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natalyarose · 7 months ago

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𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓼 - 𝓐𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮

Hi, and happy Bharani season to all :) I've been working on this analysis for days not necessarily because it took long to write, but moreso because I could write endlessly on Venus Nakshatras & it took me a lot of time to organize the stream of info I'd written in a more adequate manner. I hope this piece is enjoyed & informative to someone 🩷

In this piece I'm going to be diving into Venus's themes of dancing along the line between pain & pleasure, and the artistry and beauty that is born from the merging of these two extremes.

��𝓵𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓑𝓸𝔁 𝓫𝔂 𝓟𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓝𝓪𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼

The song 'Glory Box' by Portishead is the song that inspired me to write my first song and take it truly seriously.

It's just such a sensual, classy, sexy, beautiful masterpiece. Though beyond that, the meaning portrayed in the song & music video speaks to my soul so vividly. I always was enchanted by this track, but seeing the music video brought it all together for me and the meaning just 'clicked'.

'I'm so tired, of playing playing with this bow and arrow I'm gonna give my heart away leave it to the other girls to play for I've been a temptress too long just give me a reason to love you give me a reason to be a woman... I just wanna be a woman'

youtube

Everything about this song, this video just screams Purvashadha & Venus. Even the line 'playing with this bow & arrow' lol- sidereal Sagittarius much? I wouldn't be surprised if Purvashadha is directly connected to Cupid.

I'm going to go a bit freeform in my interpretation of the song & video, but I think I've got the 'right' grasp of the idea portrayed:

The music video depicts people in a vintage style office setting & old fashioned, very professional 'uptight' attire. It is boring and in a sense drab, but we see life in the subtle expressions & communication. There is flirtation, but it is secretive. There is an an expectation to be professional, to be 'proper'.

There are clips of Old Hollywood-esque people having drinks, enjoying themselves. We get sporadic visuals of the singer (Beth Gibbons, Purvashadha Sun, likely Uttarashadha Moon; Uttarashadha being prominent in music), dressed beautifully & glamorously performing on the tv, looking almost pained in her beauty & artistic display of emotion.

This song speaks to the desperation to be free and sensual as a woman, or just as a soulful human being in a world where there are responsibilities and expectations to keep up an image, 'play the game' in society. The desire to 'be a woman' and express your feminine energy authentically, dress up, be emotional & sensuous, indulge in pleasure and break free from social/circumstantial limitations. However, the pain and friction between two worlds almost makes the longing and lust for the person/life you desire even more intoxicating.

Venusian desire & artistry is so intense, in the corporate world Venus ruled individuals often find themselves needing to reign in their passion, and even punishing themselves for it.

I think I first started listening to this song when I heard it in a reel that was again, extremely Venusian! I would credit it, but I think this just was a circulating video & I have no clue who the originator was. The dude (Gene Kelly) has Purvashadha Moon & Purvaphalguni ascendant. Just look at the suave-ness of Venus men lol :

There's so much more I could write about this specific song and the nature of Venus, but ima try to stick with the 'k.i.s.s' (keep it simple, stupid!) principle.

I always thought that this song & message is such a perfect piece of art to demonstrate Venusian nature, but I will note that Beth's Uttarashadha Moon definitely intertwines in terms of the message this song communicates. Uttarashadha being the height of the Sun (a 'masculine' energy) is very on par with the experience of wanting to be feminine in masculine dominated fields/with traditionally masculine expectations upon you. We could see this as almost like a conflict of interest between Beth Gibbon's Purvashadha (Venusian, feminine, romantic, beautiful) Sun and her Uttarashadha (ambitious, masculine, stoic) Moon.

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷 '𝓑𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓶' & 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰

You can often tell when a Venusian is behind a song or art piece because the vocal tone, writing style and or colour choice emanates this distinct attitude: sexy, raunchy, articulate... & often kinda bored or reflecting an unhappiness with the way the modern/current state of the world is. Especially in Purvashadha Nakshatra, there is often an intense idealisation of the past and 'old times', reflecting Venus Nakshatra patterns of longing for things they can't yet have and shaping their world view around that desire. This definitely speaks to the way Tropical Earth signs (especially Capricorn) are seen being drawn to old, vintage & prestigious relics of the past. This is in part due to Ketuvian Nakshatras residing within Tropical Earth signs, but it is also Venus Nakshatras' placement. Venusian elitism is possibly best observed in idealisation of the past- something so exclusive that nobody can actually go back to it & mainstream society often disregards it.

Venusians can exist in this state of boredom and embody this energy, this aura that almost reads 'impress me, peasant' lol. Feed me grapes & fine wine while I lay adorned in jewellery on a velvet chair- then we'll talk.

This is where Venusian Nakshatras classic pickiness, elitism & in some cases classism (and all the other isms lmao) comes in.

I once read that men can be attracted to women who look bored, disinterested or detached, because they take it as a challenge to be the one to impress her and light her up- very Venusian. It kinda explains (some) men's misguided efforts to impress women who are very clearly not interested. We see this in nature too- peacocks (and other birds), for example lol; the male peacock flamboyantly attempting to impress the female, and more often than not she is disinterested- female peacocks are a tough crowd man.

You can always spot Venusians by their expression & overall demeanour- they leave you feeling like 'I admire you, but I'm kinda scared of you and feel like you're judging me at the same time' lol. The irony lies in the fact that while yes, Venusians can be extremely critical of others, their 'judgy' expression often has more to do with the fact that they're always judging themselves. Harshly critiquing themselves like a piece of art. Venusians can find it veryy hard to feel they are 'good enough', the same way an artist never feels the painting is truly done.

Sophia Loren, Purvashadha Asc | Blake Lively, Purvaphalguni Moon | Donna Summer, Purvashadha Sun & Purvaphalguni Asc

daddy Ted Danson, Purvashadha Sun | Audrey Hepburn, Bharani Sun | Johnny Depp, Purvashadha Moon

admittedly, Audrey & Johnny boi come across a little softer to me due to their other placements, but they still definitely have the look/energy. My Bharani mama was a master of this look, & I always thought she looked a little like Donna Summer.

While Venus women embody this choosiness & unapproachability, Venus men can take on that role of wanting to be the ones to impress the woman they've set their sights on, 'wow' her.

However, that being said, Venusian men are also often very picky themselves. Venusian men and women alike are seldom impressed by aesthetic beauty alone and place a lot of importance on internal value. They often crave exoticism & uniqueness in women. Venus in our charts represents what we value & find beautiful. In a way there is more value in something or someone who is rare.

When Venusian men do find a girl they really like, they can be extremely persistent and there are a lot of cases where Venusian men will successfully initiate a relationship with a woman who wasn't initially interested by genuinely winning her over with his dedication, adoration & direct pursuit of her.

In terms of aesthetic appearance, Venusians (again, men & women) tend to have a preference for natural beauty in some way too. Femininity often refers to an energy of being flowing & receptive rather than performative or immensely exuberant. It's not uncommon to see Venus women forgoing 'performative' femininity and embracing raw female beauty. No makeup, allowing body hair to grow, messy hair, not being afraid to look 'beautifully dishevelled'- yet never necessarily unkempt. Imperfectly perfect, like a piece of art.

This is why Mars Nakshatras tend to be the women most prominent in the world of makeup and glamour. The curation and forceful manipulation of the body to look a certain way is 'masculine' in a sense. Like the way mankind manipulates & curates nature. Although there are two sides to this coin, as Venus Nakshatras can also grapple with the 'beauty is pain' idea and go to great, sometimes sadistic, masochistic lengths to achieve their ideal.

Venusians, but Bharani natives especially have a reputation for rarely smiling fully, always holding a mildly restrained expression (one of Bharani's translations literally being 'the Star of Restraint'. The Mona Lisa famously depicts this Bharani-esque expression; painted of course by Bharani Sun, Leonardo Da Vinci. It is often remarked that the painting itself isn't particularly outstanding in terms of beauty, but what makes it so charming is the mysterious aura emanated through means of the 'drab' yet earthy, sensual colour pallet & demure, vaguely amused expression. Others have remarked that the drab colour scheme brought special attention to the Mona Lisa's face, inviting us to engage with her.

Off the topic of Venusians; but Leonardo Da Vinci is also Shatabisha Moon conjunct Jupiter - Shatabisha natives, in true sidereal Aquarian fashion often receive praise for being 'ahead of their time' as Leo was indeed.

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼, 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷 & 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮, 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Purvashadha is said to embody a state of wishing to return to the 'Garden of Eden', where we are one, we are divinely connected in pure bliss, beauty and pleasure. This further explains the Venusian life of oscillating between/existing with the realms of pain & pleasure.

Bharani experiences these themes through its association with 'delayed gratification' & later rewards. Bharani will work hard and go through a lot of pain to reap pleasures later on. Bharani being ruled by Lord Yama, the Vedic God of Death draws a connection between Bharani & facing your karma in your next incarnation.

Purvaphalguni experiences the conflict between pain & pleasure through the realisation that nothing can be 'perfect' and the frustration of knowing that some things are just out of their control. Purvaphalguni experiences the 'royal' quality of the Sun combined with the the sensuality of Venus- these people often take their happiness into their own hands, but run into struggles when they realise they can control themselves but they can't control other people's mistakes & external circumstances that may put a wrench in their ideals.

Purvashadha experiences the pain/pleasure theme through pining for something, shooting for the stars with some usually highly ambitious goal, and then realising all of the obstacles in the way of attaining that goal. However, Purvashadha translating to 'the invincible one' and also having the elephant tusk as a symbol (strong, unbreakable) shows how when Venusians persist in pursuit of their desires, they ultimately are successful and attain that Venusian dream life.

In my mind desire, is a result of the friction created between pain and pleasure. This is why forbidden love is so beautiful yet hurts so badly. Almost every Venusian I've ever met has some intense story of forbidden love- falling madly in love with a cartoon character that doesn't technically exist, falling in love with teachers, falling in love with someone who's dead, falling in love with someone who's an inappropriate choice due to their age, status, culture, professional role, etc.

Perhaps the most infamous story of forbidden love, is Romeo & Juliet. I had to check, & William Shakespeare is most likely (almost definitely considering the range of birth times proposed) a Bharani Sun native. (Side note that he looks kinda like Leonardo, lol)

Amidst these intense themes of romance, tragedy and longing, Venusians are very good at playing a role in their life and showing up to that role, often very ambitiously. However within them is always this gnawing desire to just- be wild and free with their passions without the pretence, without the pressure. This can sometimes express through random outbursts of frustration.

The elitism of Venus can even be somewhat of a defense mechanism. in Venus Nakshatras there is such a deep desire to experience true intimacy and bliss with another human being; that to protect this very human vulnerability they will often design some sort of system to decide who is worthy & who isn't- eg. 'I will only befriend/associate with people who enjoy this type of music'. That way there is always guaranteed common ground & allyship between them and those whom they let in, somewhat protecting their heartspace. In this way, Venusians are 'warriors of the heart' in a sense.

This longing and desperation to be united and feel that oneness, but knowing it may not be possible is often the drive for the art of Venusians in some way or another. The pure angst, the passion.

A lot of Venusians I've observed can develop an almost nihilistic worldview, or can even seem very 'boring' or overly structured on the surface- but ironically, the reason they have this view & demeanour is because they are at their core so idealistic and full of passion that it hurts. It feels easier to just close off the heart-space all together and in some cases express their passion in a strange, or abstract (or in darker cases, violent) manner because society isn't built around beauty & pleasure as much as Venusians tend wish.

This aching to feel alive & dance between pain vs pleasure can be seen in Venusian Nakshatras' tendency to self harm or self sabotage. Venusians can do wild and even dangerous things just to feel ALIVE. To Venusians, pain is worth it if it means there could be a pleasurable outcome.

More on Venusian boredom: one of Purvashadha's symbols is a hand held fan, often a symbol of gracefulness and high society, sometimes used to convey boredom (think of the classic imagery of the beautiful women with unenthused expressions on their faces watching a riveting piano recital).

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭~

(Refer to image below)

Venusians often look PAINED lol, the women too but especially the men. Venus men have this distinct look. A lot of the time they can be womanizers or at least pleasure seeking, but also kinda sad and troubled (more of Venus' pain/pleasure themes. In a lot of stories of Venus men, they may be womanisers in lifestyle yet always have 'that one woman' who they really can't get past and regard as their 'soulmate'.

Johnny Galecki , Bharani Sun & Purvashadha Moon - particularly in his famous role as Leonard Hofstadter in the Big Bang Theory. He pines after his love interest, Penny for yearsss, getting shot down but always persisting- eventually he 'won her over' and even got married. (Bharani's delayed gratification & Purvashadha's romantic ambition).

Johnny Depp (what's with these J names?? There's this meme that boys with 'J names' are trouble, I wonder if there's any cosmic connection with Venus Nakshatras lol) Purvashadha Moon - famous for his intense relationships with women (and substances), somewhat of a womaniser as well

Jim Morrison, Bharani Moon - stunning artist & musician of course, also a womanizer who often slept with women on the road, indulging in substances.

Charlie Sheen, Purvaphalguni Sun - in real life & in the show 'Two and a Half Men' where he quite literally plays himself, he is an infamous womaniser with a penchant for substances, partying and destructive forms of pleasure.

My partner was originally in this collage lmao because I kid you not his Purvashadha lookin self fits this collage perfectly (he's got the Jim Morrison beard and the whole shabang), but he wouldn't enjoy being on tumblr so eh.

It's worth noting that a lot of Sun men who are considered attractive to women often have Venus ruled Nakshatras through their chart also. Sun influence without Venus can make men seem very dry and not very understanding of female emotions or psychology, therefore somewhat unpleasant for women to be around.

Bottom line is Venusians, love women! Venus men love women, Venus women love women.

Anyway, as always this was toooo long and like I earlier mentioned, this is the tip of the iceberg on what I could yap about in regards to Venus Nakshatras and their influence on their natives and our world in a general sense.

Thankyou for reading :) 🩷

ps. I'm very wary of talking about planets and the whole feminine/masculine thing because I really don't want to give the impression that there is a certain polarity that is more or less ideal for a gender. It's not as though if you're a woman with Mars or Sun Nakshatras you simply are not feminine, neither does it mean a woman necessarily should be traditionally feminine. be yourself lovely people ✌️

#nakshatras #sidereal astrology #vedic astrology #vedic astro observations #venusians #nakshatra #astrology #astro observations #astro community #astro placements #astro notes #lunar mansion #astrology notes #venus #purva phalguni #bharani #purvashadha

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resolutepath · 2 months ago

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✿ For... hmmm, how about either Jingliu and Baiheng (let's get her going some more 🤭) oooorrrrr Dan Feng. Or both. Up to you!

SEND ✿ FOR ME TO FILL IN THE FORM:

FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship /[your muse] is the good influence /[your muse] is the bad influence /[my muse] is the good influence /[my muse] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other

ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts /[your muse is mines] childhood crush /[my muse is yours] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [from your muses side]/ unrequited [from my muses side]/ unrequited [from both sides]/ skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ]/ soulmates [ literal ]/ awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [on your muse]/ cheating [with your muse]/ other

FAMILIAL. siblings [half]/ siblings [step]/[my muse] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure /[my muse] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse /[my muse] is a parental figure to yours /[my muse] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child /[your muse] is taken under mines wing /[my muse] is taken under yours wing / other

ANTAGONISTIC. dangerous to each other / dangerous to others / unpredictable / rivals / petty / developing into sexual or romantic tension / based off family matters / based of off circumstance / based of professional matters / based off misunderstanding or lies / conflict of ideology / betrayal / hero - villain dynamic / enemies / fight club / friends turned enemies / lovers turned enemies / exes turned enemies / other

And now for my waffle below the cut:

Okay so Baiheng and Jingliu, I definitely see as firm friends. I am open to the possibility of it perhaps becoming more even for a short time during their long lives but that isn't something that I'm like absolutely happen, more like it is a possibility I am open to exploring if they seem to go that way. If not I could see Baiheng being someone who could live with loving someone and never telling them.

But I do see the connection between them something Baiheng holds in high regard, perhaps a little out of need for something warm admist the horrors they witness. Something to protect, to give hope, to fight for. I feel like Jingliu is the first Baiheng drags on adventures to the stars, and off on quests to find the best wine in the galaxy. Opposites attract in the terms that Baiheng is more extroverted whereas Jingliu is more reserved, and Baiheng has the capacity to be both the good influence (getting Jingliu to spend more time with the HCQ) and the bad (getting Jingliu to go to the stars with her and being complicit in crashing starskiffs).

