#cw flashback ment

[aothotties]

Drunk Texting

Heyyyyy! Im Rachel, the other half of AOTHOTTIES. Like she said this is very much 18+ so minors DNI :)

I hope you enjoy this fic about your ex, Connie drunk texting you :)

CW: NSFW, oral (f. receiving), lil bit of overstimulation, pet names (daddy,papi,mami,baby, etc), creampie <3

also all the stuff in italics is flashback :)))) & there is a tiny crumb of Spanish in this cause Connie is literally Dominican idc.

Bitch fucj yoi

I hat evrythif about u 

Baby plse i muss you sm

I nevrw ment the things isaid to you

Fine syipid bitvh dont reply i literlt dont care 

Thats why i fckd spooo many bitcjes since i lefy your sorry ass

Y/N please answer me

You stared blankly at the multiple texts you received from your ex, Connie. You knew he was drunk, it seemed to be the only thing he did since you broke up. Messages like this were a common occurrence at this point.

Constance, get a fucking grip please 

You get a gril. You mak me sivk

Im begging you to get yourself together 

Shut up

I missyou sobmuch

Y/N im sorry

You’re fucking pathetic

Mami….

Turning on DND, throwing your phone to the opposite end of the couch you decided you were done with this sorry ass conversation. This was every fucking day. Connie spends the morning completely unbothered by you but by nightfall, an influx of jumbled messages that get progressively worse as the night goes on. If you're lucky you'll get a 10-minute-long voicemail that ranges from sweet words of him expressing his love to you all the way down to him cursing your name as he explains how much he hates you. You understood the apologies and the million i-love-yous, you deserved it. You were the best thing to ever happen to him and you both knew it. It was the anger and hatred that got to you. It didn't hurt your feelings, but it pissed you off. How could he be angry when he's the one in the wrong? He was the one that hurt you and he didn't deserve to be angry, you did. 

“Why the fuck are YOU angry, dickhead. You make me so fucking mad”, you mumbled to yourself as you thought about the day you broke up

“Baby, text my mom and let her know i’ll meet her at the airport at 8am and remind her not to forget my passport this time. And do your best to say it in spanish you know her ass can't speak english”

You were sad your man was leaving you to go to DR but his grandfather had passed and he was going to his funeral and to spend time with his family. His parents invited you to tag along but you weren't able to get the time off work at such a short notice. 

“Ok so i tried my best but i promise you she probably will know its me trying to speak spanish”

You laughed as you placed his phone back on the charger next to you. He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled and he continued playing his game as you sat next to him watching him lose for the 3rd time

His phone dinged next to you. You picked it up assuming it was his mom, but it was from an unsaved number.

“ what she say?” he asked also thinking his mother had responded

“It's not her it's just a random number”“Who is it?”

“I don't know I'll look”

Papi, te extraño.

Y extraño el bicho que me diste la ultima vez

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You didn't speak Spanish, but he had taught you enough to understand exactly what was happening. You couldn’t believe what you were reading as you felt tears well up in your eyes. Before you could even speak another message came in. a picture of her ass in the smallest thong you’ve seen with “Connie ❤️” tattooed on the cheek. At this point you couldn't stop yourself from crying.

Remembering seeing that image on his phone brought you to tears. “Dirty cheating bastard” you mumbled while you got up to wash your face in the bathroom. You kept replaying that moment in your head no matter how much you hated it, it was a day you'd never forget.

“Connie what the fuck? Are you serious?” yelling as you tossed his phone at him. He paused his game and shot you a confusing look then you watched as a guilty look washed over his expression when he looked at the phone

“Mami please, i can explain”

“Nah. save it. Get all your shit and get the fuck out”

You unplugged his xbox and removed it from your dresser. You tore through every drawer grabbing anything that was his and tossed it directly at him 

“Y/N please listen to me. It's not what it looks like Y/N i promise you. Baby please, look at me, please listen”

His words went in one ear and out the other as pain boiled over into anger and rage. The closet contained most of his things and you yanked the door open and began tearing all his clothes off the hangars, some ripping in the process

“Oh my god, Y/N you have to hear me ou – “

“I don't have to hear shit” you cut him off not wanting to hear another word out his mouth. “What can you even tell me right now? You're just going to explain something I can clearly see. There’s some bitch in DR you fucked when you stayed with your grandparents over the summer. Right now, she's eagerly waiting on you, missing the dick you gave her last time.”

Connie looked shocked and sad at the same time. He’s never seen you so angry before, you've always handled your emotions so well but this was the first time seeing you completely blow up

“Oh you thought i wouldn't understand what she said?” you laughed in his face. “ i know enough to see you're a piece of shit, get your shit off the fucking floor and get out connie” you tried to walk out but he grabbed you and pushed you against the wall

“No Y/N let me explain,please” tears ran down his cheeks as he begged you to listen. You tried to squirm out of his grip but he was too strong

“ i don't want to hear –”

“No please listen”

There was no escaping his grasp and you found yourself stuck listening to what he had to say.

You stared at your pathetic expression in the mirror as water trickled down your face. Could you really be here crying over a cheater? Was it seriously still affecting you after 5 months? Defeated, you slid down the wall in the bathroom and pulled your knees to your chest. With your face buried in your hand the tears began spilling as you continued to relive one of the most heartbreaking moments of your life 

“Y/N i know it looks bad but this is a misunderstanding”

It made you sick just looking at him. A cheating piece of shit staring down at you trying to make up some lies to get him out of the situation. If it wasn't for him having you pushed up against the wall you would have walked out, not even caring to listen.

“Look ok, we broke up that summer, remember? And I was kind of upset, so  my uncle decided to take me out to clear my head and I met her at a club. Y/N i don’t even know her real name. She goes by a nickname and I never even talked to her enough to find out – “ he was interrupted by you getting even angrier than before.

“So you don't even know this bitch? You just stuck your dick in the first person you saw when you got there? And don't give me that “we broke up” bullshit, Connie we talked the entire summer you were there and you know this. You called me every day to tell me how much you miss me and couldn't wait to come back so we can work on ourselves, just for it to be lies. You obviously didn't miss me enough to stop fucking around.”

“This was before that, it was when I literally first got there. Before I called you that one night, remember when I called you and we spent the entire night on the phone? That's when we started talking again. I had met her before that night and it was dumb but yes, I slept with her. But it meant nothing baby i promise you”

He started crying again as he was explaining what happened. You felt nothing while watching him fall apart in front of you. Even though he was practically falling to his knees there was something in your gut that made you feel like this was so much deeper that what he tried to make it 

“It was still  wrong, connie!” ,you found yourself screaming at this point, “if you KNEW you were on the island fucking with someone why would you even call me again? You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing!”

“Y/N, please listen, it was nothing. It was a stupid summer fling –”

Just like that..he told on himself. The situation he tried to pass off as a one-time quick fuck was actually a long term fling that lasted the entire time he was on vacation. 

In that instance you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. Tears began flooding from your eyes and you barely found the strength to whisper, “so it happened more than once?”

He swallowed hard before responding, “Yes Y/N, it did. And I know we were still talking but we still weren't technically together so i didn't think it was wrong. And she got the tattoo without even telling me, okay? She made it more important than what it really was. And when I came home I never spoke to her again. I can show you the messages i do not talk to this girl. I'm not even sure how she knows I'm coming again.”

With every word he spoke your heart broke more. He wanted to dismiss the situation and downplay it. This was obviously more than a summer fling to her and he must have given her reason to believe so. Connie was the love of your life and you never expected him to do something like this. You knew he was the one when you first met him. He treated you better than anyone ever had and no matter the ups and downs he was patient with you. He understood you were constantly at war with yourself, but he always calmed your storm and brought silence to your chaos. Yet here he was, standing in front of you, trying to justify infidelity. Anger arose in you again and you felt rage you've never felt before.

“Get your sorry ass out!”, you screamed as you slapped him across the face. He clenched his jaw and balled his fist and for a split second you though he was going to hit you back. But then he released the tension in his body and dawned a cold demeaner

“You know what Y/N, fuck you. And fuck this relationship. You're trying to make me the bad guy for acting single when i was….single. And as I'm here in front of you apologizing trying to show you that it was nothing, you act like the hard headed bitch you always are. I can't keep dealing with your bullshit, Y/N. so ill gladly get the fuck out because truthfully i fucking hate you.”

He grabbed your hand and slipped the ring off your finger then he turned to walk out of the closet as you stood there shocked. He had never spoken to you like this in the 4 years you were together. You had so much to say in that moment because how could he have the audacity to be angry right now, but you were unable to speak. You stood, dumbfounded, as you watched him grab his keys and walk out the door.

After that you didn't hear from him for 2 months straight. He reached out to you to genuinely check on you but in those months you had begun to heal and love yourself. You started therapy and worked closely with her to get over what he said and done. When you ignored the first message the angry, drunk, message started. 

You continued to sob on the floor. In these 5 months you gained so much strength, but you still had nights like this. Your broken heart still lingered no matter how much you thought you were over it and him. Every part of you still loved him and you wished you never saw the messages that day. You'd be married to the love of your life if you didn't. But instead of a happy life with him you were sitting on a cold floor crying so hard it was difficult to breathe. You decided to indulge in his coping mechanism. You pulled yourself up off the floor and went into the kitchen. You swung the freezer door open and grabbed the bottle of crown peach, it was his favorite and you avoided drinking it so as to not remind yourself of him. But you felt different tonight. In some sick way his favorite liquor made you feel as if you still had a part of him with you. The smooth liquor burned as you drank it straight from the bottle. As the liquor began coursing through your body you had an urge to text him. It was your turn to send the angry drunk texts and give him a taste of his own medicine. 

As you feverishly typed you heard your front door unlocking. Your best friend had a spare key but it wasn't like her to show up unexpected. You shrugged it off and locked your phone, taking her surprise visit as a sign you should just leave him alone. You heard footsteps through the hall that grew louder as they approached the kitchen. You turned to greet her but was shocked at the sight before. Connie, with bags under his eyes, was standing right in front of you, looking at you as if he’d seen an angel.  A few seconds of silence had passed as neither one of you knew what to say. A small part of you wanted to run into his arms, kiss him and tell him how much you missed him. But he cheated on you and told you he hated you. And he had to leave your house immediately.

“Connie leave. I forgot you still had your key, but you can leave it on the counter before you go”

There was no feeling in your voice and no expression on your face. You couldn't show him your hand and he had to believe you were over him. He started walking closer to you with tears pooling in his eyes.

“Y/N, i missed you so much. I'm sorry for barging in like this but I just had to see you.” words were spilling out of his mouth and he walked closer, “I'm a piece of shit okay? I know what i did was fucked up and not a day goes by that i don't regret it but baby i promise you she was nothing. I was wrong for being with her while promising you we’d get back together and I feel like such a dick. I hurt the only person I've ever loved and I'll never forgive myself for that but Y/N i can't stop loving you. I don't deserve it but please forgive me, please tell me you still love me as much as you did before this”, he sobbed, “i don't want to be with anyone else. I want you to marry me, Y/N. you're supposed to be my wife, we’re supposed to spend the rest of our lives together.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring he had given you before. He grabbed your hand to put it on your finger but you pulled away. At this point you were crying too. Those are words you wanted to hear this whole time. You spent many nights crying into your pillow wishing he’d call you to say that exact same thing to you. You wanted to take him back but you knew better than to give in

“How can we be together again, Connie?”, you spoke through tears, “I'll never be able to trust you again. You broke me, and I don't know if I can forgive you.” 

He grabbed your hands, fell to his knees and looked up at you as he pleaded, “Y/N please! I need you, I can't go on without you. I'll apologize every day for the rest of my life so you’ll forgive me, mami please I'm so sorry. I never meant the things i said to you before i left, i could never hate you, mami, you're the love of my life. The drunk texts were stupid, and all lies. I haven’t been with anyone since you because I can't get you off my mind. Please, please give me another chance, baby i promise i wont fuck it up this time. Please, I'll do anything to get you to forgive me” his sobs were uncontrollable as he begged for your forgiveness.

You looked down at him as he begged and cried. Unsure if it was the liquor in you or the lack of dick since he left but you became aroused at the sight in front of you. This man looking so pathetic on his knees, crying and begging for you to be with him again made a pool of wetness form in your panties. You stepped closer to him until his face touched your pelvis and you quietly thanked yourself for not wearing pants. 

“Anything?’ you seductively asked. Connie grabbed your hips to pull you closer as he took a deep breath of your scent. A bulge formed in his pants as your sweet smell filled his nose. He began kissing your clothed clit. A soft moan escaped your lips from the pleasure and was in this moment you realized how much you missed having his face between your thighs. His tongue darted out of his mouth and he licked your cunt through your panties. You whined, desperately wanting to feel his tongue again.

Connie grew hungry and couldn't bother to take your panties off. He moved the soaked fabric to the side and attached his mouth to your swollen clit. You let out a high pitched “baby” as the pleasure consumed you. His tongue licked from your hole up to your clit then back down. He continued this as your moans grew louder. The sound of your wetness echoed through your kitchen and Connie's dick pressed hard against the fabric of his pants that were now wet from his precum. 

He started to fuck your hole slowly with his tongue and you moved you hips up and down, grinding yourself on his face. Connie knew you loved this and knew it would bring you to your peak.

“Mm papi, just like that. please don't stop” you begged as your budding orgasm came close to the edge. “Cum for me mami, right in my mouth," he responded between licks. You put your leg over his shoulder for balance as you drew closer to your climax. His hands squeezed your thighs as your cunt clenched around his tongue, he knew from that alone you were about to cum for him. “Fuck baby, im cumming ah –” you shivered as your cum spilled into his mouth. He licked your juices making sure to not waste a drop.

He stood up and crashed his lips on yours. Connie kissed you as if it were the first time, the passion was tense between the two of you. You missed each other and your bodies missed each other too. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up. He started kissing the spot on your neck that he knew would make you melt. You threw your head back and moaned his name, knowing that would awaken the beast in him. He carried you to the room you once shared and laid you on the bed. You spread your thighs as he crawled between them. You could feel his dick pressing on your core and started grinding on him. 

“connie , i need it” you panted, grinding on him even faster.

“Un uh mami, you know you have to give me another one before i fuck you. Don't act like you forgot the rules”

He lifted your shirt and kissed from your neck to your chest. He brought his lips to your left nipple and pinched the right then switched to ensure they both got love. He planted kisses down your abdomen until he reached your cunt. He removed your panties wasting no time before latching again to your now sensitive clit. 

“Fuck mami you taste better than before. I missed tasting your sweet pussy every night” 

“ i m-missed squirting - mmm - on your face” you brokenly responded through your moans. You passed your fingers through his short silver hair, instinctively pushing his face deeper into your pussy. 

