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mellowsadistic · 10 months ago

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The Magician's Game - Chapter 5

“Well, that takes care of everything for today, I think,” said the Magician.

The ladies were all staring, unnerved, at the place where Susie and her mother had vanished. What sort of life had the girl gone home to? All of them knew it could just has easily have been them in Susie’s place, voted off to face who knows what horrible fate. Madelyn sucked her thumb nervously, and Becky squirmed in her stinky diaper.

“You can all do as your please for the rest of the afternoon,” the Magician continued happily. “Wander around the house, look around the gardens, or just go back to yours rooms for the night. It’s your choice, but don’t stay up too late. You need to be well rested for the second challenge tomorrow.”

“What time should we come back here for dinner?” Abby asked, a little apprehensively. She hoped it wouldn’t be baby food and formula again.

“Your dinner will be delivered to your rooms tonight,” said the Magician. His eyes glittered as he spoke. Abby didn’t like the look on his face, as if he had something planned, but what could be worse than having to eat disgusting, mushy baby food?

“Oh!” he said suddenly. “There is one thing I’ve forgotten. Stay where you are a minute, ladies.” The Magician’s eyes fell on Becky. He looked at her with his horrible smirk and said, in syrupy-sweet baby talk that turned the women’s stomachs, “Daddy thinks someone has a very ‘tinky nappy, doesn’t she? Does wittle baby Becky need changies?”

Becky turned scarlet and looked at the floor.

“Answer me, young lady.”

“Yes,” Becky said through gritted teeth.

“Uh-uh-uh, sweetie. You can do better than that. If you want to get out of that dirty diaper any time today, you have to ask me properly. Unless you’d rather spend all night in poopy pants?”

She flashed him a furious look. “Please Daddy,” she begged, her eyes filling with angry tears, “I’ve got a very stinky nappy. Will you change me?”

“Not quite, little one,” he said happily. “One more time. But this time try it in baby-talk, just like Daddy did.”

Becky sobbed. How much more was he going to humiliate her?! Wasn’t it enough that he’d stripped her of her toilet training and put her back in fucking nappies?! But the horrible, disgusting mess in her pants was getting too much to bear. She’d been in this filthy thing since lunchtime! “Pwease Daddy!” she wailed, determinedly not looking at the others. “Baby Becky has a vewy ‘tinky nappy! Pwease can I haf changies?”

“Good girl! That’s better! Alright, princess. Lie down and Daddy will clean your messy bottom. The rest of you can watch.”

Tears in her eyes, Becky lowered herself onto the changing mat that had suddenly appeared on the dining room floor. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her! A part of her still hoped that this was all some sort of bizarre nightmare, that she might wake up any second to find she was still a regular twenty-year-old woman who could keep her pants clean and dry.

With a loud ripping sound, the Magician undid the tapes of Becky’s diaper and pulled down the front.

“P-U!” he exclaimed, fanning his nose theatrically when the mess in Becky’s pants came into view.

Becky wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever.

“What a little stinker!” the Magician teased as he lifted Becky’s legs in the air by her ankles. He smiled while he worked away at her mucky bottom with a pack of wet wipes. “Who’d have thought such a pretty girl could make such a yucky mess!” he said.

Becky cringed with shame. She felt exactly like those filthy brats at daycare. She glanced up and saw the others staring at her. They all looked disgusted. Katherine was actually pinching her nose! “Don’t look!” Becky whined. “Don’t look at me!”

Abby, Madelyn, and Katherine knew they should give her some privacy – if the Magician forced them to stay, they could at least avert their eyes – but something about the horror of the scene kept their eyes fixed on Becky. A grown woman getting her dirty nappy changed. They couldn’t look away.

“Nooo!” Becky mewled, squirming in place while the Magician cleaned her up.

“Hold still, little missy,” he told her sternly, but she kept on wiggling and whining. Sighing, he snapped his fingers, and suddenly Becky went quiet. Then a happy giggle burst from her lips.

“Goo goo ga ba ba!” she gurgled, as a dim-witted smile spread across her face.

“There we go!” the Magician cooed, smirking. “That should keep you settled down until you’re all cleaned up. Here, I know just the thing to occupy a fussy baby during a diaper change.”

He slipped off the shoe and sock from one of Becky’s feet and gave it a tickle. She squealed excitedly and grabbed her foot, lifting it up to her face in an extraordinary show of flexibility. Then, while the others watched with looks of revulsion on their faces, the twenty-year-old woman shoved her big toe into her mouth and started sucking on it wetly.

Even Madelyn, who’s thumb was still planted in her mouth, watched with distaste as Becky drooled cross-eyed over her toes like some mindless infant. It was like the Magician had drained her adult mind right out of her body! The fact that a man would dare do this to a woman made her seethe with rage, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She’d come up with a plan soon, she told herself. This freak was going to get it.

The Magician finished cleaning Becky’s bottom while she sucked on her toes and babbled nonsense. He pulled a fresh nappy from thin air and slipped it under her bottom, giving her a generous sprinkling of sweet-smelling baby powder and patting it firmly into her tushy before taping the bulky diaper snugly around her waist.

“There we go!” he announced, and Becky cooed happily up at him, her mentally reduced mind happily enjoying the pleasant tone of his voice. “I’ll finish taking care of baby Becky for this evening,” he told the others, “so you can all head off now.”

The three ladies immediately headed for the exit, slightly dazed by what they had just seen. They couldn’t get the image of Becky babbling and getting her butt wiped out of their heads. Madelyn slipped out first, Katherine behind her – but before the fashion model could leave, the Magician spoke.

“Oh Katherine,” he said, “if you do decide to go exploring the house again, at least put some undies on this time sweetie.” He chuckled. “Such a naughty thing, running around with your bottom hanging out, flashing your no-no spot!”

Katherine hurried out of the room, blushing brightly, her arms slightly outstretched to keep her balance as she toddled and stomped away unsteadily. Abby followed quickly behind her.

“Katherine,” Abby said, catching up to the toddling woman in the corridor to their rooms. She had to supress a laugh at the sight of the snobbish lady waddling bowlegged down the corridor with her bare bottom mostly exposed by her short dress.

Katherine looked at her suspiciously. “What?”

“I was just wondering… The Magician said Susie got three votes, and I’m pretty sure it was me, Madelyn, and Becky. So I wanted to know who you voted for.”

Katherine raised her eyebrow. “And why should I tell you that?” she sneered.

Abby scowled. “Fine! I thought we could work together, but if you’re going to be a total bitch about it, you can forget it! I don’t know why I asked. You’re just some stupid toddler now anyway.”

Katherine blushed angrily. “Fuck you! At least I didn’t poop my pants earlier today!”

Abby went red herself. It had felt so disgusting having to waddle back to her room with a yucky mess in her pants after the first challenge. At the time, she’d been so relieved not to be made incontinent that she hadn’t thought too much about it, but now the memory made her cringe with shame. “Go and waddle back to your room, little girl!” she spat. “You can practice for your next baby pageant!”

Katherine stormed away furiously, stomping her feet unsteadily, and this time Abby didn’t restrain herself. She laughed nastily as the fashion model toddled off to her room looking exactly like a grumpy three-year-old.

Katherine slammed the door behind her, seething. That stupid girl should just wait! Eventually the Magician would do something to her as well, and then she’d see how she liked it! Hopefully she’d end up in diapers forever like Becky.

Abby stormed off as well. Madelyn had already gone back to her room too, and Abby decided not to disturb her. Even as a ridiculous thumbsucker, she was still a little intimidating with her short hair and her black suit and her stern, commanding voice. In any case, Madelyn had been on her side last time. She considered waiting for Becky, but she doubted the disgusting little pants-pooper would be in any fit state to discuss strategy for a while.

She went to her own room. The Magician might be a terrifying monster, but his house was certainly comfortable, and Abby laid down on the queen-sized bed, thinking hard about how she could possibly win this ‘game’. She thought about the Magician’s deep voice and handsome features, even his superior smirk, and her hand slipped almost unconsciously between her legs. She had an idea...

A few hours later, and Katherine was waiting impatiently in her room, sat up in her bed. There was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Katherine snapped. “It’s about time! I’m hungr…”

Then she froze at the sight of the woman who had just entered the room. It was her. The nanny she’d seen nursing the young woman when she’d tried to escape earlier that day.

“Hi, sweetie!” the lady cooed. She cupped her heavy, swollen breasts and jostled them. “Are you ready for din-dins?”

Katherine squealed in fear and jumped out of bed. She knew exactly where this was going and she wasn’t going to let it happen! She tried to run past the crazy woman and out the door, but her knees gave out before she’d taken two steps. She fell to the floor and started crawling desperately to get away.

“Silly baby!” the woman chuckled, reaching down and swatting Katherine playfully on her jiggling bare bottom. “Where are you off to? There’s no running away from Nanny this time! Baby needs her tummy full! Yes she does!”

Katherine turned around to look up and the woman, and felt her mind go numb. The lady had her tits out. They were enormous, pale and creamy. Katherine had always thought of herself as having big breasts, but they were nothing compared to the beachball sized tits wobbling alluringly on this woman’s chest. On the end of each nipple, a drop of pearly white milk glistened. Katherine found herself unable to avert her eyes. It was just like it had been with the baby food – the Magician was making her crave it, she knew. She tried to look away, to focus on something, anything else, but her eyes kept being drawn to the woman’s chest, and her stomach began to rumble.

“There’s a hungry baby!” the woman cooed. Nanny. Her name was Nanny. She helped Katherine to her feet, but the fashion model turned toddler barely noticed. She was too busy gazing hungrily at the drop of milk that had just ran down the underside of Nanny’s breast. She was hungry. She was a hungry baby.

Nanny say down on the bed and pulled Katherine into her lap. “There’s a good girl,” she crooned, guiding Katherine’s lips towards her nipple. “There we go. Time for num-nums. Time that all little girls got fed.”

Katherine latched on hungrily, her mind nearly empty. Somewhere in the back of her head, a voice was screaming at her that she had to stop, that she was a grown woman, that she ought to be disgusted by what she was doing. But she ignored it. She was a hungry baby, and she needed her num-nums. She started guzzling down Nanny’s warm, rich breastmilk like it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, like honey and vanilla and something else that set off fireworks in her brain. Nanny rubbed her back, cooing at her softly while she nursed, and Katherine drank until she was full, and she drifted off to sleep with another woman’s nipple still planted in her mouth.