In terms of the antagonistic stuff, I was mostly thinking towards the end, perhaps things get more tense among the HCQ and there's possibility of the friction. I could see Baiheng trying to appease to all the conflicting ideologies within the HCQ and in turn having to decide what to advocate for as fiercely while also trying to preserve the friendship they all have.

Oh yeah and Dan Feng:

And more waffle:

Okay so with Dan Feng I definitely see the ground more frictious than with Baiheng. I think these two can get real prickly with each other sometimes. In terms of romance, again I'm leaving it open. I think it could potentially go there but I think it is harder to see than Baiheng simply because of that conflict in ideologies being a real point of tension between them. But then also depends where you are looking at in the timeline of the HCQ so ultimately I'm leaving this as open to what happens but lets talk about them more first.

Despite the friction however I do think these two are capable of challenging each other too in the best of ways, to be better, to be so certain of their decisions because there's no use for half-baked notions between them. I think there's a lot of sparring there - both physically and verbally - that gets potentially worse towards the end of the friendship, but also perhaps there are the quiet moments of meditation where the shared space is enough and words are not needed, or the quiet walks in the evening air when the Luofu is still.

#iniziare #ooc. [ keep moving forward / mun speaks. ]#( <3 enjoy my waffling sae dkjkdfhsdk )

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aaaaamorphous-entity · 2 years ago

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Love my pool noodle ships <3 Base made by @rosenkow (if anyone knows their current url please lemme know!)

Clarifications and ship ramblings under the cut!

Initially, they start out with friction and aim to one-up each other. Achilles has a whole Thing about prideful kings, and Gilgamesh gets tetchy with anyone who disrespects his authority. Match made in Hades👌

Gradually, they start to recognize and appreciate the good qualities in one another. Circumstantial, but generally speaking it's Gilgamesh who first starts to soften up as he will tolerate insolence if he finds the other person amusing or admirable enough.

That said there is an 80% chance they start out hate-fucking before gradually mellowing out.

Gilgamesh is slow to let someone emotionally close to him. These two probably sleep together for weeks before he actually accepts that he's got genuine feelings for Achilles.

As hilariously posited by @macabrecabra, Achilles thought they were already dating for weeks which is why Gilgamesh was the first to officially confess.

You wouldn't think that Gil would apologize first considering his pride, but Achilles is the king of sulking when he feels slighted. Considering how rare it is for Gilgamesh to accept somebody close to him, he's more willing to bend and compromise to maintain the relationship as a result.

That said, Achilles is aware now that his stubbornness can cost him dearly, and if the situation calls for it he will apologize first, if with some guidance and encouragement from friends.

They're both overprotective as hell after losing the people they're closest too. Gilgamesh would be especially agitated if Achilles got sick, and Achilles would flip off the handle if Gilgamesh was hurt on the battlefield.

As a result, Gilgamesh keeps much more to ranged attacks and makes more use of his clairvoyance to avoid distressing Achilles.

Gilgamesh likes being held and especially enjoys being slightly squished. Achilles is his best weighted blanket.

Gilgamesh may have infinite outfits, but some days, Achilles' stolen clothes are simply superior.

While they're both horny bastards, Achilles (in Fate) is a much more direct person himbo. So more vague turns of phrase or even flirtations can go right over his head. Gilgamesh has been thwarted by this plenty of times by trying to speak coyly only for Achilles to stare blankly back O7

#gilgamesh #achilles #fate series #mun's musings #ship in 5 minutes #Hi hello it's time to whap everyone in range on my dashboard with my pool noodles again

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sisi-halloway · 11 days ago

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GhostTom x DevilSisi

"How could I possibly touch you?"

Salice smiled in earnest, reaching slowly for Thomas's wringing hands. She was met with a slight resistance, like a thin film before she broke through the tension of his translucent skin and phased right through him. She tried again, this time moving slowly. She felt more. She felt him for longer. For a moment, he didn't seem so thin.

"We might just need to slow down, is all. Besides, there's more to do than just touching."

That was true. But what was also true: they longed to touch each other. Thomas couldn't help but make eyes at Salice's skin.

Itching to abide by it, be beside it, to be inside it.

Kissing every inch of the surface, sliding his hands along its bareness, seeing her without her clothes. Every action that he'd exacted upon her in his mind had an opposite, more devastating reaction to his own translucent body. Thomas wanted her so badly, it drove him to madness.

There were always two questions driving him to his second demise: Why would he be sent such a gorgeous angel if he could not touch her?

And.

How many desperate attempts and plotted schemes would it take for him to be able to?

Sometimes, he came around to philosophizing that the true eternal punishment was his ghostliness withholding from him, the woman of his dreams... not even the ghostly ghosthood itself.

The way she'd walk, her thighs well acquainted with one another, friction created between them, the fabric of her clothing tinder to the heat of her... Thomas never wished so much to be between something. Two somethings. That or his face between her two careful hands when she kissed his forehead with those pretty lips. Sometimes, when the moons were full and his body was as close to flesh as it would ever be, Thomas could feel her fangs scrape against his skin in the fainted whisper. He wished the moon to never shrink, for he longed for enough time to find those fangs elsewhere.

Sometimes, most times, Thomas would find himself pressed up against her soft, warm body. It would feel so much warmer to someone alive, but nevertheless, the action brought him comfort. Salice was like an anchor, and he was like a raft of driftwood: flimsy and weak and frail. Her radiance was disorienting. Thomas wanted to bask in her all day, all night, for the rest of his life. That skin of hers is so rich, so smooth, so deep. He coveted it. He wanted it for himself. And by that, he wanted to indulge in it. In her. To take a bite of her and lick the wound clean. That's what he wanted. The sensation of Salice's skin.

Part of that that was envy, itching for his own skin to feel things with. He could admit that. He could also admit the only thing he'd ever want to feel was her. And proudly so. However, Tom gave up that hope a long time ago. He knew he'd never have that again. His own body? His own skin? Laughable. So laughable, they put his picture on a joke book. But sharing her skin? Those are the attainable goals Thomas was in the habit of making.

What ghost needs their own body, Thomas thought. Not him.

He had hers.

"Of course there is, Salice. I didn't mean-"

Salice had seen his face fall when she mentioned the inability of the tactile nature. And even more so when he thought he was coming across as if that were all he wanted from her. She hated this worry. They had not a single one otherwise. They two seemed to be the perfect match... save for their circumstantial predicament. The lack of touching, it disappointed her too. Believe it, she was just as eager to partake in the more carnal of desires as he was... every sentiment shared. And she became equally frustrated and sad when things didn't go like they wanted, but she didn't want that to show. She wanted to focus on the positive things. There weren't many to share between a devil and a ghost. Their relationship was the one they often settled on.

"I always know exactly what you mean. There's no need to apologize. We've plenty of time to figure this out. Don't we?"

As in plenty of time, she meant forever. If forever is what she wanted, Thomas would give her one day more.

#Ghost Tom Series #thomas x salice #tom x sisi #monster prom #i got this idea playing monster prom with my friend

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sporefound · 7 months ago

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✿ uwu

relationship meme! @countercharmd

FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other

i could definitely see there being some friction between ren & nita. i could see nita VASTLY underestimating what ren is capable of & being pleasantly surprised as she see's him continuously Survive. I could also see nita trying to get ren to see her version of reason which can be brutal & can be feral but often works at the end of the day, thus trying to lead ren down a morally questionable path. On the other hand, i could definitely see ren inspiring nita to be better! i could see him filling her head w stories she's never imagined, making her wonder if the world can be different, thus inspiring her to do something abt it. i think it could lead to a really strong bond between them!

ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other

so if we were to go the romance route i could see things going a few different ways. i could see nita being infatuated w ren when he fills her with hope whether or not it's returned. i could also see them going through the stages of appreciating each other's vastly different approaches to life. i could also see there being some sort of tension w one another because of this, which could be super fun to play on. we could peel them apart trying to navigate one another because their survival depends on each other.

FAMILIAL. siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing / other

if we went familial, nita might feel some sort of responsibility for ren if she were to feel that pull. in her mind, she was raised in the way that will help her succeed & survive ( though she could not live up to those standards, she knows the standards nescessary ) & might try to introduce him to some of her thought processes & how she naviagtes the world. again, it might come off as kind of abrasive / dismissive of his way but it would come from a good place. also she would try to kill him sometimes to see if he can fend her off, #justsisterthings

if we WENT antagonistic there is a lot to play with here. depending on the impression nita gets of ren, she might target spot his desire for vulnrebility & make it her single mission in life to tear him to shreds. if they were to be any sort of antagonistic, it would definitely be from a petty place on nita's end & might be tied to some of the differences in how they approach life.

#countercharmd #answered.#turning them around in my head like a rotisserie chicken

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thewhumpstuff · 4 years ago

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You and I, Me and You [33]

[CW: References to human trafficking/trading. Focused on recovery and healing.]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 8)

Trust.

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Cricket chirps. Soft footsteps and the whir of the wheels. The sloshing of the liquid in the bottle that sat in the cupholder of the wheelchair and the jostle of the fabric. A Q.B. uniform, a splayed black coat hugging a figure on a wheelchair and a black tracksuit moved in choreographed harmony. Like shadows that dissolved in the still darkness of night. Slinking between the buildings, on the empty, balmy roads that were laid out like grids. Zizi rode the remotely operated chair with tranquillized silence. She looked as restless as Jared felt. Their encounter had unearthed something that reared its ugly head from the past. A hungry monster, that sapped their peace and energy alike. It made everything feel uncomfortably personal and Jared was left feeling vulnerable. Akira’s prodding earlier that day did not help. And he found himself wishing now that Novara had been anywhere else but with her. Tariq’s relatively neutral presence was welcome, they did not ask each other for elucidations. The men had let the moment stir them into a wordless acceptance. Soon they were ascending the elevator of the living quarters for the trainee BioHackers.