The overstimulation from his mouth was too much. “Connie baby! Too much – daddy please!” tears ran down your face as you squirmed under him. Your thighs tried to close to escape the stimulation, but he pinned your thighs to the mattress, “you can do it mami, one more time, just for papi. Can you give me another, princess?”, he slid his fingers in your cunt and curled them to hit your g-spot. His mouth found its way back to your clit as he finger fucked you harder. “Papi, ‘m gonna cum again” your body began shaking and your climax washed over you. You squirted on his face and he lapped it up as it spilled out of you. “good girl” he whispered as he came back up to kiss your cheek.

He slid off the bed and dropped his pants, taking his boxers down with them. Your mouth watered as you watched his dick spring out from its confines. He crawled back on top of you and lined his tip with your entrance, soaking it with your slick.

“Baby please don't tease” you begged as he rubbed his dick up and down your folds. Pleasure overcoming him, he slid into your cunt, sighing at the feeling of you clenching around his length. 

“Diablo, mami” he groaned as he came down to kiss you. He slipped his tongue in your mouth and deepened his strokes. You felt his tip hitting your cervix causing you to jump at the feeling.

“connie – fuck right there baby you're hitting it just right” you whined.

Hearing you say those words drove him insane. He picked up his pace and began bullying his dick into you. Your moans turned to slight screams and his groans grew louder.

“Oh mami”, he sighed, “i missed this pussy so much. You feel so good on my dick.”

Your walls began spasming as you reached your third orgasm for the night. Your hand clung to his back leaving scratches. Connie was fucking into you like a wild person. The look in his eyes was feral and the only thing on his mind was how good you felt taking his cock.

“ ‘M cumming papi, ah-, mm cant take it baby'.  you were a mess, tears staining your face, drool pooling on your chin. Your fucked out expression brought connie to his peak.

 “I'm gonna cum inside you baby. You want that? You want to feel me cum inside that tight little pussy?”

“Yes, cum inside me please baby, wan’ to feel your cum inside of me”

He groaned loudly as he came deep inside of you, hot ropes filling you to your brim. He slid himself out slowly and stared at your cunt, watching his sticky cum spill out of your fucked out hole. He rolled off and laid next to you. He pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around you

“ i really am sorry Y/N for everything” he said while tracing circles on your back

You grabbed his jaw and turned his face towards you then planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I know baby. Lets work on us, i want to be with you forever.” you whispered as you broke the kiss

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and closed his eyes to stop his tears from falling.

“I love you”, he whispered.

“I love you too” you responded as you drifted off to sleep with the love of your life

[thecreelhouse]

tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Some unexpected things come full circle in the busiest year of your lives yet; as if planning a wedding wasn’t enough to handle on its own.

Includes/CW: hurt/comfort w/ some angst (internalized ableism, PTSD, very vague and brief allusion to suicidal ideations, grief)— but the rest is sweet, tooth-rotting fluff, healing, brief alcohol/weed ment. & smut! (fingering, dirty talk, toys, shibari, switch!reader, switch!gator, praise kink, edging, one tiny mommy kink moment (i’m so sorry), sub-drop, aftercare)<3

WC: 11k+

〘 series masterlist ✧.┊this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧.┊listen to the series playlist ✧.┊read on AO3〙

A/N: this was supposed to be out months ago, but life happens, I guess. I wish this didn’t take as long as it did, and this was originally much longer, but thanks to y’all who voted in that poll, I decided to split this— so, yes, this series will have an extra chapter. if you’re still reading TLU, I appreciate you so, so fucking much, and I hope this was worth the wait. if you’re new here, I appreciate you checking this fic out!! enjoy, loves <3

chapter 9 ✧.┊

sugar - paper route

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ take me back / take me home / you were right all along / you are where I belong ♬ ₊˚.

Gator’s nightmares usually forced him out of a peaceful slumber, or kept him from resting at all; he’d go for walks around the neighborhood to clear his mind. Even when the weather was rough, he’d step out for some fresh air, finding solace even on the roof, among the lights and sounds floating up from the streets below.

Though you’ve reminded him plenty of times to wake you if he needs, he still felt guilty to ruin your good night’s rest for his own sanity. It’s the same flashbacks, same heartache as he wakes up and realizes it wasn’t just a bad dream, it was his reality, too.

Reliving the horrors of the moment Gator believed he’d die, leave this earth so young, without ever seeing you again— that alone made him dizzy with nausea. Experiencing the panic, the searing agony into unbearable, sharp pain of the blade in his eyes, half his vision going dark— it all reminds him of the limited time he has before his sight gets worse. It’s a ticking clock, mocking him over the inevitable as he cries to himself in the middle of the night; some nights, he’d ball up the sheets, slamming his face into the fabric before muffling his cries. Other nights, he’s slipping downstairs to ride out a panic attack alone, doing his best not to disturb you.

It didn’t take very long for you to figure out when he had a rough night; Gator could hide the truth all he wanted, but the dark circles under his eyes, the bloodshot tint in his good eye, jittery from being easily startled— they always gave him away.

Tonight’s no different; he tosses and turns until the nightmare ends abruptly, sending him into pure fear as he jolts up in a cold sweat, panting and clutching his chest. 

Shaking off his nerves, he glances over at you, back facing him as you sleep soundly. Your nightmares have begun to finally taper off, now manageable; it wouldn’t be fair to ruin another peaceful night of yours.

Throwing on his shoes, he silently leaves the apartment, still in sweatpants and a hoodie; the nights are getting cooler now that September is ending, and the crisp, autumn air is refreshing.

Gator lets his feet lead him aimlessly along the streets of Brooklyn; he’s still learning his way around, but he’s got some idea of his surroundings, at least.

Without much of a second thought, he wanders into the nearest corner store, buys a shitty, candy flavored, one-use vape for the first time in months. Regret can wait until tomorrow; right now, he needs the toxic, sickeningly sweet excuse of a security blanket.

It’s not long before dark, bleak thoughts cloud his mind; what if this isn’t right?

What if you just felt sorry for him? What if things are moving too fast? You went from no contact for a decade, to winding up engaged— did you really mean to say yes?

What will happen when Gator’s vision continues to decline? Will you still stick by his side? Maybe regret would set in, and you’d come to realize this relationship is a waste of time, energy, and love.

He can’t imagine being a burden to you forever. Though you insist he’s not, the darker side of self doubt rises up from the ashes of emotional and physical abandonment by his parents. 

Gator endured most of this life holding out some kind of hope his mother was still alive, even if it dangled by a fraying thread, placating him as he ignored the truth. He isn’t dumb, he never was, and deep down, he had a sinking gut feeling that he’d never see her again.

Knowing the full reality of it all, he knows now she never meant to leave him behind. Blood, metaphorical and physical, her blood, stained his father’s hands forever. And that monster didn’t give a damn. The only soul that had any importance to Roy Tillman was himself; looking back, it’s clear as day to Gator now. How foolish was he to believe if he just kept trying, kept pushing his own limits, that his father would finally show him the love and acceptance he always deserved.

Above it all, Gator felt guilty for mourning what his life could’ve, should’ve been; he has you. He has this new family, one that actually, truly loves him. This second chance has everything he could’ve dreamed of, and more. At least, he thinks he has it all. It’s when the self doubt spirals, dragging him into the darkest depths of his mind, that he second guesses and panics.

Did he really have a right to be hung up on the past when he’s finally safe and loved?

Do I even deserve to be safe and feel loved?

“Gator?”

Your voice breaks through the suffocating fog of skepticism, bringing him into the present and current surroundings. He must’ve continued to wander while overthinking, leading him to a bench in Brooklyn Bridge Park; he doesn’t answer you, throat dry and aching as he chokes back tears.

“Baby,” Your footsteps crunch along some leaves against the pavement, circling him to settle down on the bench. Your hands reach for his, finally bringing his attention to you. The white in his good eye is almost drowned out by a bloodshot, red tinge.  Immediately, your heart aches at the sight of his worn, weary features. “What’s going on?”

Gator opens his mouth, but can’t land on the right response; it’s not that he wants to lie, but there’s not much of a point in telling you the same nightmare terrified him to the core, kept him in a state of fight or flight. Instead, he turns back to the water, watching the bridge and city’s lights dance along the river’s surface.

“How’d you find me?” The way his voice cracks makes him feel so embarrassed, so weak.

“Real men show no weakness.”

He pushes the echo of his father’s bullshit to the back of his mind, focusing on you.

“We’ve been sharing our locations, remember?”

The first time Gator went for a walk in the middle of the night, you feared the worst, waking up to an empty bed and apartment. He’s the one who suggested sharing locations, just for safety’s sake; neither of you abuse the feature on your phones, always respecting one another’s alone time.

Nodding, he murmurs, “Right, forgot.”

“I know you do this to clear your mind, but you scared me shitless with that text you left behind.”

Gator’s brows pinch together, lost on your words. He glances back at you. “What text?”

You recite it with ease, but it still stabs at your heart,“I love you, and I’m sorry you have to love me.”

His face falls; he can’t even remember sending that.

“I- I rolled over and noticed you were gone, so I checked to make sure you were okay, and found that text. When I saw you were here, I couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking the worst.”

Oh, shit.

Now, Gator remembers, sending it in such a haste, not realizing the implications of his words. It startles you, how fast he moves, but he wraps his strong arms around you, hugging you close to himself.

“Shit, m’so sorry—“

“Don’t apologize, I’m just really glad you’re okay,” You sniffle into his shoulder, gripping him with as much force to match his own.

“It’s not what— I didn’t mean for that to—“ Gator pauses to sigh, but it comes out as a shuddered breath as the crying begins. “Sometimes I think you’d be better off without me, that everyone would be, but that’s not what I was tryin’ to say with that text. M’so sorry, Darlin’.”

Your arms wrap up around his head, pulling him close to rest against you, hand holding the back of his head gently. “S’okay, you’re okay, Gator. I never want you t’feel like you gotta hide this from me, but all that overthinkin’ is so far from the truth. We all love you so, so much. We want the best for you, not for you to leave. You are so loved and wanted.”

That’s when the floodgates open; emotions run high and carry waves and waves of self doubt out into the open for you to hear. He tells you everything, confides in you like he’s wanted to this entire time, but had himself convinced he should bottle it up instead.

“I’m not sorry I love you. Even if we did things so backwards, lovin’ you has always been easy, Gator.”

For someone who has felt he’s always been too much, too hard to love, hearing that chips away at the barriers built by fear seemingly overnight.

“Aren’t ya’ scared we’re movin’ too fast, though?”

“We’re moving fast, but I’m not scared. Gives us more time to experience life in other ways, together. Makin’ up for lost time, you know?” 

Gator pulls back to wipe his eyes, but you panic and grab his hands, gently pushing them aside. Scrambling in your pockets, you find your pack of tissues, gently blotting at the tears around his lids.

“You always carry those on you?” Despite the mental anguish, he can’t help teasing you. “Even in your PJs?”

“Gotta be careful, don’t want anythin’ to irritate your eye, or get in the other side before you get your fancy new eye,” You smile as you joke lightheartedly, voice and touch so tender.  

It’s so easy, so simple to feel your love in your touch and words; how could he doubt you, or your feelings?

He thinks back to a few months ago, when you panicked about a similar fear. “Why do we keep doin’ this?”

You frown, “Doing what?”

“Doubting ourselves and each other. S’like… we’re scared of love, or somethin’.”

You finish drying his face, offering a knowing glance as your hand retreats.

“It’s not like either of us were raised with unconditional love… can’t imagine that wouldn’t impact us as adults.” Once you shove the tissue in another pocket to worry about later, you grab his hands in your own. “Given the circumstances, I’d say we’re doing better than we give ourselves credit for.”

“Why the hell do I pay for therapy when talkin’ to you ‘bout this shit is free?” Gator rolls his eye, but it’s not malicious, it’s more of a jab at himself. It flutters shut, lid scrunching shut to stave off more tears.

“‘Cause I don’t have the answers, and you don’t, either. But that’s part of being together, figuring shit out as a team.” 

It’s muscle memory, the way you lift your hand to card through his bed head, gently scratching along his scalp in a way that always soothes him. You witness the tension leave his body as his shoulders fall loose, crinkles in his forehead smoothing out as your hand travels to cup the side of his face. 

When Gator’s eye opens, a tear tumbles down despite his earlier efforts as he looks at you.

“You sure you wanna be with a fuck-up like me?”

“If I thought you were a fuck-up, I’d never ask you to come home with me. You don’t give yourself the credit you deserve after all that growth and progress you’ve made since moving here. I can’t fix your past, but I can stand by your side for the future, s’long as you let me.”

All Gator wants is to lean close and kiss you, let his worries float away, but they’re stubborn as hell; a product of the source.

“What if my future’s already fucked up? Y’know this eye’s probably gonna go blind, too. Ain’t no way you—“

“I meant it when I told ya’ I’d stick by your side, no matter what. I’ll do whatever you need to make life easier to get through. Your needs are no burdens to me. Shit, I’ll describe the world around us if you wanted, or save up for a guide dog— whatever you need, I will support you, if you’ll let me. Before anything else, you’re my best friend first, and I’m not letting you give up on yourself, Gator. Neither of our futures are fucked up, not when we have one another to lean on and love.”

You hope your words don’t come off as romanticizing his suffering, you just need him to know how loved he is, no matter the severity of his disability. How he is worthy of being loved, by anyone, not just you.

Gator doesn’t believe your words fully, not just yet, but he nods anyway. He knows in time, with hard work, healing, and forgiving himself, he’ll realize you’re telling the truth.

Without fail, he can’t help coping with weak humor again, “Even if I bought a stupid fuckin’ vape?”

“Ew,” An exaggerated expression of disgust forms on your face. “That might be a deal breaker, babe.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya’ if it was. I took two hits and I thought I was gonna vomit,” He gags with a grimace, pulling the device from his hoodie pocket. “Waste of twenty bucks for a fuckin’ disposable one.” 

Out of curiosity, you pluck the brightly colored vape from his fingers to slot between your lips to pull. Immediately, the sickeningly sweet flavor makes you choke, sputtering out a cloud.

“This is so— ew, fuck, I should’ve thrown your old one in the snow last year.”

“That’d be bad for the environment.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

Gator frowns, “Since Miles gave me a crash course on climate change— hey, you should be proud of me me for pullin’ my head outta’ my ass on that one.”

“Thank fuck.” The response earns a pinch on your cheek from Gator; you swat his hand away, “Watch it, Tillman.”

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy that last name shit while it lasts,” He shoots a smug, yet tired grin. “Come next summer, y’won’t be able to use that anymore.”

“M’okay with that.” You snuggle into his side while he drapes an arm around your shoulders.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a little longer, watching the skyline’s lights glitter along the water before heading home.

···························

The following morning, Gator’s in higher spirits, excited to finally get his prosthetic eye.

