonderfully broad shoulders.

You pull your lips away for a moment, “more Captain,” you ask, nothing more than a breathy sound, but Steve obliges. 

He breaks the kiss as he begins snapping his hips into yours with fervour and purpose. His balls are hitting your bare ass, his cock stuffed inside you and making the most delectable sounds from how wet you are, all for Steve. He looks down, tearing his gaze away from your pretty little face with your die eyes and parted lips, only to watch as he sinks into you again and again, blurring the lines of where he ends and you begin.

“Steve, Captain, please, talk to me,” 

Your words come out as a strangled cry, a beg mixing with his moan at the name, oxygen lessening as your eyes flutter shut, too engrossed in the pleasure to even care that your voice has gone up in pitch while his has gone down. 

“You’re such a tease, walking around in that tight skirt all day, those long legs always crossed. All I want is to pull them apart and go down on you, under your desk, in the kitchen, just anywhere that I can have you for my own.” 

His voice is low, raspy and needy as he trails his tongue along your collarbone filthily, forcing your eyes open with some unearthly force he must possess simply so that he can meet your gaze as he bites your nipples, his cock continually hitting that sweet spot inside you. 

“It’s not just that though,” he continues, resuming his dirty talk between caresses of his lips all over you, “you’re so perfect. So stunning, so intelligent, the reason I wake up every day just for the hope that one of these days I’d be able to kiss you.”

his hips halt just for a moment, long enough to unwrap your legs from his back and throw them over his shoulders, lust filled eyes boring into your own with an uncharacteristically devilish smirk. 

He kisses you again, fleeting but passionate before he nibbles your earlobe and purrs,

“And now I get to have you at my mercy, and believe me, that desk fantasy is gonna come true every day.”

With that sentiment, he starts ploughing into you even more ferociously than before, making you scream his name, a lot of murmured ‘Captain!’s and curses mingling with the cries. 

The new angle hits spots you forgot even existed. Your nails take his back, tugging in and clinging on for mercy, the burn of your legs in such a contorted position only adding to your pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you shout breathlessly, chest heaving, your boobs moving up and down of their own accord and Steve is unable to take his eyes off them.

You feel the coil ready to spring in your stomach, a climax that’s been steadily building since he first kissed you. 

“Tell me what you’re gonna do with me tomorrow, and then you can come.”

His words are something forbidden, coaxing you off the edge, daring you to hit that wave of pleasure. Just the thought of your past daydreams make your walls clench around him. 

“I’ll wake you up by sucking your magnificent cock, then I’ll ride you harder than anyone has ever before, and then I’ll ride your face before we have intermittent sex in my office, at least twice.”

You don’t even know what you’re saying, your imagination running winks with the thought of Steve having you in his lap in your desk chair, pressed up against the glass of your office for everyone to see as he fucks you senseless. You’re insatiable. The thought of his dick twitching in your mouth is too much to handle, especially as he brings his thumb down and presses on your clit, moaning unintelligibly at your apparently sexy words, and you feel it. 

Your orgasm crashes over you so hard that you feel it on your bones, thrashing around beneath Steve, screaming out his name as he dudes your high out only seconds before coming too, his muffled cries of your name drowned out as he bites onto the juncture of your neck, bruising it and rendering you unable to wear anything other than polo necks for a good few days. The pleasure he’s given you is unrivalled, and you can’t waist for more.

His body collapses onto yours inelegantly, wrapping you unto his body warmth in your cosy little corner, both forgetting that you’re completely naked in the common area after having rather loud sex. 

“Was that good?” Steve asks sheepishly, fingers running through your tangled hair.

“Yes, incredible. And for you?”

He thinks for a moment before answering, “exquisite, sweetheart.”

Your heart glows a little at his sleepy voice. You run your thumb over the bump of his nose and the blood residue still on his face, but you think you may like Steve a little roughed up. You stay close to each other, breathing together and sharing kisses in the night time, so absorbed in your own bubble that you don’t hear someone come in.

“The fuck is this, Steve?”

Fuck, Bucky. 

“Couldn’t you have been a little better at aiming your clothes? We’re all glad you’re finally together, but loud and untidy as well as sex in the common area? Come on.”

You can hear the humour in his words, but they do hold some sincerity, making you blush and chuckle. Next thing you know, your bra is being thrown at the pair of you, landing in Steve’s messed up hair.

“Thanks buck...” you say with a meek giggle, kissing Steve and removing your bra from his face.

“Round two? My room?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling. 

“Promise you’ll let me clean you up first?!” You insist, kissing his shoulder and beaming at him. 

“Promise.”

[heavenly-roman]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

Plot: Prince Virgil makes a new friend.

Warnings: mentions of a dead parent, kissing

Pairing(s): anxceit

Word Count: 2899

for my lovely boyfriend @figurative-siren-song as part of the @sanderssidesgiftxchange !! happy holidays cas, i love you ❤️ (also!! a big thank you to @ratherstarryeyed for acting as a beta!! ur a simp and i appreciate u!!)

chapter one - chapter two

+++

The carriage shakes as the horses trot onto the gravel, Virgil holding his head up with his fist.

“Virgil, please, could you look at least a little interested?” His mother isn’t quite scolding, her tone just edging on exasperated.

“You always told me not to lie, though,” grumbles Virgil. The Queen fixes him with a glare, and he sighs, forcefully smiling. “Better?”

“Much,” she replies teasingly. The carriage comes to a stop, and she turns her full attention to her son. “Please try to be respectful.”

“When have you known me to be disrespectful?” Virgil’s mischievous grin causes his mother to crack a smile.

“Behave, Virgil,” she tells him fondly. The door opens, and the driver helps his mother out of the carriage. He then moves to Virgil’s side, and the Prince grumbles again, something about being able to help himself, thank you very much.

Standing outside of the foreign palace is the royal family, the king and queen—whose names Virgil forgot to remind himself of before they arrived—and their son, Prince Janus. Their guards surround them, and Virgil finds himself counting the amount of men during the small talk.

“A pleasure to see you again, Your Majesties,” Virgil’s mother greets the family, bowing. She flicks Virgil on the back of the head, and he bows as well.

“The pleasure is ours,” replies the King. He faces Virgil and bows, who scrambles to bow again. “Good evening, Your Highness. I believe you’ve yet to meet our son, Prince Janus, who will be your tour guide for this visit. I’m sure you two will get on well.”

Prince Janus bows, and Virgil is getting real sick of bowing already. He holds his gloved hand out, beckoning Virgil. “Our parents have much to discuss, please follow me to your chambers.”

Hesitantly, Virgil takes his hand, letting the Prince lead him to who knows where. Janus doesn’t speak, and Virgil is not about to start a conversation with a near stranger, so the walk is silent.

“Here,” says Janus, stopping abruptly, and Virgil catches himself just in time to not crash into him. “This is your room.”

“You’re a lot less polite than before,” Virgil thinks aloud.