There was a soft rap on the door. Akira locked eyes with Nova, before she slid off the bed to answer. She immediately had to flatten herself against the wall to give way as the men pooled in after the wheelchair. She had only dealt with patients, who were amputees. From the way Zizi rolled into her life, it already felt like she was going to be more than that. Akira quickly realised she could only be helpful by staying out of the way. A part of Nova was relieved that Zizi was unconscious as her limp body was lifted to the bed. Nova busied herself with the MedScan feature of her CommCube. “I’m going to need some things from the hospital wing…” “I’ll get them.” Akira was eager. She wanted to be useful and she had enough experience in the field to manage such a simple task. Nova quickly listed what she needed. “I’ll go with Shira…” Jared offered, speaking of her, but not to her. He sought a reason to not be in the room because he did not want to make matters worse for Zizi when the tranquilizer wore off… And for himself. The woman was likely to have enough on her plate with just Nova. “I don’t need your help.” Akira responded sharply. Jared’s brief disappearance after he abruptly left their conversation on the pretext of getting food left her prickly. The time he took in getting back was warranted, given the circumstance, but she still could not reconcile with the fact that he did not find a single moment to let her know or give her a heads-up. Instead, he chose to just go AWOL. Jared did not see the reason for her hostility and bit back the urge to respond in kind. “I need to get stuff checked any way... Mind if I come along, Kira?” Tariq muttered. It felt like the easiest way to keep things on an even keel. Novara looked stressed as is. He did not really give her a chance to protest and led the way out. Akira strode out, wearing her stormy demeanour and offering Jared a side-eye he did not think he deserved. === Tariq lightened Akira’s mood as they shared some joy over Ezekiel’s fate. He took pleasure in describing exactly how things transpired. They marvelled over how well Nova handled it. “If the serum doesn’t work as intended for whatever reason, I’ll tell whoever asks that I tried some shit, ‘kay?” Akira’s question was anything but. It was a declaration. She sifted through the cabinets and drawers for all the things that Nova needed for Zizi. Patches, IVs, NG-Tube, electrolyte solutions… Akira picked up a straitjacket for good measure. Tariq would have protested if he had seen her do so. He instead, was surreptitiously pocketing a vial of the advanced shealing serum. His injured hand had not come out of his pocket at all and he did not let Akira know of it. “You were nowhere close to the scene. I was…” Their whipping scars were still raw, and they were arguing about who got to take the blame for this situation. Everything Akira collected was shoved into a sling bag. “We’ll see how it all pans out. T… I can carry all this on my own. Get some rest, will you?” Tariq looked haggard. After everything with Ezekiel and being the one who found Zizi, she could see why. These were not the kind of battles he fought. Akira implored him to take some time for himself. And this was without her knowing about his injuries. “I-” She was quick to interrupt him. “Y’know you’re going to wear yourself out and eventually make a mess of everything…” They knew she was only half-joking; it was a quality the two of them shared, among others. He really was out of his depth. His presence would not hinder, but it would not aid either. With some reluctance he agreed and promised to check back on all of them later. “Don’t worry about it.” Akira sought some solace in being the one reassuring her friends today. I can do this; I can be there for them too. === The three pairs of eyes were trained onto Zizi after she had been adequately replenished with fluids. They watched as her limbs slowly came to life. Slowly and barely as the tranquilizer finally wore off. Jared considered bolting out of the room. Instead, he waited by the door, away from Zizi’s immediate field of view. Akira on the other hand stood beside where the woman lay, crowding her a little. Nova sat on the other side of the bed. “Hi Zizi… I’m Akira… How’re you feeling?” Jared and Nova let her take the lead. Another new person. The voice sounded friendly enough, Zizi did not open her eyes yet. She felt a mattress under her. Her head was cradled by a pillow. Such simple luxuries… She found herself relishing them with an embarrassing amount of contentment. “Sorry about the slight mess… by the way.” Akira added and averted her gaze briefly, afraid that if it lingered too long on Zizi, she might betray sympathy in a manner that came off as pity. She unnecessarily fussed over folding a towel that was drying on her chair. There was nothing else there. Just the sheets on the bed were sprawled, and the cabinets of the kitchen were still slightly ajar. Zizi wasn’t going to notice those things anyway. She was still addled by whatever she had been injected with. Her movements were slow, but she turned to scan the room with narrowed eyes. Her eyes widened instantly when they fell upon Nova, whose eyes were still bloodshot and swollen from the tears she had shed. Zizi drew a ragged breath and the flash of fear in her expressions dissolved into a resignation. I know Nova meant well and I know Ezekiel didn’t. “Can I talk to you?” Zizi’s voice was barely a whisper. Akira missed Zizi’s request. “Should I brew us some tea? I’ve got some… generic green, jasmine… mint… chamo-” Jared did not. He tried too hard to tune it out that it only resulted in him being more attuned to it. At least she isn’t rapping anymore. So he interrupted her. “I think Zizi wanted a moment with Nova.” Akira was already filling the kettle. She set it down and put her hands on her hip lazily. “They’re both here, right? I’m ju-” “Alone.” She narrowed and squared off with Jared. “And you think that’s a good id-” He cut her off again. His tone was slightly impatient. “They’ve spent time together already…” Jared did not expect to get into the thick of things with Akira right now. He could not see that she was trying to normalise things in her own way. That they were simply not in agreement about how things should proceed. Aki drew a deep breath. If you cut me off one more goddamn time… She did not think it through when she decided to drag Zizi into this. “I think she can tell us that herself…” “Shi- Akira!” Jared exclaimed, completely flabbergasted with Akira’s behaviour. She certainly was not being prudent, but he too was not thinking clearly. Akira raised her eyebrows in an unspoken and pettish question. What? Zizi purposely kept her gaze off the source of Jared’s voice. It was less familiar to her than his face; less likely to trigger her slip into rap mode again. A part of her feared it may lead to tranquilization again. As easy as it was to slip into nothingness, she wanted to enjoy her autonomy for what it was worth. She could hear the famous Red Knight trying so hard to act professionally while Akira approached the matter more on instinct. The intimacy between them was hard to miss and the friction was palpable. Neither of them was wrong. The exchange was like a tennis match, till she was dragged into it. And Zizi intervened like an umpire would. She was not too reluctant to ask for what she wanted. The world would have crushed her a long time ago if she had chosen silence. “I would like to talk to Nova - alone…” She did not hesitate to make her preference known. Choices had been a rarer luxury in captivity. Now that she was out, she lapped at every chance she got to exert her will. Her voice was clear, but soft, it demanded attention in a way that a louder voice never could. They were forced to fall silent to give her a chance to speak. And Akira did have the grace to do that, even though she was fuming. She deliberately avoided looking at any of them. There was a flash of an inexplicable venom and deep mortification in her eyes, best directed towards the panel of the induction stove. “If that’s okay with you…” Zizi addressed Nova this time. Akira did not know those words were not directed at her at all and managed a weak nod as she set her tea box aside. Novara recognized the question was for her and apprehensively nodded too, much more eagerly, but did not say anything given Akira’s assumption. Her friend was feeling prickly and Nova did not want to make matters worse. Technically, this was Akira’s room and they were all taking a lot of liberties intruding this way. Nova believed in Akira’s inherent generosity. Akira was now resolutely quiet and chewed on the inside of her mouth. For once she understood why Jared chose silence sometimes. It was he who filled it, to reassure the victim in the room. “I think it is brave that Zizi would like to spend some time with Novara after everything…” And accidentally diminishing the other victim in the room by adding words addressed to her. “You should know how difficult that is… and how much courage it probably takes...” Jared had not expected this to be as much of a struggle. Akira’s head hung for a moment. Her body lost something, like bones, because her petite frame slouched. In a motion akin to slithering, she dragged herself out of her own room, muttering. “Right… Well, excuse me, then.” Jared followed and closed the door behind him, leaving Novara and Zizi alone. He wanted to be within earshot and reach. Akira’s concern was a consequence worth considering. He did not tell her that though, perhaps he should have. He lingered in the corridor. Akira did not. It was her turn to take a solitary walk. And he let her go. - Nova looked a little apologetic, not for her friends’ behaviour per se, she knew that they too had been through a lot, but given that Zizi didn’t have any context, it was probably uncomfortable for her to witness. “Don’t worry… There is… That’s just Jared and Akira.” The medic’s voice was soft. And she casually broke the illusion Jared had tried to create. Nova did not see the reason to build walls around the woman. They had been through so much together. Zizi was not uncomfortable in the least. She was left amused. “Don’t worry… I’ve seen much worse.” Nova shuffled in place. Her knees sinking in and out of the mattress. “I- I’m so sorry… Z, I-” A choked back sob, a stifled sniffle and a shaky breath. “-I never meant for any of this… For...” “I know." Zizi replied simply. Nova gulped and looked at her with wide sorrowful eyes. She did? She blinked away the tears. “I could kinda see you hated it… I saw past his shit eventually and… I’m sorry too.” Zizi did sound apologetic herself. She wanted this time with Nova, just to let the poor BioHacker know, that Ezekiel did not win. That he did not succeed in villainizing Nova. Nova wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head slowly. “You… you shouldn’t have to be.” “I did try and kill you.” Zizi thought she could handle this heart-to-heart with ease. She could not. She resisted the urge to break into a rap again and gently massaged the stub of her arm as it began tingling. It had been a tough few month, among the worse of Zizi’s life at least in terms of raw, physical suffering. To be torn up repeatedly, one way or another and painfully be put back together. But she had lost everything before and she held on. She could do it again. She would. Nova’s reassurance was bland and honest, and she noticed Zizi’s discomfort. “I’d want to kill me too, in that… situation. Are you ok? Can I get you something?” “No… I’ll be fine… He called you Supernova...That was never a compliment, was it?” That derogatory name. A darkness found its way into Nova’s being and she shook her head with an added vehemence. But it was not his voice; it did not grate against her being. “No… No, it was not. But it is nothing compared to what you, to what you and Ge-” She could not find the nerve to say his name. The name that no one would use again, not for him. There was no one left to call. Zizi had come to terms with losing the man she temporarily shared that hidden room with. Death was not uncommon in the Pit. Nova had not. She could not bury what happened, like Ezekiel presumably buried Genzo. Did he even bury Genzo? The thought chilled her. Ezekiel had thrown Genzo to the wolves before he was ready, before Nova’s serum had made him whole. Zizi was made to watch the fight where he was taken down. He was not brought back to the hidden room that night. Nova did not know about Bloody Blitz – The Pit of Doom… So, when she inquired about Genzo, Ezekiel simply stated that he was gone, and that she was responsible for it, for not fixing him well enough. And that day Zizi lost the little freedom she had. As did Nova who was pinned like a butterfly, under the weight of the life she could not save. And the life she now had to – Mine! Zizi thought, before Ezekiel’s voice rang in her head. “No more going to the Bloody Blitz till Nova has perfected the serum…” From that day onwards, the pain she received had been methodical and at Eze’s hands. It was solely for the purpose of testing the serum. She was reduced to nothing but a lab rat. At least she always came through. I do owe my life to her. Nova finally understood what Akira meant when she compared degrees of suffering. Pain was pain. But Zizi had had it so much worse. Nova sidled closer to her, tentatively. Zizi did not mind, she was quite accustomed to Nova’s presence in her private space. It was refreshing to see her softer side, one that was not governed by the strings Eze pulled. Strings he did not want Zizi to see, but she had. “You did the best you could for Genzo…” These were not empty words. Their fingers found each other. The skin on the back of their hands sat in such stark contrast, their palms less so. Nova knew Zizi’s anatomy too well, to not know anything about her as a person. It felt unfair and wrong. Her soft mutter carried a whine attesting to that. “He, he never quite told me where he… where he found you both…” “What did he tell you?” The counter question sounded a little sharp. Nova clammed up a little, her words were a jumble, just like his answers had been, if he ever indulged her questions to begin with. She had to stop asking when it irritated him enough to make matters worse for Zizi. “From, prisoners of war, to criminals, to street rats… drug addicts…” He deliberately gave enough answers, for Nova to never know which one was true or if all of them were. He played with her, till it was amusing. Till he could revel in the friction between the women. She wanted Zizi to have the whole truth as much of it as she could offer. There was an insistence in the way she spoke. “He made me believe you were dangerous, like you were… you were both on death row. That is why we didn’t mourn G-” She shortened the name to a letter, so it didn’t keep getting caught in her throat. “-because Eze said, he didn’t deserve it. But he did! He deserved it!” Nova forgotten to breathe between the slurry of her words, now she gasped in short, exhausted sounds. “Everyone does. And I did not believe him, but…” She looked at Zizi pointedly now. Unflinchingly, fearlessly. She wanted her to know, no matter how dark her past truly was… Nova didn’t think that it was okay for her to suffer the way she had. “Even if any of what he said was… is true… Nothing made- nothing makes what I did okay… What he made me do… what he made me do.” She switched between talking about it like it was something in the past, because her hope reminded her that it was. But her grief anchored the pain, Zizi’s and hers to the present. She licked her lips. She finally stopped; the woman had not expected to spiral into this conversation. Nova had poured all this out, for the second time today. It felt easier to divulge this time around, because she had gathered her thoughts while talking to Akira. Zizi let her, in silence, clutching onto the medic’s hand gently. It truly was inspiring to finally meet the real Novara. I am surprised the world has not chewed you up and spit you out, Novara. You must be doing something very right. Empathetic, empowered and brilliant. “All the things he said were somewhat true… I guess. Genzo and I were drawn against each other in the pit… and we fight to knock-out or kill… So…” Zizi licked her dry lips. Nova immediately reached for the bottle of water, she helped Zizi sit up enough to sip from it. She gathered the will to go on. “He found us on the brink of death… and promised to save us, but only if he could keep us for himself.” Nova’s skin crawled. But she should have figured. Especially recently after everything else Ezekiel had done, so blatantly, with such little regard for the pain he caused. “How- from?” Zizi closed her eyes again, the lyrics of her rap rose in her throat. Nova was familiar with Ritonix’s entire discography – Zizi had screamed her way through the songs on every encounter with Nova, the needle and the syringe full of the serum. Zizi did not want to trigger the medic. She wanted her to know that she felt safe now. Zizi also did not want to answer the question. She pursed her lips. She thought of Jeremy. He only wanted to save her… To save them. He had been kind; she did not want to implicate him in this either. He would most likely end up taking the fall for it all. He would be the likely scapegoat, because Bloody Blitz was an intricate system. It ran too deep and what could a handful of agents possibly do to fight it. Zizi did not want the people who were trying to help her, to get entangled with that monster. Upon noticing the doubt and fear flit across Zizi’s face, Novara felt rankled. This was betrayed in the way she swayed a little. “It’s ok… It’s ok.” Nova murmured, to Zizi and to herself. Genzo and Zizi had been brought to her with severe injuries. The first time she helped them, it was out of desperation. They had just been her patients and Ezekiel had convinced her that using the serum would be mercy. And then it became a habit. Nova had questions then and she had questions now, but she did not get a chance to ask them. Zizi had already shared enough and she had a question of her own, one she could not ask Tariq… or worse, Jared. She could not allow herself to feel this vulnerable around them. But Nova had already seen her at her worse. She massaged her right arm with more vigour now as she arrived at an unnerving realisation. “…Nova, what exactly happens to me now?” All this time, Zizi had leashed the fear that leapt from the uncertainty of the situation. And now the leash broke. “I- You… It will never-” She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Nova could not afford any hesitation marring what she wanted to say. Despite the ambiguity of the future, she would not let Zizi suffer again. Her eyes opened with her usual fierce resolve. “You will never be traded again or belong to anyone again like that. That’s for sure.” There it was again, that conviction, that felt so true that reality crumbled against it. Her radiant hope did not convince Zizi entirely, but the Fighter smiled weakly. Nova intended to do whatever it took, to keep her promise. She could tell that there were more sorrowful secrets buried in the woman’s past and she did not want to try disinterring them. Not right now. Zizi did not need to relive any more horrors. It would not help recover and that was of paramount importance. “And we don’t need to talk about everything right away… You need to rest, and I need to run some more tests… if that’s ok.” Zizi quickly slid lower into the bed, craving the comfort more than she was willing to admit. Her body had not felt the embrace of soft covers and a mattress for far too long. “For the last few days, I thought Ezekiel forgot me and that felt like a blessing… Dying in that cell. This- This feels like a miracle…” she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Nova’s administrations, this time willingly and trustingly. Nova used the MediScan feature on her CommCube and recorded the vitals and other measures again. And stayed with Zizi till the woman fell asleep.

Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam

#whump #rescue #caretaking #healing #building trust #difficult relationships #circumstantial friction #oc Jared #oc Akira #oc Novara #oc Zizi #oc Tariq

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so-true-jestie · 3 years ago

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this is probably a hot take but hear me out: diana and jerry were not necessarily cut out for a relationship, at least in awae S3.

yes, jerry would have made diana a bolder, more compassionate person. yes, diana would have given jerry a perspective on life that he hadn't had before. but there were differences between them that could have overshadowed that.

remember when diana tried to discuss frankenstein, and jerry wasn't catching what she was trying to say? diana likes to think, and analyse, and wonder. jerry's very pragmatic (he has to be), and more literal in how he views the world. he's not incapable of thinking like diana, and he certainly might have developed a taste for it in time — but not at the stage in life he was currently at. perhaps it was circumstantial. perhaps it was maturity! either way, it would have frustrated both him and diana. contrast this with shirbert, who are perfectly comfortable talking as two besties about baby delphine, racism, and fighting the patriarchy. anne and gilbert have their miscommunications. they have their disagreements. but it's never because they operate on a different wavelength.

where we last saw them, diana and jerry also have ambitions in life that might have, ultimately, taken them in different directions. i'm not talking about finishing school, because diana didn't want to go there — she wanted to go to queens. what would have happened with jerry then, through college and after graduation? because of his background, jerry leans more towards running a business, or a farm, things like what he did with his family and the cuthberts. that would have been brilliant and he would've been successful at that, but we're left guessing as to what diana might have wanted post-queens. not ruling out the possibility that they would have been happy, because there's ambiguity about the future in all relationships — just that it might have caused friction and dissatisfaction between them.

and really, i have to question what attracted diana to jerry in the first place. of course jerry is an amazing person, we've seen him grow since s1. but diana's motives may have been more self-centered, more about breaking her family's hold on her and "seeing the real world". so was it really about jerry as a person — or was it pure rebellion against her parents? was it the lure of a forbidden romance? my point is, if i'd replaced jerry with anyone else whom diana was forbidden to fraternise with, would she have hopped on the bandwagon just the same?

i do think there would've been a chance for jerry to be happy with someone of diana's background, just maybe not... diana. although the wealth gap between them created some of the differences above, it's ultimately also very much about 1. who they are as people, and 2. their maturity and where they were at in life in s3.

diana should never have broken things off with jerry in that way. but her motives don't make a very convincing case for a healthy relationship that's fair to jerry, and what she said about them being two very different people might not have been far off.

#anne with an e #if anyone has pro diana/jerry ideas #please drop them #awae #diana barry #jerry baynard #awae analysis

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tropes-and-tales · 3 years ago

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Almost Always

Benny “Borracho” Magalon x F!Reader

AN: Part two to this piece. The usual warning for typos.

CW: Angst; mention of drugs; frank talk about addiction; talk of infidelity; smut (oral, m!receiving; PiV; protected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 8001 (this shit got away from me)

Benny Magalon is not just a detective—he’s a detective with an extremely elite squad. He’s got years of experience, and he can say without an ounce of bragging that he’s good at his job. He can put together solid cases with solid evidence, and his conviction rate is impressive even by Major Crimes standards.

Still.

He can’t figure you out. You’re the one case he can’t quite crack, though he does have tons of evidence. Problem is, it’s all circumstantial. It wouldn’t hold up in court.

The first month with Major Crimes, there’s friction. No one is shocked by it: the team has been the same for years, so any new person would have to carve out their place on the team. Moreover, you’re the first woman to ever work in Major Crimes. The guys are barely housebroken, let alone gentlemanly.

You pick your battles. You’re smart about it. By Benny’s estimate, you let about five things slide for each thing you call out. You overlook the half-naked women tacked up on Big Nick’s corkboard. You overlook the casual misogyny on display when Zapata talks about his latest ex. You overlook the way Henderson openly ogles the waitress when you all go out to lunch together.

You don’t overlook their use of the word ‘cunt.’ Seems to be a sticking point for you. When Connors calls a possible suspect a ‘cunt,’ you remark—rather dryly—that the suspect didn’t have the warmth or depth to be a cunt, in your opinion.

Benny bites back a smile at that, and he notes that Connors rolls his eyes—but drops the term from his vocabulary afterwards, at least in front of you.

-----

Benny sits back and observes, which is his usual habit, though he watches you more closely. You sit just out of his line of sight, over in the corner, but if he turns a fraction, he can see you.

It seems so unlikely that his hookup from the casino—the one that haunted his thoughts afterwards, the anonymous fuck who somehow burrowed into his head—would also be the newest detective. The new hire, the former U.S. marshal. It’s a small fucking world, and now that Benny knows who you are, he is unsure how to proceed.

He knows your name now. Your address. The color of your eyes, which he hadn’t noted at the casino. The way you take your coffee, the car you drive. What your handwriting looks like, what you drink when the team goes out after work. The nervous tics you have, the way you tap your pen against your lower lip when you’re thinking. How you chew honest-to-god bubble gum – the pink stuff that slams Benny straight back to elementary school with the bright scent of it, and how you snap little bubbles when you’re sitting on a stake-out with him.

The way you approach police work, which is very similar to his own—old-school, feet on the pavement, run down the leads police work. Nick often pairs the two of you up, when a case needs a solid pair.

He doesn’t know anything real though. You are tight-lipped about your personal life: you share how many miles you run each morning, but Benny doesn’t know if your parents are alive. If you have siblings. If you’ve been married. What the landscape of your romantic life has been—both before you hooked up with him in a cabana in Lincoln, and afterwards.

-----

A month passes. Another month. What evidence does Benny have?

The easiest is his own: that bit of madness, that hookup that haunted him? Every day just makes it worse. He realizes almost immediately that his gut was right about you, all those months ago at the casino. There’s something about you. You pull his attention and crowd his thoughts.

Days off, he fights the urge to text you. He half-wishes for a work emergency to call everyone in.

Harder to parse out is the evidence he has on you. On good days, he thinks you may be into him. Maybe. You call everyone by their last names—Connors and Henderson and Zapata. You call him Benny.

Does that mean something? On a good day, yes. On a good day, he convinces himself that you call him Benny because he’s different. He’s better than the others. You know him, and maybe you think of him too.