“Hey, babe?”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you lean over the railing of the bedroom loft to find Gator standing by the bathroom door below, completely nude, stretching the phone in his hand up towards you, hoping you can see the screen clearly.

“There is…. So much going on right now, I don’t even know where to start,” You eye him suspiciously, while also leaning forward more to squint at the screen, only to realize how ridiculous this is. “Yeah, I can’t see a damn— Wait, why didn’t you just send this to me? Why are you naked? And since when do you call me babe?”

Gator snorts, lowering his arm; he answers none of your questions, just moves on with his own, “Can we get a bouncy castle for the wedding?”

“Is that what you’re trying to show—“ Your shoulders shake in a silent laugh, “Gator, you could’ve just texted it to me!”

“No, you woulda’ just sent a thumbs down back.”

“Oh my god,” You grumble, trying to stifle more laughs. “Okay, so why are you naked?”

“Why are you complaining?”

“I— I’m not!” You watch him disappear into the bathroom, with the sound of running water echoing out of the doorway. “You’re not gonna explain the bouncy castle?!”

“I gotta get ready!”

Rolling your eyes, you march downstairs and into the bathroom,

peeling off your clothes before opening the curtain around the clawfoot tub. Gator cards his hands through his wet hair, grinning down at you from under the shower head.

“Why are you naked?”

“Shut up, Tillman, I gotta get ready too.” You climb in, and from behind his arms wrap around you instantly. “No funny business—“

“What? I can’t hold ya’ now?” 

“Not if you— Gator.” He’s already handsy, large palms sliding up your curves as water spills over your skin. 

“M’just helpin’, I swear.” 

Before you can protest, he’s got soap in his hands, caressing it along your body. At first, it’s innocent, one of those sweet, domestic moments you’ve grown to love; it’s not long before he’s deliberate in his motions, growing hard against your backside.

“We don’t have time—“

Gator cups your breasts, squeezing softly and giving a breathy laugh at the way you try to suppress a whine, but miserably fail as his fingers graze your nipples.

“Yeah, we do.” He tugs at your piercings, lips ghosting the shell of your ear; his breath is hot, rasping out, “We always do.”

“Your appointment’s in an hour!” You hiss, but don’t make an effort to swat his hands away.

“Plenty of time to make ya’ cum, Darlin’.” He begins kissing down your neck, hips lazily bucking into you. Gasping, you feel his length slide along your ass, and you don’t stop yourself from pressing back into him.

“Okay, well, I take longer than you to get ready, so we…” Stealing away your attention is his hand, gliding down your soapy figure, and palming your core.

“Best place to get dirty’s in the shower, ain’t it?” You rock your hips instinctively, grinding into his palm. “Please, mama?”

Fuck. He knows by now asking for anything with those two little words, in that raspy, low, yet candied tone, makes you weak at the knees; you’re instantly putty in his hands.

“You’re a- ah—“ Whatever retort you had on the tip of your tongue— probably something along the lines of calling him a ‘spoiled rotten brat’— is drowned out by a breathy, trembling whine instead.

Thighs automatically closing around his hand, it earns a gravelly chuckle from him. Your fingers are gripping onto his wrist, holding him in place, grinding down again and whimpering.

“I- I— we can’t fuck in here, there’s— I got nothin’ to hold me up.”

“Who said anything ‘bout fuckin’?” Gator slides a finger along your folds, slick and warm with arousal. “I’m just tryin’ to take care of my girl.”

Okay. Maybe he’s not a brat.

“B- but—“ A finger slips inside of you, stealing your train of thought away with a shaky moan. “Wh- what about you?”

“Only got time for you, angel.” You almost believe him, if it weren’t for his persistent rutting against your ass. His cock throbs as he rocks it up and down between the curves of your backside. You clench around his finger, in time with his thrusts. “Don’t got time for that, though. It’d take all day to split you open for me.”

Caught up in bliss as another finger sinks inside of you, you’re unaware his other hand becomes occupied elsewhere. Holding himself firmly, he teases along your tight ring of muscle with the thick head of his cock, tugging a sharp gasp out of you.

“C’mon, angel, make a sweet fuckin’ mess for me.” Gator nudges his face into the side of yours, lips ghosting over your ear with a husky groan; that’s all it takes. His own lazy rutting against you mixed with your sweet noises brings him to bliss, too.

Arousal dripping down the curve of your ass, his cock twitches against you; god, you wish you could fuck him right now.

You’re both barely settled down, panting underneath the running water when he smugly states, “Bet I can make ya’ cum again.”

···························

“How’s it feel?”

Gator blinks a few times after the doctor fits his prosthetic eye in his empty orbit; he’s trying to get used to the feeling of curvature under his eyelids again.

“A lil’ weird. Not bad, just… whoa—“ With a nervous chuckle, he blinks a few more times, adjusting to the sensation. “Forgot what it feels like to have somethin’ in there.”

“Is it uncomfortable at all?”

He shakes his head, “No, aside from gettin’ used to it, it ain’t hurting me.”

The doctor smiles as she gives him a handheld mirror; he hesitates looking at his reflection at first.

“Take your time, it’s a lot to get used to,” She gently reassures him. “You’ve been through a lot.” 

Slowly, Gator raises the mirror to his face, breath hitching at his reflection in disbelief. His free hand holds the side of his face the prosthetic now lays in. 

It’s so… so real.

So it’s not a real eye. And yeah, it’s acrylic— not glass, like people assume— but it comes pretty damn close. He can’t believe his eyes. Well, eye, really.

It’s almost as if Gator’s staring at a photo of himself, dated before he was attacked. Except, truthfully, it’s also a completely different version of himself— aside from his vision being impaired, he looks healthier than he did a year ago. Feels it, too. 

His once pale skin has some color, and freckles, from where the sun kissed his cheeks in the summer. Though dark circles and bags become prominent after rough nights with bad dreams, they aren’t a product of sleepless nights working for his father, at least. He doesn’t slick his hair back to the point where it appeared glued down to his scalp; some days, it’s a light push back, but others, he can’t be bothered to deal with it. 

The most prominent change is how much happier he looks; his smile is no longer rare, nor forced. The fear of expressing feelings across his face has dissipated since leaving North Dakota. It’s incredible how distance can really do a person good when set between themselves and an abuser. 

Gator looks like someone he’s always wanted to be— a better version of himself, a work in progress, but still his own person— even with a missing eye. It’s something he’s still coping with, more good days than bad as time passes, but overall, he’d rather be happy and safe as he is now, than miserable, with vision intact.

“Holy fuck— oh, shit—“ He scrambles to censor himself in front of the doctor, “sorry, uh—“ She waves it off with a laugh.

“I’ve heard way worse, Gator. Big difference, huh?”

A grin grows across his face, tears welling up; they’re visible, even along the lash line of his prosthetic.

“This is…” Fingers skating along his cheekbone, he holds his face in disbelief. “Sorry, doc, I gotta say it. It’s fuckin’ amazing.”

Another wholesome laugh bubbles out of her. “You want me to call your partner back here?”

Gator nods, smiling so hard, his cheeks begin to hurt, but that doesn’t matter right now. He’s so caught up in admiring the craftsmanship of the eye’s details, he doesn’t notice you walk in; it’s not until you gasp softly that his head snaps up to see you.

The striking change of appearance brings tears to your own eyes; to see him with both eyes again is overwhelming. You’d never think less of him without the prosthetic, but you know how relieved he is to have an ounce of normalcy in his life again.

Though over time, Gator had become more comfortable in his own skin without an eye at all, but he was still self conscious at times; it’s hard not to be when some folks only see that, first, and not all of you.

Shyness sets in as your stare lingers on him. “Is it okay? Ya’ like it?”

Before you can answer, the doctor moves for the door, “I’ll give you two some space. When you’re ready to check out, just head back to the front desk.” She gives Gator a reassuring smile, to which he nods, smile breaking through his sheepishness. 

Crossing the room, you sit in the chair next to Gator, hand gravitating to cradle his face, and like time, and time again, he leans into your touch. “Honey, it doesn’t matter if I like it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s incredible, but I like you, with or without it.”

He rolls his eyes, impressing you with the way the prosthetic moves almost seamlessly in time with his real eye. He can roll them as hard as he wants; you know deep down he’s a sucker for when you’re cheesy in your truths.

“What matters most is if you like it.” Your stare locks with his, and it’s surreal to see his gaze meet yours with both eyes again, even if only one can see. “So… do you?”

“Wish I could see with it, that’d be fuckin’ sick.” He jokes, deflecting for only a moment. “But this is the next best thing, and I’m happy with this. Felt like somethin’ I wanted to do, rather than needed to do. Means even more ‘cause everyone helped me get it.”  The sigh that leaves him has a hint of relief, like this is one less thing to worry about, on a surface level, at least. “I like it. I really, really do.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, Gator.” Quickly, you peck him on the lips, smiles intertwining with one another. “Ready to go home?”

“Yup.” Gator pulls you up with him, stifling a snicker, “Can’t wait to show ‘em all my fancy, new, designer eyeball.” Though you try to keep stoic, he wiggles his eyebrows at you, only breaking your expression into laughter.

“Lemme guess, you’ve been sittin’ on that one for awhile, huh?”

“Oh, it’s the whole reason I got this damn thing, just to crack bad jokes.”

···························

“Whaddya’ mean you don’t have your costume picked out yet?” Gator’s voice floats down from the loft, on a video call with Dot and Scotty. “Halloween’s next month!”

Dorothy suggested staying in touch after the insanity they both endured. Neither of them forced Scotty to forgive Gator for the break-in, and everything that followed, but she did, all on her own. It started with quick hellos while her mom caught up with Gator, eventually turning into what it is now— Scotty stealing Dot’s phone, chatting Gator’s ear off for hours.

Not once did Gator ever complain; if anything, he was grateful Scotty saw him past the horrid shit he felt obligated to carry out, for his father’s sake. For a kid— now 12– she was smart as hell, had no issue catching onto details intentionally left out. Maybe she doesn’t know everything that happened, nor does she need to, but she knows enough to see the good in Gator, especially if her mom trusts him, too.

You’d always give him space during these calls, though half the time, he’d invite you to chat with them, too. Whether involved or not, you couldn’t ever miss the way Gator’s face lit up talking to the two of them— even when Wayne would jump into the call every now and then.

Over time, this little family, one Gator was once forced to only see as an obstacle in pushing Dorothy back to his father, became his own; distant roots still tying him to the Midwest, but without the same dread and hopelessness his father gave him.

As Gator criticizes Scotty over her unpreparedness for Halloween, you shout up to the loft, loud enough for her to hear over the phone, “Gator doesn’t have a costume either!”

Scotty’s laugh echoes out from the phone’s speaker, with Gator scoffing over her. “Aw, c’mon, you two can’t be gangin’ up on me like that.” He makes his way downstairs, narrowing his stare at you before asking the young girl, “Where’s your mom? She’d back me up.”

“No I won’t, Gator.”

Dot’s distant, off-camera response makes you snort; Gator throws his head back, groaning dramatically, but it’s all in good fun.

Scotty’s voice falls into a whisper, giggling, “S’okay, Uncle Gator, I got a whole list of costume ideas I can share.”

“That’s kind of ya’, kid, but I doubt I can pull any of ‘em off.” You catch the way his grin widens over the way she calls him her uncle. “But I can help ya’ narrow some ideas down.”

The two continue to chat on and on as you watch from afar, heart only growing at the way Gator interacts with Scotty; it’s these little moments that make you believe he’d be so good with a kid of his own.

That same joy is only squashed by reality within seconds; you can’t bring yourself to try and have another baby. You swore to Gator you’d never take that risk with him, only in fear of breaking his heart even more than it’s been broken time, and time again, his entire life. 

Yet these little examples only grow the yearning to start a family of your own over time. And maybe, the two of you could adopt someday; family is family, not always by blood, but always by love. 

Your mind wanders; if Gator was still in your life when you were pregnant the first time, after your half-assed hookup ditched, how different would life be? How would your lives intertwine if you were able to have your baby? Would Gator have offered to co-parent a kid that wasn’t his own?

It’s a blessing in disguise he wasn’t here for your baby that’d never arrive; at least only one of you lives with this god-awful, perpetual grief.

Throat tightening over your thoughts, you shake them from your mind; this is something that you can think about farther down the line. Right now, it’s not urgent to figure out, but your emotions are creeping closer to breaking; you slip away as Gator’s occupied, heartache leading you into the unfinished nursery.

Guilt blankets over you as you flip the soothing galaxy lamp on, sitting on the rug in the middle of the room; a soft, plush oval, perfect for the tummy time your baby should’ve had if they survived.

It’s fascinating, how trauma shapes us, how certain triggers hide in plain sight, and what soothes us when the pain begins to burn all over again.

Eyes wandering around the room, they fall on the unfinished baby blanket, still abandoned on the rocking chair, threads of yarn connected to their original skeins. You haven’t touched it since the day you came home with a void in your belly and heart; it just never felt right finishing it for anyone else, not even for yourself, out of comfort and grief.

“Darlin’, what’re you doin’ in here?” Gator’s voice sounds so far away as your past swallows you whole. You don’t even realize how you’re gripping onto the rug beneath you, digging your fingers into the plush fiber, until he slowly slides his hands over your own. “You’re gonna break your knuckles grabbin’ that hard. C’mon, loosen ‘em up for me.”

You shrug, unable to lift your stare to his own. 

Gingerly, he unfurls your fists, slipping his hands into yours, thumbs rolling over the sore joints in your fingers. 

“Talk to me, angel.”

Bottom lip jutting out into a pout, you keep your gaze fixated on your hands together. 

“M’sorry I can’t give you a family,” It spills out, and you internally curse yourself for sounding so pathetic. 

“Hang on, where’s this comin’ from?” He scoots closer, hands moving to cup your face; his thumbs now roll over your tears spilling down your face. “We talked ‘bout this, Darlin’, you got nothing to be sorry for. Certainly not for somethin’ that far outta your control.”

“It’s stupid—“

“Nothing’s stupid if it upsets you,” His reminder isn’t condescending, if anything, it’s comforting reassurance. “Remember?” 

He’s vaguely referring to the few therapy sessions you did together; though healing, the hard work is reminding yourself of the truth outside of a session.

Nodding, you finally lock eyes with him; his expression hurts your heart even more.

“There’s just— there’s these times when I see or hear you bond with Scotty, and I love that, but then my mind spirals thinking about how great you’d be as a dad—“ Gator shakes his head, and your brows furrow. “No, I mean it. You’ve got a big heart, and I- I think your dad was terrified of that, convinced ya’ it wasn’t right to show care for others.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d be a great dad.”

“I wish you could see what I see when you interact with her. It’s genuine, and I—“ You feel foolish for getting so worked up, unable to articulate your emotions. “I hate holding you back on anything.”