“Congratulations, Einstein, I had no clue,” Janus snarks. “No royal obligation to be polite without my parents around.”

“So no tour?” Virgil asks.

“Not unless you pay me, Prince Purple.” Janus scoffs. “I only willingly spend time with people I like.”

“How do you know you don’t like me if you haven’t spent time with me?”

“Are you royal?”

Bewildered, Virgil gestures to himself. “Clearly.”

“Then I don’t like you,” Janus deadpans.

Before Virgil can defend himself, Janus turns, walking away from the most baffling conversation Virgil has ever had.

+++

“So, Prince Virgil,” the Queen addresses him. “Did Janus give you a satisfactory tour of the palace?”

Janus glares at him from above his wine glass, and Virgil swallows hard.

“Uh, Yes, it was… good,” he says lamely, cringing at his very eloquent word choice.

“Wonderful!” She smiles. “So you’ll have no problem finding your way around for the next few months.”

“Months?” Both Virgil and Janus exclaim, twin expressions of shock on both their faces.

“Yes, well…” Virgil’s mother starts. “We believe the best way to continue the peace between our kingdom would be… a marriage.”

“I don’t have a sister, Mother,” Virgil says, though he’s sure he knows where this is going.

“I do know how many children I have, Virgil,” she says, nearly rolling her eyes. “Dear, do you remember what you told me last month? About your… preferences?”

“Are you saying that we have to get married?” Janus interrupts, his expression a mix of fear and mild disgust.

“Janus, don’t be rude!” his father admonishes. “This is the most sound way to keep the peace.”

“Well,” Virgil shrugs, knowing this is an argument he can’t win. He glances at Janus. “Looks like you’re going to be finding out if you like me.”

+++

Janus, to his credit, does decide to take Virgil on a tour after dinner.

“And here is the library,” Janus says, the same bored tone he’s carried throughout the whole night.

Virgil moves away from Janus’, wandering through the hundreds of bookshelves, awestruck. He plucks book after book, scanning the contents and putting them back.

“What, don’t have a library back home?” Janus snarks, just a hint of fondness in his voice that he will deny if brought up.

“Not as big as this, no,” says Virgil, still starstruck. “I think we have a third of your collection.”

“My father loves reading,” Janus shrugs. “He used to read to me when I was a child.”

“He doesn’t read as much anymore?” Virgil asks absently as he continues flipping through random books he finds.

“No time,” Janus sighs. “Too much responsibility now, being the King and all. Did you ever read with your dad?”

Janus knows he said the wrong thing as he watches Virgil’s shoulders tense and his hands pause.

“No,” he says, his voice tight. “I didn’t get to read with my father.”

“Virgil—“

“Drop it.” He forces a teasing smile. “You may be my fiancé, but save the personal questions for after the wedding.”

Janus lets the silence drag on, watching Virgil once again become mesmerized by the array of novels.

“Virgil?” Janus calls, tentative. His head shoots up, and Janus clears his throat. “We had a nook. Would you like to see it?”

The other prince nods, and Janus grabs his hand—so he doesn’t get lost, shut up—and leads him to a dark corner of the library.

A worn down chair sits there, as well as another, much smaller bean bag chair. There’s a table as well, holding up a desk lamp and a few books, all collecting dust.

“I guess that one was the Kings?” Virgil says, pointing to the bean bag. Janus snorts, shaking his head fondly.

“You’re a handful, Prince Virgil.”

“So I’ve been told, Prince Janus.”

+++

When he’s not being dragged around the palace by his fiancé, Virgil chooses to spend most of his time in his room, overthinking.

The hand holding. The snarky comments laced with fondness. The scooching chairs to sit closer. The flushed cheeks when Janus innocently compliments him—

Fuck.

Virgil has a crush.

Virgil has a crush on someone who he barely even knows.

It’s not like he can help it, with the way Janus smiles at him, and the way his eyes twinkle with mischief before he does something that’s bound to get the two into trouble.

“Virgil?” A knock startles him out of his thoughts, Janus peeking his head in and smiling when his eyes meet Virgil’s. “You okay?”

“Of course!” Virgil says, trying to keep his recent realization to himself. He smiles tightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I knocked on your door about four times before you answered?” Janus raises his eyebrow. He shuts the door and sits opposite of Virgil on the bed. “You’re hiding something.”

“Just lost in thought, I suppose,” Virgil shrugs. At Janus’ skeptical look, he sighs. “Seriously, Jan, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Janus says after a minute or so. “I trust you to tell me if something is wrong, so I believe you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Virgil’s sarcasm seeps into his words. “So kind of you to trust me after continuous convincing.”

Janus grabs Virgil’s hands, and Virgil’s cheeks do not heat up, thank you very much. “You know I really do trust you, right? You’re one of the few.”

“Of course I do, Jay,” Virgil squeezes his hands. He chuckles. “Gotta trust your fiancé.”

Janus pulls his hands away with a fond head shake, and Virgil resists the urge to pout. “Nope, that’s it, you ruined the moment, we’re getting a divorce.”

“We’re not married yet, you idiot,” Virgil says between laughs.

“You’re right,” Janus ponders. He drops to one knee, miming opening a ring box. “Prince Virgil, will you marry me?”

Virgil gasps, holding an exaggeratedly shocked hand to his chest. “Of course I’ll marry you, Prince Janus!”

“Perfect,” Janus nods. “I want a divorce.”

“You love me too much to divorce me,” Virgil says before he can think about it.

“Gross Virgil, that’s gay,” he scoffs, before leaning in to clarify, “not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. In fact, my own fiancé is gay.”

Virgil is laughing too hard to respond, and Janus joins in, both laughing until their stomachs hurt.

Janus forgets why he came to visit Virgil in the first place.

+++

“Are you even gay?” Virgil blurts one day.

Janus sputters, almost choking on his wine. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you like men?” Virgil asks, clearly not backing down. He doesn’t hope for a certain answer, absolutely not.

“I…” Janus swallows hard. “I thought we were saving personal questions for after the wedding?”

“Janus.”

“I don’t want to discuss this, Virgil—”

“My father died when I was young.”

“Virgil, you don’t have to—”

“I never read with him because he was gone by the time I knew how. My mother doesn’t like to talk about him, and I don’t remember much about him, so…” Virgil shrugs. “I avoid talking about him.”

“I… Vee, I’m so sorry,” Janus frowns. “I couldn’t imagine my life without my father.”

“I can’t imagine my life with mine,” Virgil sighs. “So, I answered your personal question. You can answer mine.”

“Virgil.” Janus fixes him with an incredulous look. “Did you tell me about your father because you’re nosy?”

“I’m not nosy,” Virgil huffs. “I just want to know if my fiancé is attracted to me.”

Janus smirks, leaning impossibly close to Virgil. “Why do you want to know? Does someone have a little crush?”

“What? No!” Virgil flushes, and hides his hands in his sleeves.