On a bad day, no. When he’s feeling low and lonely, disgruntled by a case, he’s certain that Benny is just easier to say than Magalon or Borracho. Fewer syllables. But that doesn’t necessarily prove out, because you always call Henderson by his last name (three syllables) instead of his first, Gus (one syllable). The theory doesn’t hold.

Benny is reaching, and he knows it.

What else? Well, when the two of you are paired up, you bring him coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the café near your house. Every time. It’s the same dark roast, the same egg and bacon and smoked gouda on an English muffin. As far as he knows, you don’t do that when you’re paired up with the others. But you always wave him off when he tries to give you money for it, like it’s no big deal. If it’s not a big deal to you, then maybe he’s reading too much into it.

The single biggest piece of evidence, though, is this: the two of you had hooked up, but since you joined the team, you haven’t broached the subject even once. It’s as if it never happened at all.

-----

It takes a few months before you join the guys in one of their parties. You’ve always been invited, but you don’t turn up for the first few months.

When you finally do turn up at the hotel, everyone makes a big deal about it. The guys tease you, joke that you’re one of the hired girls (that earns Connors a middle finger). Zapata does a mocking little bow, like you’re royalty deigning to grace them with your presence, and that earns him your other middle finger.

It’s interesting to see you there. These parties have always just been the guys being guys: booze and poker and women. He watches you survey the room, watches as you take in the coffee table with the messy piles of coke and weed. Watches you study the hired women with your cool detective’s eye. He thinks, sometimes, that you don’t quite like your new squad, and he swears he can see judgement behind your neutral expression.

Still, you don’t say anything. And you’re one of them now, so they know you’ll never rat them out to the brass. Instead, you help yourself to a beer and then settle across the card table from Benny.

“What’s the game, boys?” you ask, and Zapata answers.

“Texas hold ‘em, new girl. Poker.”

Suddenly it’s like that night at the casino. You pull on that damned routine, the clueless sweetheart act. “I’ve never played poker before,” you say, and only Benny knows that it’s a lie. Worse, you know that he knows, because you drop him a wink when no one else is looking. You trust him to keep his mouth shut. To let the chips falls where they may, both literally and figuratively.

“We’ll be gentle,” Big Nick jokes, and the guys laugh at that.

By the end of the night, the guys aren’t laughing anymore. You clean them out after stringing them along with your inexperienced act. It puts Benny in mind of when he was a kid and used to go fishing with his grandpa: the way you ease out the line, let them take a nibble, and then reel them in.

But then you take your winnings and divvy them up between the hired girls. You give them a hell of a payday for not a lot of work, which makes the guys grumble even more.

Not Benny though. He catches your eye and gifts you with a smile that you return with one of your own.

-----

The gambling though….the gambling.

It sticks in Benny’s craw, as his grandpa used to say.

You go to Vegas once a month. The way schedules fall, everyone gets a three-day weekend at least once a month, and you usually go to Vegas for yours. Benny guesses that you aren’t clearing any world-changing amounts, but it’s not the card-counting that bothers him.

His working theory about you is this: you’re super competent in your day-to-day life. Your detective work is impeccable. Your cases are airtight, and it’s not just that—you’re up on everything. Even the boring shit. Admin stuff. Personnel changes. Policy updates.

You own your own home. You own a reliable car. You run every morning and do yoga twice a week. You volunteer at an animal shelter. When you go out to drink with the guys, you pace yourself and drink lots of water too. You never stumble into work late or hungover or dragging baggage from a messy personal life.

Benny guesses that you’re the type of person who flosses every day and doesn’t have to lie to the dentist about it. He’d guess you’re the only adult who is completely up-to-date on their vaccinations. You probably do your taxes at the end of January, as soon as you get your W-2 in the mail.

But that super competence comes with a price, he figures. Your trips to Vegas—like that weekend he met you, hooked up with you—is a release. A bit of pressure off the system. You are a high performer in every single aspect of your life, but you shake loose when you gamble….and when you pull in a random guy for an anonymous fuck.

So when your three-day weekend arrives every month, when you walk out of the precinct with a wave to the guys, Benny is always left feeling sick to his stomach and bleakly depressed in a way he hasn’t been since his marriage started to crumble and he and his ex-wife separated.

He’s usually able to convince himself that maybe you feel something for him. Maybe calling him Benny and buying him a breakfast sandwich and winking at him from across the poker table….maybe it all means something. But those weekends when you go away to gamble, he knows in his heart the truth: that you don’t think of that hook-up with him at all.

-----

Another month passes. Another. Before he knows it, it’s been half a year of you sitting in his almost-line of sight, and Benny Magalon is in hell.

He tries to date. He meets a woman, dates her for a month before it fizzles out. He hooks up with others here and there, and if there’s a spark of hope before each encounter, it dies out immediately afterwards. Benny feels like shit when he leaves their homes, their apartments. He goes home afterwards and stands under the stream of water in his shower and wishes he never went to that casino with the guys all those months ago.

-----

Month seven. Big Nick’s divorce is finally finalized. It was ugly, acrimonious. Knock-down, drag-out nastiness. His wife had moved on long before the papers were even drawn up, but Benny and everyone else knows: Big Nick cheated first. Cheated early, cheated often. Not unlike Zapata, or Henderson.

Not unlike Benny.

No one has ever accused the guys of Major Crimes of being good men. Good cops, good detectives—sure. Good men? Not so much.

But it’s over now. Big Nick is officially free. The guys do it up big.

Everyone passes their piss tests and then it’s on: Big Nick got the house in the divorce, so the guys have a massive party there. There’s cases of beer stacked in a corner of the garage. Cases of harder stuff. In a back bedroom that must have belonged to a daughter, painted an incongruous pink that just seems sad now, there’s party favors laid out. Coke, molly, weed.

There’s women everywhere, working girls and casual friends alike. Booming bass from the speakers in the backyard, where one of Big Nick’s partners from his patrol days grills up thick steaks and burgers.

Benny’s already halfway drunk when you show up. There’s your super-competence: you turn up with a gift. The guys just turned up, but you bring a housewarming gift, wrapped in nice paper. It’s a trio of nice-smelling candles, which is thoughtful, because the house already reeks of cigarette smoke and spilled beer.

It’s ridiculous. No wonder Benny’s in love with you.

-----

Benny’s fully drunk now. You—Miss Straight-Laced, Miss High-Achiever—shared a bowl with Henderson and are pleasantly stoned. Your eyes are red-rimmed and you’re slumped on the couch beside Benny, but you’re far chattier than you are sober.

“First divorce party I’ve ever been to,” you tell him. “Makes up for all the weddings I’ve had to suffer through.”

He cocks his eyebrow at your word choice. Suffer.

“Not a fan of the bouquet toss?” he asks.

You pull a face like a picky toddler faced with broccoli. Benny chuckles.

“Not a fan of marriage,” you say. You say it with such casual derision that it makes his hackles go up.

“It’s not all like this,” he says, gesturing broadly at the scene in front of you, the celebratory carnage of a failed marriage.

“Aren’t you divorced?”

Benny is similarly tight-lipped about his personal life, but Zapata made a joke the other day to Big Nick. Welcome to the club, brother, he had said. I’m the president and Borracho is the secretary.

“I am. So what?”

You shake your head, and Benny feels judged. It hurts more because it’s you; you’ve been crowding his thoughts for almost a year now, and you’re sitting here and judging him. His hackles go all the way up now. He’s always guarded, but now, he goes on the offensive.

“You’re a cynic,” he tells you.

You clarify. “I’m a realist. I’ve never seen a happy marriage in my life.”

He takes a deep swallow of his beer. “Bullshit.”

“Every friend I have who is married is miserable. My sisters.”

“Maybe they’re just miserable people in general,” he says a little meanly.

“Were you happy in your marriage?” you retort. “Was everything sunshine and rainbows right up until one of you filed?”

Of course it wasn’t. Benny’s marriage was miserable, but he won’t tell you that. He also won’t tell you how quickly it fell apart, how months after the wedding they were already fighting. Him working too many hours to earn his way into Major Crimes. Her in a dead-end job because she put her schooling on hold to be a cop’s wife.

He won’t tell you that he isn’t clear on who cheated first. Benny with his late nights and a home that was heavy with silence. His ex with her frustrations around her schooling, the miserable job she took to bring in enough income to keep them afloat.

It was easy for Benny to find willing women and hide them in his erratic schedule. It was just as easy for his ex to bring men into the marriage bed, since it was unoccupied by him. At least they had the good sense to get out before they had a kid.

When Benny doesn’t answer you, you nod to yourself and say, “I thought so.”

“My parents,” he snaps. “Married happily for over forty years.”

“My parents,” you reply. “My mom was a near-genius with a full ride to Cal Tech. My dad wore her down and convinced her to marry him instead. Got her pregnant three times, then started stepping out on her because—surprise, surprise—she’s tired and stressed with three fucking kids at home and no support. She should have been discovering new planets in the universe. They get divorced, then every other weekend I have to spend with my dad. I get to watch him gamble away my child support money while every other phrase out of his mouth is a complaint about my cunt of a mother.”

Benny is drunk, so he hears you, but he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t realize that you are laying out every single bit of evidence he’s been searching for, backstory that informs who you are now. He’ll realize it later. It will dawn on him in the morning when he’s dry-mouthed and queasy with a hangover and doubly sick for how this entire evening has turned on him.

But he doesn’t realize it now. He only feels judgement from you. Feels Miss Perfect looking down on him—Benny Magalon, the shitty one-time husband and cheater.

“Oh, so it’s daddy issues with you after all,” he says.

“Fuck you.” You spit out the words, enunciate them clearly so each one hits like a bullet.

He takes another sip of beer. “Already did,” he says. When you stand up without another word and march out of the room, out of the house, he feels that sick, icy feeling in his gut that he’s just fucked up in a way that can’t be fixed.

-----

If any of the guys saw the fight between you and Benny, they don’t let on. Big Nick, a few days later, pairs the two of you up on a case that has you sitting in an unmarked vehicle in front of an apartment building.

You didn’t bring him a breakfast sandwich and coffee this time. He wasn’t expecting it, after what he said, but it still stings when you climb in the car with just enough for yourself.

You’ve also gone monosyllabic on him.

While you never had heartfelt talks on stakeouts before, you did chat. You talked about your friends or your sisters, or a new dog that came into the shelter where you volunteer, or about a new running path that you found. Now you are silent, and the only sound is the snapping of your gum as you sit and stare at the apartment building.

“Looks like it might rain this weekend,” Benny ventures at one point.

“Yup.”

Later, when it’s shift change and neither of you have eaten lunch, he asks if you want to split a pizza with him at the precinct.

“Sure,” is all you say.

-----

Month nine. Benny is still in hell, and he realizes that no one is going to help him climb out. He has to do it himself.

There are two types of nicknames in the world. There’s the obvious nickname, like how they call Zapata “Z,” or how his sister’s friends call her “Mags” for Magalon. Then there’s the ironic nickname. Benny’s brother is built like a fucking tank, but almost everyone calls him “Tiny.” He has a cousin who falls for every grift and scheme—behind his back, the family calls him “Einstein.”

“Borracho” isn’t an ironic nickname.

He isn’t sure how it happened. It crept up on him; one day, he found he needed a drink to help him fall asleep. Then it became a drink to help him calm his nerves. To forget the crime scene he saw. To forget the victim. To forget the life he took when a suspect raised their gun at him.

Then it became an excuse. I only cheated because I was drunk, he convinced himself. I only hooked up with that woman because I couldn’t see straight.

His wife….she was the real cheater. She pulled strange men into her bed with clear-eyed soberness. Benny would never do that sober; he’s a good man and just had too much to drink that night…or the next…or the next.

It’s bullshit and he knows it. He always knew it, but now he can admit it to himself.

-----

Month ten. He bristles at the term “alcoholic,” but he goes to AA anyway. All the Jesus-y talk makes his skin crawl, and he never goes again.

He finds a non-religious alternative. He goes there instead. It’s all rational bullshit, but some of it makes sense. He goes on Tuesday evenings, and sometimes Saturday afternoons. He’s surprised to find that they are people just like him: no over-the-top sad-sacks, just regular ass people trying to numb the sharp edges of life a little.

He knows he’ll never be completely dry. He’s only teetering at the edge of a full-blown thing, so he learns how to dial it back slowly and carefully. Instead of three beers before bed, two. Then one. Then half of one, the remaining half going stale by morning. Out with the squad after work, he halves what he usually drinks. He layers in water, like you do.

The fog lifts. Fewer headaches, better sleep. He loses ten pounds just like that, not even trying.

-----

Month eleven. Without the crutch of alcohol, Benny has to face some hard truths. It’s like the booze was high tide, and now that it’s pulling back a little, he’s left with the stinking tide pools and debris.

The family stuff hurts. He goes to Sundays dinners and he sees everything with a clarity he never had before. Happily married for forty years? That’s what he told you about his parents, but that statement came from Benny-the-child, not Benny-the-man.

His father is a functional alcoholic. His mother is resigned to the fact, and her Catholic upbringing precludes her from making a drastic decision. She’s tied to the man, death ‘til they part, and Benny can see now how she hides her broken spirit.

Suddenly some pieces of the puzzle that is Benny Maglon fall into place. The father who always had a beer in his hand during the day; the father who tossed back shot after shot of whiskey like it was nothing.

Wasn’t it his old man who gave him his first drink? Fifteen years old, suspended for three days after getting into a scuffle at school. Split lip, cracked fingerbone, but Benny had held his own.

That first sip of beer. It tasted disgusting, but even teenaged Benny recognized in the moment that it was a rite of passage. It was the moment his father saw him as a man, so he drank the whole thing down, puked later, but came back for more. And more.

Other family stuff hurts.

Benny gave up on AA, but the making amends feels right to him. He finds his ex, knocks on her door with his palms sweating and clammy.

She looks great. She remarried and has a kid, and Benny is afforded a glimpse into what his life could have been. When he apologizes, when he comes clean, she gracefully accepts and apologizes too.

It hurts, but it feels clean. Like a festering limb has been sawn off and can finally heal.

It hurts to talk to you, but in a different way. With his ex, that was all in the past. With you, he’s mourning lost potential. What could have been.

In the past few months, you thawed to him a little. You speak in full sentences at least. You nod in greeting when you see him. It’s something.

What hasn’t changed is how he feels about you. He still wants you. He’s still in love with you. Moreover, he thinks he loves you. With the tide being out and with a new vocabulary from his recovery process, he understands what you were telling him that night of Big Nick’s party: you were deeply scarred by a traumatic childhood, and you have built thick layers around yourself so that you’ll never get hurt the way your mother was.

It’s another stakeout, this time at night. It’s an all-county manhunt, and it’s all hands on deck. LAPD. LACSD. Police from surrounding counties. You and Benny are in your vests, in an unmarked vehicle, parked outside of a rundown house in El Monte where the suspect may try to run to.

Benny clears his throat. His hands sweat again, and he swipes them along the thighs of his jeans.

“Wanted to apologize to you,” he says. “For that night at Big Nick’s divorce party.”

You shrug, go almost monosyllabic on him again. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. It was a shitty thing to say, and I’m sorry.”

“Not the worst thing a guy has said to me.” You shrug again. “It’s fine.”

He doesn’t reply. He goes silent, but you must feel some tension radiating from him because you turn and glance at him.

“Honestly, Benny,” you add. “No big deal. Water under the bridge and all that.”

He doesn’t look at you. He stares straight ahead at the dark house, at the straggly bushes in front of the porch.

“I’m a piece of shit,” he says quietly. “But I’m learning not to be.”

He hears you take a breath to reply, but there’s a crackle of static on the radio. The man-hunt is over. They took the guy alive out in San Berdoo, just over the county line. Benny answers, then starts the car. He risks a glance over at you and finds you studying him.

“Want to get a drink?” you ask him.

-----

You direct him to a cantina near your house, a little hidden away gem. He orders a beer and a water, and you do the same. You also order a platter of tacos for the two of you to share, and it feels like Benny has just skipped ahead several steps.

He drinks, but he paces himself like he does now. Only has two beers. Orders a Coke when he wants something more than water. He eats more tacos then he intends—he’s hungrier than he realized—and you order another platter with a smile.

The two of you talk. You talk so long that the place closes, so you each order a Coke to go and continue the conversation outside on the curb, as the night cedes to dawn and turns the sky a rosy color like sherbet.

He tells you almost everything. It’s a purge or a confession. Tells you about his miserable marriage, and if he felt judgement that night at Big Nick’s, he feels none now. You listen and nod and ask questions, but you don’t seem to judge.