It was a similar story in the other girl’s rooms.

“Naughty girl!” Abby’s Nanny scolded when she barged into the room and found the younger girl playing with herself. “I’ve already had to spank one naughty girl today, and I can see I’m going to have to spank another! That is not ladylike behaviour, little girl.”

Abby barely had time to shriek in surprise before she was pulled over the older woman’s knees and given a short but painful spanking with her underwear pooled around her ankles. But if the spanking was bad, it was nothing compared to the humiliation of what came next. Still dazed and confused by this terrifying woman’s sudden presence, Abby didn’t even fight as the lady pulled up her top and guided one of her breasts into her open mouth.

She squealed in horror once the nipple was thrust between her lips, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t spit it out! She thought about Madelyn and her stupid thumbsucking habit, and realised it must be the same. She couldn’t stop her lips from nursing! All she could do was let out muffled squeals of protest as the warm mother’s milk started to flow.

Over in Madelyn’s room, the feminist lecturer received a slightly different surprise. “Hello, Maddy,” said the Magician, appearing suddenly beside her bed and making her yelp with surprise. “I’ve come to feed you dinner, sweetie,” he said pleasantly, pulling out a baby bottle and ignoring her look of deepest loathing. “I think you’ll find this very yummy, little miss. I made it specially for you.”

She looked suspiciously at the bottle. It looked like it was full of formula, the same as the one she’d drank for lunch earlier that day.

“It’s mostly breastmilk,” he went on, smirking at the look of revulsion on her face, “but I added a special ingredient as well.” His smile widened. “You see, I hopped over to your university campus, and it turns out you’re not very popular among a lot of the male students! In fact, when I explained the situation, many of them were only too happy to comply when I asked them to help fill your bottle for your din-dins tonight.”

Hey eyes widening with horror, Madelyn stared at the baby bottle. “You mean…” she mumbled fearfully around her thumb. “Is dat…”

“It’s mostly breastmilk,” he said again, “with a few healthy splashes of male piss and ejaculate.”

Madelyn tried to back away, to run, to fight, but her body was frozen. No! This couldn’t happen to her! Not this!

Slowly, clearly enjoying every agonising second, the Magician slid Madelyn’s thumb from her mouth and replaced it with the nipple of the baby bottle. Madelyn tried to squirm away, to spit it out, but it was useless. Her lips got to work. Her stomach rolling, she could do nothing to stop the disgusting mixture of breastmilk, pee, and sperm squirting into her mouth and down her throat. She felt sick. But as the Magician guided her hands around the bottle so she could feed herself, and tucked her under the covers of her bed, she couldn’t stop nursing eagerly from it. The fuller her belly got, the sleepier she became. With the bottle still in her mouth, her eyes fluttered closed.

Becky, who’d been woken from her mentally reduced baby state by the Magician only to find herself presented with a woman’s breast to drink from, had immediately started crying and wailing again in her room.

“Hush now, silly baby,” cooed her Nanny, thrusting one of her nipples into Becky’s mouth. The incontinent girl latched on uncontrollably, her eyes wide with shock as her body immediately started to nurse. But she quickly stopped caring. The milk was so yummy!

She settled down and cuddled close to her Nanny while she was breastfed, feeling totally at peace with the world. And she was also starting to feel very sleepy. Milk drunk, she realised, as her awareness came briefly back to her. She was milk drunk, like a baby. A belly full of breastmilk to help the baby go to bed... She barely noticed when the woman withdrew her nipple from her mouth. She felt very warm. Very warm in one particular place to be exact. With a sleepy whimper, Becky realised she was wetting her nappy. The smell of piss reached her, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she was too tired to cry and mourn her potty training any more. Becky drifted off to sleep in her soggy diaper, and slept until morning.

Katherine was already dozing. Abby and Madelyn fell asleep quickly as well, their tummies full of breastmilk (and in Madelyn’s case, a little something extra as well), and they dreamed about full nappies, and smacked bottoms, and adult-sized nurseries that they couldn’t escape from no matter how hard they tried. And when they woke up in the morning, all four of them had wet beds.

#mellowsadistic

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sugar-omi · 2 months ago

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NO YOU FUCKING GET IT i like to think there’s a cove out there who’s so . unhealthily attached to you that it’s genuinely ruining his life because everything he does is for you. what’s the point if it isn’t for YOU? he’s always been a little standoffish, a little surly, but when it comes to you he’s the sweetest he could be, because someone as sweet as you deserves that at the VERY least

other people are so EXHAUSTING to deal with. they pry and ask questions and get easily ticked off and it’s so annoying to deal with them, especially when they insist on hovering around YOU— but he’ll deal with them, put up with them, because they make YOU happy.

he would sell his house, all his furniture, his room with the sand on the floor and the glowing fish tank, the whole neighborhood, his heart and lungs on a silver platter and maybe, just MAYBE, it would be enough to get you everything you’ve ever wanted. and MAYBE then you’d look at him with the same adoration in his eyes that he feels for you.

and if anyone was dearer to you than he? well. he’s always had a big appetite, hasn’t he? what better way to earn your love than to consume it through those who don’t deserve it but HAVE it regardless? if he can’t have you, NO ONE can — and he’ll make sure of that.

ooouggghghhh…… cove with bpd with mc as his fp but he actually acts on his thoughts and urges KILL ME NOW KILL ME WITH ROCKS

(children mention)

bae do not play w me abt yan cove.... u can't jus say "what better way to earn your love than to consume it through those you don't deserve it but HAVE it regardless? if he can't have you, NO ONE can" AND EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL!!!!

but omg... cove who works hard for you. the only way he can stand by your side and spoil you and love you is if he's more worthy of your love than anyone else.

the only ones who should come close to having all of your heart is the children he will give you.

God, all your friends would hate him. he's so cold with them, maybe even mean of he even thinks someone has a crush on you (never vice versa. you couldn't possibly love anyone else when he's right here giving you everything you need, and everything you will ever want.)

he's so tired of your friends "confronting" him and telling him he needs to "stop controlling [you]" and to stop being so weird, especially when you talk to other people.

but they don't get it. they're annoying. they're pest who dare to breathe the same air as his beloved. they are the ones that need to go away, not him. he's been with you for over 10-15 years, you would never get tired of each other or get "fed up with his antics" as your friends are trying to say.

he loves you. and you love him.. you need him just as much as he needs you, and you will see one day that he is all you need.

until then, he'll just have to become your ideal man. and not by changing himself, but making you like everything about him.

of course, he dresses in a way you might like. more black or sporty clothes, nerdy if you like that.

but he doesn’t want your eyes to wander to whoever fits your type, he needs to break you down until even if someone admittedly attractive stands in front of you, actor, actress, or regular citizen, he's the only one who can fill your heart...

everytime someone is flitting with you... you slowly start to think about how they're not cove, that they don't have any of his features or traits.

he showers you in love, attention, gifts, and endless amounts of his time until others make you uncomfortable, make you restless... makes you feel incomplete until you're with him.

he loves you so much, you just need to stop wasting time on these insects, these despicable people who don't know you like he does or love you like him.

no one can love you like him... no one.

and those who boldly tried to tell him that they love you just as much or more than him... well, they get to see just how much he loves you.

#im trying not to think of cannibalism but im clawing my EYES OUT #so so sick man

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vilentia · 1 year ago

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i just recently found out your account and i love your hcs of twd characters! can i request : how they would react if you get jealous and act different (like suddenly becoming silent/ ignoring them) hehe thank u! <3

How The Walking Dead men would react...

… if their girlfriend was jealous and ignored them.

****

Thank you for your request. ❤

Daryl Dixon Daryl would notice your sudden change in behavior, and at first, he might furrow his brows in confusion. He's not always the most emotionally expressive person, so he might not immediately understand what's going on. After a while, he'd gently touch your arm or shoulder and ask, "Somethin' botherin' you?" When you don't respond or remain distant, he'll squint his eyes slightly, sensing something's off. Eventually, he'll put two and two together and realize you're jealous. Daryl would turn to you with a soft grin and say, "You jealous, darlin'? Ain't no need for that. You're the only one for me."

Rick Grimes Rick is a perceptive guy, and he'll notice your change in demeanor fairly quickly. He might try to engage you in conversation, asking if something's on your mind. When you continue to act distant, he'll frown and become concerned, thinking he's done something to upset you. He'll gently touch your arm and say, "Hey, what's goin' on? Did I do somethin' wrong?" After a few moments, it will click for him that you're jealous. Rick will pull you close and whisper in your ear, "You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart. You're the one I love."

Negan Smith Negan is known for his outgoing and flamboyant personality, so he might be taken aback when you suddenly become silent and distant. He'll raise an eyebrow and tilt his head, trying to figure out what's going on. He might even make a few jokes or sarcastic comments in an attempt to lighten the mood. However, when your jealousy becomes more evident, Negan's expression will soften. He'll put a hand on your cheek and say, "What's eatin' at ya, darlin'? You know I only have eyes for you." He'll chuckle and add, "Guess someone's got a case of the green-eyed monster, huh?"

Glenn Rhee Glenn is a caring and observant person, so he'll notice your change in behavior quite quickly. He'll become concerned and gently take your hand, asking, "Hey, is everything okay?" When you don't respond or remain distant, he'll start to worry that he's done something wrong. He'll say, "I'm here for you, whatever it is. You can tell me." After a moment, he'll realize that you're jealous. Glenn will pull you into a warm embrace and say, "You don't have to be jealous, babe. It's you and only you for me. Let's talk it out, okay?"

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kings-highway · 4 months ago

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i've got quite a lot of fics written but they don't seem complete or cohesive enough to leave my docs,,, i don't know how to outline fics so everytime i get back to them im all over the place and end up doing things from the beginning do u have any advice :⁠,)

so... mhm... this is an interesting question. First of all I GREATLY appreciate you asking but unfortunately this installment of King's "advice column" is going to be half rant, half pep talk, and like maybe a sneaky 3% advice because the truth is... I don't know.

first off: I don't outline anything. Never have. The few times I do outlines it's for the sake of "trying to outline" and never because i wanted to. If you ever see me say the phrase "my outline" what Im actually referring to is the dance-break hallucination of the characters I've set to whatever Top 40 song Im listening to at the moment. I... cannot help you with outlining. Not really.