“No need to be embarrassed, dear,” drawls Janus. His smirk grows wider. “It’s cute.”

Virgil pushes Janus’ chest away from him as the latter laughs. “You’re a jerk, Jay.”

“That’s no way to speak to your fiancé, Prince Virgil,” Janus gasps, an offended hand placed on his chest.

“It is when your fiancé is a jerk,” reasons Virgil.

Janus’ offence doesn’t lessen, and the two playfully argue for the next two hours.

Not that either of them are counting.

+++

[controloffandoms]

Buck Begins Fic Recs

For @thisissirius 

Here are a couple of fics that I have written. And I’ll probably add a couple of favorites that I’ve read along the way!

Nothing I Ever Did Was Good Enough

Buck bit his tongue, looking away from his father. It was too early in their get together to have a blow out. He especially didn’t want to have that blowout in front of Chim and Albert. “You know, firefighting, until recently, has had a huge amount of off duty suicides due to improper care of mental health. The department has changed to help firefighters through hard times of losing patients or families in fires by hiring departmental psychologists and having service animals available for visits to the firehouses after really tough calls. If someone isn’t in the right mindset, we could lose more people, not to mention our own people and that person. Mental health is no joke,” Albert stated. Buck had to hide is smile, but he turned to Albert, giving him a knowing look and small smile. His parents spluttered for a few seconds before Phillip turned to Albert. “I don’t think I was talking to you. Mind your own business, this was a family matter.” “Don’t talk to him like that,” Buck nearly growled. “He is family.”

~~Or the one where the parents visit and Buck is in over his head...luckily his family has his back.

~~~~Part 1 in the Nothing I Ever Did Was Good Enough series

Nothing I Ever Did-

~~~~Part 2 in the Nothing I Ever Did Was Good Enough series

"Watch your attitude, Evan," Margaret glared. "Why should I? All you've ever done is put me down and compare me to Maddie and try to make me into her. News flash, I'm my own person and I'm different! I get that nothing I ever did was good enough, but I don't have to keep trying to appease you and let you walk on me or my family. So if you could kindly drop the attitude and rude comments regarding Eddie and Christopher, it would be much appreciated. They invited you into their home and you've been nothing but assholes since you got here! Clearly you came here with opinions and baggage and a want to have your way, but that's not going to fly here. You best just head out of town tonight, you're not wanted here in my life or Maddie's life. We don't want your toxicity melting into our families because I'll be damned if the shit you've said tonight will ever affect my niece or my kid!"

~~Or the one where Eddie hosts the Buckley parents and just tries to be supportive in general...but the parents are nightmares. Featuring cuddles with Chris, Eddie, and Buck.

Not The One You Wanted

“Evan, I don’t know what you expected us to do.”

“Love me anyway,” it had been said like his heart had been ripped out...which, it felt like it had. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it...all he ever wanted was for them to love him anyway. He wanted his parents to give a damn about him but they never did...it was like he was a responsibility that they never wanted.

Maddie had said that their parents had been different back then when they were sentimental and made a box for her...and now Buck knew why. Daniel. His older brother Daniel...a brother that he didn’t even know existed until he sat down with Maddie to look at all the baby photos in the box...and there were plenty...Buck can hardly remember ever getting portraits like these done during his childhood….but his parents were different back then.

-OR- Evan Buckley deserves love and hugs because of how shitty his parents are.

*This is honestly one of my favorites that I’ve written...it’s like a character study while Buck was trapped in the warehouse with some liberties surrounding the reason Buck’s in the warehouse*

Secrets

He’d been lied to his whole life...Maddie had never thought to tell him about not being his actual sister...his parents were acting like it didn’t matter...like he should just get over it. Buck’s eyes met Chim’s...and his whole body went rigid. “You knew,” he whispered, looking directly at Chim. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?!” He rounded on his sister, “you told him, but not me?!”

“Evan, I was trying to protect you-”

“No, you don’t get to do that! You don’t get to try and protect me! I’m a grown ass adult, I deserved to know but instead of telling me, you told him and even though I’ve known him longer he still didn’t tell me!” Buck shook his head, backing from the room. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

-OR- Buck finds out the secret Maddie's been keeping from him while his parents are visiting...he is understandably betrayed.

*Basically, Buck Begins and the Daniel scenes hadn’t happened yet and I wanted to know what the secret was, so I came up with this.*

Ambush of the Parents

Based off the new Promo (or the one I just saw) where we see Maddie, Chim, Albert, Buck and (who I believe) are Buck and Maddie’s Parents. Buck’s dad says “you’ve been seeing a therapist?” and Buck responds “Well, the job can be stressful.”