“You’ve never held me back on a damn thing, Darlin’.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his side, embrace instantly soothing you, just not enough to erase your worries. “S’okay if we can’t have a kid, you know that. And it’d be okay if we could, but you didn’t want to. I want you healthy and happy before anything else in this world.

“We can be the fun aunt and uncle to everyone else’s kids.” There’s a pang in his chest, but he pushes past it with a smile, genuine, but hiding the ache his heart shares with yours. “Just wait ‘til someone here has a kid, we’re spoiling ‘em rotten. A- and we could adopt, if ya’ really wanted someday. Bein’ here with you and everyone has showed me family isn’t some cookie cutter bullshit; it’s unconditional love and support, and all that shit.

“And I still mean it with no pressure, if ya’ wanted to take that risk, I’d happily take it with you. Or if you said to me, “Hey, Gator, I wanna get, like, fifty more cats,” I’d be down for that, too.”

That pulls a small, short lived laugh out of you, but he takes it regardless.

“Whatever the future’s got in store for us, it’s gonna be good, ‘cause we got each other.” He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you, and there ain’t a thing in this world that’ll change that.”

Though you know he’s being honest, there’s still something deep down tugging at your heartstrings, and it’s not guilt. It’s a longing for something neither of you will have.

Never once had you yearned for a domestic future with someone, settling down and living lives intertwined, building something precious that couldn’t ever be replaced. It wasn’t until Gator came back in your life that everything you were certain you’d never budge on, changed. Not by force, or obligation, or guilt, but by love.

With Gator, it’s always by love.

···························

Halloween comes and goes in a blur; while you were caught up in wedding planning, Gator took the liberty of ordering costumes for Bea’s annual Halloween party, and god, you wished you stopped him.

Amidst the stress of planning, your fiancé settled on Mario Kart costumes— predictable. Which, fine, alright, it was something, except the Mario and Princess Peach costumes he ordered were messed up; you were both left with those damn, silly, inflatable Yoshi costumes instead.

“How the fuck do you mess up this bad?” Gator grumbled, shoving the package away on the floor with his foot. “That ain’t even remotely close to what I picked!”

Too late to grab new costumes, the two of you arrived to the rooftop party as a miserable pair of inflatable Yoshis.

“When we said y’all were likely to do matching costumes… didn’t think you’d take it this literal,” Jinx snickered, while Ivy ducked her head into her friend’s shoulder, trying to stifle her laughter. They dressed as Scully and Mulder from The X Files.

“It ain’t our fault they sent us the wrong costumes,” Gator threw his hands up, but one of his puffy, inflated sleeves hit your face, sending your friends into more giggles. “Whatever, I need a beer.”

“Fuck that,” You muttered while in tow, “I need a blunt.”

As the night went on, though, the more intoxicated the both of you became; you loosened up, finding the humor in the poorly timed mistake.

“Just wait, next year, Sunshine and I are gon’ have the best fuckin’ costumes ever,” Gator slurred, flopping over in a bean bag near you, with a beer in hand; miraculously, he didn’t spill a drop.

Meanwhile, you’re stoned, giggling over every damn thing around you.

“Yeah, sure thing, Gate.” Ty, donning a perfect Dr. Frank N Furter costume, snapped a quick photo of the two of you, whacked out of your minds in the comical costumes on a disposable film camera. “Can’t wait to get that developed.”

Gator handed his beer to you, struggling in his puffed up costume to roll off the beanbag, attempting to steal the camera. “You lil’ shit, delete that!”

“Dude, it’s film, I can’t delete it,” Ty cackled while pocketing the camera out of reach. “Thought you were old and grew up with that shit.”

“Old?! That’s it—“ Ty sprinted off, with Gator waddling in that goddamn disaster of a Yoshi costume after him; you giggled again, sinking into the bean bag with a content sigh.

Well… there was always next year.

 Shortly after Thanksgiving is when you send out save the date cards, and that’s when things begin to gradually stress you out.

“Hey, Darlin’,” Gator called out as you were halfway out the door. He turned back to the kitchen table to grab a lonesome envelope, “You forgot one.”

Your face fell as you shook your head. 

“No, that’s— I was gonna send one to Ma, but I dunno,” You swayed back and forth on your feet anxiously, contemplating for a beat before you waved it off. “It’s okay, prolly’ shouldn’t send it anyway.”

You were out the door before he could even respond.

Gator knew from the joint therapy sessions and conversations you brought up on your own that you wished things were different with your mother. He knew of your inner conflict, torn between forgiving her while accepting things would never be perfect, or moving forward in your life without reaching out.

He’d never force you to forgive her— that was your decision, and yours alone— but he remembered the way you tried to help her leave your father, the night Gator stepped in and saved you from your father’s abuse, one last time. How heartbroken you were to hear her say it’d be better if you were gone, too; that your father never wanted daughters to begin with.

Over time, you realized that was probably a last ditch effort to save what she was warped into believing was right: to keep sweet and obey, knowing “her place” as a woman. Certainly she was complicit, allowing your father’s abusive behavior to slide, but it wasn’t as cut and dry as you once believed it to be; she was also abused, too.

Neither justification nor excuse, the change of perspective helped understand what she endured. Maybe you’d never have a decent mother daughter relationship, but it could help you move forward; you’d given her many chances to make things right, but it’d be worth one final shot without your dad around. 

Torn on what to do, Gator quickly grabbed the envelope anyway; he’d ask Bea for advice, and go from there.

There wasn’t much reason for you to stress in perfecting everything for the wedding; after all, it would only be a small gathering with the few people you both know and love. Still, it consumed much of your free time, and you also couldn’t deny that it was also fun to plan a wedding with your best friend, but you definitely needed to unwind.

Christmas Eve is when you finally get a chance to relax; the holiday becomes an unspoken tradition as a day filled with filth, far, far from its original meaning. To one-up the previous year, the two of you exchange one gift each at midnight, on the dot; gifts you certainly would never open in front of anyone else. 

The exchange escalates as soon as wrapping paper is torn open; you receive a gorgeous lingerie set, and Gator is gifted a—

“… Is this what I think it is?”

A laugh is stifled as you bite your lip. “Uh-huh.”

Gator’s silent, taking in the unopened box in his hands. There’s no build up to a rosy tint across his face, just zero-to-sixty right to a flushed, bright red.

“I, uh… I wanna laugh, ‘cause it’s funny, but… uh—“

“You’re turned on, huh?”

He grabs your hand hastily, leading your touch to his thick bulge; he doesn’t need to beg, you’re already giving a generous squeeze, shuddering a moan out of him. Lids fluttering shut, his head lolls back, bucking into your palm.

Once mockery, to teasing that faded into playful flirting, and now an inside joke, leads to Gator’s first gift this Christmas being a goddamn fleshlight.

Yeah, you and Gator were going to hell, if it exists; no doubt about that one.

“Wanna find out how close it is to the real thing?”

···························

All you want for Christmas is to make Gator a whiny, submissive, unraveled disaster. 

Judging off the way you eventually have him bound, kneeling in front of a mirror, stroking him off with the new toy from behind, it’s safe to say you get what you wanted.

“God, baby, you’re a wreck.”

Struggling against basic shibari knots holding Gator’s arms behind his back, his thighs twitch, knees on the floor beginning to slip apart as his hips jolt into your movements. 

The dimly lit room illuminates just enough of his figure to admire the artful restraints; you’re nearly drooling at the thought of those pretty indents the rope will leave behind across his chest, his muscles. Especially his arms— Christ, you’re a fuckin’ sucker for ‘em; whether around your neck, or tied back on your own accord, they’ve got you in a chokehold— no pun intended.

Raspy, broken whimpers tumble from his lips, watching himself come apart while you lean over his shoulder, kissing his jaw softly as he trembles against your lips.

“You’re so pretty when you’re needy and helpless.” His thrusts trying to meet your strokes become sloppy, signaling his impending release. Stare meeting his in the mirror, you smirk, just enough for him to notice.

“N- no, wait—“ He throws his head back onto your shoulder as you slide the fleshlight off his length completely. Panting with a pained expression, he’s ready to break, hissing out, “Fuck!”

Gator’s cock kicks, slapping against his stomach while it weeps with arousal, dripping down to the base of his shaft.

Eyes trailing down the front of his reflection, you roll your hips forward, grinding against his backside. One hand splays along his tummy, sliding down through the pearly arousal to his happy trail.

“Color?”

He gasps, finding you in the mirror again, glued to your every move.

“Green, real fuckin’ green,” His eye becomes glazed over with desire and the urge to cry packaged together. “‘Cept you’re in for it when ya’ untie me.”

“Huh… maybe I’ll just keep you tied up forever then.”

Gator’s cock pulses, more pre spilling over his head, leaving even more of a milky, sticky mess against his stomach.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You’re having way too much fun with this, while a boost of confident in the lingerie he bought you adds to the power trip. “Keep you all tied up just to use you when I want.”

“Please— just, fuck, just touch me ya’ fuckin’ tease!”

You giggle, nipping at his jawline. He whines, wanting nothing more than your touch on his aching cock. “Go ‘head, keep calling me that, it’ll just drag this out even longer.”

“You’re fuckin’ sick for this,” Gator grunts as you plunge the toy back onto his length. “Fuck! Fuck. F- fuck— you’re a spoiled, rotten, brat. Y’know that? Gon’ be so sor—”

A gravelly moan rips through his own words, interrupting himself.

Steadily stroking him, he pants wildly as he inches closer to unraveling before your eyes. His legs shake, threatening to give out into collapsing, so you take some pity on him. Without moving away, you reach to the bed, pulling some pillows to the floor; with one hand, you quickly stack a few to sit on, and one to slot between your legs, spread wide. 

“C’mere, babe,” You gently guide Gator back to rest himself against your chest, legs finally giving out as he moves. “Poor thing, so fucked out already.”

Shoulders shaking, chest heaving, his breaths are shallow as he whines again, tossing his head back onto your shoulder. His face is bright red with warmth and humiliation, tint slowly splotching down his neck and to his chest.

“Ain’t even my real pussy and you’re still such a wreck. At least it’s not a fuckin’ sock.” As you taunt him, your voice is laced with a false sense of sweetness. He pushes back into you, fingers brushing against your core to unexpectedly make you whimper. “Can’t have both, baby. It’s the real thing or a toy, and I don’t think you want me to stop again, do you?”

Gator shakes his head, yet still plants his feet on the floor, pushing and writhing against you again. Your legs hook around his, holding them in place.

“Feels… feels so fuckin’ real.” He doesn’t even care how pathetic his admission sounds, he just knows he’ll go crazy soon if you don’t fuck him— toy or the source. His hips buck up, but he can’t make it very far as you keep him pinned to the floor. 

“As good as the real deal?”

“N- no, it’s… ah, a- ah!” You can’t tell if it’s sweat making his tortured expression glisten, or tears of pleasure. “Pl- please? Please?”

Gator’s a complete disaster by now, and though you had every intention of teasing and toying with him all night, poor thing probably needs the mercy even more.

Nuzzling your face against the side of his, you kiss his cheek, then his temple, murmuring, “Let go, baby.” Breathy, raspy whimpers build up, with his cock twitching inside the toy. “Cum for me.”

Those three words are the final spark that catches flame, cresting Gator into bliss. It’s a different type of high when you’re the one leading him into it; right now, his moans break apart with him, crumbling into the palm of your hand. He’s not just leaning against you, he’s slumping into your form, trembling as his cock throbs and spills into the fleshlight.

“That’s it, sweet boy,” You coo into his ear, eyes flitting between the view over his shoulder, and the reflection in the mirror. Head lolling back onto your chest, Gator’s face glistens in the dim light as he continues to cry through his moans and—

Oh. He’s really crying.

It’d be jarring to cut his orgasm short, so you guide him through it, just as softly and sweetly as you intended.

“So good for me, Gator.” You hold his hip with your free hand, rubbing soft circles into his burning skin; it’s a firm grip, but not enough to hurt or distress him further. “You’re okay, love. S’okay, I got you. Always got you.”

His chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly while bucking up into the toy. You trail kisses from his cheek, down his neck. He begins to come down, body relaxing against yours, moans dulling down to softer, weary noises. 

“M’sorry,” He croaks out, shuddering out some softer cries. His hips finally go slack; gently, you pull the toy off of him, setting it aside and paying no mind to his arousal dripping out. “I tried, I- I couldn’t, I—“

Undoing the knots, you glance up at the mirror, and god… Gator looks broken, and not in the fun, kinky way.

“It’s okay, Gator. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” You pull the rope away, fighting the urge to pull him into a tight embrace, not wanting to hurt him if he’s sore. “Just take a second to breathe, I’m right here with you.”

Eventually, you help him into bed, grab some water and your favorite aftercare snacks before sitting behind him, gingerly massaging his arms and back with lotion where the rope indents are, still warm from pressure. The pretty lingerie set he gifted you is long forgotten on the floor, ropes thrown towards the mirror you played with Gator in front of.

“Hey,” You break the comfortable silence, almost regretting it, but you feel the need to remind him, “We don’t have to do that again.”

Gator’s barely crying, voice a little sniffly and thick as he looks over his shoulder at you, “I liked it, I promise.” He shivers when your hands glide to his shoulder blades, kneading his muscles with care. “That’s… that ain’t what made me cry.”

“What was it, then?”

“I… don’t know.” Gator pauses, a little ashamed, “Is that normal?”

“Uh-huh, remember how I got all weepy last year, Christmas morning?” Kissing the base of his neck, he shivers again. 

“Yeah, but wasn’t that a sub-drop?” You give him a look, patiently waiting for him to catch up. “Oh… Oh. That’s what happened? Just now?”

You nod, leaving a few more sweet kisses along his shoulder. “It’s different for everyone. That scene was kinda intense for us, and it’s normal for emotions to run high. And whether you realize what caused it or not, you’re allowed to feel what you need to feel.” Quickly, you remind him, “If something hurts, or makes you uncomfortable, you know you can tell me, right?”

He nods, “I know, yeah. It didn’t hurt, it felt good, promise. S’gonna bug me if I can’t figure out what got to me, though.” Laying down, he flips over, reaching out for you. You get cozy next to him, bringing him into a gentle embrace.

Caressing wherever your fingers reach, Gator hums, arms winding around your waist as he snuggles closer, head resting on your chest.

He’s quiet for a minute or so, and you give him the space to think. His voice drops above a whisper, “I like when you take care of me.”

“Yeah?” He nods, nose accidentally brushing against one of your nipple piercings, making you both tiredly laugh. It puts you at ease, how much calmer he sounds. “I like taking care of you, Gator.”