But I have some things that may help you overall. It sounds like the problem you have is with editing, not writing. Which... if you're new to editing or haven't edited a lot, can be entirely tedious and confusing and you might be saying "ach, but whats the difference!" - the difference is everything. I, personally, love editing. editing is where a story comes alive and can be perfected. If you have a finished full draft of a story, and you truly dont know where to go next... the next step is to be done with it. Literally. I've been working on a personal novel for about 2 years now, and half that time is spent waiting. Put away your draft, write something else. In 2 months, 3 months, come back to it and read it again, change anything you're no longer satisfied with. You'd be SHOCKED how much just taking a break from a story can improve your understanding of it. You may think of things to change in this waiting period - hold off. Hold it in. Let it stew. consider it caramalizing onions. there's simply no way to rush it. NOW - you expressed the sentiment of "i always end up doing things from the beginning-" I say... no you dont. That IS editing. My story has fully changed from front to back multiple times. That new draft you wrote from scratch? congrats, thats your second draft. Not your first. then you do it again. And again. Until the edits become smaller and smaller and smaller. And then when you hate it enough, you say "i cant possibly touch this anymore" and thats when you let someone read it.

And the truth is, they should have been reading it before. Feedback is infinitely important, in the editing process. You cannot expect to only ever show the best product. I have friends who have read drafts of my novel that wouldnt even be able to recognize what it is now. but I could never have gotten it to this point without their feedback. You have to be okay with letting someone - even just one person - see your bad first draft. THEY will be able to tell you where your cohesion is or isnt and how to improve it.

BUT that brings me to a second point, and the idea that this is probably fanfiction. Now, your initial ask was a little vague, so consider the first response there me being under the assumption you were interested in completely finishing a novel or short story with incredibly serious intent. Now Im going to assume you might be looking to publish chapter by chapter or take it "less seriously" because its just for having fun.

And to that i Say:

if youre publishing chapter-by-chapter (and writing chapter by chapter) your cohesion is gonna be shit!!! thats a first draft youre putting out into the world, babe, its gonna be ass! but embrace the chaos!!! I have learned and developed SO MUCH as a writer by publishing chapters one at a time, namely how to "punch through" that lack of cohesion. Consider your first draft a challenge. no matter how many errors you make, you are NOT allowed to go back and change it. that thing you committed to chapter 2? well its chapter 18 now and you either need to address it, or ignore it and hope your readers dont comment. You are beholden to your own writing and theres nothing you can do. Make it work. Its probably not as bad as you think.

Which brings me back to my initial point - dont trust me on cohesion!! Or, maybe, don't trust *yourself* on your judgement of your story. I'm assuming if you're asking you like at least 1 of my stories, so here's that aforementioned peptalk bit from the beginning:

if we're talking about incohesive stories and bad choices and things that REALLY should have been edited, I'm the (hehe puns) King of them. (I sometimes just vaguely think about Paranormality and want to tear my hair out - and yet this is one people seem to love the most!) here's two facts from my stories that are currently still available to read on ao3:

1. In "The Island" Jasvir and the rescue team make a 24 hour journey in about 6 hours (Because I forgot where New Zealand was and didnt fact check before)

2. In "Soulmake Adventures" Tendou describes how Ushijima stays at his apartment when he's "in the city" despite that city being Tokyo and the home base for the Adlers and Ushijima really should, like, have a home. (It did not occur to me to even check)

And Honey, if you think I had a plan for even one goddamn second of Paranormality you're mistaken. Holy shit it's just nonsense after nonsense after nonsense. I REALLY should have like, at least at one point, like... thought ahead. I just kept shoving stuff in and backpedaling and doubling down on things. But it was FUN to write. And people had a lot of fun reading it. I could edit it into something cohesive, but I dont think it needs that. I think if youre writing fanfiction, maybe its okay to just let it be a little bit loose and fucked up for the sake of the joy of it.

here's.... uh.... 3% advice:

1. have an ending. the stories where I know what my last scene (or my last line) will be always get drafted easier and with less stress. I dont mean have an ending idea. I mean literally mentally map out the last paragraph. Really helps me keep on track

2. talk to people. Walk them through your premise and your themes and what you want it to be. saying it out loud almost always will start clicking puzzle pieces together.

3. learn editing. unfortunately im not talking about grammer and spelling, i mean proper content editing. You have to build this skill seperately from your writing.

4. accept that your first draft is for vibes and fun. Push forward and do your best to "force it" however you need to, but;

4.5. understand that deleting work is part of the creation process too. If you do scrap an entire draft and start over, youre not "starting over" - youre starting draft 2. Thats editing!

#advice corner is peptalk corner now ig #this one was useless but i hope it helps in even a small way #i love receiving asks of all kinds so plesse feel free to keep sending them

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a-clown-with-wings · 7 months ago

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can I have an outline of how you draw bodies for reference please ^^ if u can and want too

I’m not good with tutorials because I’ve never been asked, but I’ll try my best tee hee

Also forgive the crusty art, it’s 2 am and I’m drawing mermaids.

Now, personally, I have a very different style that’s mainly culminated of many other styles that I have studied from other artists that I like, so this might not work for you or any other person that sees this, but I think trying in general is a big step in the right direction!

1. BLOCKING!!

Funny enough, I just started this step very recently, so if anything, it’s just an extra step to make sure everything is right. It’s actually helped me quite a lot since I have problems with anatomy and posing, so I really recommend it as a first step.

Think of it as a really messy sketch. In this step, you can do literally anything without being upset for getting frustrated because it doesn’t look right. It’s just a silhouette of an idea that you will expand on in the next step. I also recommend this for character design since silhouette is a BIG part of it and can make or break a line of characters. The last thing you want is for everyone character to look like a recolor of each other. ^^’

2. SHAPES!

I cannot stress enough how important shape language is for literally every single thing. Everything is made of shapes. People, animals, buildings, food. It all can be broken down into squares and circles. This is a part of anatomy that takes a little study, but once you get it, you get it.

For me, it’s changed a lot, but to put it simply: trapezoid and triangles. That’s all you really need for torsos really.

Now, for people of different body types, that’s a whole different story. Of course pear shaped people are not going to be built the same as people that are under rectangle or apple. That’s for another day, though. Slow and steady winds the race. If you take in too much, you’ll stress yourself out.

3. DETAILS!

Warning! If this part stresses you out the most, you are not alone.

I am better at drawing women and femmes because that was what my first Ocs were, so I’m still learning maize anatomy, but whatever. Nothing to worry about now.

This is completely reliant on what the person looks like. People have different bodies so not everyone is going to have a perfect hourglass figure. That being said, simply making the body wider or taller is not enough!! People have fat, it’s just one of the many things we are made of. Some people have more, some have less.

Think of it like a blanket almost. If you were to put a bed sheet over a chair, you would be able to see almost everything regarding the shape of it. If it was made of something thicker, like chunky crochet yarn, it would be harder to see the shape of the chair underneath. That’s putting it very simply. Things like muscle and stuff would be like throwing clothes onto the chair before putting the blanket on. Not a nursing major or anything, so take this with a grain of salt. I’m a stupid little guy.

It would take me forever to explain all of this, so I suggest looking into it on your own time in order to get a more in depth understanding of bodies and stuff like that. :)

EXTRAS!

If you haven’t noticed already p, which I completely understand, I am not that good at robots. I joined fnaf when Security Breach came out cus I like Suna nd Moon and I started this account with the intent of gaining an audience for my other Ocs. You goobers reeled me in and now I’m stuck here.

Anyway, when it comes to metal people, I draw them slightly different. They don’t have organs or anything, and are video game characters, so they don’t need a space for them. And nothing is better than saving space :)

I also make their bust a literal circle because I come on this app each day and see someone else draw them better and I start to sob uncontrollably. /j

This is completely up to you since people draw them all kinds of silly ways and I see no problem with that.

I don’t know how to end this but I hope this helped in some way :)

#mxiize #askcornmxiize #art help #artists on tumblr #original art #digital art #tutorial #helping #i don’t know what i’m doing #don’t hurt me #i so tired #honk shoo honk shoo

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hotboyfreighttrain · 6 days ago

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tw rant but its just stuff in my head

i remember when my parents made a rape scenario with a 60+ year old man for me because i was talking to people online

and then one time they banned my little brother from coming into my room because they thought i was touching him (first of all what the fuck)

they’re so deranged ughhhhhhhhh cant believe u thought i was wiccan and worshipped athena and had an obsession with jeffrey dahmer I WAS 14-16 calm down susan thanks for sending a typed letter out so the nurses cojld see it in the psych ward and give me more time lolllll yeah shut up everything that follows is when i was 14-16

ty for putting a camera outside my room and never letting me lock my door

ty for getting mad at me when i masturbate in the bathroom after you put me in a room that had 2 more cameras in it and then say “i know what you did that’s gross” i was a kid lol!!!!

ty for not letting me wear skinny jeans anymore because apparently i was a fat fuck and i needed to lose weight when i didnt know how to take care of myself because YOU didn’t show me how. thought it was just born in me huh???

ty for never telling me how to properly look after myself and then scold me for not washing my sports bra for months bc no one told me how often i needed to do stuff like that

ty for threatening to punch me in my face after you hit my leg because i was scared to tell you why i did this and that wrong

ty for thinking my kinks I WANTED PRIVATE are weird haha yeaaa i can’t chose the fact i like vore bet you think its fucking weird dont you yeah i like the aspect of it and i’ve been ashamed of it for a long time but nope since 9 yro can’t change sry lol!!! makes me wet!!!

ty for gaslighting me into thinking i was a deranged person who was crazy and always in the wrong and that ill end up like my mother because i did bad things because i was scared

ty for making me feel ashamed for liking the things i liked, ty for making me feel ashamed for drawing things that seemed cringe, ty for making me seem like all i was is a creepy fucked up kid who has no friends

thanks i needed it because now all i want in this world is to be loved by someone so deeply and fucked and puppified but who am i to ask when theres no one around me who would ever do such a thing

i needed it to grow cause now i feel ashamed for reaching out on anonymous forums because someone must be out there who’d love me for who i am, or thinking someone on tumblr might dm me and want to start something with me, i think about it every day, i have never ever wanted anything more than for someone i can look to and say i love you

#tw rape #tw mental illness #tw destruction #tw sex #tw suggestive

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catdemontraphouse · 1 year ago

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Finding out some bizarre shit abt Sebastian by reading his wiki page

Apparently in one chapter he calls his own kind “revolting” it’s a weird quote to me, almost like he finds their incapacity for hope disgusting? Like maybe he views them as wretched for being evil for reasons that don’t involve survival? Almost sounds like he finds being cruel for the sake of cruelty rather than self-preservation unrefined… which is weird because he is often such a dickhead just for the lols. Idk I’m not quite able to make sense of wtf little bastard man means by this. Feel free to plz tell me what u think abt it.