He tells you about the drinking. The pressure from the job. He tells you about his recovery and how he feels better and also worse. He feels the best he has in years, physically, but his head is a fucking mess.

“Running is good for that,” you say. “Good for clearing out the junk in your head. If you ever want to join me, let me know.”

“I’d hold you back. I haven’t ran since my academy days.”

Another smile. “We could start slow, Benny.”

He tells you about the revelations he’s had about his family, about his childhood. Here, you nod more emphatically and punctuate his story with affirmations. You get it.

Then you talk. You apologize for that night too, and Benny waves it away just as you had. Both of you—hard to apologize, hard to accept an apology. You confirm a lot of what he’s already guessed. You had a miserable childhood and got it from both sides.

“My mom was a frustrated genius who would rant about how evil men were. And my dad was an asshole misogynist who ranted about how all women were cunts.”

You talk about how you tried to please both. You strove for an unattainable perfection for your mother and always fell just a bit short. You dampened down your feminine side, took a job in police work to please your dad. Somewhere along the way, whoever you really were got lost.

“It just fucked me up, you know?” you conclude. “Every guy I dated, it felt like there were red flags. I could never tell if it was my mom’s voice or my dad’s voice in my head, telling me to bail before I was trapped. I always end it before it gets too serious. Easier just to be alone.”

You say it matter-of-factly, but it’s the saddest fucking thing Benny’s ever heard. So you aren’t Miss Perfect after all. You’re just a regular-ass person trying to dull life’s sharp edges a little. You just do it by walling yourself off.

-----

Month twelve. A full year, an entire revolution around the sun.

You and Benny are back to solid. You halve the difference now and switch between who brings the coffee and breakfast when you’re paired up. You talk to him again, and now it’s more honest. You ask about his recovery; he encourages you to see a therapist about your own issues. You grumble but do—you find someone, and on Tuesday nights when he’s sitting in the basement of a Methodist church, you’re sitting somewhere and excising your demons too.

Depending on schedules, some weekends, you meet up. Benny starts jogging in the mornings in secret, and on the weekends, the two of you go for hikes. You never get winded before him, but he holds his own and gets a little better each time.

He feels better than he has in years. He loses another five pounds, and Connors notices. “Look at this handsome asshole,” he says one day at work. “You looking to start dating again, Borracho?”

Maybe he will. He feels good. His mind is clearer. He takes a fucking multivitamin now in the mornings. Benny Magalon, functional adult. Maybe he is someone that has something to offer a woman now.

He glances over at you when Connors makes his joke. You’re looking at him, and you gift him a smile just like the first time he saw you at the check-in at the casino hotel.

He amends his thought. Maybe he is someone that has something to offer to you.

-----

A year and two months.

It’s one of those months where yours and Benny’s three-day weekends line up. The two of you were out to lunch a few days earlier, and instead of giving your usual “headed to Vegas” spiel, you say you’re heading north.

“I have a cabin in Dorrington,” you tell him. “Thought about heading up for the long weekend.”

You take a deep breath and add, “I thought you might want to come along. If you want. Do some hiking, maybe canoe around the lake if you want.”

Benny plays it as cool as he can. “Don’t you usually go to Vegas?”

You turn and look out the window of the restaurant when you answer. “Thought about some of the things we talked about, Benny. I talked to my therapist. Maybe I learned my addiction from my dad too.”

----

He agrees to join you. Obviously. Thing is, any love he carries for you, there’s also this: you’re his closest friend. He confides in you like he doesn’t with anyone else, and he suspects he may be the same for you. He must be, if you’re inviting him to your sanctuary.

Day before, you get anxious. You show him pictures of the cabin.

“It’s not fancy,” you warn him. “It’s not like those huge mansion cabins at Lake Arrowhead. It’s two beds, one bath.”

“I’m not fancy,” he replies. He has known you for a year now, and he knows exactly what you’re doing. You’re lowering his expectations because you are terrified that you aren’t perfect.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I promise I won’t be.”

-----

Your cabin is small, sure. It’s also charming. It’s set back in the pines, and the air is so clear that it makes Benny’s sinuses ache.

Inside, it’s all the clues in one place. Here’s who you really are. Not the half-robotic perfectionist who sleeps alone because you saw a lifetime of heartache before you were even an adult.

The mismatched furniture that is comfortable and broken in. The shelf stuffed with books. The worn-in hiking boots by the door. The mantle over the stone fireplace neatly lined with interesting things you’ve found and collected over the years. An old bottle. Sea glass. A flat piece of shale with a fossilized fern in it. A picture of you as a kid with your arms around a collie.

This is who you are, and Benny finds he loves her even more than the woman you pretend to be.

-----

You support Benny’s near-sobriety, and you’ve turned him onto the strange world of craft sodas. Another glimpse of who you are: the stacked cases of root beers, colas, and cream sodas. Maybe Benny’s just trading in one addiction for another, booze for cane sugar, but fuck if ginger cider beer doesn’t go down a hundred times smoother than a Bud Lite.

He sits on your porch and sips at a bottle. You have one too, and you drink between circuits from the grill to the kitchen and back. He offers to help, but you wave him off. He’s a guest, and you’d be horrified to make him work.

It’s peaceful here. Quiet. The air smells like Christmas with all the pine, and Benny thinks he could see this life for himself. Maybe he could retire here. A quiet place with good food and good company and fresh air.

“Dinner’s ready,” you tell him, breaking his reverie.

It happens over dinner. He’s halfway through the feast you’ve made: the rosemary grilled chicken, grilled peaches with soft cheese drizzled with honey, a salad tossed with nuts and berries. He can’t blame the booze because there is none. He could blame the single cigarette he smoked, but nicotine doesn’t hit him like that.

He assumes it’s the jeans you’re wearing: he swears they are the same worn-in comfortable ones you wore at the hotel check-in. The same tear above the knee, showing off a bit of smooth thigh.

There’s only one thing he hasn’t confessed to you.

“I thought about you a lot after we hooked up,” he admits. He stares down at his plate when he says it. “I thought about you all the time, and I almost looked you up. Find out who you were.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Didn’t want to be a creep.”

You hum at that, and he sees you take another bite of your chicken out of the corner of his eye. Watches you chew with a thoughtful look on your face. When you swallow, you say, “I thought about looking you up too.”

He lifts his head and looks at you directly. You gaze back at him, then give a sheepish shrug.

“I thought about you a lot too. Then when I turned up to Major Crimes and you were there, I felt embarrassed. Like, ‘here’s your hookup and now you have to work with him.’”

He gives a single bark of joyless laughter. “Then you got to know me and was like, ‘nah, never mind with this asshole.’”

You shake your head. “Not at all. That fight at Big Nick’s aside, I only liked you more and more. And that fight…well, you were drunk and I was stoned. Not a great combination.”

What you’re saying is rearranging his worldview. He thought it was all one-sided, but he was wrong. He can only sit and stare at you like a fucking chump when you tell him.

“Of course I fell for you, Benny,” you say. “I was just walled off and terrified of letting you in.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where you only stare at each other. He blinks and tries to think of a single word to say. You fiddle with your fork.

“I’ve sabotaged every relationship I’ve been in,” you say. “I always fuck it up on purpose. I wanted to say something to you, but I was scared.”

“I assumed I was just a hook-up,” he manages. “Gambling, then fucking some random guy. Thought that was your thing.”

You snort. “I can count on one hand the one-night stands I’ve had.”

You hold up your hand, palm out. “One, Benny Magalon.” You fold down your fingers and leave your index finger pointing in the air. You don’t say anything else and you let your words sink into his thick fucking skull.

“Bullshit,” he breathes out. “You’re full of shit.”

“Believe me or not. There was something about you that night. I wanted you the moment I saw you.”

“And now?”

“There’s something about you, Benny. And I want you all the time.”

-----

His single regret from that night is that is happened so fast. No time to strip you naked, no time to do much other than fuck you.

The two of you don’t make it any further than your couch, but he gets so much more than that first night.

He unbuttons his shirt. He watches as you take off your t-shirt, the way your tits look in their microfiber bra when you stretch and toss the shirt aside. The way they look when you bend down to push your jeans to your feet and kick them away. You’re faster than him, and you kiss him as you help him along. The undershirt, the jeans. He’s left in his boxers, and you palm him through the cotton until he groans.

“Shit, baby,” he says. “Slow down a little.”

You push him down until he’s sitting on the couch. You sink onto the carpet and kneel between his legs. You push his thighs apart, and he’s already so hard. A consequence of his cleaner living—he doesn’t have to work too hard to will an erection into existence anymore.

“Just for a little bit, okay? I didn’t get to before.”

He nods, doesn’t quite believe what’s happening. The cabana the night of the hookup had been dark, but here he can see everything. The heavy-lidded look of desire on your face. The way you bite your lip in concentration as you free his cock from its confines. The small moment where you take the rubber band off of your wrist and use it to tie up your hair.

And when you bend your head to him. He’s never had a blow job like this; most of his partners just put their mouths on him and bobbed their heads, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You take your time. You tease him. The first thing he feels is your breath against him, then little kittenish licks to the aching tip. You trail the tip of your tongue down his length, crown to base, tracing the vein that runs along the curve of him. The flat of your tongue next, laving at him, licking against the sensitive underside.

When you finally engulf him with your mouth, he has to close his eyes for a second. It feels too good.

When he opens his eyes again, there you are. His dream girl from over a year ago. The woman he couldn’t dislodge from his head. He thought you were perfect, but you’re messy and damaged too—you just hide it better. He feels that sick wave of love course through him as you swallow him inch by inch, never taking your own eyes off of him.

In that moment, Benny Magalon promises himself that he’ll convince you to marry him one day.

He tries to relax, but he is desperate to not come yet. And you feel so fucking good—your lips curved around him in a smile, your cheeks hollowed out when you suck against him. Your tongue tracing hieroglyphs against him as you bob your head.

He can feel his orgasm approaching, so he reaches down. He cups your cheek, runs his thumb over your cheekbone. You feel flushed and warm, and your eyes are a little teared-up from the effort.

“Stop,” he says. “I want to be inside you.”

You pull away from him with a pop, and he shifts his hand to the back of your neck to haul you up to him. To lay a searing kiss on your swollen lips, to slide his tongue into your mouth and taste the rosemary and peaches from dinner on you. He guides you onto his lap, and you grind against him as he mouths at your neck, your jawline. As he unlatches your bra and eases it off of you, then puts his lips to the diamond hard tips of your tits. Suckles against you, bites you lightly until you are groaning.

He’s so close. He calms when he maneuvers you onto your back on the couch. He leans over your prone body, lays a haphazard scatter of kisses on all the parts of you he didn’t get to see or touch before. Your shoulder, the space between your tits. Your hipbone, the softness of your belly right above the waistband of your panties. He slides his fingers under them and eases them off of you, flings them across the room. He groans at the sight of you, slick and swollen and ready for him, but when he bends his head for a taste, you catch his chin in your hand and stop him.

“Another time,” you say. There’s a growling edge to your voice. Something half-feral that makes a sharp stab of lust rocket through him. “Fuck me, Magalon.”

Seconds to stand up and remove his boxers. A few seconds more to find his wallet in his jeans, to pull out the foil-wrapped condom. Another few to tear it open and roll it onto himself, but you are huffing and telling him to hurry the fuck up already.

“So impatient.” He joins you on the couch, climbs on top of you. Kisses you again while you wriggle underneath him to try and get everything lined up. The tip of him bumps against your clit, draws a moan from you, but then slides away. You growl at him: half-feral to almost completely feral, and Benny caught a glimpse of this when you hooked up before, but this is so much better.

“We have time,” he tries to tell you, but you give another growl.

“Romance me later,” you demand. “Fuck me now.”

Why argue? He wants you just as badly.

He leans back and grasps himself, settles between your thighs. Lines himself and notches himself at your entrance, then pushes into you. Even through the latex of the condom, you feel so good: gripping him, molten. Pulsing against him like a heartbeat.

“Goddamned, Benny,” you whisper when he’s fully seated in you, his hips flush against yours. You thread your fingers through his hair and pull his mouth to yours, and if you’re feral, you still manage to kiss him in a way that feels intimate. Romantic. The way you sigh into his mouth, the almost-lazy way your press your tongue against his.

He starts slow. Slow, deep thrusts into you, and he can feel how you meet his thrusts, raising your hips for more. He’s lying on top of you, covering your feverish body with his own as he fucks you into the couch cushions. His orgasm, only postponed from your mouth on him, appears on the horizon.

“You close?” he pants out, and you whine that you need more, so he obliges.

He raises himself up a little, and he hooks an arm under your knee. He hauls your leg that had been hanging off the edge of the couch up, up until it’s thrown over his shoulder, and he slips deeper inside you with the new angle. He’s buried in you as deep as he can go, and he’s hitting the end of you, and you throw your head back at the sensation.

Maybe you’re messy and damaged, but yeah—you’re still perfect. To Benny Magalon, you are perfect. Like this: your face warm and free of any artifice, the way your perfect lips pant as he fucks you even harder. The unfocused way your eyes gaze up at him. The feel of your fingers clawing at his back, and he always thought that was a cliché of movies, but he can feel the thin lines of pain you’re marking him with and he fucking loves it.

You come hard and sudden. No warning signs that he could see, but he’s lost in his own sensations. You arch underneath him, so hard you nearly buck him off of you, but you hold tight to him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him as you wail out his name and tremble underneath him. The way your pussy pulses around him, rippling along the length of him, it makes him come a half-beat after you.

Another cliché, he thought—coming at the same time. But the two of you do.

-----

It can go one of two ways afterwards. The entire situation is delicate, and it walks a razor edge of going one way or the other.

In your bed, after you fuck again (this time slower, you allow Benny to romance you), he spoons you. You roll away from him but he follows and wraps himself around you. He can feel the walls going back up, and he’ll do anything to stop them.

“Please don’t shut me out,” he says softly, and he can feel the deep breath you take.

“I always ruin relationships. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s over.”

“Not always. Almost always, but not always.”

You roll over onto your back, and you turn your head to look at him in the dimly lit room. “You don’t know, Benny—”

“I do know,” he insists. “What about us? Aren’t we friends? Can’t we build something from that? My ex-wife, my girlfriends…all those relationships fell apart because it didn’t start as a friendship.”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“So you already know all my bullshit. I know yours. Isn’t that a good place to start?”

He can see he’s getting his point across. The two little furrows between your brow that usually mean you’re unhappy….they smooth out. The corner of your mouth twitches as you hold back a smile.

“You think you know everything about me, Magalon?”

He kisses your forehead. “I think I do.”

“Won’t you get bored then? Nothing new to learn about me? No surprises left?”

“Nah.” He settles back against the bed, and he raises his arm to beckon you to lie against him. After a beat, you do, and your head fits perfectly in the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“We can do the shit that couples do when they need to spice things up, if we get bored,” he continues. “We can meet up at a bar and pretend we don’t know each other. Get you another one-night stand with Benny Magalon’s alias, you know?”

You laugh at him. You turn and press a sweet kiss to the side of his neck, near his tattoo, and you nestle against him. He pulls you in a little tighter, holds you more securely.

“But you know I always sabotage it,” you warn. He rubs your arm, kisses the top of your head to comfort you.

“Almost always,” he repeats.

“Okay, almost always. Fine.” You grumble, but he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Almost always, but not this time.”

You grumble again, something about him being entirely too sure of the whole enterprise, but he just kisses your head again. Of course he’s sure. He’s sure of himself now, and he’s sure of you, and he’s absolutely certain that with enough time and patience, he’ll be able to fulfill that promise he made to himself: he will convince you to marry him.

It will take another year, to be exact. Not nearly as much time as he thought it would, and it takes almost no convincing at all. Turns out you have at least a few surprises left for him after all.