“And I— don’t get me wrong, I like taking care of ya’, Darlin’. But it feels really good to not… think, y’know? Just let ya’ take control. I think that’s what got me all worked up.” He rolls onto his stomach, draping a leg over yours, gaze meeting your own. “No one— shit, this feels so dumb gettin’ all emotional in bed, guess it ain’t the first time, though.”

“S’okay, take your time.”

He huffs out a breath, tickling warmth along your chest. “No one’s ever bothered payin’ much attention to me, ‘cept you. It got to me, thinkin’ about it, and all. I feel bad for even bein’ upset, especially while you— you’re—“ He makes a lazy, stroking motion with his hand, limp in the air before flopping it back to the bed. You giggle, earning a half-smile from him. “It started as a happy thought, I swear. Still is. Just wish it didn’t take so long to feel cared for. Or how long it took me to realize you cared our whole lives.”

“Like I said,” You kiss the top of his head, hugging him tightly. “We’re making up for lost time. Trust me, I wish it didn’t take me that long to figure us out, either, but we got our whole lives ahead of us.”

Gator shakes his head, “That ain’t promised to anyone, y’know.” He’s not wrong; If anyone knows how fragile life is firsthand, it’s him.

“So we take it a day at a time,” You compromise, carding your fingers through his hair loosely. “We enjoy the time we have together, make the most of it. All that cliche shit.”

There’s no answer, only comfortable silence that returns. As the minutes pass, you assume he fell asleep, until a question fills the air.

“When’d you learn to do that shibari shit anyway?”

You snort, “That is what you’re asking me after our heartfelt moment?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.” He leans up, smirking at you; it’s a relief to see him calmer than earlier, despite the question at hand. “Had to be way before we got together.”

Oh boy.

“Well… remember that time when we were snowed in—“

“What if I said no?”

“Then you’re not getting an explanation, dickhead.”

Gator chuckles, kissing up your chest softly before resting his head on your shoulder. “M’sorry, go ‘head and tell me.”

“The first night we fucked, when ya’ got mad I stole your pants,” Snickering as you recall the memory, he rolls his eyes with a groan.

“That was a heat of the moment kinda’ thing!”

“Can’t believe you gettin’ pissed I stole your pants led to us planning a wedding.”

“Oh m’god, you’re the fuckin’ worst,” Though he grumbles, he’s still smirking.

“Anyway, ‘member when I teased ya’, said I probably gave more girls orgasms than you did?” Your voice squeaks nervously. “And, uh, remember when I said I used to strip for a bit?”

Eyes wide, Gator sits up, head bumping into your chin; the two of you gasp at the sudden impact, unraveling into giggles.

“Shit, m’sorry—“ He gawks at you, wheels turning in his head. “Wait… so what you’re sayin’ is— you mean— while you were strippin’?” He can’t form a coherent, streamlined sentence, not when his dick takes over his thoughts. 

“No! Not during, but—“ You bite your lip, eyes screwed shut, trying not to display amusement over the way he’s easily wound up over this. “Me and a lot of the girls liked talkin’ ‘bout toys, and sex, and all that stuff. I learned a lot about kink from them. Felt safe, honestly, with people I trusted, y’know?”

“Yeah, sure, yeah,” He perks up, licking his lips, ignoring the fact he’s stiffening up against your leg. “Go on.”

“Gator.”

“Hm?”

“Are you hard again?”

“Oh, wh— no, that’s just— I’m listenin’, I swear!”

“Yeah, real intently, I can tell,” He narrows his gaze as you tease him. “I don’t know much beyond basic knots, but that’s where I learned ‘em from. And at the time I was, uh, curious, and that led to, y’know… things. And stuff.”

“Things and stuff. Okay, ‘Darlin, y’wanna elaborate?”

You grin devilishly, “Nope.” Sinking under the covers, you flip over to turn the lamp on the nightstand off. “Love you, g’night!” It’s only off for a second before Gator literally rolls over you to turn it back on.

“Hold the fuck on,” He straddles you, cock kicking upright as he grabs your shoulders. “You can’t just— how the hell am I supposed t’sleep after you drop that?! Christ, please tell me y’have a pic or somethin’.”

“Hey, don’t be gross, babe. None of that fetishizing shit—“

“I’m not, I swear! Even if it was with guys, o- or anyone— do y’know how hot this is to hear? Holy shit, Darlin’… can’t believe how innocent you used t’be.” He ruts against you, low groan rumbling out of his chest. 

Unfazed by the way Gator thinks with his dick, you reach for your phone; it takes no time to find a specific photo for him at all. Handing it over, he fumbles it with clumsy hands, with a lucky catch steadying his grip.

“Just me, and even if I had anything with anyone else, it wouldn’t be right to show without consent.”

“No, yeah, right, of course—“ He’s nodding animatedly until the phone’s screen comes into view. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s an older photo, one where you’re bound so beautifully, bliss written all over your face, mid-moan, with a vibrator tied to you. He’d consider this fine art— but he’s keeping that thought to himself; you’d tease him for days if he said it out loud.

“Would…” He swallows audibly. “Would you teach me how to— I wanna— would you wanna do this? Like, let me do it to you, I mean.”

Flustering Gator into a stuttering mess never ever grows old. Biting back a grin, you nod, hands sliding up his thick, muscular thighs. Little by little, they inch higher and higher, pausing at his hips. The hitch in his breath is delicious, so you continue teasing him, traveling up his body with your touch.

Once your hands pass his hips, his head lolls back with a disappointed groan. 

“Darlin’...”

Finally reaching his hands, you pluck the phone from his grip, tossing it aside on the other side of the bed.

“Tomorrow. You have me all day, I’m all yours if you wanna play.”

“Not all day.”

“Okay, fine, all morning—“

“Why can’t we just stay up?” He pouts, pushing your legs apart. “C’mon, we can sleep in, we ain’t got plans ‘til, like, two. Plenty of time—“

“You always think there’s enough time—“

“‘Cause I’m right, and y’know it.” Sliding onto his stomach, his arms hook around your thighs before he settles between them, resting his head on one. “C’mon, lemme make ya’ feel good. You’ll sleep better, always do after I make ya’ come.”

Gator kisses your inner thigh, slowly working his way up to your core; admiring this view of him between your legs never gets old. 

But his emotional well being matters most right now.

“Hey,” Running your hand through his hair, you gently tug on his locks, tilting his face up to you. “You should rest.”

“Just a lil’ bit? Please?” He fights your grip to lean forward, gazing up at you while he kisses your mound, just above the slit. The more he kisses your body, the harder it is to be the voice of reason and responsibility. “Y’didn’t finish, babe.”

“I—“ His soft lips on your lower set freeze your words on your tongue. 

“You… ?” Another kiss as he inches lower, this time, the tip of his tongue flits out, only lasting a millisecond. You part your lips, yet no words flow out; naturally, he’s smug about it. “Aw, angel, ya’ had so much to say earlier, what happened?”

Gator doesn’t give you a chance to respond, lapping lazily at your folds, tip of his tongue brushing against your clit; all you can do is arch your back and keen.

“Darlin’, I meant it when I said I like takin’ care of ya’,” His throat rumbles with a groan as your arousal sinks onto his taste buds. “Can’t leave ya’ hangin’ like this.”

“It’s o- okay, I—“ A sharp gasp cuts your words short as he wraps his lips around your clit, suckling slowly. When he pulls back with a wicked smirk, you groan, disappointed.

“Clearly, it ain’t okay.”

“Gator… you really need to rest.”

“What I really need is you squirtin’ all over my face—“

“Gator!”

“Already screamin’ my name and I barely tasted ya’? Damn, you really need this, huh?”

You’re left confused as he pulls back, laying next to you; swiftly, he rolls you on top of him, tugging your lower half towards his face. 

As usual, he wastes no time, burying his face into your heat, eating you out like a desperate, starved man.

“C’mon, princess,” His voice husks against your clit, forcing your eyes to roll back from the vibrations. “Make it count, just like last year.”

···························

Christmas morning, you find yourself tangled up with Gator, just like the year prior. 

This year, though, the power’s on, heat keeping the two of you comfortably warm and cozy. The energy, the dynamic between you both has changed drastically, at least on the surface; where you buried feelings a year ago with lust and the strange limbo between ex-friends and fuck buddies, now was replaced with a comfortable love. One that was always meant to be.

There’s no fucking between taunting remarks and degradation. No edging or failed attempts at cockwarming. Not a moment of him trying to rail your deepest secrets and kinks out of you. 

The most warmth Gator felt that morning, aside from your trembling body against his, was the automatic desire to protect you as you fell into a sub-drop. At the time, he’d never admit it to himself, but he wanted that closeness always, not just comforting you back into reality post-climax. 

No, he wanted the domesticity of a cozy life with his best friend. From the moment you came downstairs, later that morning, wrapped up in his sweatshirt, rubbing the sleep and disbelief from your eyes at the sight of him making breakfast, he’s wanted more with you.

In all reality, he’s always wanted more with you, through the good, bad, and everything in between. Since playing house as kids, and tending to the aftermath of your father’s abuse, or times you offered your shoulder as a safe place for him to cry. Gestures of tender care during endo flare ups, when neither of you knew why the pain was so intense to begin with; if he couldn’t take the hurt away, best he could do was distract and comfort you. Cheering you on when you were finally able to move out of your parents house, helping you unpack and settle into that shitty apartment; he wishes he could’ve been here when you moved, helped you all over again.

When Gator first arrived in Brooklyn, starting his life over, intertwined with the one you created for yourself, he found himself constantly wishing he could’ve changed the past. Wishing he could do it all again, only right this time. Regret eating away at him, slowly, as he realized just how much he missed of his best friend’s life in those ten years apart.

Over time, carving his own place out, finding safety in vulnerability, discovering family doesn’t have to be blood, and that yeah, life can suck in a lot of ways with a sudden vision impairment, but it’s taught him a lot, too. And not through the lens of inspiration porn most non-disabled folks like to view disabled folks with; he can love himself, who he’s growing into, for the better, and still have the days where he grieves something he easily took for granted; the two absolutely can coexist.

Through it all, he’s not alone; he has you. He has his best friend, the love of his life, someone so special he thought he lost forever, and he’ll be damned if he fucks this all up again. 

Gator Tillman lost you once, and he refuses to lose you ever again.

This Christmas morning, there are no walls of steel surrounding either of your hearts anymore; no assumed, imminent heartbreaks and letdowns to brace yourselves for, no intense kinks to hide feelings behind.

He nudges his nose against your jaw lazily, then his lips, humming in that gravelly morning tone he always gains overnight. The vibration tickles along your face, tugging a smile out of your sleep. Rolling over, you smush your face against his chest, molding your figure to his own.

There’s no formal greeting, just a half-conscious “Hi, Gator.” 

Breathily, he laughs out, “Hi, Darlin’.”

“Few more minutes?”

“We got all mornin’,” Before he can finish responding, you’re tightening your hold, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He brings the blankets up over the two of you, ones you probably kicked off in your sleep, forever mumbling how Gator is a “damn human furnace”.

You’re fast asleep in record time, and— nothing new— Gator’s just happy to snuggle with you, even if he’s still awake. He dotes on you with intermittent, gentle kisses to the crown of your head, one hand mindlessly playing with your hair, while the other caresses up and down your spine.

From this angle, he notices the now very faint scar across your cheek; one final parting gift from your father in his disgusting rage. Molding his hand to your cheek, his calloused thumb glides along the scar; it’s too faint for most people to notice, but Gator still sees the initial damage if he stares for too long. He remembers the blood, the deep gash, the bruising that bloomed outward in sickening shades of pain.

There’s a lot in life Gator regrets, but he certainly doesn’t regret the way he beat that pathetic piece of shit within an inch of his life. Though he surprisingly listened to you when you pleaded with him not to retaliate against your father before he moved, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to finish that job. 

Thoughts float back to how much has changed for you both, together as a couple, and individually. How much you’ve both grown in this last year, how free you both feel. Despite how emotional Gator has allowed himself to become, how his chest cracked open to dig deep, find the heart he had all along under years of trauma, learned hatred, and forced misery, he feels good. It feels right.

Suppressing every emotion, aside from anger, isn’t healthy; he can’t imagine how he survived into his late twenties doing just that. Countless times while watching you soothe and grow from your own trauma, he’s reminded himself, it must be worth it. It could be worth healing himself into a life he deserves.

All of your cards have laid themselves out on the table for him to see, and his, for you; every inch of your life, even the parts he’s still catching up on, are bare and exposed for him to love along with you, and vice versa.

Even though Gator’s the most vulnerable he’s ever been in his life, he’s also the safest. The happiest. The healthiest, even with his vision impairment. He’s finally living, not just surviving, and though you always tell him to give himself the credit, he knows the second chance you gave him saved his life, one way or another.

It’s unclear how much time has passed, because you’re stirring again, leading Gator back to the present around him. There’s no rush to jump into the day, easing into a cozy morning with him. It’s little, easygoing touches of affection that lead into languid, indulgent kisses, with no urgency to get one another off quickly. These mornings, slow and sweet as dripping honey, are something you both have begun to really cherish this first year together.

There’s nothing but time to spend exploring every inch of one another’s bodies, maps you’ve memorized of each other, can navigate with ease in the light and dark; every scar, every hill, every valley and crease and wrinkle and freckle and everything in between. By grazing fingertips, to skin flush against skin, gazes tumbling over figures, kisses trailing from innocent places to sinful destinations— you have seen and felt all of Gator, as he has seen and felt all of you.

Sliding into you slowly, Gator slips one hand around your head, cradling from the back as he rests his forehead against yours. The other winds around your waist, palm splayed against your back as you arch into him. The stretch makes you gasp, just like the first time, like every time since. Your arms drape around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you while he rolls his hips into yours; skin flush against skin, hearts beating at the same melodious rhythm, one that has become your favorite song the longer you’re with him.

The kisses stay sweet, gentle, even as they travel across your cheek, down to your jaw and neck; burying his face in the curve meeting your shoulder, his lips linger, sucking softly on that one spot that makes you melt every time. All the while, he’s murmuring promises of affection, loving praises, husky morning voice reverberating against your throat as your own rasping moans spill from your lips.

Legs circling around Gator’s waist, he takes that as a sign to thrust a little faster, a little harder, but not enough to break this moment.

Neither of you expected to experience a love like this, certainly not with each other. One where you can connect like this, have hundreds of thoughts leading back to how much you both adore one another, but there’s no need to speak them into existence.

You know Gator loves you; he knows you love him. The rest is conveyed through a myriad of touches and kisses, melding you both together into the height of bliss; right now, no words can compare.

And that’s just it— nothing can compare to endlessly falling in love with your best friend.