Come to find out, his eyes at least, are modeled on this guy specifically. Some actor idk 🤷‍♀️ not sure if it’s just the eyes only or if maybe this is what an IRL Sebastian’s face might be like hypothetically. She said it’s his eyes not the whole face but it’s interesting anyways

(This is just me but it kind of saps some of his cuteness factor by imagining him looking like an actual human and not a kawaii anime boy with cat mouth) 💔

His Tanabata wish was “I hope the household gets their act together” and not “I want to eat” so that’s kind of funny. When asked what his wish is it’s not for souls it’s for Bard to stop torching everything with his flamethrower.

Granted I guess there’s the chance someone could read it and be like wtf why does this slip say “human soul” but still he didn’t even put some shit like “to serve my master until his very end” no he was like “plz someone help Mey-Rin use the correct amount of detergent”

I thought this was so goddamn interesting until I realized it’s the cricket that people used to keep as a pet in some parts of Eastern Asia right? Not the grasshopper? And here I thought I rly was onto something lol

Also this wounds me greatly I hope she changed her mind and will give us the Sebastian flashback we need

I need the fucking lore

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #manga

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bnhaobservation · 8 months ago

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How do u feel about Endeavor being back on the battle field? I'm all cool for a good fight, but I thought it was a bit strange since his biggest flaw was prioritizing hero work over his family. I mean, I get why Shoto and everyone else is there, but he just sticks out to me. Granted he is the number one hero, but my point still stands. Seems counter productive given literally everything his arc is about.

Well…

As someone who has written a fanfic in which Enji takes a period of leave from work to stay with his son and support his physical and psychological healing you might picture my first reaction to ‘Enji goes back on the battlefield while Touya is taken away to receive medical care’ had me think “NO! I WANTED HIM TO STAY WITH HIS SON! I WANTED HIM TO PROVE TO HIS FAMILY THEY MATTER MORE THAN WORK!” but the problem is, of course, I’ve a western mentality which prioritize family over work while in a Japanese story at most you can judge them of equal value or prioritize work (in the past you would have to prioritize work now things are shifting so you can archive a balance).

Part of the HUGE problem we have with the Todoroki family is that it is a family with some strong Japanese views which clash a lot with western ones so that we often end up disappointed with what’s going on with it when it’s actually much better than what it looks to us.

Now this is also the moment in which I make a PREMISE. While I’ve a general understanding of Japanese beliefs due to reading and researching on it and know how those beliefs are represented in manga and anime (often in an excessive, over the top way to deliver a point and not in a perfect reproduction of how they are in real life), most of those beliefs are changing and, anyway, I’m not Japanese so don’t take me as 100% reliable. What follows is what I managed to learn and understand as well but I’m just a person and I don’t own The Truth so I might have made mistakes.

Also this is complicate and would require a much longer meta. For simplicity sake I’ll try to summarize things so I apologize in advantage if things come out unclear. Feel free to ask again if something really sounds too messy to be understandable.

So…

I’ve discussed about it in another post but in the ’70, ’80 a father like Enji would be considered a model father in Japan. This kind of view is shifting so BNHA actually criticizes what Enji does, but not as hard as the western audience would like because… it’s a recent shift so, while Enji has to prove he’s going to be a better father… for the Japanese audience he doesn’t have to put as much effort as the western audience feels he needs to put in it (never mentioning sometimes the manga forgets that what Enji did is bad and has other characters do the same without criticizing them at all…).

There’s another problem in addition to this.

Chap 302 and part of the chapters that followed disappointed many because while the family reflected on their behavior… they didn’t seem sorry enough for what they did to Touya, they talked about fighting him, stopping him but not about saving him, were focused on apologizing to Hawks, to society but they hardly felt like they were understanding his pain. They don’t try to reach for him emotionally, showing him empathy and understanding. Enji claiming he’ll look after Touya after he wins All for One is more an Enji claiming he’ll make sure he’ll take responsibility for his son, will make sure he won’t trouble society further than that he finally will give him the emotional attention Touya needed. Enji will understand he has never looked at Touya (as in paid attention to him, tried to understand him), that he has to apologize to his son only short before he’ll realize his son will try to nuke Japan and Rei will also do so when she’ll see them both about to explode.

That’s because for a Japanese audience the biggest sin Endeavor committed isn’t abusing his child to the point he did what he did… but to have a child who did what he did. As Shouto said Dabi is their family’s crime/sin, meaning the family isn’t supposed to see him as a person they’ve mistreated, but as a sin they’ve committed against society, a sin of which Shouto too, Shouto who, poor kid, had no hands in Touya’s mistreating, is blamed by society (I’ve discussed about this in another post), he is punished for it by having to fight Touya (chap 352). And also note how Horikoshi expresses the change in views.

While having Shouto (and Enji) fight and kill Touya as a punishment for what Touya did to society would have been perfectly fine in the past, Enji makes clear he can’t kill his son no matter what and class A expresses sympathy for Shouto, they find unfair the fact he has to fight his brother, even the journalist who wanted to demand the head of the Villains cut herself off when she realizes she’s asking Enji to kill his own son.

So it makes sense Horikoshi had to absolutely send Enji (and Shouto) back to fight All for One.

It’s not because Enji has to play Hero again, but because he and his family are considered directly responsible for Touya’s crimes against society and therefore they have to atone by giving their all to save society even when this is asking a lot from them.

While most of the western audience want Enji to atone toward his family (and some don’t even believe at this point there’s something he can do to be forgiven), the Japanese audience want him to atone also toward society for the damage Touya caused.

And note how Horikoshi went at it by having Natsuo, the one who was the most vocal critic of how Enji neglected his children and caused Touya’s ‘death’, be the one who tells his father to go fight, to leave them behind, that it’s better if he does because he would be of no use to them there, his family having suffered enough heat already so he can go fight. Enji goes to fight after having ‘permission’ from his family, represented by Natsuo only merely because we know differently from Rei and Fuyumi Natsuo resented him for his neglect so if Natsuo says it's okay if Enji goes we as readers are meant to assume it is since for Enji's family it's okay if he goes (the fact that we ultimately agree or disagree though remains up to us).

Anyway the message here is that Horikoshi is trying to archive balance, to have Enji give equal importance to his family and his work but, at the same time, have Natsuo also accepting that what Enji does as Endeavor is important.

Enji being willing to die to be with his son and Natsuo accepting his father can’t stay with them (even if they’re seriously hurt) but has to go back to fight because his work is important too because if All for One wins they’re all lost are two faces of how Horikoshi is trying to archive balance between ‘work is important’ and ‘family is important’.

In a western story, we probably wouldn’t content ourselves with this sort of balance. We had to see Enji neglect his family for too long in favor of his work, to have emotional ‘balance’ we would now need to have the story allowing Enji to neglect his work in favor of his family because the lesson here would need to be he should always have prioritized his family and never neglect it.

If he were to do something like leaving his family to go back to work, no matter how important that work is, we’ll expect him to be punished by, for example, losing his family which he has neglected one too many times.

Think at the movie “Devil’s advocate”, when Kevin Lomax neglects his wife for his works he ends up losing it. Choosing his work over her is represented as selfishness, caused by his sin of vanity, not as the right action because work is important.

In “Baby boom” J. C. Wiatt’s choice to leave her old work to spend more time taking care of her adoptive daughter is pointed as the right one. In doing so she’ll manage to start a better activity and even find love.

In “Kramer vs. Kramer” Ted Kramer’s attempts at taking care of his son which lead him to neglect and therefore lose his job and end up with one that pay him less is rewarded as ultimately he’ll be the one who’ll get custody over his child.

In “The family man” a man is lead in an alternative reality to learn that being with the woman he love and having a family with her is much better than having a work that allows him to gain millions.

We generally make movies in which work is less important than family, that neglecting work in favor of prioritizing family will lead to a reward and the opposite will lead to punishment.

In BNHA instead the goal is to have Enji view his family and his work as equally important… which is a BIG step forward considering in the past a Japanese father wasn’t expected to care for his children and nurture them (that was a mother’s job), that his duty was just to work and bring money at home and cultivate relations with his boss and coworkers by drinking with them in the evening and manga and anime tended to remark this depicting stories in which the children were learning to appreciate how it was right their fathers would neglect them in favor of their work, because their work was surely more important than be with them.

Even when criticizing the father’s actions the story would go out of its way to depict the father’s work as fundamental for the salvation of the universe and the son would ultimately forgive the father for the neglect. As I said it’s an over the top representation. Plenty of fathers in real life don’t have a work that requires them to fight for the survival of the universe and could genuinely spare some time for their kids but stories presented them as doing as such so as to pass the message fathers’ jobs are important and growing up means accepting this and loving them anyway and putting aside the fact you felt neglected.

Of course I’m not Japanese, I live in a country that recognizes a child’s need for attention from both parents as one of the child’s primary needs, that if this need isn’t satisfied the child can face psychological damage and the father is considered neglectful. The ‘but he’s saving the world’ doesn’t cancel or excuse the fact with his neglect he’s harming his child.