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas @massivecolorspygiant @imspillingcoffee @amneris21 @paintballkid711 @mad-girl-without-a-box @bestattempt @rosiefridayrogersunday @strawberrydragon @hoeforthefictional @greeneyedblondie44 @leannawithacapitala @stardust-galaxies @buckybarneshairpullingkink @melaniecraig80 @thesandbeneathmytoes

#benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #Benny Borracho Magalon Imagine #benny magalon x reader #Borracho Magalon x Reader #borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon #den of thieves

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hallothere · 2 years ago

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bad horrible vol 3 thought I had and I don’t like it

it’s... a logical conclusion one could come to that Radanir might be a traitor and Ergothorn. there is evidence (circumstantial) for this and it makes me crazy

Radanir finds all the Ergothorn notes

Radanir seeks you out with information/gets the information to you deliberately

he’s the ‘loner’ Ranger without any apparent close ties to other Dunedain

He staunchly supports all sorts of hastily cobbled plans (RIP)

this does not hold up for long, but it is a conclusion the player character could draw very easily- and in a bad AU this could cause a lot of friction post-Forsaken Road

#lotro #radanir #look first and foremost i hate it #it's very flimsy but in the wrong hands it looks suspicious

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dcviated · 2 years ago

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more like a relationship vibe meme || [ open ]

@hallowleylines sent: ✿ (Get ready--- Provence/Eira. Everitt/Malkuth. Diluc/Sorin(Jester))

send me a ✿ and i’ll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.

Eira / Provence

FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other .

Unlike with Zephyr, Eira does not actually have the rural combat experience or desire to go out on missions with her, nor would she have time. However in a sea of madness she’s a beacon of reason that Eira would seek to foster. Also just be gal pals. The oripathy will create some friction (wariness on Eira’s part, but she’s not like Greythroat) but it can be overcome relatively quickly.

ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other .

Romance is far from impossible. Eira may be focused on an eventual family but she’s in the closet as far as orientation. Oripathy, again, an obstacle but not an insurmountable one. This is an ehhh? from me for the most part. Possible but unlikely? I’m not sure Prov would enjoy her lawful nature...

FAMILIAL. siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing / other .

Eira has mom friend energy, but so does Prov... this could end up being a battle. But it connects off what I said before where Eira definitely has a proclivity to nag and prune metaphorically. But it’d be nice for her to have a sister figure! Since she, y’know, grew up with all those brothers. And with her closest (relationship wise) brother having died to oripathy she’s kind of lacking in that area.

Maybe? Possibly? I think we’d be hard pressed to see it happen or for it to last very long if so.

Rest are below the cut--

Malkuth / Everitt

FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other .

I mentioned before I think it’d be fun since they’re both from Kazimierz for there to be some level of prior knowledge or connection between them. Friendship at that point may be pushing it but her recognizing him as a former knight seems interesting. Especially if she was, kinda like, not a fan of him with how he ended the career or something HAHAHA. I think there’s good potential with how their energies ‘clash’. Indifference matched with enthusiasm.

ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other .

It’d be our favorite kind of slow burn. But their dynamic is one that could work romantically? Maybe? Malkuth makes friends of people immediately but noticing romance is another issue. They’d BOTH be dense as hell to it until they realized they like each other. And then. Awkwardness. Or something. Could be cute!

FAMILIAL. siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing / other .

You mentioned it and I can see it. Malkuth does need that guidance in her life. Not much to be said!

Malkuth’s culinary experiments speak for themselves. Thankfully not literally. But that has already sown the seeds of a start of something dangerous depending on how the situation resolves between them... it’d be one sided. Everitt isn’t nearly grumpy enough to get Malkuth frustrated at him. But she’d oblivious to his negative feelings otherwise.

Diluc / Sorin(Jester)

FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other .

Where’s the reluctant friendship? Given what we’re simultaneously plotting right now that seems like a good ‘catchall’ for how they’d get along in the platonic sense. Diluc isn’t the most lawful type mind you, it’s not as though the underhanded tactics will disgust him as much as the personality and flippant attitude can grate.

ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other .

Nah, not this time. It’s not even orientation it just sounds like a bad recipe hahaha.

FAMILIAL. siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing / other .

This seems like an even WORSE idea. Diluc is AWFUL when it comes to family dynamics given how weird his history is what with a dead dad, mia mother, and estranged brother... not the kind of situation anyone would want to get messed up in. However, maybe Sorin could offer some comfort or guidance? ? ? ? ? ?

Nothing that couldn’t be worked through if we wanted. But especially given how they’d end up meeting in verse they’d begin their ‘ally’ arc from a very low rung and have to build up from that low level of passive antagonism. It’ll be amusing the kind of threat that has them reluctantly working together.

#hallowleylines #inbox :: answered ooc #muse :: eira #muse :: malkuth #muse :: diluc #thanks for this mang #you better appreciate the work I put into it!!!

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harryswatermelonsegment · 4 years ago

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Fire For You

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles,Harry Styles/Omc x2

Rating : Strong R 100% porn w/o plot tbh

Warnings: *cracks knuckles* orgies,sex parties, anal sex, male oral sex, female oral sex, anal play, sub!dom play, drug use, vaginal penetration, squirting

A/N: Look, never posted fic. And I haven't checked anything 😳 Due to the heavily noted anon prompt fluttering around my dash that read: "My friend went to some weirdo eyes wide shut kind of party in the Hollywood Hills last year and overheard 'yeah you can't use that room, Harry Styles is high as fuck and getting railed by some dudes in there" plus that damn 🍉 video... well, I am at peak feral in quarantine and 3k of smut just popped right out. Title actually the Cannons song cos it's such a sex song innit? I'm doing this at 4.20am after starting this at 11pm my time so..good fucking night. ✌🏻🍉

—--------------------------------------------

You were petrified.

You'd moved halfway across the world with your best friend after a shitty person broke your heart and your spirits.

A circumstantial opportunity had arisen to become her PA,after her chance audition for a series had turned into cult viewing overnight.

She was everything you weren't. Confident, effortlessly cool and entirely comfortable in her own skin and sexuality. That's why, as she sauntered away with a tuxedo clad tall stranger, you stood frozen on the spot trying to remember it was okay to watch.

It had been her idea for you to submit an application after you'd said you needed to take risks and feel good in your skin again. Your best friend had told you you were wasting your youth, after years wasted on the ex you were in this country trying to forget. That you should embrace you were young, hot, single and getting older by the second. So you'd rolled your eyes and submitted your video application. You wouldn't get a reply for such an elite thing.

And yet, here you now were, in a millionaires mansion watching two men fuck a bunny masked stranger infront of you. She looks up at you through the velveteen eye holes and offers you to join with her finger come hithering you over. Your eyes widen.

You immediately remember your stiff upper lip and bound up the right hand staircase as fast as your heels will allow. Hoping to find a cool place to catch your breath.

Maybe you weren't as free spirited as you were in your head. Open to trying things theoretically, but now, as you see a flurry of naked bodies out of your peripheral vision and hear sounds you'd only heard in more private settings, you felt quite overwhelmed.

You were no virgin but not to say you could count on two hands your conquests past kissing either.

You came to the one shut door at the end of the long hallway, assuming it was a bathroom. Heels clicking against the pristine marble floor below as you approached. You put your hand to the cold metal handle, if you weren't prepared to see strangers fuck, you certainly weren't prepared for this.

There were five people in the room.

Three men on the bed and two women. The first woman sat open thighed across a low backed plush chair. Another on all fours on the floor licking into the others cunt as one guy stuck his fingers into her own folds from behind. He was then, with the rest of his olive skinned built body, sharply thrusting into the man on the bed at such a pace you could hear his balls slap against the sweat glistening flesh. He held his hip nearest to you so tightly, you could see the red marks appear from under his large hands.

The slender man receiving all this action was being silenced in his pleasure by the guy kneeling up in front of him. He hummed loudly through his nose as his mouth was busy bobbing up and down the guys length. Eyes closed in the orange low light as he was thrust into still, with such force he deep throated the guy he was swallowing down. He suddenly gagged and the man moaned then pulled his head away and nodded to signal if he was okay to continue, he agreed then he got right back down to business.

It was probably one of the more explicit scenes she'd seen. Making her feel hot and cold all at once. Not because of what was happening, no, it was who it was.

His face was disguised by a navy blue, high winged, theatrical mask. As were those involved, or some variation at least.

You heard a voice beside you at the door frame. A deep voice talking to a white bunny beside him

"Nah, that rooms got enough going on, Harry Styles is high as fuck getting railed by two dudes"

And that's all the confirmation you damn well needed. You'd been in L.A three weeks. Three weeks was all it had taken for you to be stood watching Harry fucking Styles getting Eiffel towered by two guys in the Hollywood Hills whilst you watched, mouth agape in barely any underwear.

No one had seemed to notice your intrusion, if the screaming of the red head in the chair reaching her climax was anything to go by. She rode out her high on the blondes face before getting up, lighting a joint and pulling the blonde up by roots. No real concern that she hadn't climaxed from Mr. Powerthrusts fingers yet. Dragging the young white cat back towards the door with a glistening mouth and chin, you were still entranced at the boy on the bed pooling your sheer briefs and the sight before you.

The redhead looked at you, to where your focus was on, then back to you. Giving one condescending chuckle. Still with the small blonde girls hair in a vice hold she spoke roughly into your ear as she passed.

"He's soft and ready to go sugar, strike whilst he's still loose" with that, she kisses your cheek and her Loboutins clicked away from you.

You stood there. Tits up to your chin from the force of the practically sheer black bra you were spilling out of, the suspender belt grasped your hourglass shape perfectly too. There was delicate, black designer underwear framed by the belt and thigh high stockings. You'd felt beyond confident at the beginning of the party. New eyes dragging over you in a way they didn't when you were in your regular get up of jeans and a t shirt. But behind the Japanese type kitsune half mask, you had felt invincible.

Right up until the point people actually started fucking.

But this, this was different.

You'd never been into guy on guy action, not even in porn. It didn't ignite any fire inside the pit of your stomach like it should. But seeing someone you'd casually ogled through the media like the other few million in the world had, well the chances of being in this position again were rare. Suddenly, the thrill of being able to possibly turn dream into reality spurred you on. He'd never know it was ever you if you met again right?

The three of them were still going at it. Powerthruster behind, contorting his face as he placed smack after smack across the pale flesh of Harry's ass. Grabbing a fistful in each hand as he sped up even more to reach his climax, he cried out when he did pulling Harry's hips flush against his own, it was only now, amongst all the activity that you notice Harry's cock for the first time.

The rumours online highly underestimate it.

He's long and thick and his drippy head is causing a string of pre cum to trail from its opening onto the white silk sheets below.

You clamp a hand between your thighs, the first time you feel your inhibitions falter that night. You had to relieve some of the friction your body needs. Watching the man remove himself, and toss the condom in the bin by the door frame you were still fixed to.

Harry scrambles to the other muscular guy infront of him, kneeling back on his calves, hissing a little as his legs under each cheek spread his already tender hole a bit. He doesn't miss a beat though, the already close to orgasming guy looking down at green doe eyes as he pushes Harry's mouth from him. Harry knows where this is leading and opens his mouth for him spill his seed onto his waiting tongue.

By this point you'd moved quietly from the door and across the wall so you were in prime position to watch Harry swallow all this man's cum whilst you just stood watching.

Feeling like a pervert, feeling turned on, feeling fucking everything to be frank. You'd question it later. Right now you needed Harry to touch you.

One leg kicked up behind you so you could slightly part your thighs and rub your middle finger down your folds beneath your knickers. You began to put on a show. The other hand is inside your bra cupping and squeezing your nipple between your index and forefinger sharply. Panting quietly as you see Harry's eye clock you in his peripheral vision. You're terrified of his reaction for a second before remembering the setting of the evening, but he smirks the best he can do with an open mouth and looks you up and down slowly. His dick twitches in his lap and that's all it takes for you to start rubbing two soaked fingers fast against your clit, your ego inflated that you could be the cause of his heightened arousal. You're going at such a pace on yourself that you almost don't catch the ropes of cum descending into Harry's mouth as he watches you trying to get the release his actions have caused. The guy stills, spent. Harry is still watching you pant faster as you take the hand on your breast away to steady a palm against the wall. He holds the guys cum in his mouth before tearing his eyes away from yours to kneel up and place an opened mouthed kiss onto the guys lips, transferring him back into his own mouth, forcefully. Switching the dominant role back in his favour to show you who was really in control in the room despite how it may have looked. He breaks the kiss, both men chuckle at each other before Harry taps the other guys cheek with his palm playfully. Like his just scored a goal at the Sunday football league, but definitely not like they'd both shared a mouthful of semen.

Your pace has slowed down slightly but you see him whisper something into the man's ear before he hops off the bed, grabbing only his black briefs and closing the door behind him. But not before saying "have fun" to you with a knowing wink.

It suddenly feels very intimate. When there were a few more people in the room it felt easier to blend into the festivities, but now you were essentially alone with a stranger who was watching the slow movements of your hands in your underwear. You decided to carry on, to keep up the pretence that this is the sort of thing you do all the time of course.

It wasn't.

So when he stands straight up off the bed, taking the few steps towards you, slightly pouting into the air as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and gently grabs your wrist that leads to the hand on your pussy bringing the two digits that had been furiously rubbing your clit, up to his mouth. He never breaks his gaze as he sucks them fully, with the same technique you'd just seen on that man's dick minutes previous. Closing his eyes and humming approvingly at your sweet taste.

Your insides are screaming but your present body moans and he drops the hand to grab your waist and pull you tight to his torso. He kisses you hungrily and you taste mostly of yourself and try not to think about the other taste from the strangers cum on your tongue.

He kisses you like he's getting to know you through this alone, grazing his palms from your waist to your shoulder blades then back down slowly to your ass, gripping it tightly to his body as he hooks a thigh over his hip. His cock is sandwiched between you, droplets of pre cum on both your bellies. The crotch of your underwear is rubbing his length slightly as you rock your hips down onto his.

His tongue is lapping and swirling languidly against yours, it's unexpected given the setting but, it's fucking glorious. You grab fistfuls of curls at the back of his head between your fingers and once you get to the nape and give a sharp tug on the baby hair there, his breathing hitches.

"You're quite good at this" he says casually,taking a breath. You pant in response and chuckle slightly. Mostly at the contrast of moods he appears to have.

"Not s'bad yourself" you smile.

There's a heartbeat whilst he takes in your accent similar to his own he pulls back, brows furrowed causing his forehead to wrinkle down slightly at the top of the blue mask. This isn't the time to get to know one another though, you get that, and despite your reservations on this place you suddenly don't give a shit. You push your mouth into his neck suckling lightly and finding a sweet spot at his pulse that has him shaking. His nimble pianist fingers undo the flimsy material of your bra as he goes back to the weirdly passionate make out session, you let it fall off your shoulders, shaking it down your arms to the ground.

He walks you both back to the bed and sits down pulling you to straddle his thighs. You both moan at the reconnection and don't miss a beat rolling your hips over his slowly. Giving him a taste of what's to come. He grunts through his teeth out of frustration, pulling away from you both once more to reach blindly for the fishbowl of condoms, provided by the host, on the nightstand.

"Fucked anyone else tonight?" he asks matter of factly.

Your eyes looked shocked, even though they probably shouldn't be. You furiously shake your head.

"Hm" he chuckles as you lay your hands in your lap submissively, he clearly notices and you see an eyebrow raise over the mask. "that mean you're a good girl?"

Cottoning on to the game he's starting, and that you're more than willing to take part in, you take one side of your bottom lip between your teeth and nod quickly.

This is an absolute fantasy. But you're aware you could get interrupted at any moment so you'll take what you can get before being pushed out, and no doubt off, this absolute wet dream of a man.

He tears the packet open with his fingers, sitting back, a little hunched over to roll the rubber down his length. He hisses at the brief contact after being edged so much the last hour or so. You start to wonder how he's keeping up his stamina before he sits back up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger and interrupts.

"Gonna be a good girl f'me then love?" he leans forward places wet opened mouth kisses at each of your breasts in between his words, looking you straight in the eye. "Gonna slip those pants to the side and get on me then?"

No sooner had he spoke, you were grabbing his cock in your palm with one hand, and pulling the crotch of your soaked fabric to one side with the other. You hadn't done this in a fair few months and definitely never taken a cock as big as his, but your arousal was so high that you were desperate for the sweet pain of being stretched around him. You pumped him barely as to not roll up the condom, just grazing him and feeling him twitch in your fist as he watched you briefly stick two fingers into your cunt. The wetness being heard as you opened your mouth and gasped at the sensation. You didn't want to waste anymore time checking you were prepared so you scooted forwards on his lap. Brushing his swollen head against your clit, before tapping it a few time as you sunk down onto his length. It burned so good as you got to about halfway before lifting yourself up and sinking down again further. It took three times of doing that to be completely seated and drowning his cock in your juices as your pelvises locked together. You both took a second to pant out curses against each others necks.