Nothing ever has, or ever could, compare to this love, this life, with Gator Tillman, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

[yangnaseon]

zihcn

this is a flashback.

de todas as coisas que tinha imaginado que poderiam acontecer naquela noite, nada do que realmente estava acontecendo sequer tinha passado por sua mente. chega a até a ser passível de questionamento, se estava mesmo acontecendo ou se já tinha passado tanto da conta na bebida a ponto de estar imaginando coisas. todavia, só não criava esse questionamento porque sentia naseon contra seu corpo, sob seus dedos, ouvia sua voz, seus suspiros e como ele gemeu com o que ouviu. o que, por sua vez, o fizera estremecer, sentir como se o sangue fervilhasse dentro das veias, que corresse com mais intensidade, à medida que os batimentos subiam em reflexo do desejo que o queimava de dentro para fora. desejo este que ele sabia que estive ali há muito tempo, mas que seguia empurrando para o fundo da mente por segurança. naquela situação, no entanto, era difícil ignorar qualquer coisa porque o pouco parecia muito, incluindo a ponta da língua alcançando seus lábios durante o gesto dele. jihan queria chupá-la, mas perdeu a chance porque se distraiu com as palavras que o alcançaram. ━━ não me faça querer testar a teoria. ━━ porque a ideia de fazê-lo gozar sem realmente tocá-lo soava intrigante o suficiente, ainda mais estando no meio de tanta gente. gente conhecida. a confissão o fizera arfar ao que permanecia encarando o rosto do outro, mesmo que ele tivesse fechado os olhos. definitivamente, jamais tinha pensando que algo assim pudesse acontecer, porque não achava que naseon pudesse vê-lo daquela maneira. nunca tinha achado que fazia o tipo dele e era por isso que ouvir aquilo não era só extremamente sensual, mas absolutamente desconcertante. ━━ e o que acontece nesse sonhos? ━━ perguntou, mesmo que sentisse os lábios repentinamente secos, sendo sua vez de passar a ponta da língua por eles, antes de mover o rosto de maneira a sussurrar no ouvido do menor: ━━ talvez a gente consiga transformá-los em realidade. ━━ ofereceu ao que ria suavemente por entre as palavras, só para mordiscar o lóbulo da orelha em seguida.

jihan acabou se agarrando nas palavras de naseon com a mesma força com que segurava a mão dele naquele momento, como se fosse a única coisa real no mundo, o que o impediria de sentir o chão ceder sob seus pés. não queria que uma noite estragasse o que tinham, apreciava muito a amizade que tinham, naseon era uma das pessoas mais importantes em sua vida agora e já tinha verbalizado isso a ele. mas também não queria parar o que estava acontecendo ali. sabia que já tinham alcançado um ponto sem retorno. mesmo que não fizessem mais nada, não conseguiria deixar de pensar no que já tinha acontecido até então, porque apesar da aproximação repentina e da agilidade com a qual tudo escalara, não era algo superficial até onde podia dizer. não era motivado pelo álcool, pelo calor do momento, pela baixa luminosidade do espaço. tudo isso contribuía, mas não era a fonte geradora de tudo. e aquele beijinho em sua mão parecia desconexo em meio a tanta intensidade, mas não era algo ruim. era como um ponto de equilíbrio, um momento de calmaria, em meio ao turbilhão de sentimentos se misturando em seu peito. e ainda assim nenhum deles era negativo. nada que vinha de naseon parecia ser negativo, no fim das contas. jihan assentiu em concordância, sorrindo de uma maneira muito mais doce. sabia que iriam dar um jeito de acertar as coisas, se ficassem bagunçadas. não era pelo tempo que se conheciam, mas pela relação que tinham construído. parte sua ficava tranquila com isso, mas era fisicamente impossível ficar tranquilo naquele momento, não com tanto estímulo acontecendo.

cw: sexo oral.

sentir o calor e umidade da boca dele, da língua, a textura dos lábios, envolvendo seus dedos era pecaminosamente delicioso por conta da ambiguidade dos gestos, tão seus quanto deles. e é claro que não podia deixar de desejar que todas aquelas sensações fossem destinadas a outra parte do corpo. especificamente para aquela que que apertava em sua calça naquele momento, desesperada por atenção. mas não deixava de ser envolvente, a maneira como ele não desviava o olhar e jihan via a intensidade dos olhos escuros acabando por refletir nos seus próprios, escuros pela lascívia. sabia que naseon queria tanto quanto ele, era por isso que estavam trancados no banheiro da festa, depois de todas as coisas ditas mais cedo. mas mesmo assim, ainda parecia apenas veleidade sua. uma que o fazia esquecer que precisava respirar e acabar estremecendo ao fazê-lo, porque a respiração estava completamente descompassada se misturando ao ruído suave da sucção em seus dedos. honestamente, jihan ficou a um passo de engasgar com a própria saliva ao ver os olhos do menor marejados depois do que fizera. não tinha passado recido da sensação dos dedos trêmulos até aquele momento e estava daquela forma por conta da urgência que crescia em si. queria fazer coisas tão obcenas quanto o gesto que resultara naquele fio de saliva ligando os dois depois de recuar os dedos. escutou tudo com os olhos semicerrados, o maxilar trancado enquanto lutava contra a vontade de virá-lo de costas e debruçá-lo sobre o balcão. ━━ e você gosta mais da punição, não é? você é sem vergonha demais para ser complacente. ━━ devolveu por entre uma risada baixa, mas divertida. então, acabou fechando os olhos por um instante ou dois ao que parte de sua atenção deixava o que fazia para focar no que naseon fazia, do gemido que o fizera morder o lábio para não acabar imitando o gesto. ━━ viu só? um puta de um safado. ━━ comentou, só para não assumir tão facilmente que sim, tinha adorado as novas descobertas e nada do que tinha dito era uma reclamação.

perceber que estava alcançando seu desejo de dar prazer ao outro era uma via de mão dupla; ao mesmo tempo que era satisfatório só fazia o tesão crescer, fazer seu pau doer e enchê-lo de ódio pela calça de vinil que decidira usar naquela noite. então, acabou descendo uma das mãos para acariciar a própria ereção brevemente por cima do tecido antes de soltar o botão e o zíper em busca de alívio. esperou pela resposta do outro, sustentando seu olhar, tentando não sorrir por vê-lo aparentemente sem reação com seu pedido. o carinho em sua bochecha, por outro lado, o fizera suspirar. o puxão em seus cabelos o fizera gemer, porque a dor era gostosa. ao subir as mãos para soltar o fecho da calça alheia, suas mãos tinham um novo motivo para não estarem tão estáveis: não se lembrava da última que estivera naquela posição, além de ser a primeira vez que chegava a um ponto tão íntimo com naseon. mas não havia qualquer intenção de dar para trás. ━━ puta merda. ━━ sussurrou por entre a respiração, com a referência ao que dissera mais cedo. enganchando os dedos nas lateriais das peças que naseon vestia, puxou-as gentilmente para a altura das coxas, sentindo a boca salivar ao tê-lo exposto daquela maneira para si. ━━ droga, você é tão lindo… ━━ disse, igualmente baixo. parecia superficial dizer isso, ele deveria estar cansado de ouvir tal coisa, mas era verdade. uma das mãos segurou a base da ereção para que pudesse direcionar a ponta aos lábios, envolvendo-a sem qualquer hesitação. quando passou a chupá-la, fazendo movimentos curtos de vai e vem - porque não queria colocar mais na boca ainda, propositalmente -, a mão que estivera apenas segurando-o passou a masturbá-lo de fato, cobrindo a extensão e espalhando a saliva que deixava escorrer pelos cantos da boca. a outra mão subia pela parte exposta da coxa, até estar em sua bunda, apertando a carne sem qualquer cerimônia. ━━ e gostoso também. ━━ completou, parando o que fazia só para erguer os olhos para o outro por um momento. ━━ gostoso pra caralho… com esse pau duro por minha causa… ━━ àquela altura, eram mais pensamentos soltos escapando por entre sussurros e suspiros do que frases realmente coerentes, mas não estava preocupado com isso. por fim, voltou ao que fazia, agora subindo a língua da base da ereção até a glande, pela parte inferior, para circundá-la com a língua, deixá-lo pesar contra sua língua até que se acostumasse, antes de voltar a chupá-lo. os movimentos de vai e vem se tornaram mais longos e ritmados ao que tentava colocar mais do outro na boca a cada descida.

dizem que o melhor da vida não é planejado, simplesmente… acontece, naseon provava daquilo enquanto provava de jihan, entre os toques curiosos por ser a primeira vez, os murmúrios ininteligível mesmo que ambos soubessem o significado por trás deles. não tinha planejado mas não estava surpreso, ele não podia mais negar o que sentia, não tinha mais como esconder, fingir que não aquela vontade de ter jihan estivera o perturbando a tempo demais e não só aquela noite. era pegar ou larga e ambos sabiam que parar não era uma opção ou um desejo no momento mesmo que o perigo fosse claro, porque naseon sabia, sabia que tinha se viciado em jihan antes mesmo de seus corpos se atreverem a querer se tornar um, muito antes de sentir a macies dos labios contra os seus ou da firmeza das mãos sobre sua pele o fazendo querer ser marcado pelas digitais. ━ porque não? ━ se atreveu a perguntar rindo, um daqueles risos que carregar algum tipo de desafio ao mesmo tempo que era sua forma de externalizar como se sentia feliz, porque soava irreal que estivesse acontecendo e era por isso que naseon não podia afastar as mãos ou não queria, deslizando a livre pela lateral da cintura de jihan pressionando a pele contra os dedos o segurava contra si buscando que a distancia entre eles fossem a mesma que a menor distância entre dois pontos. deixava a ponta do nariz deslizar pelo maxilar e pescoço até se arrastar pelo pouco exposto dos ombros, como se desenhasse alguma coisa enquanto se embriagava com o cheiro que jihan tinha. escuta-lo arfar, o fez morder o lábio inferior em reflexo, uma forma inútil de tentar lidar com o quanto se sentia afetado com tudo. e o que acontece nesse sonhos? naseon sentiu o corpo entrar em algum tipo de combustão, fosse pela curiosidade de jihan em saber ou pelos cenários invadindo sua mente com a pergunta. então se isso não fosse o bastante as palavras seguintes o atingiram com tanta força que não conseguiu conter outro gemido, as mãos se fechando contra jihan, os dedos apertando a mão que se encontrava entrelaçada com a sua e a outra a que se encontrava em cintura subiu para adorna-lo o pescoço, o enforcando do jeito certo como algum tipo de punição pelo atrevimento, porque a forma como se sentia queimando de dentro pra fora era exclusivamente por culpa daquele homem. talvez a gente consiga transformá-los em realidade. naseon afrouxou o aperto e deslizou o dedão pelo lábio inferior de jihan só pra vagar sobre alguma ideias baixas do que queria fazer com aquela boca. ━ você vai me enlouquecer. ━ o acusou mas estava sorrindo de deleite com a ideia. 

naseon umedece os labios entre a ideia de tornar suas fantasias reais, porque quando ele as teve jurou a si mesmo que era errado pensar em jihan daquela forma mas para ironia do destino lá estava ele tentando tomar coragem pra dize-las em voz alta. ━ talvez eu devesse começar com o mais recente? ━ sugere sem a real intensa de obter uma resposta. o sorriso divertido nos labios e os olhos brilhantes ansiosa pra ver as reações que arrancaria do outro. ━ eu acabo de tomar banho... na sua casa... você abre a porta... que por alguma razão não estava trancada... aparentemente não tem ninguém em casa... e eu não sei se você não ouviu o barulho do chuveiro ou só queria uma desculpa pra me ver sem roupa e dizer que foi sem querer... mas eu gosto da situação... gosto como você não pode evitar esquadrinhar a silhueta exposta a sua frente... e você fica tão corado... sabe... talvez eu não resista muito bem quando te vejo assim... ━ os labios estavam dançando em um roçar sutil sobre as bochechas enfatizando o ato. naseon gosta de deixar jihan sem jeito. ━ vermelho combina com você. ━ ele brinca, sobre o batom que as poucos sumia os rastros a cada beijo. ━ então eu não te deixo ir embora... ━ naseon simula o ato segurando com mais força as mãos unidas em uma, os dedos entrelaçados como no sonho e ele suspira com a ideia de que tem jihan realmente ali, não é sonho daquela vez. ━ e talvez, só talvez, eu queria muito te provocar só pra que olhe por mais tempo... eu quero que olhe pra mim... eu gosto que me olhe... como se me comesse com os olhos... ━ a ideia faz um arrepio percorrer o corpo. ━ nós beijamos como fizemos a pouco tempo... não... não acho que minha mente conseguiria reproduzir a sensação real... é ainda melhor agora... ━ sussurra de novo, os labios rentes aos de jihan e ele se perde entre a fantasia e a realidade, porque o real é melhor, é inebriante. a respiração está tão descompensada que questiona se o ar ali é rarefeito. não consegue terminar pra beija-lo de novo, então o fez no meio da historia como se tentasse torna-la real, a contanto através dos atos. a mão livre tenta puxar a blusa, toca-lo por debaixo. quente como brasa. chupa a língua antes de brincar com a própria dentro da boca macia. gosta do gosto misturado com álcool e quer se afogar nele. quer fazer de jihan seu mar, deixa-lo brincar consigo com ondas fortes demais pra dominar. ━ eu quero te foder contra a parede como fiz no sonho. ━ a voz é baixa, rouca, falhando pelo peso que elas tem em seus próprio corpo, porque naseon não pode lidar com a ideia da imagem em sua cabeça se tornar real. 

entendia o medo do risco porque ele também tinha medo de perder o que tinham, de perder jihan, mas tinham sido cautelosos por tanto tempo, seria tão ruim ceder? conviver contendo aquele desejo não seria ainda pior? não tinha certeza sobre as respostas além de que jihan era uma das pessoas mais importantes em sua vida agora e já tinha verbalizado isso a ele também então entre o silencio e os toques mais gentis, eles sabiam, que tinham selado uma promessa ali, a de que tudo ficaria bem, não importava o que acontecesse eles dariam um jeito, eles concertariam as coisas se elas desandassem pro lado errado. e era doce. confirmar que aquela era o tipo de relação que tinham criado. e era quente. perceber o que estavam se tornando quando se dava conta do olhar firme sobre si, a confirmação que tinha o atingido do jeito que queria. o maxilar travado, mostrando a própria busca pelo auto controle inexistente. naseon lia jihan perfeitamente porque se sentia da mesma forma e era tão gostoso saber que era reciproco. e você gosta mais da punição, não é? assentiu com a cabeça porque não sentia que tinha voz ao sentir os labios secos com a ideia do maior tomando a postura de controle e o punindo pela provocações. sequer consegui confiar nas próprias pernas no momento e por isso se agarrava a jihan como se estivesse a beira de desmoronar. ━ caralho. ━ o menor estremeceu entre as palavras, entre aquele fio de risada que parecia reverberar os arrepios em seu corpo. a resposta tinha sido efetiva e naseon tinha gostado. a mão se firmou sobre o queixo do maior pra força-lo, como se precisasse de fato, a encara-lo. ━ e você sabe como disciplinar não é professor? ━ o chamou pelo título da profissão só pela graça da provocação porque a frase carregava uma inocência incondizente com a situação. ━ mas aposto que odiaria ter êxito na tarefa... porque você é tão sem vergonha quanto eu, não é? você prefere que eu seja desobediente... ━ não precisava da resposta. deixando um sorriso que poderia ser considerado tão pecaminoso tomar os próprios labios. aproveitando que ainda o segurava o rosto para empurra-lo pro lado deixando o pescoço mais exposto pra si, arrastando o dente sobre a pele como se quisesse marca-lo, criar uma trilha vermelha pela pressão no local que logo em seguida recebia algum cuidado com a língua, porque naseon queria chupa-lo por inteiro, faze-lo lembrar de como era a sensação de quando era ele o tocando, queria maltratar a pele até que tivesse impregnado nela mesmo quando as marcas sumissem. aquele era seu jeito de dizer que sim, ele era um puta de um safado e jihan não tinha visto absolutamente nada ainda. 