So back to the topic at hand… I understand why Horikoshi sent Enji (and Shouto) back to fight All for One, and I understand why Natsuo had to be the one who sent Enji to do so, basically giving Enji the pass to leave his family behind. I understand the way Horikoshi is trying to represent this represent a positive shift from a past view that was much, much worse… or, if you prefer much, much more different from ours.

Does it make me happy?

Honestly, despite understanding why Horikoshi chose to handle things in this way… I WANTED TO SEE ENJI BE WITH HIS FAMILY, FINALLY PRIORITIZING THEM. Actually I wanted all the Todoroki be together, which means Shouto too. I wanted them to have a moment a little longer than what they had for a reunion.

But maybe there will be time for this later.

Actually it’s possible even Touya will go back on the battlefield (as well as Himiko, Spinner and Compress) because, although All for One had told Tenko/Tomura he chose nothing, Tenko/Tomura actually chose the League. They were his friends, the ones he wanted to protect and be a Hero for. So it’s possible it will be up to them to call Tenko/Tomura back, to also BE THERE as ‘Heroes’ who’re there to save Tenko/Tomura.

If the League were also to be involved in defeating All for One (and therefore indirectly protecting society) it would probably easier for them to have a better ending. After all it’s a shonen trope that if a bad guy/adversary joins forces with the Hero against the main enemy then they’re kind of absolved from their crimes.

It is, of course, as unreal as it can get, but in manga it has always worked just fine (think at how in a big classic like “Dragon Ball” the enemies that change side are easily accepted and no retribution for their past crimes is demanded [okay, sometimes they die first and then get resurrected because “Dragon Ball” had always been big in its resurrecting policy]) so Horikoshi might decide to deploy it here as well. We’ll see.

In the end, as much as I’m more involved in the Todoroki family than in the rest, this isn’t the Todoroki family manga and the battle against All for One has to take precedence.

But hey, if Horikoshi or someone else were to decide to make a spin off about the TodoFam I would surely buy it!

Said all this I apologize if it felt confusing, I remind everyone this is just my opinion and since I'm not Horikoshi it has the same worth as everyone else's opinion and I thank you for your ask!

I love to talk about the Todofam so thank you for giving me the chance to do so!

#Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Natsuo #Todoroki Rei #Todoroki Fuyumi #Ask

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

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freddy freeman dating hcs

First things first, Freddy would make the best boyfriend. End of discussion.

Freddy would be the type of boyfriend who’d be your best friend first and foremost, your boyfriend second. For him, just because you were dating didn’t mean you had to act differently to how you did before your feelings for one another extended into romantic territory.

He still wants to share laughs and jokes with you like he always had, talk shit with you about the douchebags and the bitchy cliques in school; he knows he can still do all that but that doesn’t stop him from reminding you that no matter what your relationship was, he would always be in your corner even if you were to ever break up. (Which is never bc why would you? He’s perfect.)

Protective. He can and will use throw fists or even go as far as to change into Captain every power, his alter ego, when he felt as though you were threatened or being put in a dangerous situation. Even if it was an inkling that never stopped Freddy from wanting to keep you safe. Even if it meant keeping his identity a secret for a little while before crumbling under the guilt of hiding a part of himself from you, despite it being the best course of action in keeping you safe from the itinerary of villains that wouldn’t think twice in using you against him.

It’s just not a factor he’s willing to risk but when things settle down after awhile, he’ll be sure to tell you and hope that you don’t leave him for not telling you sooner. (Again why would u?)

Handholding or anything that included holding some part of the hand has a plethora of meanings for you and Freddy that you came up with a code for all of them;

Quick squeeze of the hand: I’m right here.

Long squeeze of the hand: making sure that you were okay and that you were still by his side and not some work of fiction his mind made up.

Fingers intertwined, palms pressed against one another: this one is used when either of you were feeling a tad in need of something to ground you when you felt as though you were floating aloft in the uncertainty and madness that was life.

Pinkies locked: it’s an innocent way of keeping tabs on one another whilst in crowded areas, making sure the other doesn’t get lost amongst the bodies, almost life a life raft of sorts that kept you both connected.

Playing with the others fingers: this was more Freddy then you but that’s neither here nor there. Freddy would be prone to feeling like a secondary thought, which leaves him becoming a tad insecure that one day you’d might find someone better then superhero fanatic Freddy Freeman. He was also prone to becoming quite fidgety so whenever you catch him being slightly more restless then usual, you wordlessly held out your hand to him and he would immediately begin to fiddle with your fingers.

Wrist lock: this was when Freddy would take his hand, grasping your wrist in a firm grip before pulling you behind him protectively. You return the favour on occasions but it was more of a Freddy action. He just wants to protect and keep you safe, he didn’t care about getting hurt in the process.

Cuddles you whilst he goes full critic on the latest superhero biopic, calling it out on it’s inconsistencies of the timeline, the colour scheme of the heroes first and most recent outfit, amongst many other things. It was a beautiful sight, seeing him so impassioned that you often got lost in his lively eyes, his mouth that ran a mile a minute, and then finally his expressive hands resting against your thigh and back.

Freddy would notice this and other then feeling flustered under your stare, he would pout, thinking that you weren’t listening and ask you ‘what you looking at me like that for? Did you hear any of that?’ To which you would reply with everything he said thus far, word for word, taking him aback, before finally speaking in what had you so captivated.

‘I was merely admiring the most handsome, beautiful boy in my life as he speaks passionately about his interests.’ You then reach for his hand on your thigh, tracing the soft lines of his vein across the back and up past his wrist and arm tenderly. ‘Did you know that the more impassioned you are the more expressive your hands become?’ You asked. ‘also how you start talking just that bit faster as though you were on a limit to get everything off of your mind.’ You added before looking Freddy in his eyes.

‘Don’t rush yourself for me because you think that I might loose interest, if anything it’s the exact opposite. I want you to keep talking about what you love for it only gives me more of a reason to fall further for you then I already have.’ You finished with a smile and you swore that you could see tears forming in Freddy’s eyes as he started at you, starstruck.

‘What the hell did he do to deserve you?’ He would wonder both aloud and internally, to which you responded with each and every time, ‘by being unapologetically yourself.’ Before giving him an abundance of kisses on his face until you saw that face splitting smile again, followed that laugh you loved so fucking much. For it was your favourite sound.

Oh! Silly photo booth dates! You’d totally have a section of your wall dedicated to every single photo booth date you’ve had. Some had silly filters over them, others had physical props that could be used; whilst others were normal photos where you and Freddy would do silly poses and faces, always saving the last one for the cutest ones of all where you’d take the other by surprise and giving them a kiss on the cheek or even the lips. A real ‘taken at the right moment’ kind of picture. Those were the ones you treasured the most.

Dating Freddy was something you’d describe as a once in a lifetime kind of relationship because you highly doubt that you’d find anyone remotely close to Freddy when it came to terms of making you the happiest, most special person alive. And you honestly hope you never do because Freddy was truly a one in a million.

#dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fic #dc fanfic #Shazam imagines #Shazam imagine #Shazam x reader #Shazam x you #Shazam fic #Shazam fanfic #Freddy freeman imagines #Freddy freeman imagine #Freddy freeman x reader #Freddy freeman x you #Freddy freeman fic #Freddy freeman fanfic

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parafic · 2 months ago

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OK since u wanted this. Elau :)

I considered just skipping to the next scene but I've posted everything so far so that might be mean. So the rest of this scene is under the cut.

ELAU:

“If it is, they’ve kept it very well hidden,” Itama says. “I can look into it, but I don’t think I’ll be able to find much.”

Hashirama nods. “See what you can do,” he says. “And look into Meguru generally. The best we can do at this point is try to convince both of them of the benefits of peace, so that the negotiations can succeed regardless of who ends up in control of the clan.”

“Madara and Izuna too,” Tobirama says. “They’re the Uchiha’s strongest fighters, and will have influence even if it is not official. If Meguru is challenging Takami for control of the clan, the winner will likely be whichever of them can secure Madara’s and Izuna’s support.”

“So my new assignment is to spy on the Uchiha, got it,” Itama says, which earns a small laugh from Hashirama, a snort from Kawarama, and a smile behind Mito’s fan. “I’ll write to some neutral clans. Anija, if we’re particularly lucky and someone important to a neutral clan has been hurt recently, the most likely strategy to succeed would be to offer healing as a bribe to get them to investigate for us.”

Hashirama drums his fingers on the table again. “I will probably approve it,” he says after a few seconds. “But run it past me first, once you have specifics.”

“Yes, anija.”

Hashirama smiles, then turns to Tobirama. “Tobirama, is there anything else worth reporting now?”

Tobirama shakes his head. “I will put all of the details into the written report, but I have already summarized the key points.”

“Then before you start on it, I want you to go to the healers and have them do a full set of diagnostics.”

Tobirama immediately looks affronted. “Anija!”

“That is an order, Tobirama.”

Tobirama folds his arms and pouts. “Very well,” he says grudgingly. “But this is excessive fussing even for you. I told you no one touched me. Why are you being so ridiculous today?”

“Because I had to send my little brother alone to the Uchiha compound,” Hashirama says.

Tobirama makes a face, but sighs. “Yes, anija.”

“Actually,” Mito says, “There is a seal I wished to discuss with you, Tobirama-kun. Perhaps I could walk with you, and we could speak on the way?”

Tobirama does not look any less annoyed, but he has never turned down a chance to discuss seals. “Yes, Hime-sama.”

“I’ll come too!” Hashirama says. “I should speak with the healers about supplies anyway.”

“The only thing we’re low on that isn’t already coming in is needles,” Kawarama says. “I’m working on that, so you just need to talk to them about if they expect to need extra of anything. We already have extra burn salves, bandages, and disinfectants, in case the Uchiha try to retaliate instead of negotiate.”

“Thank you, Kawarama.” Hashirama smiles, then reaches over to ruffle Kawarama’s hair, which makes Kawarama shout complaints and bat at Hashirama’s determinedly ruffling hand until they get into a wrestling match, and Tobirama impatiently drags them apart so he can get his pointless checkup over with as soon as possible.

“We’ll see you at lunch,” Itama says as the oldest three depart, and receives a nod from Tobirama, a smile from Mito, and a grin from Hashirama. “Kawarama, would you like to spar?”

“Yeah!”