Disclaimer: Please don't read if verbal abuse from parents triggers you.

~~~~Or Buck’s parents  are absolutely horrible and Buck’s family defends him.

Buck Begins

Buck always tried to please his parents. He wanted to be recognized and loved. He tried to get their approval but it was never enough. *Includes flashbacks, this was before Season 4 was even in production*

~Evan had thought that the SEALs would make his parents proud. He tried out for the SEALs, he went through training, but it still wasn’t enough. Then he’d dropped out. That had been the icing on the cake. Evan had never had a big blowout with his parents. He’d always tried to appease them. He tried to be the perfect son…but they never thought he was good enough. So when he dropped out of the SEALs, having a shouting match with his father as a consequence, he left for South America. He bartended and had fun. Then he’d gone to LA and became a firefighter and he hadn’t contacted his parents since the blowout. 

Here are some fic recs that are not my own works

double vision wrapped in last night’s party clothes by amirlywritingfanficnow

"I have always been honest with you." When Eddie's voice cracks, Buck's composure almost cracks with it. "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

or

When Buck is let in on a long kept family secret, he doesn't know what to do. He almost ruins things with the one person that keeps him from feeling like he's floating away with no way to land, but it ultimately turns out okay with help of a little communication.

*This one pulled at my heart strings a little*

but i leave it in my heart, cause I don’t want to stay in the dark by neoncrayolas

Buck hadn't meant for the confession to come out like it did. He'd wanted it to be more eloquent and not so full of snot and tears.

But once it was out, there was no going back.

Or, part character study of Buck, part coda to 4x05.

*Basically, Buck isolates himself, Eddie gets worried, and Buddie is endgame

Learning to Breathe by TearsThisSideofHeaven

Boy, he thinks as the city lights blur a little in his vision, my therapist is going to have a field day with this.

*Short little fic that delves into Buck’s emotions with Eddie trying to support him

Finally Safe by WinterLioness

In the aftermath of finding out a family secret Buck finds himself going to Eddie. Christopher and Eddie use their Diaz charm to help.

*This picks up on the emotions Buck feels not only because of the family secret but because Maddie kept it from him (not full on hate, but what any normal person would need to work through) and Eddie is there to support him. Features cuddles with the Diaz Boys.

Not Related to the story line of 9-1-1 but has a whole ‘Buck Begins’ vibe because I was world building: The Life We Live

*The Old Guard AU no one asked for* "Athena had seen many a millennium and many men, women, and children die. She had seen the rise and fall of civilizations. She had felt the pain of loneliness and the happiness of community...but she’d never, in her many years of living, seen something like Eddie, Buck, and Chris. She’d never seen this profound of a bond, even between herself and Bobby. After Buck lost Abby and, later, Ali, Athena wasn’t sure he would have let his heart reach out to another person that he could lose...but she was proud of him. He built something that was hard to come by in their way of living. He built a home."

*I’m really proud of this one, it turned out well*

Not Related to the Story Line of 9-1-1, Fics by others!

Please Don’t Say You Love Me (because I might not say it back) by Queerfeministdork

"Say I love you loud, and say I love you often. It was an easy sentiment, and it was a beautiful background picture. But something clenched tightly in Buck’s chest when he saw it flash open as he handed Hen her phone. Because he knew it was a simple thing for most people, that most people could just let those three little words slip out without a care. But he couldn’t. They always got caught in his throat, stuck behind his chest. Tamped down before he could think to breathe them out."

Buck always wished he could just say the words. Turns out, maybe people just know.

*Basically, Buck can’t say ‘I Love You’ as easily as everyone else and panics about it...but eventually, everyone understands.

everything is blue by amirlywritingfanficnow

When Evan Buckley is ten, he discovers nail polish.

-

In which Buck paints his nails, Eddie is flustered, and May is a matchmaker.

*Basically Buck and Eddie saying fuck toxic masculinity. Buck enjoying painting his nails and Eddie is definitely in love with him.

Coming Home To You by kariberri13

The 118 want to know more about Buck, but the man won't give them many details. That is until the biggest detail walks through the station's bay doors.

*Not focused on his past, but a different story focusing on the fact that Buck is married to Eddie and has a kid that he didn’t tell the Fire fam about.

There are tons more, but this is what I could think of off the top of my head! 

Hope you like them!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.3 (BAON)

Summary:   Despite the title, things are not exactly so, not by a long shot.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

~~*~~

Certain Monsters possessed the skill of basic precognition, but Edge was not one of them. He was certain of it. It would have been a useful skill in Underfell so many years ago instead of relying on hard-earned experience or even as recently as a few months outside of the Chinese restaurant. There were many things in his life that might have veered down a different path with only a brief moment of insight into the future.

Of his many talents, the best he could offer in that direction was his intuition and perhaps that explained his vague restlessness that night as he sat on the sofa working on his laptop. As absorbed as he was in his work, Edge found himself shifting in his seat in a way that had nothing to do with his barely healed leg. A few times he nearly texted Stretch and resisted, not wishing to give off the impression that he was checking in on him. There was no good reason for him to feel uneasy about Stretch going out on the town with his best friend as he had many times before. There was even less for the prickling feeling crawling up his spine when his phone pinged with a text message in the chime he’d set for unknown numbers.

That prickling turned icy cold, skittering along his vertebrae as he read the simple message like the spiders he was still occasionally dreamed about on rare, awful nights. Three words. Not the ones he’d slowly grown accustomed to saying so often to Stretch, nearly torn from him the first time they were spoken and now said with ease, morning, noon, and night, as often as his love wanted to hear them and repeat them back.

These words made dread and fury lurch within his battered soul, tainted with fear.

We have him.

His phone chimed again but Edge didn’t have the chance to see the second message. At that moment, his front door burst open with enough force to slam against the opposite wall and Edge never hesitated. He hurled the attack on pure instinct and by the time he actually saw Antwan’s face, his dark eyes going wide, it was too late to pull it back.

Before the wave of bones could land, Antwan was yanked backwards out of the doorway by a sudden blue glow in his chest. The door swung back closed seconds before the sharpened bones slammed up against the steel, quivering briefly before vanishing without leaving behind a scratch or dent. His attacks were targeted at the soul and the physicality of the door was enough to stop them.

Edge was at the door before the last bone vanished, stumbling outside to find Antwan lying spreadeagle in the grass and his brother standing over him, his left eye still glowing with searing crimson and the spangle of blue at the fingertips of his left hand fading.

“fucking hell, dumbass, i told ya to stop!” Red snarled down at him. “lucky he didn’t turn you into a kabob, what the fuck were you thinkin’!”

Edge pushed past Red and fell to his knees next to Antwan, barely noticing the sharp twinge from his leg as he gasped out, “I’m sorry, I—" He fell silent as Antwan waved a shaky hand at him.

“My fault,” Antwan rasped. He sat up, and Edge could only crouch by him, his hands hovering but not touching as his friend coughed, dragging in a harsh breath to wheeze out, “Wind just…got knocked out me.” One harsh inhale, another, his breathing easing. “Don’t even try to apologize, he’s right, it was my fault.” Antwan staggered to his feet, barely catching his balance before holding out a hand to Edge. “Did you get a text?”