"Jesusfuck. You're so fuckin' tight. Can you move? Fuck! Please move" he strained into your throat.

You sat back a bit so you were facing one another and with fingers pulling at those nape hairs you reconnected your mouths before rolling your hips experimentally against his.

"Oh fuuuuck" you shot out, the feeling of him so deep inside you and him pressing against your clit was other worldly. The friction of the underwear you still had on, gathered between your folds and caused the sweetest friction. He grunted once as your jaw lay slack at the contact, before getting impatient and guiding your hips to slam into him harder as he thrust up at the same time.

Your head was spinning.

His strong hands pulled you close to him he smeared your lips together as he flipped you so he was on top, manoeuvring you up the bed and slightly diagonal so his feet didn't dangle off the edge.

It became a power battle then. You knew he was on the edge and holding back. He pulled a leg to hitch around his waist and thrust into you at speed. Enough to leave you sore tomorrow. You smirked into his mouth, pulling both up further to lock behind his neck, knowing the angle would make it so much tighter and so much easier to reach that sweet spot inside you. With your head thrown back at the new angle he began leaving marks around your neck and breasts, trying so hard not to cum before you.

Then you had a brilliant, foolproof idea of how to win this game. As he was preoccupied leaving a red mark against your clavicle, you sucked your middle finger into your mouth for your planned attack. Before you could do anymore though, he moved two of his digits against your soaked clit at speed, tapping every now and then and making you writhe and grip the sheets with overstimulation. You held off best you can but he was hitting that spot that few had taken much longer to find before. You knew what was coming but it was too late to warn him.

Your orgasm took over your body from the middle down to your toes and up until your eyes practically rolled back in your head. You heard the lewd, wet sounds his thrusts were still making and wanting to even things up you made a quick recovery enough to part your mouth and make your middle finger drip with saliva as you gripped his ass to guide him into you. You could tell by his speed he was almost there so you went between his cheeks with your slick finger and suddenly buried it inside him to the hilt. He was still stretched from the previous guy so you sink to the knuckle easily. It only took two movements to feel him spill inside you. Long drawn out moans left his lips like a dirty drawl from his throat. You took out your finger and went slack onto the mattress.

He was spent but he wasn't done.

As he pulled out of you carefully, gushes of your cum cascaded down onto the expensive sheets. If he didn't know you were a squirter, he did now. He stared watching it fall from your weepy hole blind removing the condom and tossing it into the bin behind.

"Holy fuck. I.. I've never managed that before. You're a fucking dream….so fucking sexy. Fuck" he looked at you like a feast. Your saturated underwear stretched out beyond repair now. Laying against your thigh and the material dripping. He pulled the stockings from their clips quickly, not taking them off but so he could peel the knickers from your sticky thighs. You noticed he threw them down near what you assumed to be his tux.

And that was it, he pushed your thighs up and back to your body so your knees were flush against your chest. You felt some of your cum still seeping out if you and he growled watching the last few drops drip down your bum and onto the bed.

He dove into you like he'd not eaten in weeks. Lapping every bit of fluid from your pussy, clit, thighs and ass. He licked around your puckered hole as he sink two fingers into your cunt at pace.

"You got one more in there for me hmm?"

He said huskily, keeping one arm across your thighs as he sat up on his haunches to look down on you falling apart. You nodded frantically, feeling the bubbles in your stomach growing again. You felt the pressure build between your thighs. Completely living in this moment with this beautiful man you got to see so desperate for you to cum. He dived back in to trace figure eights across your clit with the tip of his tongue before laying it flat and going up over it again and again. He alternating the two before you were ready to burst. He felt it on his fingers so he stilled them inside you still lapping at clit but using his whole arm to move at speed up and down to keep pushing at that one ridge inside you. When he felt the first wave of your climax hit he quickly put his face infront of your cunt and let the force of your squirt hit him the face. He caught a good amount in his mouth before repeating the signature move of crawling back up to your face and getting your soft, limp body to open up so he could spit your cum back into your mouth. It was tart but sweet probably due to the pina coladas you'd sipped downstairs to get you loosened up a bit.

"Good girl. Swallow, show me y've swallowed it all up" he panted kneeling at your side.

You gulp and meekly open your mouth to prove it was all gone and he smirks and gives you a slow, lazy Sunday kind of kiss that sends its shivers down your spine. You stare at each other as he sweeps your sweet drenched hair from the front of your face. You're not sure what suddenly changed in the room but you've created your own bubble. Your own bubble where a millionaire pop star a Jenner has shagged, whispers praises against the shell of your ear in some sort of awe and kisses your neck and face tenderly. What even is life?

It's stupid but you don't want to go. Well, it's not stupid as this boy is a hurricane in the sheets and why would you not want more!

But you know the deal. This isn't a date. This is an elite fuck party. A. Fuck. Party.

The realisation dawns on you like a thorn to the side. You can't just lay here in a post orgasmic comatose state. There's people waiting, people he's waiting on too. He sees your eyes widen and watches in confusion as you take a white robe from the hook behind the door, still in your heels you pick up your bra. You smile briefly before closing the door behind you and practically sprinting to your car.

Not before seeing the guy Harry had been deepthoating earlier, now standing fully clothed with a headset at the door you'd just come out of with a suit and headset on. Like nothing had ever happened. Of course you weren't interrupted. Of course he had security. You rush back down the staircase before you have a panic attack in plain sight. Your thoughts scrambled beyond what you thought was capable. Did that really just happen? With him? Is this who you are now?

It's only when you get to the end of the street after texting a quick "sorry wasn't my scene, call me when you need picking up" to your mate before leaving that you're suddenly aware you're missing your underwear...

#harry styles smut #Solo 1d fic #harry styles fanfiction

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

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Late Nights ~ JJK [M] [Request]

➳➳➳Word count: 2,206

➳➳➳Genre: SMUT with some fluff

➳➳➳Pairing: Professor!Jungkook x Student!reader

➳➳➳A/N: I realised after I finished writing you said romantic so I hope this is okay if not please message me and I will rewrite you something

➳➳➳: WARNINGS: All consensual and legal professor/student, pet names (dirty and cute)

Dating professors was against the college campus rules but it wasn't stopping you and your English Litertreture Professor Mr Jeon Jungkook. Looking back on it now you can't remember how it all even started, you just remember being yelled at for incompleted homework one minute and the next you were bent over his desk while he held your hair back fucking you roughly. Since then you'd been together for a year, not just sex, you were dating. He lived with you in your off-campus apartment and things seemed to be going really well,

"For those who were paying attention!" He yelled dropping a heavy stack of folders onto your desk in front of you. You were daydreaming in the middle of class again and Jungkook was starting to lose his temper, he couldn't show that he was having favourites in his class which resulted in him coming across harsher than usual to you than anybody else.

"If you're caught daydreaming again Miss Y/l/n I will give you a longer essay, understood?" You nodded and flicked through the folder he'd placed in front of you, it was a giant purple folder where you kept your assignments. Everyone had their own and every single assignment was slotted into it for him to grade.

"A D?" You whispered to your friend, you glanced over at her paper and she had an A+ yet she did less work than you, you shut the folder and Jungkook noticed the pout on your lips.

"Problem?" All eyes were on you now and you looked up at him,

"Yeah, I don't think I deserved this grade..." He looked down at the paper and nodded while tapping his fingers on it.

"No, I think you deserved it, I think I was being rather generous actually but I'd be happy to regrade it if you want to start it again." You stared at him as the bell rang,

"You should stay behind and talk to me." You knew what he meant by that and you weren't about to let him get that kind of satisfaction from you, not when he'd just embarrassed you in front of a class full of 20 people so you slammed the folder shut and walked out with it clutched against your chest. You tried not to cry in front of anyone but it was hard, he was always o mean to you in class and you hated every second of it.

Jungkoook hasn't gotten back until 11 that night and once he was in the house he walked around before going to bed. You'd laid there for hours waiting until you knew he was out cold before you got up to go and work. You were now sitting in the kitchen with your laptop and a tub of ice cream writing your assignment for him. The spoonful of ice cream was hanging out of your mouth while you typed the sentence to the newest assignment he'd given out that day when he walked into the kitchen. He noticed you were sitting on the barstool in one of his work shirts, one leg hanging down while the other was tucked up against your chest for your chin to lean against, you looked adorable even with the ice cream dripping down your chin which was sending mix signals through his body. One half of him was imagining you on your knees in front of him while the other was getting mad at you for being up so late.

"It's 3 am, how long have you been awake and why are you even still awake?" You threw the spoon back into the carton of ice cream you weren't going to talk to him, you just continued to type while he walked over and looked at the screen in front of you.

"The feud is demonstrated in the prologue, it is only circumstantial that Romeo is born into the Montague family and is a complete waste of space and just wanted to get his dick wet because he ''loved'' one girl and then another within a couple of seconds." He was reading off your laptop screen, you paused your typing and stared at the screen. Jungkook was laughing at what you'd written,

"If you hand that in I'll fail you." He chuckled but you scoffed at him,

"You'll just fail me anyway." You got up and put the now empty carton of ice cream into the bin and placed the spoon into the dishwasher,

"What are you talking about?" You ignored his question and went back to typing up the assignment deleting everything you'd written about Romeo and then starting the real work you had to do.

"You've done enough, it's 3 in the morning and you have an early class." But you ignored him trying to get it done but he shut the laptop screen down.

"Bed," You groaned at him and tried to open the laptop again,

"You see," He sighed, "This is exactly why I wouldn't let you get your own place, you'd work yourself to death." When you ignored him again he had enough and picked you up carrying you over his shoulder.

"You're going to bed." He carried you through to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed,

"Do you know what happens when you don't do as your told Jagi? I've told you a million times before but you still think you know what's best?" You squirmed around,

"Eh, eh eh," He said tutting at how you were behaving,

"You're not going to move, Mr Jeon is very upset with you right now." He whispered into your ear, kissing up and down your neck.

"I think you should make it up to me, don't you?" You stayed silent but he watched as you stared at him, you knew not to disobey him when he was in a mood.

"You're not moving from this bed until A) You've learned to listen to me," He kissed you on the lips,

" B) You get good enough sleep," He sighed at you and you looked up at him from the bed, he had your arms pinned above your head.

"You're supposed to take a break so you can rest your smart little mind of yours." You cocked your head to the side and pouted,

"I'm not sure my professor will like that, he's mean to me." You mumbled but he growled into your ear and ground his hard-on against your thinly clothed core. You bit back the whimper,

"You're still a bad girl for staying up late," You wriggled from the bed and dropped onto your knees in front of him pulling down the shorts he was wearing and then his boxers. You took him into your hand and began to pump him in your hand slowly,

"Don't tease, you've been naughty enough." You licked the tip of his cock and he growled at you,

"Fuck who knew such a sweet girl could behave so badly." You took him all the way into your mouth and held onto his thighs as you did so, bobbing your head and staring up at him. He was moaning loudly and he thrust his hips into your face, rolling his head back and groaning out your name. Your eyes rolled back a little whenever he hit the back of your throat.

"You like this...when I face fuck you...huh?" You moaned around his cock as you ground yourself down against your foot to give yourself some kind of friction,

" go on, admit it...you're a dirty little cock slut aren't you?" He was moaning out and hissing with every thrust he thrust into your mouth,

"Tell me you like this," He pulled out of your mouth and smiled as you giggled at him,

"I love it, I'm your cock slut." You giggled only making him groan out,

"That's it," He stood you up from your knees and bent you over the bed.

"I'm going to fuck you in that tight little cunt," He whispered pulling your hair into a tight ponytail so your chest was arched off the bed, you whimpered as he rubbed his tip along your folds.

"So wet and I haven't even touched you yet, I bet I'll just-" He was cut off by the moan he was giving out as he slid right into you.

"So fucking tight every time," You moaned out loudly gripping onto the sheets in front of you and he chuckled softly,

"F-Faster K-Kookie." You whimpered with a whisper looking over your shoulder at him, he pulled out of you only to slam back in roughly pinning you down to the bed with his hips,

"Why are you being so quiet, princess? Let the neighbours know who's fucking you this well." You cried out as he continued his fast-paced thrusts not giving you time to adjust to him but hitting your G-spot every time.

"Fuck! Kookie right there!" You screamed out into the bedding as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, your stomach tightening with every hit.

"You feel so good princess," He whispered as he bent down to pound into you,

"Wrapped so fucking tightly around my cock," He groaned out and his hands fell from your hair to grip onto your hips so he could steady himself,

"Squeezing everything out of me, just like that first time." You clenched around him as he mentioned your first time together,

"You came in wearing that short skirt and crop top without underwear." He grunted remembering how good you looked sitting in front of his desk crossing and uncrossing your legs so he could see how much you wanted him.

"Such a cock hungry whore aren't you?" You whimpered at the nicknames he was giving you, he knew exactly how to get you where you needed to be.

"Clench around me just like that baby." He chuckled as you continued to clench him, your eyes rolling back as you felt yourself getting closer.

He pulled out from you and turned you around to face him so you were in the missionary position,

"I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum baby girl, huh? You wanna look up at me while you cum?" He slipped back into you making your head roll back but he put his hand on the base of your neck and forced you to look up at him,

"I asked you a question." He growled holding himself in place his tip almost where you needed it but not quite there,

"Yes Mr Jeon, fuck I wanna look at you while I cum around you." You moaned out and he thrust into you once again hitting that spot and getting you close once more.

"You're so close baby aren't you?" You'd lost the ability to talk from the bliss you were experiencing, you felt as though your whole body was floating.

"You don't get to cum until I do, that's how it works pumpkin." He chuckled as he saw your eyes widen, he knew you weren't great at holding back but you were getting there.

"Just like that, fuck I can feel you clenching again." You begged for him to let you cum and he chuckled at you,

"fuck I'm gonna fill you up so much princess...fuck you've earned every last drop haven't you?" You nodded frantically and he smirked down at you.

"Fill me up,"

"Jesus baby...okay," He grunted thrusting in and out of you at the routinely fast pace,

"You're gonna cum first, you're gonna milk every single drop out of me aren't you?" He began sucking along your neck and you moaned out his name your hands making their way into his hair as you tugged roughly, you were on the edge and you knew the moment he told you to you were going to lose it.

"Cum. Cum right now," You let out a scream of his name as you felt it building up pleasure rushed through you making your hips buck and legs shake as you clenched around him,

"Look me in the eyes baby girl, that's it. Good girl." You continued riding out your high as he stared down at you smirking as he felt you cumming around him,

"Shit baby just like that, cum all around me." He let out a small whimper before he began groaning and thrusting into you, spilling hot white liquid into you.

"Fuck," He grunted as he continued to thrust into you despite having finished, you could feel him leaking down your thighs but you didn't care, your head was clear from the orgasm you'd had and you were a giggling mess,

"You're my filthy little what?" He questioned pulling out of you and laying down on the bed next to you,

"Cum slut." You finished making him chuckle tiredly, he watched as you rolled over to lay against his chest and he smiled at you.

"I'm sorry I was so harsh to you in class." You hummed at him and he went onto apologise some more only stopping once he saw you were asleep on his chest,

"Goodnight baby. I love you." He whispered, kissing your head and reaching for a blanket for you both.

tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @mitzwinchester @btsiguess-kpop

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what-a-messsss · 4 years ago

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1x9 rewatch

Yeeeee, this has Jacob and Mathias. Good good. ...It bothers me faaaar more than it should (which is to say, at all) that the episode title “Dogs, Horses and Indians” doesn’t have an Oxford comma. Like, a lot. o.o

Aaaaaahahaha, and here is Mathias being sneaky, sending Walt and Vic off to the northeast quadrant! And I am once again confronted with my own double standard. Because Mathias doing this has me kind of proud of him, but if Walt did it, I would be loading the solar catapult. Hm.

Henry gives Walt so much leeway. Mathias’ little dig at Henry about living on the Rez his whole life makes more sense to me now. After all, Henry and Walt worked on oil rigs up in Alaska for at least part of their 20s according to later info. That and him living above the Red Pony now, in Durant, make sense that there might be some added friction.

Wooooow. Vic repeatedly said how weird it was that Mathias was being agreeable, so she just takes it upon herself to be even more of a jerk to balance things out? Which... the heavy irony being that her “Maybe they didn’t want you running the investigation” crack is right, but also super wrong.