Kawarama always changes into his armor faster than Itama, but he waits for Itama without complaint. As they walk to the training ground, Itama asks, “What do you think?”

Kawarama shrugs and swings his arms, already warming up. “I’d rather just wipe the bastards out,” he says. “You know. But anija won’t do it and you and Tobirama-nii-san agree with him, so if we’ve got to negotiate, having a hostage to make them behave is better.”

“If we wiped them out, even if we could, we’d just have several new wars with all the clans that would be afraid we’d wipe them out next.”

“Even though they’re Uchiha,” Kawarama complains. “I know, I know, I just don’t like it. They don’t deserve anija being nice to them.”

Itama smiles, but manages not to laugh. “War and politics both have very little to do with what anyone deserves.”

Kawarama smirks back. “Which is why that’s your job and not mine. I can just kill stuff.”

“I suppose, as your older brother, it’s my responsibility to take on the work you dislike.”

Kawarama grins. “The clan benefits from a variety of skills.”

“And politics is mine?”

“Yours, and anija’s, and ane-ue’s. As long as it’s not mine!”

#ELAU #and now we begin to see the vast array of sibling terms I pestered Red into helping me figure out

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matthewtkachuk · 2 years ago

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promise this won't change a thing - josh anderson

When Josh finds out you've never been satisfied, he sets out to change that...and maybe the nature of your entire friendship

pairing: josh anderson x reader

warnings: light angst, smut smut smut

word count: 6.7k

a/n: here she is! @luvsherleafs i'm so so sorry this is a little late, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless <3 thank u to @antoineroussel for running this whole exchange shindig and for editing as always love u boo. this honestly started as an inappropriate day dream at work and somehow became nearly seven thousand words.......don't ask

It’s a stupid game of Never Have I Ever; cheap wine, some girl friends and a group of rambunctious men who happen to play hockey that sets everything in motion. Among them is Josh—your sweet, best friend since birth Josh—who is currently looking at you with horrified eyes as your drink remains at your side while the feminine presenting half of the table drinks on.

“Never?” he asks incredulously, his eyes ever so slightly glassy and his cheeks and nose tinged pink a sign of his own experiences.

“That’s why it’s called ‘Never Have I Ever’, Joshua,” you roll your eyes, but your bravado is a façade. The truth is, it’s an almost embarrassing thing to admit no guy has ever been able to get you off.

“Not even Bradley?” someone else asks and all you can do is shrug.

“He wasn’t half as good as he thought he was.”

“I could help with that if you want.” Joel’s barely got the sentence out before he’s being smacked by your best friend.

Josh doesn’t need to come to your rescue. You’re a grown adult—even if your choice in sexual partners hasn’t always been the greatest. He does a second time though—then a third and a fourth time and on and—redirecting the game in a manner that has Joel so shit faced by the end of the night, you’re wondering if you should be putting him to bed in Josh’s guest bedroom instead of yourself.

You don’t give up the room, but you still don’t relax until you’ve received fifty thumbs up emojis and a shirtless pic of Joel in his own bed which might have been another invite if his eyes weren’t half-closed. It makes you laugh at least.

The relaxation doesn’t last as Josh decides to clear the air that you’ve been pretending isn’t thick with tension with an apology. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It’s alright,” you say, though it really isn’t. Busying yourself with tidying up empty beer cans, you move into the living room while he follows. “It’s just embarrassing.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then two, and then an entire minute passes by in what feels like an eternity as you can sense Josh’s gaze heavy on your back.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

Your reply is immediate, no hesitation in your tone, “Yes.” You pause then, some of that aforementioned apprehension seeping into your words, “Why?”

He doesn’t say anything in return, just quietly crosses to where you have your back turned to him. A calloused hand curls around your hip, fingertips sliding under the hem of your top. The other plays with the waistband of your jeans before popping the button and slowly sneaking inside. His movements are slow, unhurried, as if he’s waiting for you to jump away or freak out or yell.

You don’t; your only reaction is the tensing of your body.

“Relax,” he hums, fingertips dancing over the lace of your underwear. If you weren’t wet before, you’re soaked now—a consequence of the low timber of his voice and the press of him into your back and the slight pressure of his hand between your thighs.

A whimper of his name passes your lips but you don’t speak any further. He takes it as an invitation to continue, rubbing at your clit through your underwear. You need something to hold onto, one hand gripping at his forearm and the other flying back wildly until you’ve tangled your fingers in the curls peeking out from underneath his hat.

“You said you think it’s your fault. I don’t think it is,” he speaks casually—cooly, calmly. As if he didn’t have his hand down your pants and his dick pressed to your ass. As if two decades of friendship didn’t hang delicately in the minimal space between your bodies. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

And you’d be lying if the flashes that run through your mind in quick succession weren’t tempting, or if you said you’d never wondered what it would be like to be with him, or if you claimed to never have fantasized about his thick fingers or strong body.

It’s just… He’s Josh. And you’re you. And you and Josh don’t do this. He features in all the best pictures and memories from your childhood, and he’s the one you come to when you need guidance making a big life decision and you’re the one he tells about the pressures of the league and how hard it was to leave Columbus but how he doesn’t regret a thing.

Josh keeps your world spinning and you his, and are you really willing to lose all that for a bit of pleasure?

You say his name again, but with more intention this time. It’s riddled with doubt and worry and anxiety and you don’t have to say a single syllable more—he hears you.

“I know,” he answers back, calm and sure and pressed to the skin of your neck before he’s kissing and sucking and biting, all the while his fingers never cease their movements against you.

“This won’t change anything?” you have to say, have to ask. As intoxicating as his cologne is and the feel of him against you and the press of his fingers, you’d stop it in an instant if it meant you’d lose any other piece of him.

“Not a thing,” he promises with conviction. “Just wan’ be a good friend and get you off.”

You hesitate for a second—full of that fear and doubt until…

“Okay.”

Your nose scrunches in confusion as he slides his hand out of your jeans, wiping your own wetness against the skin of your stomach. But then that very hand is turning your head so that his lips can meet yours. It’s probably sweeter than the moment calls for, but you fall into it just the same.

It feels like something much deeper than just two friends getting off, something more serious, something with the potential to be devastating. You push it all down in favor of pulling him closer, letting him walk you to his bedroom.

Your shirt is the first thing to go, awkwardly fumbling because neither of you want to break the kiss. Jeans are next, Josh’s thumb ghosting over the indent left by the button for a brief second before hooking into the side of your underwear until they lay at your feet too.

The kiss doesn’t break as he lays you down among the cool silk of his sheets. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s still fully clothed, but you don’t get the chance to say anything when he makes his way down your body. You’re interrupted by the little noises of pleasure you make as he caresses and kisses every inch of your body from your chin down to your waist.

“Relax,” he says again, pulling the hand you hadn’t even realized you were clenching the sheets with into his own as his other arm rests against your pelvis.

Maybe it hasn’t always been your fault.

The next morning is awkward. Without the haze of liquor and lust, you’re just two best friends who woke up naked together. There’s tension and stumbling and a hesitancy that had never existed before.

It feels like a big mistake that the two of you tiptoe around for a week after. You’re not ignoring him. Not exactly. Not when he’s not exactly blowing up your phone either.

But Josh is your best friend and Montreal is a big, lonely city that only reinforces how much you miss him even though he’s just on the other side of downtown.

Brunch is a peace offering he can’t resist, not when you’re playing dirty and promising to make him french toast and sausage from the butcher shop in Little Italy you both like so much.

He lets himself in with the key you gave him, door shutting noisily behind him before you can hear the sound of him kicking off his boots and jacket. It doesn’t take long for him to appear in your kitchen, sheepish smile and light blush on his cheeks. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you reply, cringing a little on the inside at how flirty it sounds.

“Smells good,” he offers, coming up behind you to peek over your shoulder. The press of his body is firm and warm and reminds you of how good it felt to lay beneath him on cool sheets.

“It’s almost ready if you want to grab some plates? There’s juice in the fridge or, well, you know where the coffee is.”

“Sure.”

It’s normal, sort of. If you just ignore the way he can’t stop staring at you. Or, how jumpy you are every time he so much as brushes against your side in the tiny kitchen. The stilted conversation across the table is also abnormal.

Other than that, though. Totally business as usual.

The goodbye hug by the door could even be described as ‘nice, if a bit lingering’.

You were right, it hadn’t changed anything. Not permanently, at least.

After brunch, you see Josh a handful of times, each meeting slightly less awkward than the last until a string of away games seems to reignite your friendship. It’s not quite the same as before—how could it be, now that you know the way his moan sounds in your ear—but there’s enough of a literal distance that you can communicate without thinking about it all.

When Josh is back in Montreal, you settle back into an almost familiar routine while trying to navigate the complicated memories you have revolving around your best friend naked. It’s weird, but he’s your best friend and several of his teammates now make up part of the small inner circle of your friends.

You go out for drinks and hang out at each other’s apartments and the apartments and homes of various other hockey players throughout the city.

When you’re feeling down, it’s still Josh you can call on. Josh who invites you over with the promise of a random documentary on Netflix and noodle bowls from the restaurant down the road.

There’s still a little tension between your shoulders as you let yourself in and hang your coat by the door. It lingers as you find him sitting on the couch with takeout containers on the coffee table, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him.

That tension doesn’t quite dissipate as you polish off your food, fighting Josh off as he tries to swipe one of your spring rolls, and watching two episodes. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his side and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

Being this close reminds you of that night—the feeling of his body on yours, the relief that there wasn’t something wrong with you.

“Dessert?” Josh asks a little while longer, causing you to nearly snap your neck with how hard your head pivots toward him. Does he mean...? “I have that ice cream you like,” he adds.

Relaxing a little, you nod and pull yourself from his embrace and his couch. You collect the empty drink glasses and take out containers and make your way into the kitchen to deal with it all while he searches the freezer.

He doesn’t really make it that far, though, body hesitating and stuttering in a manner that has you looking up from where you’re putting away the clean dishes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“If I don’t, you’ll let them sit here all weekend and that’ll drive me nuts,” you joke, the normalcy of the moment letting your guard down almost completely.