Red interrupted him with a short, sharp hiss before he could reply. “not out here,” Red said tersely. “both of ya inside, right now.”

Arguing would be pointless, Red would have things his way or none at all. The hard tangle of emotions in his chest, worry, fear, guilt, were ignored as Edge took Antwan’s hand and allowed him to help pull him to his feet. Now was not a time for anything as useless as pride and he forced it down with all the other emotions trying to boil their way up. He led the way inside, closing the door behind his brother.

But Red didn’t move further into the house. He stood on the doormat and held out a hand as he said curtly, “gimmie your phone.”

The instinct to protest was immediate, but Edge only hesitated a moment before handing it over. He wasn’t surprised when his brother entered the passcode and thumbed through his messages. He couldn’t even manage vague irritation. There wasn’t room in his soul for any other emotion, all of it viciously crammed together in a ball inside him, he couldn’t let everything demanding to be felt come through. His anger and fear needed to wait, the only thing he could allow was cool detachment.

Antwan had collapsed on the sofa when he came inside, an arm slung over his eyes. Edge left his brother to his snooping and went to sit by his feet, offering a quiet, “I am sorry. You startled me but that’s no excuse.”

Antwan only waved him off again. “Don’t, man. It’s okay, I was already unsteady on my feet, anyway. Your brother showed up in my house yammering about text messages and dragged me over.” His unpleasant chuckle turned into a groan and a stifled burb. “Your brother’s shortcuts are rough, no wonder you’re always about to upchuck after one.”

“bitch later,” Red said suddenly. He shoved Edge’s laptop aside to sit on the coffee table and his expression was not a soothing one, cold and grim. “gonna give it to you straight, both of ya, so brace yourselves. embassy took a call about ten minutes ago for a ransom demand.” He held up Edge’s phone between two scarred fingers. “included this same picture they sent you, boss, and if the time stamp is right, they were both alive when it was sent.”

Next to him, Antwan stiffened. It was strange to see him sputtering inarticulately, Edge noticed distantly. Always he was so eloquent in the courtrooms, arguing fearlessly for Monsters rights. To hear him now, struggling with words, was grotesque in a way, each one stumbling off his tongue, “They…alive? But how…what…they as in Stretch and Jeff? How the fuck, what the fuck do you mean a ransom demand, who the fuck...!?”

“Let me see it,” Edge demanded over Antwan’s questions. Even as he snatched for it, his phone disappeared from Red’s grip in a neat sleight of hand and he cursed aloud, “Let me see, damn it!”

“not a fucking chance, little brother.” The words were not unkind, only his brother’s dubious version of gentleness that Edge rarely wanted and certainly not right now. “it ain’t gonna do a damn thing to calm your tits.”

He closed his sockets briefly, then asked, low, “How much?”

Red licked his teeth, grimacing, “that don’t matter, neither. asgore’s all for payin’ it, no matter if it wipes out our accounts, but that’s ain’t gonna help. you know that.”

He did. Kidnapping and ransom were not uncommon in Underfell and he knew from bitter experience that ransom demands did not have happy endings. He forced those memories away, could not place his husband or Jeff anywhere within them, refused to even contemplate it.

His tenuous grip on his anger was slipping, his soul throbbing hot and heavy, ready to unleash his rage at whoever dared attack what as his. Useless; there was nowhere to direct it, not yet, and all he could do was get what information there was. “Then tell me where we are. What are we doing to get them back?”

“welp.” Red stood, tucking his hands in his pockets in a telling delay tactic that did nothing to soothe Edge’s burgeoning anger. “already sent a team out to where their cell and trackers are pinging, but they ain’t gonna be there ‘cause someone tipped ‘em off to ditch their clothes.”

“Their clothes--?” Antwan said, pitiful confusion swelling into his own anger. “you said they weren’t hurt!”

“said they were alive.” Whatever expressions were on their faces made Red grimace, “but yeah, they don’t look hurt, neither, which means the reports we’re getting’ that the honey bun was drugged at the bar are prolly accurate.”

Through his carefully cultivated calm, a sliver of his hope latched on to those words, not hurt, please, not hurt. “You said someone tipped them off. Why do you think that? Explain.”

Red pointed a sharp-tipped finger at him. “your liability ain’t a fighter, but he ain’t no slouch, either. he wouldn’t get in a car with a stranger no matter what candy they got, and he’d get the hell out of dodge before anyone snatched him up if things looked hairy. coupla rough shortcuts is hell on the equilibrium, anyone he was draggin’ along for the ride wouldn’t be in any shape to play these kinda games. but that ain’t common knowledge, so why’d they drug him and not handy andy, unless they had a cheat book.”

That made sense. Edge nodded, gesturing impatiently for him to go on and Red did, choosing his words with obvious care.

“already taking calls from the bar they were at, they’re the ones sayin’ the honey bun looked drugged. that takes some know-how right there, ain’t no wikipedia on how to dope a monster. descriptions are vague right now. humans, your basic white guy with dark hair generic bullshit. we’re gettin’ a copy of their security footage now.”

“So.” Edge stood and wandered to the window, tugging aside the curtain to look out at the night. The porch light cast a glowing circle of sodium yellow and within it he could see one of the flowerbeds he’d been working on before gardening took a brief backseat to building a small duckling a pond. In a few weeks there would be a riot of flowers blooming in colors he never dreamed existed before he came to the surface and it didn’t matter, none of it matter, he’d sacrifice any of it, all of it it, pay any ransom to have Stretch back here with him. He kept his gaze on outside as he said with slow deliberation, “What you’re telling me is we have no idea where they are, no idea who has them, and we know absolutely fucking nothing of any fucking use, particularly where they might have gotten this inside information!”

The last word ended on a near shout as Edge struggled again with his temper. This wasn’t his brother’s fault or if it was, he wasn’t the only one to blame. The failure to protect what was his was as heavy as lead, dragging him downward into the eager embrace of his LV, waiting to be unleashed.

Behind him, his brother drawled, “nope, that ain’t what i’m saying. that’s what i’m tellin’ you.”

Edge whirled around, snarling out, “you little bastard, you—”

“ah, ah, ah,” Red interrupted, eye lights flickering, and Edge shut his mouth so hard his teeth clipped the tip of his tongue, warm magic filling his mouth. “don’t try to sweettalk me, bro. i ain’t tellin’ you any extras ‘cause you need to be here, not out there gettin’ into shit and gettin’ into people’s way. we’re on it, i’m on it. you two are staying the fuck here ‘cause i’m already looking for two dipshits, don’t need to double it.”

Antwan let out an unsteady laugh. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m a lawyer, not James Bond. I’ll stay. I’m trusting you to bring him home.” His voice broke then, that calm dignity wavering. In his lap, his hands were twisted so tightly together that his knuckles were bloodlessly grey. “Please, bring him home to me.”

Perhaps they were both too far from Underfell these days. That faltering gentleness rose again in his brother as he said, “already working on it, pal.” His gaze flicked back to Edge and hardened. “bro, look at me.”

“I am looking at you,” Edge ground out. Red nodded once.

“brother.” That single, stark word was like a jolt right to the chest, striking home. “i’ll get him back to you, you hear me? i promise.”

There was a beat of silence before Edge managed to nod. His head felt strangely heavy, wobbling on his vertebrae.

Suddenly, Red grinned, sharp-toothed and there was the cruel humor Edge knew so very well that his brother possessed. “one other thing you two gotta consider. of all of us, they snatched up stretch.” That grin widened, the wild, silent laughter glittering in his crimson eye lights nearly demonic. “gotta admit, the honey bun’s got a way about ‘im. wouldn’t want to be in their shoes right about now.”