Haa, the campaign advisor running “joke.” And Henry’s smiiiiile.

Oof. Walt does not know the meaning of “tread lightly,” but again, he’s not wrong about this one. Mathias did massively mess with the crime scene and muddle the investigation to a spectacular degree. But Mathias is wily, and far more savvy about politics than Walt ever chooses to be. And he’s right that he’s in an incredibly tight spot, and it’s not like he could have just asked for help. Even if Walt had been inclined to help (haa), doing so would have totally undermined his credibility with the force and the tribe.

“Come on, Sheriff. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never broke the law for the right reason?” Matty, that’s his whooooole modus operandi. As I think you well know.

I do wonder how long it’s been since Cady got her own place. No judgement on her credit card statements still going there; one of my bills still ends up going to my mom’s despite attempts to change that, and it’s been over 5 years since I’ve lived with her. But I do wonder.

GOLF. Baaahahaha, golf. Of course the Connallys golf. Barlow is suuuuuuuch a piece of shiiiiiit. And of course he’s already leveraging favours and keeping track. Oooo, but they do make it delightfully easy to hate him, and very satisfying, too.

NO, Walt, somebody being your deputy does not make their personal life your business. Even when it involves your daughter. Until either of them make it your business, it sure fucking isn’t. And then the look on Branch’s face when Walt goes, “You... that’s a different story.” Aaaah, back when Branch was vaguely sympathetic sometimes. Ish.

Why... why does Walt charge in with no backup so often? I guess just general self-destructive tendencies and all, but ffs. He takes on a biker gang in their home territory with no back up. On purpose. He has no idea that the deputies have figured out where he is and are coming. He just goes charging in and does some impressive damage, but if they hadn’t showed up when they did he’d be in traction or just flat out dead. Exhausting.

I cannot for the life of me remember the actor’s name, but he’s in my head as Gabriel from the bit of time I did watch Supernatural. He’s so squeaky new! He’s such a rube.

I wonder how many ‘excessive force’ charges have been filed against Walt. Probably not one in 20 times they could have been. Ruby is not impressed. And Vic is, as ever, an enabler. Oooooo, Ruby just called him Walter. She means business. Too bad he doesn’t give a shit about anything but what he wants. ...I think I just figured out part of why Walt pisses me off so much. That entitlement to do whatever the hell he wants and bother the rest rings really familiar from my dad. Womp womp. That can go on the list of things to talk about with the therapist.

Awwwww, Cady’s graduation photo on Henry’s desk! He’s such a good second dad.

I hadn’t thought about it the first time around, but @cminerva said something in one of our musings (that I think went into our joint fic) about Walt making Mathias come to him for things. And here we are in the Red Pony, with Walt having had the Tribal Council brought to him, all 10 or so of them, rather than to go to them. Which... that’s some fucked up power dynamic bullshit right there. And they’re all sitting in a semi-circle, with Walt and Vic standing. This is... so uncomfortable. Crusty old white man scolds Tribal Council, literally standing there with his hands on his hips. WITH HIS HAND ON HIS GUN--I fricking swear to gods, Walt, what the flaming hell.

Yeeeeeee, Jacob. He’s so fluffy. The sides of his hair are so long. This is a delight. Ok, but can I just take a moment with the fact that Jacob bought Eaglestar’s debt? From a cynical point of view, it could be to make sure that he had the president of the tribal council effectively in his pocket, and there was probably an element of that. But I do genuinely believe that as much of a pragmatist as he is, Jacob is a thwarted optimist. When he says, “Because I bought his debt. ...I wanted to make sure no one could influence his decisions, no one could force him to act against his own judgment,” that he’s telling the truth. “He may have had demons, but he was his own man.” I think that he probably hopes the same for himself.

Cady’s faaaace when Walt gets back and is ignoring the excessive force charge. Officially one of my favourite moments of the whole show now. Yus. The sheer lack of respect that Walt has for his daughter. Blatant lack of respect for her and her expertice. Yeet him into the sun, I’m telling you.

Who she sleeps with is not about you, you jackass. This is such a good scene for her as an actor. And such a bad scene for him as a dad. He’s such a bad father. Which makes me about 400x more grateful that she basically has Henry as her Other Dad. Who does not suck as much. Damn.

Mmmmm, Henry’s glasses make a return.

Vic’s “don’t shit where you eat” is pretty rich, considering her multi-year boner for her boss, and then actually getting together with him.

I’m pretty ridiculously gone on Jacob. He walks back in at the end the ep and my sad little heart just goes pitter patter. I’d sort of forgotten that he doesn’t meet the blood-quantum requirements.

“Not cynical. Just suspicious.” No, no, suspicious aaand cynical. You’re mighty good at multitasking on the shitty stuff, Walt. The accusations he levels at Jacob are so utterly circumstantial, so completely without any shred of proof to back them up, but we’re still in the early days of the show, where we’ve seen him spin these “here’s what happened” things had seen them pan out, that the audience is inclined to believe him. Walt also has a tendency to complicate things.

If Jacob was setting up dominoes behind the scenes, the convoluted mess that Walt postulates still doesn’t really make sense. It would make more sense for Jacob to buy Malcolm’s debt in the hopes that he would possibly feel indebted or otherwise favourable towards him to not pass the blood-quantum resolution in the first place. Arranging a convoluted murder to get himself a place on the council when there are clearly election anyway is just... not clean, not smart, and too liable to go wrong. Jacob is careful and while he prefers delegating, a total wild card like Mika would be a huge risk for something that could blow up in his face so spectacularly. Walt, you make no sense. Como siempre.

This scene at the end with Branch and Cady reinforces my theory that Branch desperately wanted anything positive from Walt. “He’ll get over it.” “Yeah, with you. You’re his daughter. But me?” And that’s kind of gutting for him. So he squares up and off he goes.

“And I’m no quitter.” No, you’re a drama llama. Sheesh.

#Longmire #episode commentary #Mathias #Jacob Nighthorse #I sort of like Walt but mostly hate his fricking guts #I spend a decent amount of time yelling that he needs to be flung into the sun #Cady #Branch

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justicebled · 4 years ago

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𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 !

⛅️ friends of circumstance / accepting.

@sheyearns

honestly yuri can tell something is UP with lacie. and not necessarily in the good way. she’s morally...ambiguous in contrast to yuri’s strong, pretty pure, unflinching morals so there’s friction there. while he is chaotic / true neutral, there’s something dark about her that he can feel. he’s no spring chicken and the furthest thing from naive. not to mention she’s a noble. there’s an inborne predjudice because the nobles of terca lumireis taking out ioder / estellise are legitimately horrific and see commoners as literal cattle. i cannot tell you how many times it’s likely a seven or younger yuri lowell saw corpses of his own people rotting in the lower quarter and scattered to the four winds with no funerals, no respects, only taxes taken from people already bled dry and dying slowly. how many times he gave up his meager food to the younger kids and protected the elderly / less strong of his community. it’s not something he can easily shake.

he’s a very intuitive man and while he doesn’t know her, not really, i feel he’d be watching her very closely if she was joining his party. i won’t spoil, but he also does this to someone else, he keeps them in the party not out of trust, but because he wants to watch them and it’s easier to face the issue if they step out of line. aka, hurt his friends, threaten the safety of their goals, etc.

so while there is a high chance he could learn about her, and see that in many ways, in a more twisted way? confusing way? she’s like estelle in wanting freedom? she’s also very from my understanding of pandora hearts, uninhibited by any kind of morals save hers and her really messed up upbringing? and she seems like this very...whimsical character? so yuri would HAVE to keep his guard up. but if he gets to know the parts of lacie that genuinely...have compassion, curiosity, fun and affection for people in her life? even unselfishness? realizes that for all her own issues and hell, the entire cast is a broken wreck on both stories? then there’s a chance for him to see her as just lacie. so yeah, definitely a circumstantial friendship... and one yuri keeps a close eye on until lacie doesn’t necessarily prove herself? but she does show that she genuinely if you’d like her to, feli, care about the party and have fun with them. just don’t use your chain on random people, yeah? let’s keep the violence to justice (TM).

#𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ✴ —— either veiling a good heart; a hard truth or jest; there is no in-between.#sheyearns #hey feli!#my bad bein' late #you better stay healthy alright?#drink water today when u read this.

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stusbunker · 5 years ago

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“X” Marks the Spot

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Created for: @crashdevlin‘s dirty 30

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Reader, unnamed demon

Warnings: Angst, possession, branding, smut-adjacent activities, dub!con, face riding, gore, this got dark

^*^*^

He wasn’t looking at you, not really. He hoped you were in there, somewhere. That you could hear him, see him, fighting to get you back. But the demon that took over wouldn’t give up that control. Especially if it made a Winchester bristle.

Winchesters, always thinking that torture and threats were the way to get what they wanted. Demons worth their eyes didn’t care, some of them even got off on it. Feeling a vessel convulse and writhe in pain was its own sort of aphrodisiac. Too bad Sam didn’t want to hurt this one. He sat back, barely concealing his frustration over the impossible; exorcisms weren’t working.

“Oh Sammy, the things I’d do to you,” the demon purred, puffing out your chest coyly.

“It’s Sam,” he snapped back.

“No it isn’t, not to big bro and not to this hot piece I’m riding. She calls you that when she cums, doesn’t she? When you’ve got her worked up and shaking beneath you?” The demon chuckled, black eyes challenging as Sam tried to remain calm.

“It’s okay, big guy.” The demon started to whisper, “I won’t tell. It will be our little secret.”

“Shut up,” Sam replied, turning to go.

“Ouch, just turn your back on your girl. That’s cold, even for you,” the demon taunted. That stopped Sam on the spot, but he didn’t turn around.

“The thing is, you know the answer, Sammy baby. You just haven’t thought back far enough.” The demon twiddled your thumbs, the only thing the spellworked cuffs could allow them to do with your hands.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam cocked his head, looking over his shoulder.

“It means, you have been here before,” the demon enunciated like he was hard of hearing. “I mean, obviously you’ve been in her before. But I’m talking about circumstantially.”

“Her tattoo was cut, that’s how you got in,” Sam started walking though the process of losing you.

“Obviously.” The demon rolled its eyes. “That was some party you had for her. Half the bar had bought the birthday girl a drink. She should have been more careful.”

“But the exorcism, one of those should have worked,” Sam’s brow furrowed in frustration as he thought aloud.

“It’s okay, you’ll get there, you just have to remember a time when every other monster wasn’t your best of buds. When you still had a future to live up to, Dumbo.”

“Ruby?” Sam gasped, bile rising up in his throat.

The demon hissed, “so close, slick. Further back.”

Sam swallowed and cracked his neck, hands clenched at his sides.

“What my sister did to you, well, with you. That was— let’s say, I just wanted to see how you handled. Instead, I got this little thing on her own and well, let’s just say. I’d still like to see how you handle,” the demon winked, uncrossing your legs obscenely in the chair.

“Stop.”

“I’m just getting her ready for you, Sammy,” the demon moaned. “Because when you realize where I put it, you’re gonna need some, lubrication to find it.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. He subconsciously grabbed his right forearm, thumbing the now unmarred flesh. A vivid sensation of burning snapped his head up to look the monster in the eye. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“Just had to tuck it away, someplace safe. Didn’t want just anybody finding it… But I think you’ve got it now. And watching you have to mutilate your girl to get me out? It’s like Christmas and Hanukkah all wrapped into one!”

Sam backhanded the demon, rage burning faster than reason.

“She’s not gonna be able to feel anything again, Sam. You know that right?” The demon laughed, “no more ‘oh Sammies’ for you big boy.”

“No, you’re wrong. Because once I get you out, Cas is going to heal her. She will be fine.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” the demon sighed. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Sam stopped addressing the demon that had branded you, instead he forced himself to have a one sided conversation.

“Hey, baby, it’s gonna be okay. I’m just gonna start taking off your pants, and get you all cleaned up,” Sam’s voice was soothing, with a slight bite to the end. He stepped inside the demon’s trap, knowing the demon couldn’t do much inside the cuffs. The demon remained still, watching Sam intently as he lifted your body from the chair.

He marched to the shower room, where he set you down carefully in one of the stalls. The demon started kicking off your boots. Sam let it strip your body from the waist down, his throat thickening as it swayed your hips.

“You sure you don’t want to take these things off, we’d have a lot of fun,” the demon held out your hands. “I mean, it’s a shame to keep these tits covered.”

Sam didn’t reply, but kissed you on your forehead and reached behind your body to turn on the shower. The demon instantly cowered from the pelting water, but Sam held you firm. Letting the filthy thing squirm against the holy water as meager payback for what it had done to you. For what Sam was going to have to do next.

He knelt before you, strong arms holding your body up as he shouldered between your thighs. His eyes dragged over every inch of your folds, his hands gently pulling you open to inspect the damage. The demon had riled you up, his finger tips brushing against your juices as he checked on your clit. Everything was perfectly, you. Your smell was still strong and not yet defiled by demon stench.

He kissed your thigh and continued his search. The demon shuttered above him, but he tried to ignore it. Ignore that his care of you was somehow pleasurable for it. Sam sniffed, not realizing he was crying. He shouted over the water, “Baby, relax for me. I just got find the spell and you’ll be free. I’m so sorry.”

The demon clenched your thighs around Sam’s face, tossing one leg over his shoulder, seeking friction. But the constant assault of holy water had weakened it’s resolve, the steam from contact with its unholy flesh lost in the cavernous bathroom. Sam’s hands dug into the meat of your ass, pushing at your hips until the demon was against the wall. Slowly, Sam snaked a finger into your desecrated core.

He closed his eyes and used his muscle memory to search your channel. He inhaled in shock when he felt it, the tough raised flesh bulldozed over your inner patch of nerves. Carefully he retreated, leaving you on your own two feet. His lips pursed against the disgust and inevitability.

The demon groaned, hip checking him suddenly. Sam fell on to his back, as the demon sat on his chest, hands yanking at his hair.

“I know that’s not how you take her, Sam. One finger? With what you’re packing you get her ready with a single fucking digit?! No. Now we’re gonna have some fun because that was NOT the best you got. Was it?” The demon seethed above Sam, drenched and shaking against the pain from the shower and the effort to hold Sam down.

In one swift motion, it dropped your cunt on to Sam’s protesting lips, smothering him in your folds. The demon started to rock, teasing Sam’s perfect nose with your clit, beneath you Sam gasped for air, chin shifting against your ass as he tried to pry you from him. Quickly, the demon found its release or was too weak to keep up the assault. As soon as Sam could, he pushed you up, ring and middle finger sliding into your wetness.

With gentle nuzzles into your mound, Sam curled inside you until he felt the outline of the locking brand with the pads of his fingers. He didn’t have anything with him to break the seal, to release the magic holding that thing inside you. Anything but his nails. He locked eyes on the demon, looking into those void-deep pools and searched for you. For your forgiveness, for your permission.

Without the demon realizing it, you nodded your head. And Sam carved into you, scratching at the cursed mark with everything his trimmed nails could give. You and the demon both howled in pain as Sam heaved, breathing through what he had to do. It felt like the longest moments of his life, digging into you in the most unimaginable way. Finally the sticky warmth of fresh blood coated his fingers and he froze.

Time stopped, you looked down at him and he started to chant, head pitched against your thigh in exhaustion.

“ Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-” Sam’s baritone rose with each word.

You felt your body come back to you, the choking black smoke bailing through every orifice it could find, leaving you retching. You fell over, legs shaking and stomach churning as the burning in your core evened out. You had never felt so unclean. The exorcism spoken, Sam rolled to his side, eyes raking over every inch of you. His hand hovered over your thigh, unsure if you wanted him to touch you. Unsure if he could make himself do it again. You cried without sound, the sobs tremored through your body from head to toe.

Eventually, Sam stood up and shut off the water. Watching you curl in on yourself was too much and he left to get the blanket from your bed. No towel was big enough to hide what had been done to you. What his hands had done either.

You awoke hours later, in a spare bedroom, warm, dry and healed. Sam sat at the foot of your bed with a look of relieved exhaustion on his face. Cas and Dean stood in the doorway, leaving quietly as you started to cry. Sam held himself back, letting you process what happened from his perch. What happened had separated you two, in more ways than one. And no amount of angelic powers could fix that for either of you.

^*^*^

#sam winchester fanfiction #dark fic #sam x reader #dub!con #sam fanfic #sam smut #sam angst #happy birthday cassie!#possessed reader #genital mutilation #demons

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