“Let me help,” he offers, sliding up behind you to assist in reaching the higher cabinet door. After putting it away and closing it back up, he doesn’t move away. You can feel every hard line of his body, can smell the scent of his cologne, but you don’t move either.

The seconds hang between your bodies until he presses a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Several things happen at once then. You spin around and grab desperately at his shoulders as he slides his hands under your thighs and lifts you up on the counter. There’s no hesitation, and the tension that formerly lived here has been replaced by an entirely different kind of tension that has you wanting to rip off his clothes.

Your lungs struggle to pull in enough air in the brief pauses where his mouth leaves yours, but you don’t care, pulling him closer and closer and closer.

Until you remember who you are, what you’re doing and who you’re with. You push back against his chest weakly, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt first before pushing once more a little more forcefully.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you pant, breathing heavily as he does the same.

“Don’t wanna,” he responds, going back in to trail his lips down your cheek.

“Josh,” you say more forcefully and he pauses, looking up at you through his long lashes. “We should talk about this.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, sinking his teeth into your collarbone, making you jolt slightly, body pressing that little bit more against him.

You push once more against his shoulders. “So let’s talk.”

He kisses your neck once more, before flipping his snapback around so that the bill faces the back and dropping to his knees before you all the while pulling off the clothes covering your lower half.

Swallowing hard, you continue to press the issue. “We’re not talking...”

Josh smirks at you once before pulling your legs around his head and pressing his face to the warmth between them. “No, we’re not.”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the hat at all, since your fingers promptly knock it off his head entirely in order to pull the strands of his hair between them.

The next morning is less awkward. You wake up slowly, body sore and satisfied as you regain consciousness. The weight of Josh is warm and comforting around you, arm slung low around your waist and chest pressed to your back. As much as you’d like to slip back into sleep, the room is too bright and you’re too awake.

That doesn’t mean you can’t lie in comfort for a minute or ten in the morning quiet.

The quiet doesn’t last long as Josh waking up minutes later turns into a soft and slow morning quickie that ends with Josh rolling off of you, chest heaving.

“You wanted to talk?”

Frankly, you’re having trouble breathing, but you know that fucking your best friend is a dangerous game, only made worse by not communicating clearly.

Somehow you manage to roll on your side so that you can look at Josh as you speak. “Ground rules. We need ground rules.” His resulting nod has you continuing. “You’re still my best friend. This is just two friends getting off together, lord knows I haven’t been having a lot of luck in that department. And this can’t. Change. Anything.”

You’ve punctuated the last sentence—the words a reminder of your first encounter more than anything—with pokes to his chest. His hand covers yours to save him from more violence and then he uses the grip to pull you on top of him this time.

“Okay,” he seals the deal with a kiss that has you forgetting your own name and every thought of why this might be a disaster.

Every morning after that—not every morning, but the ones where you do wake up tangled with each other—is less awkward again. There’s an ease that comes with fucking Josh, something you attribute to your long friendship. It’s not a hardship to add orgasms into the mix, getting what you can and what you deserve when the rest of Montreal is still disappointing you while he’s away.

You’re genuinely worried you won’t make it out of tonight alive and with your secret situationship with your best friend still a secret.

It starts with a steamy snapchat from Josh—literally steamy, what with the haze of his bathroom and his bare chest with water dripping down it indicating he’d just taken a hot shower. There’s a towel loosely slung along his hips, but your pulse races with the implication of what lies beneath. You respond with a nonchalant picture of your own shower, a teasing message along the lines of wishing he were here.

You should know better than to open his response so quickly, but you’re a glutton and blessed with another shirtless pic and the words that read more like a command—show me

Never really one to follow directions, he finds himself opening a picture of you from the neck up.

lower is his response.

Ever a tease, you send one more of your legs to your feet. His response is an eye roll emoji which has you laughing.

hey, some weirdo would probably pay good money for my feet pics. should have stayed the night and maybe you could have joined me in the shower.

You don’t wait for a response, the time at the top left corner of your phone reminding you that the clock is ticking and you don’t want to be late to the party at Joel’s house.

Going through the motions, you wash your hair and your body, letting the conditioner sit for that extra moment while you stand with your back under the water.

If you were a proper lady, you might feel shame in the haste with which your hand slides down your body as you imagine Josh in the shower with you on your knees, or how quickly you find release picturing his head between your thighs, or maybe even the way his name leaves your lips as you do so. You’re not, and so you don’t, cheeky enough to send him one last snap with bright eyes telling him exactly what he missed.

His response goes unopened as you slip into a sundress and dry your hair, flitting about your vanity and wanting to look good but not like you put in a ton of effort.

Vehicles line the street when you arrive, and so you find a spot near Josh and walk in like you own the place. A few Habs offer you halfhearted greetings until you find Josh and Joel standing in the kitchen.

Sliding your arms around Joel, you grin up at him, “Hey Eddy.”

His eyes flicker over to where Josh’s cherub smile has dropped into a grimace before his own smile widens. “My favorite girl!“ he announces loudly, just this side of tipsy with a bud light in his hands.

“You say that to all the girls,” you laugh, squeezing once and then dancing out of his hold. The temperature of the room seems to increase a couple degrees as you slide over to Josh, slipping under his arm and stealing a sip of his beer. “Hey Josh.”

He doesn’t verbally reply, just sets down his beer and manhandles you until he can wrap his arms around you in a proper hug. It’s comforting and warm and you can’t help slipping into it a little more. “Hey,” he says finally, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and then letting go.

Joel’s never really been that good at subtlety, but even he knows when it’s time to slip away, leaving you and Josh to work through… whatever it is you need to work through. A few more beers and he probably would have joked about the sexual tension.

“Did you not like my snapchat?” you ask innocently, not stepping back from his space although his arms now rest limply at his sides. One hand comes up to rest on his chest and the other reaches around him, skimming his side as you go, until you've got his discarded beer between your lips again.

Your eyes widen when he tilts it back a little bit, causing the cool liquid to fall more quickly than you had anticipated, before he pulls it back and downs the rest himself. “You know I did.”

“Good, it was just for you.” Your tone is low and the implications of it all run through his mind, images of you begging for more, telling him you were his and only his, quickly spinning into the vestiges of domesticity that he shuts down quickly. While he’s battling an internal war, you step back from his space, intending on grabbing a drink of your own but you don’t get far.

His hand grabs your wrists and tugs until he’s able to press your back into the counter and rest his hands on your hips. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment heavier than the occasion calls for but then it’s gone as he lays a bruising kiss against your lips. It doesn’t take long for it to turn dirty, a flex of his hips and a love bite on your lips and you’re gripping his neck while his tongue explores your mouth.

And then there’s movement in the next room, followed by loud chattering that only gets closer and Josh is stepping back himself. He twists away to grab a couple beers, tossing you one and then walking out of the kitchen.

Your face is warm and your chest is rising heavily with breaths that just don’t fill your lungs. Pressing the cool bottle to your neck for a second, you shake out your shoulders and follow the source of the sounds in the other room.

All night you can’t keep your eyes off Josh. From him pushing up his sleeves to expose his forearms to the way he pulls off his hat to run a finger through his hair, you’re mesmerized. You’d blame it on the alcohol, but you were still nursing that first beer that had grown warm.

His laughter warms your chest like his large body warms your bed and you ache for the press of his fingertips against your waist like he grips the neck of the beer bottle.

It doesn’t help that it feels like Josh is toying with you—murmuring your name as he passes by where you’re seated on the couch talking to one of the rookies, squeezing at your ass while everyone’s attention is across the room, pressing the entire length of his body to your back under the guise of ‘just passing through.’ And then the texts detailing everything he wants to do to you later, culminating in a recreation of your little shower scene in the morning.

Near midnight you can’t take it anymore, sending him a heated look and inclining your head, hoping he can take the hint for what it is.

He doesn’t make you wait long in the bathroom of his teammate’s house, slipping inside only two minutes later (not that you counted).

“What—” he starts to ask, cut off by the force of you nearly throwing yourself at him and attaching your lips to his.

The shock doesn’t last long—mere seconds before he’s responding with enthusiasm and hauling you up until you rest on the bathroom counter with his thick thighs between your own.

Pulling back slightly, but still hovering over you in a way that has your pulse racing, he smirks. “What’s all this for?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you curl your fingers through the overgrown hair at the base of his neck and tug. “Been teasing me all night Josh.”

“Teasing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As he feigns innocence, he lets his calloused fingertips run up your bare thighs, pushing your dress higher and higher up and stepping even closer.

You feel a pulse between your thighs where your lower halves are pressed together, and you’d be ashamed of how quickly your body has reacted to his if he wasn’t half hard and rocking against you himself.

Tugging again, you make him look into your eyes instead of your body. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joshua.”

He doesn’t deny it again, just shrugs and slides his hands beneath your underwear to grab a handful of your ass. “‘M not sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” you tell him empathetically, before crawling your lips up his jaw. “I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He flexes his fingers to prove his point. You give him a look that clearly indicates he knows what you’re talking about. Josh kisses you once, much more sweetly than the moment calls for, and then he slides his hands out of the back of your underwear only to cup the front of you through the very same fabric. His pointer and middle finger press against you and he opens his mouth. “This what you wanted?”

“Don’t tease me,” you pant before he can say anything further.

His ever present smirk only widens as he slowly, torturously, rubs his fingertips against you. The motion has your head falling back and a pleading groan to escape your lips.

“But it’s so much fun.” His admission is complete with him taking a step back from you entirely—your body far too cold without his looming presence. “Don’t you think?” He murmurs your name and pushes his sleeves up his arms like he’d done earlier in the night. Your eyes track the movement, your tongue coming out to wet your bottom lip.

Realizing you've all but fallen into his trap, your eyes narrow again and you pull the skirt of your dress down and prepare to hop off the counter. “If you’re not going to fuck me, I’ll go home and do it myself.”

Josh reacts quickly then—almost like he can’t help himself—dropping to his knees, flipping your skirt back up and dragging your underwear down your legs. He maintains eye contact as he tucks the garment into the back pocket of his jeans and then leans down to press a light kiss to your clit.