Edge barked out a laugh, tight and pained, “That is a very good point. Of any of us, Stretch is certainly…creative.”

The last word caught in his throat, nearly choking him. He turned back around to escape from his brother’s penetrating look, staring again outside and this time he allowed his gaze to rise to the darkened sky, at the twinkling lights filling that velvety blackness as he thought, Come home to me.

He did not say it aloud, only looked out at the stars that Stretch loved so much and sent his silent wish to them with the desperate hope of one who needed to believe. Come home.

tbc

[thoughtsaboutshows]

51. “Gimme cuddles.” “Fuck off.” :)

Finally got this one done! Sabrina has some insecurities and Prudence tries to help. Warning, convos about sex ahead.

“Ugh could you please figure your shit out with my cousin so he leaves me alone?” Sabrina complained as she stormed into the Sanctum and threw herself on the couch next to Prudence.

Prudence eyed her annoyingly over her ancient text and prayed to Hecate if she just ignored Sabrina Spellman that she’d just go away. No such luck.

“Oh please have a seat.” Prudence answered sarcastically and gestured to the spot next to her that Sabrina was already sprawled on. Sabrina was huffing and puffing and her face was a shade of red that Prudence had never seen before. She knew she wasn’t going to get out of whatever rant Sabrina was about to spew if she tried. So she bit the bullet and took the bait Sabrina was so obviously laying out there. “What ever is on your mind, Sabrina?”

“It seems Ambrose can get any so he’s made it his purpose to pry into my sex life.” Sabrina grumbled and crossed her arms.

“Who says your cousin isn’t, as you so eloquently put it, getting any.” Prudence’s smile was sly, and she saw the exact moment that it clicked into place in Sabrina’s mind. A scrunched up disgusted look made its way across her face as Sabrina came to the conclusion that Prudence and her cousin were in fact sleeping together. Despite the fact it was what she asked for, Sabrina was also certain she didn’t want to know the sordid details.

“Great so you’re back together. Could you tell him to leave me alone?” Prudence laughed at that and finally closed and set down the book she then realized she was done reading because Sabrina wasn’t going anywhere.

“What did he say?” Prudence asked her, curious as to what had her so riled up. It was clear as day when Nick and Sabrina had finally had sex. Even without their disgustingly dazed and loving eyes they sent each other before the merge, Prudence could tell by the way Sabrina shifted awkwardly on her feet when she walked that something had gone on when Nick quickly teleported over after being summoned by her.

“He keeps in insinuating that all Nick and I do lately is have sex.”

“Well don’t you?” Prudence asked with a laugh. She figured that once Sabrina had gotten a taste of what it was like to be with Nick it made sense that the two were always running off somewhere. But it also could have something to do with the fact that Sabrina had nearly died and the echoes and moans of the bedroom were their battle cry of victory.

“No, Prudence, we don’t!” Sabrina cried but then bit her lip when Prudence raised her eyebrows. She took a deep breath and then shrugged, her face blushing even redder with embarrassment. “Okay maybe lately we’ve been pretty active. But I nearly died for Hecate’s sake.”

“Then what’s the issue, Sabrina?” Prudence asked her. She knew Sabrina was half mortal, but never quite understood her embarrassment when it came to sex.

“The issue, is I don’t want to be one of those couples where all they do is have sex.” Sabrina admitted. “I want us to have real meaningful connection, and do other real meaningful things.” Prudence raised her eyebrows at Sabrina who scrunched her nose and then added. “And have sex too of course.”

“You don’t think you and Nicky have a connection?” The insecurity bubbling out of Sabrina Spellman was almost laughable. Prudence had known Nicholas Scratch for a long time, and she’d never seen him be as devoted to anyone else as he was to Sabrina.

“No, I know we do. I know we love each other. I guess I just…”. Sabrina trailed off trying to find where the issue is.

“You guess you want to make sure the emotional connection doesn’t fade away in between your sighs and cries for more in the bedroom.” Prudence filled in for her after taking a quick peek into her mind.

“That’s one way to put it but yeah that’s about right.” Sabrina grumbled but then bit her lip sheepishly. “He’s just so damn irresistible most of the time.”

“Oh I know.” Prudence smirked and Sabrina rolled her eyes. She had seen more than once how irresistible Prudence knew Nick could be. It was all in the past now, but that didn’t mean Prudence didn’t like to ruffle Sabrina’s feathers with the memory. “And by the way he looks at you I assume he find you impossible to resist too.”

“How does he look at me?” Sabrina tilted her head to the side and asked her, apparently completely unaware of how Nick’s hungry gaze had been honed in on her since day one in that damn choir room.

“Um I don’t know like he couldn’t give two shits about who’s in the room and he’s a nod from you away from ripping your skirt off and fucking you at any given point in the day.” Prudence was blunt. It was perfectly normal for witches and warlocks to be deeply sexual, to enjoy the passionate romp at a moment's notice. Nick had transitioned, however, from the anyone and anytime to being inherently focused on one witch for the rest of time.

“Prudence!” Sabrina sneered in a whisper. There weren’t any other people in their corner of the Sanctum, but hidden familiars lingered and she swore after one too many lectures by Zelda that the books had ears. “He does not.” She tried to deny what Prudence was saying but found herself faltering. She found it hard to deny too that she looked at Nick in any other way. Prudence didn’t have to do anything more than raise her eyebrows to get Sabrina to recant. “Okay maybe he does...but how do I resist him Prudence?”

“Well let’s practice. I’ll be Nicky, you be you.” Prudence cleared her throat and whispered a few Latin words and the next words out of her mouth came out in Nick’s dreamy tone. The one that was sweet and savory at the same time, a little scratchy but smooth as honey. “Hey, Spellman. Give me cuddles.” Prudence slid closer and wrapped her arm around her shoulder. Sabrina tensed, weirded out by hearing Nick’s voice come out of Prudence’s mouth. She leaned even closer and whispered in her ear. “Or give me something else.”

“Oh my Hecate. Fuck off, Prudence!” Sabrina shoved her away, certain Prudence sounding like Nick would haunt her nightmares for centuries to come.

Prudence burst out in laughter and expected Sabrina to bolt. But she stayed where she was, arms crossed and head shaking. Prudence slid closer again, but didn’t touch her and returned her voice to its typical state.

“Why do you need to resist him?” Sabrina originally narrowed her eyes but she relaxed when she saw Prudence’s genuine confusion in her eyes. “You’re finally having sex, and good sex at that. There is nothing wrong with enjoying each other. Doesn’t your mortal moral compass say you should have sex with people you love anyways? I don’t see the issue.”

Sabrina took a deep breath and turned to Prudence, letting her insecurities fall into place as she considered how to word them.

“Nick’s had sexual relationships in the past, where sex is all it was. And I don’t have a problem with that, truly. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Sabrina held up her hands and Prudence believed her. “But I want Nick and me to be different. I don’t want sex to be all we are.”

“Sabrina.” Prudence told her and the softness that Sabrina knew existed in the girl was shining through. She brushed Sabrina’s hair back in a gentle way and tilted her head to the side. “You and Nicky are not and have never nor will you ever be just about sex. Take it from someone who has been with him both before and after he fell in love with you that he is never going back to that. Maybe it took you guys a minute to get there. But from where I’m standing I don’t see any other outcome than the two of you grossing us out with your love for the rest of our lives.”

Sabrina smiled and nodded, swallowing once before sitting up straight and looking at Prudence again.

“Thanks, Prudence. I guess I get caught up in my head sometimes.”

“I think you should talk to Nick.” Prudence gestured with her head to the door. “If you need to dial back the physical you need to tell him. And he’ll do it. He’d-”