ver jihan buscar alivio ao afrouxar a calça o fez se sentia ainda mais excitado. ergueu um pouco um das pernas só pra conseguir colocar o pé sobre a clara ereção, fazendo um pequeno movimento com cuidado em uma meia caricia. ━ você quer que eu cuide disso pra você não quer? ━ perguntou com a maior descaração que podia. mas não podia se sustentar por muito tempo naquela imagem de controle quando jihan o tirava tanto dos eixos. o suspiro... o gemido... naseon aceitou a culpa por ter os causado com orgulho, sorrindo pra cena. ele queria repedir o ato, descobrir todas as formas que poderia arrancar aquelas reações. queria desvenda-lo. ━ tudo bem. ━ reforçou em um murmúrio ao ver as mãos tremulas e então colocou as próprias mãos sobre as de jihan em um afago. os olhos cheio de lasciva em ambos indicava que não queriam parar mas naseon sorria gentil complacente com o nervosismo porque estava igualmente tremulo. a sensação de fazer aquilo com jihan era diferente, não era só entre a vontade de buscar prazer, queria ele como nunca quis ninguém e os sentimentos que sentia parecia exponencia todas as sensações em níveis altos de mais pra suportar mas ele ainda estava respirando mesmo que sôfrego. só a ideia de jihan o chupando já o fazia se sentir a beira de um orgasmo mas absolutamente nada se compararia a sentir de fato acontecendo. ━ puta merda. ━ quase caiu, se apoiando com força com a mão sobre a pia a outra agarrou com mais força o cabeço de jihan, o usando como algum apoio, sem existo não conseguindo evitar tremer a cada vez que a boca o envolvia mesmo que tão pouco, o fazendo precisar conter a vontade de empurrar e fode-lo ao mesmo tempo que temia gozar logo se as coisas continuassem assim. agora era absurdamente difícil conter os gemidos de lhe escapar os labios, porque sequer conseguia mantê-lo entre os dentes com a respiração tão desregulada. sentia o suor escorrendo pelo corpo e queria arrancar todas as roupas de uma vez mas não conseguia se mover, não conseguia fazer nada além de sentir jihan, de apreciar a confusão que ele causava em si. ━ porra... ━ praticamente choramingou inebriado pela sensações, da mão o masturbando, da cena de jihan o chupando onde mantinha seus olhos vidrados e do aperto em sua bunda, os dedos tão perto de outro ponto necessitado de atenção porque tanto quanto naseon se sentia duro ele também contraia entre a ideia de ter jihan de todas as formas possíveis. você vai me enlouquecer. é naseon tinha absoluta certeza disso e não fazia questão alguma de impedir. 

os elogios o amaciavam o ego e o deixavam ainda mais excitado, sorrindo bobo e gemendo em resposta. sim. estava duro por causa de jihan e apenas ressaltar os fatos só fazia o pulsar na região piorar. ━ e... você... não tem... um pingo... de pena... de mim né? ━ a voz o deixou com dificuldade pelos suspiros, um riso fraco acompanhando a pergunta boba porque ele sabia a resposta. a mão que segurava as madeixas de jihan o livraram da dor por um tempo, pra tentar jogar as próprias pra trás porque estas começavam a grudar em sua testa pelo suor. a trégua da boca o fez por alguns segundos recuperar o fôlego, só o bastante pra conseguir reunir forças pra falar de forma coerente, o que parecia incrivelmente difícil no momento. ━ eu posso dizer o mesmo... ━ sorriu sacana e safado, como jihan havia ressaltado antes, constatando mais uma vez que a visão daquele homem ajoelhado a sua frente era a coisa mais excitante do mundo. naseon prestava atenção como se quisesse gravar os detalhes na memoria e jamais esquecer. ele não desviava o olhar mesmo que as vezes fosse difícil não revirar os olhos. ━ você fica tão lindo ajoelhado assim... doido pra me chupar inteiro... ━ era quase um pecado, um que despertava um lado possesivo desconhecido por naseon porque ele queria aquela visão só pra si. ━ gostoso pra caralho com meu pau dentro... ━ da boca. não conseguiu terminar ao sentir a língua em seu pau de novo, a pressão na glande o fez se sentir a beira de um colapso e ainda que tudo parece demais pra sua própria sanidade, não desejava parar. precisou levar uma mão a boca pra tentar conter os barulhos porque eles ainda estavam em um banheiro, de uma festa, com conhecidos do lado de fora. se reprimir porém o fazia ter os olhos marejados, como se o ato de não gritar fosse opressor ao ponto de doer. mas era bom. era absurdo como era bom ao ponto de duvidar se conseguiria superar aquela noite. ━ jihan... ━ o nome o deixo abafado, pela mão, entre os gemidos contidos com muita dificuldade, soando como suplica. tenha piedade de mim queria pedir mas naseon sabia que não seria atendido, porque quem estava rezando não era ele e as preces claramente era para condena-lo mas ele estava adorando isso, era por isso que parecia prestes a explodir entre a boca quente e úmida. era a primeira vez deles e não sabia como poderia ter vivido sem aquilo. ━ eu... eu quero... eu quero te tocar também. ━ quase não conseguiu dizer sem que gemesse alto demais, precisava ocupar sua boca com algo e queria que fosse jihan, queria engoli-lo também, faze-lo ter as pernas tremulas igual as suas agora como se pudesse confundi-las com gelatina. 

[voidselfshipp]

Proud of the Man youve becomed.

Cw: angst, hurt and comfort flashback ment ,eye contact tw

Ok to rb.

Summary: recently V has gotten some of hud memories back, and with his old life coming to light once again he feels confused and upset, luckily for him, jerico Will go to the end to find his old memories and life.

Jerico turns around in bed, searching for Vincent.

She sits up sighing, walking out of their room, into the shadow gallery-- V?!-- she calls Into the empty house.

-- kitchen!--answered V.

She walks there and sits on his lap,he hugs her waist and pulls her closer.

He sighed heavily pressing his head on her shoulder.

--you can lay down the gentleman act v-- jer said pressing a kiss to his mask.

-- I know-- he whispered-- its tiring, but I enjoy it,you know?

-- I know, but its going to tire you out-- she said lifting his chin up.

He takes off his mask and smiles softly.

-- oh what id do without you-- V added kissing jerico.

--im here when you need me vincent--she kissed him again.

Both stand up and he picks her up and walk to the livingroom and sit on the sofá watching the tele.

They talk softly hugging,v presses his forehead against hers and pulls her in for a hug.

--why were you awake?-- jer asked.

--i had...more flashbacks from my life before larkhill, my name was vincent....vincent weaving I think, i had Many aunts..mainly because they were married to other women-- he chuckles-- I was an artist..., me and mum used to dance togheter...

Jerico listens carefully as to what vincent said, he lays her on his chest and she hugs him tightly.

Sighing he adds-- I coulnt salvage anything of my other life, I think its for the best, letting it go...

Jer felt sad, she softly strokes his chest as he closes his eyes, pulling over the cover for the both of them she kisses his chin.

The Next day she went out, V was asleep, hed developed a very heavy sleep that let her sneak out more often.

She went all around london with evie, looking for any traces of Vs old life.

Jerico almost cried when she found some of his old paintings, a photo and a voice recording.

When she comes back vincent is with his arms crossed, no words was said but she understood he wanted an explanation, he never liked it when she went away, he was scared of losing her.

-- look-- jerico said handing him what she found-- you deserve to know who you were vin, evie and I found these

He almost drops them in surprise gasping loudly, the paintings-- I... how did you find these?--His eyes water as he sees the last piece,a portrait of his aunts dancing, and her mom.

He leaves the paintings aside and hugs her tightly-- you scared me to death you know that right?, but Im thankfull for this...

They sit on the sofá as he sees the pictures-- oh look, those are my aunts-- he said with nostalgia-- they are as ravishing as I remember them, oh and my mother...

Jerico looks at the old woman and smiles-- heh you two are identical...

He puts the pictures aside and grabs the cazzette. Rumishing around a cupboard to find its player.

When he found it jerico kissed vincent and squeezed his hand leaving him to listen to the tape.

He sniffs taking off his mask and scratching his nose.

"is this thing on? Oh there we go

vincent I hope youll find this tape,I know how hard things are now that you went away, we all miss you

but I know you, youre mammas Smart boy, youll give those bastardi (bastards) something to cry about

i hope by the time you hear this that you have a happy life my son, you deserve it.

I hope you have a wonderfull home, that you live with a partner that loves you as you are

I hope that youre happy with them,that they are happy with you

but most of all I hope youre true to yourself, Keep being that gentlemanly, Smart boy you always were, I hope you can Open up to your loved ones

i hope that you Keep being that emotional Man you always were

and if you changed thats alright too,we Will still love you vincent

Ti voglio bene figlio mio

Take care of yourself for mamma (mom) okay?.

I cant wait to see the Man youve becomed"

The recording ends with vincents mother and aunts saying "ciao vincent!" At the same time.

V breaks down crying and jerico bolts into the room hugging him tightly.

He cries on her shoulder and presses his forehead against it.

She caresses his back as his arms wrap around her waist.

He breathes in, looking at jerico, tears Rolling down his cheeks-- ti amo cara mia(i love you my dear)-- he whispered kissing her.

--yo también te amo( I love you too)-- jerico answered

They went to the kitchen and she gave him a glass of water.

Víctor,their Orange stripped cat purrs against Vs leg, he drinks the water and smiles picking the cat up.

-- ah Víctor always so worried about me

Jer smiles kissing vincent-- you know we should go visit your family again

The Man nodds-- its been a while hasnt it?, but first I want you to hear the tape with me, please?

She nodds and goes to sit with him

That night they went to the graveyard where Vs family was buried.

He talked to them as jer stood in silence holding his hand.

They left scarlett carsons and went back to the shadow gallery.

And as jerico held vincent closely they fell asleep, he still had a family, and he was becoming his own Man, one his mother would be proud of.

[dragoncarrion]

Watched a movie today

[carbonateddelusion]

"I'm going to die here. I know I will."

-

just messing around with style.. I really enjoy writing for Edgar and as a victim of abuse myself it's very cathartic to mess around with his story

click for better quality

[songsejun]

nxkyvm

this is a flashback.

cw: uso de drogas.

descobrir que era parcialmente culpado pelos fios descoloridos de sejun colocou um sorriso misto de travessura e orgulho nos lábios de nakyum. era uma informação interessante, porque, como músico, ele sempre se via como alguém que buscava inspirações nas coisas e nas pessoas que conhecia. mas nunca pensava que podia ser a inspiração de alguém para alguma coisa, não com a vida que levava, não com a personalidade que tinha. então, era muito legal descobrir aquilo. o fazia sentir as bochechas esquentando como se fosse um adolescente. e olha que era bem sem vergonha, dificilmente tinha as bochechas corando. ━━ sorte sua que ficou bom, não é? imagina se você faz isso e eu fico melhor de cabelo loiro do que você? ━━ comentou, mas só estava provocando o mais velho, brincando com ele. sejun não tinha nada com o que se preocupar, com um rosto bonito daqueles, não havia o que fosse ficar ruim, sendo cor ou corte de cabelo. ━━ oh, e é. ━━ concordou prontamente, com os olhos baixos para os dedos dele em seus cabelos. ━━ um cara da banda já fez o teste. ━━ continuou, dando de ombros. de fato, tinha acontecido. a mesma coisa que acreditava estar passando na cabeça de sejun naquele momento já tinha passado na de outras pessoas. mas ele estava contando porque queria ver como o outro reagiria à informação, por isso tinha erguido o olhar para o rosto dele, onde manteve sua atenção.

nakyum fazia aquele tipo de coisa com todo mundo. frases de duplo sentido, brincadeiras diretas até mais, provocações claras. tudo o que estivesse ao seu alcance pelo simples gosto de tirar as pessoas do sério. se achava muito bom nisso, inclusive. por esse motivo, era difícil que se visse na posição contrária. podia contar nos dedos de uma mão as pessoas que tinha o feito corar e acelerado seu coração em um curto espaço de tempo e, bom, sejun tinha alcançado a marca naquele momento, quando a ponta do nariz roçou em sua pele e o fizera arfar pela sensação. era uma reação à toda situação, daquele gesto às palavras que o acompanharam. acabando por fazer os dedos se apertarem um pouco mais na blusa dele, buscando estabilidade para si mesmo. em algum lugar de sua mente, alertas vermelhos estavam soando. concordar com aquela oferta era potencialmente perigoso, ele sabia disso porque não era tão bobo. tinha notado que haviam mudanças acontecendo entre os dois. no tom e no conteúdo das conversas, na troca de carinhos. mas também podia ser coisa da sua cabeça, que não era nada confiável. por isso, negar aquela oferta não era uma opção. ━━ não estava esperando receber uma negativa, não é? ━━ devolveu, junto a uma risada.

então, nakyum afastou o outro de si, só para tomar à frente no caminho até as escadas. era um lugar que frequentava muito, afinal. mesmo que morasse sozinho, ficava facilmente cansado de seu apartamento, então acabava naquelas escadas que levavam ao terraço, por conta da sensação de isolamento e até tranquilidade que aquele canto escuro passava. era bom quando se sentia superestimulado, também. mas com muita gente no terraço, a cena parecia diferente e o risco, atraente. sentou em seu degrau favorito, bem no meio da escada, com as costas na parede. tirou o baseado e o isqueiro do bolso da jaqueta e acendeu-o, dando um bom trago e soltando a fumaça em meio a um suspiro longo e relaxado.