The action sends a jolt of energy down your spine, and you curse yourself for how quickly you turn to putty above him. The heel of one foot digs into the strong muscle of his upper back and both your hands tangle in his hair. Josh is enthusiastic, impatient even as he drags the fullness of his tongue against you. Part of him wants to make a stupid comment about you submitting to him so willingly, but he doesn’t take the chance that you might push him off and make good on your threat.

You’re a whining, whimpering mess in no time. Every sound is like music to Josh’s ears, spurring him on and on as he eats you out with vigor. It’s when he slides two thick fingers into your warmth that you let out a moan that could get you both caught.

He slows the motions of his tongue, but continues the slow thrusting of his fingers, looking up at you where you’re absolutely wrecked by his ministrations. “Gotta be quiet baby, don’t want them all to hear us. Unless you wanna get caught, want someone to walk in and catch us, catch you taking me so well?”

The thought isn’t entirely off putting but you shake your head empathetically. “Don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

The words go straight to his cock first, but then his traitorous heart takes hold of the sound and tries to infer meaning where there is none. You want him. Maybe as badly as he wants you.

There are decades of history as to why a romantic entanglement with you would be a bad idea - real, tangible, palpable reasons and yet he’s got two fingers buried in you and is that not just as bad?

You interrupt his thoughts with a tug of his hair, eyes wide and chest heaving. “Don’t have time. Want you to fuck me.”

And Josh’s mind might be up in the clouds but his body is planted firmly in this room and so he rises from his knees and uses the strength of his forearms to spin you around until your front is pressed to the porcelain. The position is meant to separate him from his thoughts, to depersonalize the moment a touch, but he can’t keep his eyes off you. From the first moment he enters your body until the last, his eyes track your every facial expression, his heart hammering in his chest for reasons far beyond just the physical exertion of fucking you from behind in Joel’s guest bath.

Watching as your gaze glazes over and your body relaxes back against his in your post orgasm haze, he follows you, grip flexing against your hips and face burying in your neck. A lot of thoughts fly through his mind, dangerous ones full of promise and potential heartbreak, and so he settles for a few chaste kisses to the smooth skin of your neck.

The two of you clean up in silence and then Josh is reaching for the door. You stop him, manicured fingernails curling around his wrist until he turns to look at you.

“You wanna get outta here?” you ask, eyes glinting with the promise of more mind blowing sex. And he really shouldn’t—should really take this time to reflect, take some breathing room and figure out exactly what he wants. But he doesn’t really need to.

Because what he really wants is you and all that you’re willing to give.

Taking your face in his hands he kisses you fully, stopping only to murmur out an ‘okay.’

“How did you know there were condoms in the drawer?” you ask as the two of you sneak out of Joel’s apartment.

“Do you really want to know?” Josh’s teasing tone falls a little flat, but you don’t notice, far too caught up in the inherent ick behind his words. “There’s some in the kitchen island too.”

“Gross,” you say, but you laugh too, all the way to Josh’s car. You don’t stop laughing until he’s tossing you onto your bed and covering your body with his.

Days, weeks, a month passes in much the same way—you and Josh navigating and balancing both the friends and benefits in friends with benefits. It’s a fine line to walk, and one you end up stumbling over and under as time passes. Sometimes it’s like the flip of a switch. An innocent evening watching the latest binge-worthy drop on Netflix ends with you on your back. Post-sex pillow talk becomes a discussion on carpooling home for the short Habs Christmas break, and whether you would be baking sugar cookies like you do every year.

It’s blissful and it’s passionate and it’s exciting, but it’s also all just casual.

You’re under no illusions here, Josh is just your best friend. Your best friend who you regularly and often fuck, but just your best friend nonetheless. This isn’t some shitty made for TV romcom, it’s real life.

Hooking up with Josh doesn’t prevent you from seeing other people. You go on dates set up by friends and with men you meet on dating apps, and, yes, sometimes those dates go well enough that you end up back at theirs or they end up at yours at the end of the night.

Both you and the other people you hook up with pretend that you don’t see Josh’s face in their eyes before your own eyelids shut.

Mid-December the Habs find themselves in the midst of a losing streak they can’t quite snap out of for longer than a game at a time. Just like his team, Josh is not playing his best—far too deep into his own mind, making stupid mistakes that end up costing leads and even resulting in losses.

You do your best to make him feel better, just as any friend would. When he’s on the road it’s late night calls, good luck and you’ll get ‘em next time text messages, baking him those sugar cookies he loves so much and leaving a tin of them in his apartment for him to come home to.

And when he’s at home...

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as you swing the door open to reveal an anxious looking Josh. His hair is wet and his game day suit is disheveled, but he’s as handsome as ever.

“No.”

Your stomach swoops at his gruff tone of voice. “Josh—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” he speaks through gritted teeth. And, well, he doesn’t have to tell you more than twice.

You want to reach for him, want to hold him and reassure him that everything is going to be okay. But that’s not who you are and that’s now what you do, at least not right now. Not with him looking at you like he wants to devour you. And so you wait for him to make the first move, standing in your own vulnerability while he tries to mask his.

He doesn’t make you wait long, two long strides and he has his hands in your hair and his tongue in your mouth.

It’s not soft and sweet, it’s all-encompassing. Josh has taken over all of your senses in a bruising, searing kiss.

You want to wrap yourself around him like a vine, pull him closer and closer until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He clearly wants that too, gripping and pulling and leading you backwards toward your bedroom and then your bed.

For as heavy as Josh’s grip is on your body, his gaze is tenfold. There’s something deeper swimming in the murky depths of his blue eyes that makes your heart hammer.

He’s marking up your throat when your phone starts vibrating on the bedside table. You ignore it in favor of arching your back to get even closer, but whoever’s trying to get ahold of you clearly isn’t getting the message as it continues to ring and ring.

“Do you need to get that?” Josh asks, looking up at you.

“No, it’s just some dude,” you reply, sliding a hand through the hair at the base of his neck and attempting to use it for leverage. Ordinarily the action would be enough to have him bending to your will without so much as a protest. “Not important at all.”

Not this time, though. This time he freezes.

“I’m not seeing other people,” he says, body hovering over yours on your bed.

You falter then, only a little as you reply. “I am. What? We’re just doing the friends with benefits thing. We never had the exclusive talk.”

It would be comical the speed with which he pulls himself from you and your bed. He doesn’t even look at you as he gathers some of his discarded clothes throughout the room and then exits your bedroom.

“What are you so mad about?” you ask, following him through your apartment after throwing on your robe. “You’re seriously telling me you haven’t been picking up on the road?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since we started hooking up.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say is oh?” He’s angry, but he’s not yelling and that’s almost worse you think. Yelling you could handle, but the quiet fury has your stomach twisting, almost as if he was saying ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.’

“Josh—”

“I can’t be here right now,” he grits out, slamming the door and leaving you in the quiet of your apartment all alone.

You’re confused and worried. Worried that two decades of friendship just walked out your door. Worried, because Josh had just left into the cool air without a coat. Worried that despite your mutual promises and assurances that this wouldn’t change a thing, everything had just changed.

The front door taunts and teases you as you just stand there staring at it, willing Josh to return through it and give you the explanation you deserve.

He doesn’t reappear, and so you will your legs to move and take you away from the confusing scene. Except every inch of your apartment screams Josh now, even if you had made it your home long before Josh’s trade found him in the same city as you. The fluffy blanket on the couch that you bought with your first roommate only makes you think of Josh with that very blanket pooled around his waist. His discarded coat on the chair looks like it was always meant to lie there.

The kitchen is no better—the cramped counter layout only reminds you of how Josh’s cool, granite countertop felt beneath your bare ass as Josh descended onto his knees in front of you.

Josh has always been important to you, and the orgasms he’s given you—that none of the guys you’ve slept with when he isn’t around have been able to even come close to—aren’t even in the top ten reasons why.

He’s good and kind and loving in a way you’ve never experienced before.

The knock on your door is somehow completely expected and yet a total surprise. Maybe it’s the time between the slamming of your door and the subsequent knock—not even a full forty five minutes had passed. Maybe it’s the feelings you’ve come to terms with. Maybe it’s the pounding of your heart.

Regardless, you slip into a cool exterior mask as you open the door and attempt to casually lean against the frame. “What do you want?”

His responding “I’m sorry” is sincere enough for you to let him in, but not sincere enough for that mask to drop. “You’re right. I don’t have a right to be upset.”

“No you don’t.”

He sighs then, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It was just such a shit game—”

“Bullshit,” you interrupt. “What?” He looks flabbergasted, like he hadn’t expected you to speak at all. “No, I played a shit game and—”

“No I know you played like shit,” you interrupt again, arms crossed over your chest. “You turned over the puck and your shitty cross check resulted in a goal. I’m saying it’s bullshit that it was the game that made you so upset you slammed my front door on your way out.”

“If you’re such a fuckin’ know-it-all, if it wasn’t the game, then what was it?” He’s challenging you in a way, you think. The hard set of his face and the furrow of his brow are a dead give away.

There’s a few ways this can go. You can let him pretend like it was a shitty game that had him so pissy—maybe you talk it out a little, maybe you fuck it out a little, but it’ll be like a shitty dollar store bandaid over a bullet hole. Eventually it’s gonna bleed through.

You can put an end to all of it—the tension, the hooking up, all of it—and go back to being best friends who at one time had a thing together. It’ll hurt like hell, but you’ll get over it eventually. Until he settles down with some girl who looks kinda like you in the right light. It’s a safe option, if cowardly.

Or...

“You’re pissed because you’re in love with me.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, maybe to say you’re wrong, maybe to say you’re right but you shake your head vehemently and he promptly closes it. “Well guess what, Joshua. I’m pissed because I’m in love with you too.”

“How long?”

“What?” You stumble over the question, you don’t know the truth well enough to answer without some thought. Maybe the question will buy you some time.

It doesn’t. Josh is quick to clarify, “How long have you loved me too?

“Not as long as you, I don’t think,” you say, slowly, tentatively. “But longer than I even realized. Does it matter?”

He looks like he’s considering it, before he shakes his head and steps closer. “No, not really.”

And then he’s kissing you. The same way he’s been kissing you and yet somehow it’s completely different. It’s not lust, it’s love. It’s not rushed, it’s tender.

You and Josh should have known better. It was always going to change everything.

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