“Do anything for me, I know.” Sabrina bit her lip, knowing how true that statement was. Memories of a masquerade ball flooding her mind. “I don’t know that I need to dial it back…”. Prudence smirked, knowing that wasn’t really what Sabrina wanted at all.

“You just need to know that if you did, he’d stick around.” Prudence finished and Sabrina smiled slightly.

“I’m gonna go find him.”

Sabrina and Prudence nodded at each other one more time, a small gesture of understanding. They were friends. They wouldn’t be having sleepovers anytime soon, but they both had another person in their corners.

Sabrina set out from the Sanctum in search of him, knowing around this time he’d be getting home from wrestling practice at Baxter High and be hopping in the shower soon.

Sure enough when she knocked on his door and walked in before getting his response he was there, shirtless with shorts hung low on his hips and the shower on in the background.

They didn’t spend a lot of time in his room at the Academy, typically ending the night in Sabrina’s bedroom with her essentially forbidding him from leaving her. Not that he wanted to anyways, always holding her close ever since she’d nearly died on that sacrificial altar.

“Spellman!” Nick said surprisingly but with a smile. Sabrina pressed down the recent memory of Prudence’s face saying that name with his voice. “I thought I was seeing you later.”

“You complaining?” Sabrina quirked an eyebrow up in teasing and he playfully rolled his eyes, crossing the room to her in seconds.

“Of course not, babe.” He leaned in, placing his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. His hand slid down her arm to grab her hand. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” Sabrina heard the way her voice wavered. Nick’s worried brows told her he picked up on her nervousness too. He used his hand in hers to pull her to his bed where they both sat.

“What’s going on, Spellman.” Nick used his other hand to brush some of her curls back as his other rubbed circles on her palm.

“Nick, what would you do if I told you I wanted to have less sex?”

Nick’s face contorted in multiple emotions: confusion, worry, and finally it transitioned to fear.

“Sabrina did I do something that made you uncomfortable? Did I hurt you?” He was rambling, trying to figure out what line he crossed. “I’m so sorry, I never meant.”

“Nick.” She grabbed his face to get him to stop. Her small smile only calmed him a bit. “You didn’t do anything. I just want to know what you would do.”

“Then I’d say we’d have less sex.” Nick said slowly, still confused. “Spellman, what is this about?”

“You wouldn’t leave?” Sabrina raised her eyebrows. She already knew the answer, knew he’d never leave her. But that didn’t always stop the insecurity. Nick grabbed her face now, and stared intently into her eyes, his gaze and intensity never wavering.

“I will never ever leave you. You are the love of my life. I meant it when I said you were it for me, that I’d wait for however long it took. I’m going to be here, by your side, until our very last day. And even after that, I’m not going anywhere.” He brought her face close to his then to kiss her in a way that eradicated any doubts. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Nick.” She kissed him again, deep and soft.

“Can I ask where this all came from?” Sabrina bit her lip and looked away for a moment.

“Ambrose teased me for all the sex we’ve been having. It made me insecure for a second that we were losing what makes us us.” She reached up and brushed his curls delicately, admiring each one.

“Sabrina, the sex we have is incredible.” His smug smile made him blush. “But it’s the fact that it’s with you that makes it that way. And if you need to dial it back, that’s okay.”

“I didn’t say that was what I wanted…”. She told him as she began to trace her fingers over his bare chest. His skin felt illuminated by her touch, as if her fingers unlocked his nerve cells one by one.

“How about I take you to dinner and a movie this weekend?” He suggested, closing his eyes as her fingers reached his abdomen. “I can even kiss you goodbye on the porch and walk away like a good boy.”

Sabrina stopped her movements at the suggestion.

“A date sounds lovely.” She began moving again, toying with the waistband of his shorts. “But if you think you’re kissing me goodbye and coming back here then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“So what’s the verdict then?” Nick asked her, finally leaning down to kiss the junction of her neck. “Less sex?”

“No.” Sabrina whispered as her hand wandered to his back now, tracing its dip and moving up to scratch his shoulders. “No more letting Ambrose’s dumb comments rattle me. You rattle me instead.”

He paused his work on her neck and she nearly hissed when he pulled away to look at her, face flushed from the blood pumping through his body.

“I was about to shower before you showed up.” Nick stated and then lifted his hand to play with the flimsy straps of her top. “Join me?”

Sabrina stood, dragging him to stand too and wasting no time discarding her clothes and pulling him to the steamy bathroom.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

I'm back again (what a surprise lol), if you feel up to it would you mind writing hcs for Jean with the letters Q,T, Y & Z? If that's too much please feel free to take a letter or two off! Tysm 💖

Haha, no worries!! I could gush about Jeanne all day, I really loved writing these!! 💕💕💕 Under a cut because of length (we all know I’m a verbose thot 😂😂😂):

Fluffy ABC headcanons listed here for requests!

Q = Quality Time (how does he like to spend time with her?) 

Jeanne loves to do anything MC wants to do (within reason). Any amount of time with her anywhere fills him with bliss. (The heartbreaking alternative to this is that, while he understands they both have things to do that require them to be apart during the day, he misses her presence dearly.)

She wants to bake? He will sit there in the most embarrassing apron and chef hat known to man, and he won’t give a single fuck as long as MC is genuinely delighted and having a marvelous time. In a meadow overflowing with flowers? He’d enjoy the atmosphere alone, but the feeling is just multiplied a thousand-fold at the sight of MC weaving little flower crowns. She places one on his head and excitedly tries to show him how to make one himself, and he just smiles fondly. She wears the crown he makes no matter his lack of skill for the delicate task, and her insistence fills him with such unabating warmth. He struggles to do more mundane tasks and doesn’t really understand where all her energy comes from sometimes, but even so it brings him endless amounts of joy. Will escort her anywhere she wants to go without a single complaint; theater? You got it. Concert? Sure. Watching paint dry? Sick, time to get out the sword polish and chill. (It’s like Netflix and chill, only worse.)

The only places he will ever hesitate to bring her are places that are potentially dangerous; let’s say the black market, or the local casino, Vlad’s castle, etc. etc. He doesn’t like to expose her to unnecessary risks, but he also won’t stop her if she has a good reason/really wants to go. He’ll just glare at every potential threat and stick to her side like glue.

His personal favorite way to spend time though is in settings where they have quiet and privacy, where it’s just the two of them. Whether they’re in the gorgeous field full of lilies behind the mansion or cuddling in their bedroom, he is at his most comfortable and content wherever she is in his arms and they are left alone. (Let it be known that he doesn’t hate others, he just can’t help that he finds larger groups of people exhausting to keep up with--and he’s always on guard to ensure MC’s safety.)

T = Time (how long did it take them to get together?)

(I’m going to preface this by saying: I’m well aware that ikevamp speeds things up but I tend to see that as a narrative necessity; I think a lot of the men would work up to their romance more slowly, ideally.)

With Jeanne it’s a little funny because he develops affection/intrigue for people fast, so it’s fairly obvious when he starts crushing on MC. (I can’t stress enough, Sebas and Mozart are BOTH lenny face from like the first fucking day, it’s the funniest thing in the world. ANYWAY--). He’s similar to Leonardo in that way; there are certain qualities he inherently finds appealing, so he naturally gravitates to people that reflect them. However, a more abiding love--the desire to form a romantic bond with someone--takes more time for him. He and Sebastian share this quality (ISXJ amirite); they fall more and more deeply in love with the person they cherish as they form consistently pleasant memories in their proximity. More than anything, these two stoic characters need somebody that makes them feel safe, appreciated, and profoundly seen.

Her relentless desire to reach others in a positive way is the first thing that attracts Jeanne’s attention, but otherwise he is absolutely a slow burn when it comes to being committed to another person. He needs time to fall in love with all the little parts of his MC (all of which he finds endearing uwu), to develop trust and see that his MC can handle him, too. He knows he’s...a lot...so he can’t really be comfortably intimate without having the other person see the best and worst of him. If MC can face his past with sensitivity and earnest concern--without being overwhelmed--then he will well and truly be a goner for them. That’s the thing about Jeanne: he needs time to feel comfortable with his decision, but when he has decided he’s one of the most devoted lovers in existence. 

Given his necessity for security, he needs somebody who can see him at his most vulnerable without panicking and gently bring him back to himself--someone who doesn’t mind his wooden nature and difficulty expressing himself. I would say getting together would take at least a year and a half, at minimum. He needs somebody that, for all of his reticence and power, recognizes that he means absolutely no harm to anyone so long as they aren’t hurting him or anyone else. Under normal circumstances (rather than expedited ones), I imagine those difficult topics wouldn’t come up that quickly.

If we’re talking together as in hanky panky, I think it would take him a little while beyond that--but that would depend on his partner, too. If she needs time or doesn’t want it at all, he will wait any length of time or not engage at all. If she’s more desirous, he will engage faster and with more frequency. He likes being intimate and close to her, but would never insist on it if it made her unhappy. 

Y = Yes (how would he propose to her?)

When it comes to Jeanne, I think his proposal would be simple, direct, and entirely expected--but no less heartfelt and deeply romantic. He’s a man of few words, but whatever he lacks in eloquence he makes up for in charged brevity. He doesn’t much understand the social conventions/expectations tied to marriage in this era (and he does not listen to Comte either) so I imagine it comes to him naturally in the course of being with her.

It’s a few years into their relationship, and he’s smiling because she’s dazzling--whether it’s humming in the garden, or staring at the stars, or curled up close to his heart in his shared room; he just knows. Whether it’s a sin, or unconventional, or something he doesn’t deserve--none of those things are strong enough to deter him anymore. He wants to be the one that she turns to always when in need, wants to protect everything that she is--a sweet beacon in a world where he knows how easily that kind of brave light is snuffed out. Honestly more than anything, she just makes him feel like it’s okay to hope again, that it’s okay to want good things for himself and the future. He was a soldier once branded a traitor, but that isn’t who he has to be anymore. Now he has a choice; he’s free to move forward however he wishes. She taught him that.

“MC?” 

Bright eyes turn to him, smooth skin glowing in the moonlight beside him. She’s beautiful; he doesn’t think any amount of time will ever be enough to fully appreciate the blessing of her existence. As if she could hear his thoughts, she encourages him to share. She was always like that, always so perceptive and patient, no matter how much he struggled to articulate something. He much preferred the sound of her voice over his any day. “Is something on your mind, love? Something good happen today?”

He was fully aware he had none of the wit or charm that other men possessed, and while he wished he could be that for her--it simply wasn’t within his capabilities. So he used the words he understood best, following his direct nature: “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes widen a little, but the surprise is muted; it was more a matter of time than anything else. Even so her eyes glisten, and before he can try to calm her (her tears dissolved all his good sense, sent his heart into chaos), her arms are tight around him. He can hear her heart racing, even faster than his own.

“Of course I will! Yes, Jeanne!”

He’d hoped she wouldn’t hate the idea but her excitement, the tenderness that lingers in the way she cradles him close, makes him smile against her shoulder. His arms tighten around her, and he renews his vow to be her sword--the one and only man to protect her until the end of their days. (Yes, Mozart later drags his ass to the jeweler’s to get a proper ring 😂😂😂)

Z = Zen (what makes him feel calm?)

There are very few things in this life that bring Jeanne peace, but I think the highest things on that list would be MC’s voice/presence in general and his little babie Cherie (bonus points if the two are playing together, he just melts Mon Dieu 😭💖💖💖 ). 

He’ll often ask MC to read to him, if she’s so inclined, when his literacy improves. He loves the soft sound of her voice, and he wants to keep improving on his ability to communicate with more clarity. It makes her so happy when he leaves her coherent notes and manages to convey his thoughts with greater accuracy, so it really motivates him to keep striving. He likes it even better when she gets really into a reading, doing silly voices or changing the dynamics of her voice to fit the piece’s mood. It makes him smile; so excitable and cute. Though alternatively, she could be reading the phone book for all he cares; it’s enough to soothe him right to sleep. Sometimes--and especially when he’s had bad nightmares, retraumatizations, or when he’s overstimulated--she’ll fit him gently in her lap and just talk until he falls asleep. She’ll sing, read, talk about things they’re looking forward to, talk about things she needs to do tomorrow, talk about silly shenanigans that happened in the mansion recently; anything that will bring him back to her and her love. It really works to center him, to situate him back in the present moment instead of rattling around in his own head.

It’s honestly much like the sea and the shore, though there may be tides--the water recedes and surges--she will always be there to meet him.

Cherie is his baby girl and such a sweet kitty that he can’t help but smile whenever she bounds over to him. A little ball of energy, he’s always getting her toys, toting her around, and petting her gently. Whenever Cherie and MC are together in front of him, his heart about explodes from the uwus of it all; they’re his most cherished ones, and he loves to see them get along. MC will usually be giggling and cooing at the pretty tiger, and Cherie soaks up the affection with obvious glee. Just watching them is enough to make his heart so light--he can’t think of anything else that makes him relax down to the marrow.

He will also find a lot of calm after lovemaking, which is something that surprises him--something he never expected. Jeanne has a hard time connecting with other people; not because he doesn’t care, but because emoting in conventional ways can be a challenge for him. He doesn’t have He Who Must Not Be Named’s charm, he doesn’t have Napoleon’s easy confidence, he doesn’t effuse Vincent’s natural warmth. He’s aware of how little he emits tangible humanity according to the perceptions of others. It leads to him feeling isolated everywhere he goes, even if people don’t particularly dislike him. Even so, his MC knows that for all his struggle to express himself, he possesses a deep, fiery wealth of emotion and passionate feeling. He cherishes her willingness be vulnerable alongside him; to embrace the good and the difficult parts of him in stride. He is left awestruck by the extent of her fervor and loving heart every single time, and in the aftermath he finds himself at such startling peace with his existence. No pain, no hollowing loneliness, no guilt, no intrusive thoughts--just her warm body against his, so trusting--as she sleeps. He’s grounded in the moment, he feels tethered to her, and he doesn’t know how to handle the full feeling in his chest, the way his heart feels too many sizes too big. He spends many nights adjusting to that feeling of fulfillment, reveling in this new boon--among the dozens she’s already given him. Will wonders never cease?