os tons de vermelho capturaram a atenção de sejun em algum tipo de adoração, sempre achava nakyum bonito mesmo quando ele se encontrava com a maquiagem borrada com o rosto quebrado de alguma briga, mas daquela vez quase sentiu que o coração iria lhe escapar o peito, sequer conseguiu desviar a atenção e fez uma nota mental de desenha-lo mais tarde, daquele jeito corado. ━ como se alguma coisa ficasse ruim em mim. ━ revirou os olhos e a menção a outra pessoa não fez sejun afastar os dedos como geralmente fazia mas ainda tinha aquele suspiro pesado e a língua se forçando contra a bochecha. o afastamento era algum tipo de punição mas dessa vez ele fez diferente, deslizou a mão até estar com os dedos emaranhados rente a nuca de nakyum e puxou, eles não estavam fazendo nada mas o ato carregava a mesma intensidade de se estivesse o fodendo ali mesmo. ━ é. ━ resmungou entre algum tipo de descontentamento, uma careta se formando na face como se não tivesse gostado tanto do que fez mas o teatro não durou nem dois segundo pra dar abertura a um sorriso de puro entretenimento. os toques que dava no outro não tinha segundas intenções mas os efeitos pareciam ser ainda piores por conta disso e sejun gostava de pensar que apesar da longa lista que os dois tinham não havia nenhum outro toque que sentissem falta ou outra pessoa que ocupasse a mente. se afastar era um lembre disso, uma forma cruel de fazer nakyum entrar em abstinência de si. dessa vez ele fez diferente estava dando mais só pra piorar o efeito, então agora ficaria um pouco claro que tinha mudado as táticas do jogo que os dois conheciam bem, porque já fazia um tempo que queria mais mas também não queria ser mais um. era por isso que tinha aceitado a provocação dessa vez entre a permissão de darem uns amassos chapados nas escadas, mas ultrapassar aquela linha era perigoso demais porque sejun sabia que não seria só daquela vez.

escutar o arfar fez um arrepio percorrer a espinha, sempre era gostoso escutar nakyum, mesmo que só fizesse aquilo, deslizar a ponta do nariz pela pele, despejar o ar quente enquanto se embriagava com o cheiro. ━ não estava esperando receber a oferta. ━ o concertou. porque havia um limite pré estabelecido, por segurança, quando tinham uma relação tão intima e arriscar acrescentar sexo nisso só soava como atirar fogo na gasolina, era extremamente tentador mas o risco de não sobreviver a fumaça era um enorme sinal vermelho que pareciam estar ignorando agora. porque sejun se permitiu arriscar outro movimento, ajeitou o cabelo de nakyum o segurando entre a palma e a língua se projetou pra fora deslizando do pescoço até a orelha pra terminar prendendo o lóbulo entre os dentes. acabou rindo do feito ao se afastar e encarar o outro. deixando que a imagem sumisse em direção ao caminho que também deveria seguir. esperou alguns segundos terminando de beber o resto de cerveja que tinha esquecido completamente. ━ o que você tá fazendo? ━ murmurou pra si mesmo enquanto ia em direção a onde era esperado, as mãos bagunçando o cabelo como se tentasse recobrar o juízo mas tudo que ainda tinha em mente era nakyum. a maldita imagem dele corado fazendo sejun dar um jeito de repetir o feito mesmo sem ideia alguma de como. deixou um sorrisinho tomar os labios ao ver onde nakyum se sentava, mesmo lugar de sempre e reconhecer isso trazia algum tipo de conforto. subiu alguns degraus e se inclinando sobre o corpo de nakyum só pra pegar o baseado entre os dedos, o ato carregava um pequeno carinho no esbarar das mãos. se logo a frente, trazendo as pernas pro próprio colo. tragando os olhos se perdiam pouco fascinando com a fumaça se dissipando no espaço, na verdade seu foco estava na imagem borrada por conta dela, permanecendo ali estático como se esperasse pra que conseguisse vê-lo nitidamente e quando o teve sorriu, sem qualquer tom de lasciva ou algo do tipo, o ato carregava carinho mesmo. 

[raytaku]

Cw animal death, trauma ment

Honestly part of me is still in denial about Zen's death, even though for like. First two days I had flashbacks of it whenever I closed my eyes (and I can't really let my mind sit idle or wander without it replaying everything)

Like. There's still part of me that thinks that she's going to come out of hiding from the bushes or she'll start barking with the other two dogs when they hear a car or truck driving by

I think it's bc it all happened so quickly. Literally in the same amount of time it took to blink it was over. Perhaps that was only good thing there. Her death was horrible, but at least it was quick, she didn't suffer

She didn't deserve to go that way. No one does, really, but especially not her

I guess another thing that may be considered "positive" here is that I know I can use my experience and apply it to my writing, but honestly it isn't a good tradeoff

[escaping-thoughts-reviews]

Dooku: Jedi Lost by Cavan Scott, 2019

Not much is known of the mysterious leader of the Independent Systems. Former Jedi Master, Count of Serenno, philanthropist, political genius and secretly Lord of the Sith. 

This is his story. From birth to Jedi-hood and sub sequential fall to the Darkside. It follows Dooku’s growth, the friends he made, his journey as a Master of two controversial Padawans and his fascination with ancient Sith relics and Jedi prophecies.

-

First audiobook I ever listened to, and while a paper version was later published, I think the book works better in his original audio format (I’ll explain later).

The book starts just before the events of the Clone Wars. Ventress is starting her apprenticeship with Dooku and is given the task to find a woman that has close ties to the former Jedi Master.

The narration jumps from present to past through audiologs of Dooku’s childhood as Initiate, Padawan and into adulthood as a Knight and Master. 

I found this narrating choice to be very effective and while other books can fall into the trap of blurring the lines between past and present events, confusing the reader, here the author manages to keep the two distict.

One of the most interesting parts of this novel is Dooku’s family and their history. We discover how he came to be in the Jedi Order and his father’s resentment of him. It’s revealed he has two siblings, a sister named Jenza and a brother, Ramil. During the novel we see their relationship grow. And while Jenza cares for Dooku and stays in contact with him through the years, Ramil takes from their father and resents Dooku and wants nothing to do with him.

Serenno as a world is further explored. From their repulsion for Force sensitive beings to an ancient mural depicting a creature capable of destroying the world: the Tirra’Taka.

We also explore Dooku’s relationship with Sifo-Dyas, a fellow Initiate and Padawan, and his slow descent into madness that will lead him to create the Clone Army.

Sadly Yoda is written as a crappy master and it feels really out of character. He chooses Dooku, but almost immediately leaves him with another Master and barely teaches him anything. I feel like this was a lost opportunity to explore their bond and the reasons Dooku resents Yoda so much in the future (I guess for that we have the EU).

The reason why this story works better in audio format can be summarised in a scene when Dooku hears voices in a vision when only a Padawan learner (some among them are Ventress, Savage, Sidious, Qui-Gon, Yoda, etc...). I loved this moment, although it begs the question if Dooku always had this ability. Sure it could be tallied to this being a Disney book and therefore “there are no rules”, but some consistency would be appreciated.

As the story switches to Ventress’s PoV, we learn more abou Ky Narec through her recalling of events, and his voice acts as a conscience to the Sith assassin. A conscience she tries to bury.

I would also like to share some of my favourite moments from this book (no spoilers):

D: “There’s no harm in feeling pride. I’m proud of you after all.” “If I never do anything of note ever again, I will watch you rise through the Order, changing it forever”

Q: “For the better?”

D: *soft, warm laugh*

This is probably one of my favourite moments. We see Dooku’s clear affection towards Qui-Gon and knowing the faith of the latter, it makes it even more heartbreaking (Euan Morton does an amazing job, that laugh kills me). It also allows us to understand more clearly why Dooku fell to the Dark Side, making the reader empathize with him.

D: “You are wise beyond your years, Qui-Gon Jinn. With a connection to the Living Force that may even rival Yoda.”

Q: “I doubt that”

[Oh, Qui, you don’t even know the half of it.]

D: “I have faith in you and faith in the Force”

[How do you go from this to the bitter man of CW?]

As events unfold, Dooku and Qui-Gon are sent by the Coucil to attend a Swooper race, where they encounter Ramil, who’s there as a pilot.

The action picks up as his swooper is sabotaged and the two Jedi chase the culprits through the underground levels of Coruscant, and we discover where Qui-Gon gets his maverik streak, or better, from who he gets it.

The chase leads them to confront a criminal boss. The confrontation enrages Dooku to the point he has to fight the lightning that threatens to escape, keeping it inside, controling it. Which is interesting, but also contradicts what we know about Force lightning, aka only those who are subjected to it in prolonged periods of time can use it. So it begs the question of how can Dooku use this ability if he was never exposed to it. But, again, this is a Disney novel, so lore consistency is not really expected. Here instead it’s treated as a force from within and the only way to control it is to accept it.

Another interesting side-plot it’s when a member of the Council is revealed to be allied with the underground boss, but only to protect a fellow Jedi, later revealed to be her son. The Master in question is Yula Braylon, a fromer seeker (a Jedi who finds Force sensitive children and brings them to the Temple). Her son instead is revealed to be Dooku’s training rival, Arath.

This opens a whole conversation about what’s wrong with the Order, because how sad is it that when threatened, a Jedi feels it’s safer to comply with the requests of a criminal, that to ask the Council for help. In the end, both Breylon and Arath are arrested.

The story then shifts to Dooku’s homeworld of Serenno, that is under invasion, the Republic doesn’t care (so neither does the Order) because they see it as an “internal fewd”, although they are under attack from a foreign world. Jenza sends a official help request, but the Order decides to ignore it. Dooku defies the Council and along with Sifo-Dyas and his Master, Kostana, travel to Serenno.

Ramil is revealed to be behind the invasion, the Houses of Serenno are in shambles and the population is forced out into the plains as refugees. The situation is dire.

Everything escaletes when Dooku and Kostana fall into a crevice and find the mythical Tirra’Taka.

To save his people Dooku mind melds with him and has accesses its memories, discovering that the Tirra’Taka was enslaved by the Sith and abandoned on Serenno after their defeat at the hands of House Serenno. He also discoveres that the beast hates force-sensitives and that he reawakened when Dooku returned all those years ago.  Finally explaining the fear and aberration Dooku’s father, Count Gora, felt towards him and how he saw his son’s Force-sensitivity as a threat to Serenno and wanted him as far away as possible. 

Along with these revelations Sifo-Dyas is rapidly losing his mind, having nonstop visions, caused by the growing distress of the creature. I’ll be honest, Syfo’s abilities don’t make much sense and seem to be there just to hype the drama.

Before Ramil can kill Jenza and the rest of the people, Dooku summons the Tirra’Taka and uses it to destroy the invading army. This causes Sifo-Dyas to lose his mind completely. The fight ends with Dooku killing his brother.

Sadly the beast goes insane and Dooku is reluctantly forced to kill it to save Kostana, Sifo and Jenza.

D: “I never ment to hurt you. Not like the others. Never ment to bend you to my will. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

Here the author has me perplexed. He describes Dooku striking down the beast with his “golden blade”. Since when does Dooku have a golden kyber? It makes no sense, but again, it’s Disney...

After the battle, they discover this new, rare and, therefore, expensive ore called Zaccanium and now the Repubblic is interested in helping. This makes Dooku livid, keeping in line with his character and his contempt for the corruption of the Republic.

Yoda: “More than a name, the Jedi are. More than a title”.

Because of this Dooku decides to remain on Serenno as the new Count. Sealing his fate, as Sifo says “All the futures have become one. One path”.

D: “Please tell Rael and Qui-Gon... tell them the Force will be with them, always.”

This concludes the flashback section of the book and we return to the present, where Ventress finds the woman she was tasked to hunt down. 

She’s revealed to be Jenza, who wanted to go ask the Jedi to help her brother, for she fears he’s walking down a dark path, but was instead kindnapped by Republic agents and tortured for informations about the Separatists.  Dooku arrives she begs him to get help form the Council and to stop listening to the “hooded man”.

Meanwhile, Narec’s voice is still trying to convince Ventress to run away and gives her a vision of what awaits the former Jedi Master. As she’s trown back to reality, Dooku gives her an order, to which Narec tries again to convince Ventress to run away, in the last desperate attempt to keep her in the Light, but she doesn’t.  She obeys the Sith and Narec finally disapears. She made her choice.

-

Lore wise: it’s interesting. Through the course of the movies and animated series, we never really see or learn about Dooku as a character (his motivations, aspirations, bonds if he ever had any). the most we get is a hint of his affection for Qui-Gon in Episode II or, his almost panicked reaction at Sidious’s order to kill Ventress (you could also count the ROTS novelization by M. Stover, where he tries to convince Sidious not to kill Obi-Wan, because he sees him as a grandson).

I liked the concept that Dooku gained the Force lightning before becoming a Sith, because it kind of shows that although it’s associated with the Dark Side, it’s still part of the Force.

The biggest change this book makes (also “Master and Apprentice”) is probably to the timeline In the EU, Dooku and Qui-Gon were 10 years apart, making Qui-Gon in Episode I 60 yrs old and Dooku 70 (80 in Ep II). While now, in the Disney canon, Qui-Gon is 47 and Dooku is still 70. Not a big deal I guess, but it does raise the question: how does Qui-Gon have the rank of Master in TPM, if Obi-Wan is his only Padawan? Qui-Gon was 22 when Obi-Wan was born, so that leaves approximately a 13 years gap, in which they could squeeze in another Padawan.

At least it’s implied that Dooku still joined Sidious after Qui-Gon’s death, I was afraid they’d retcon that. I always liked that it was that loss that pushed him to the edge.

Voice acting: Orlagh Cassidy as Ventress is good, she sounds very similar to Nika Futterman. Morton’s Dooku grows on you after a while, although the not so pronounced british accent is quite distracting, but what can I say, there’s only one Chistopher Lee. Qui-Gon is... interesting. Like, I know he should be 13/14 when he’s first introduced, but he sounds way older (sometimes older that Dooku), but to his credit the slight irish accent is delightful. Also Jonathan Davis delivery and speech patterns mimic those of Liam Neeson pretty well. On the other hand I was not expecting Rael’s voice to sound like that! Nice.

So, in conclusion:

Jenza deserved better

Ventress deserved better

Dooku is a dick, like his father and brother before him

But in all seriousness, this is a very well acted audiobook, with an amazing soundtrack and an interesting story that sheds light on one of the most unexplored characters of the Prequel Trilogy.

———————

Rating: It’s a buy!

[cleanpng]

(cw mom and abuse ment!!) i used to compulsively stress clean and it would help me calm down, but my mom used to include forcing me to clean things as part of her abuse and some other related traumatic experiences. cleaning often gives me flashbacks now, but your blog is really safe and comforting and i feel like im able to kind of reclaim cleaning through cleancore as a whole! i just wanted to thank you for that and let you know that your blog means a lot to me!!

I'm happy to hear you're improving! I'm sorry that happened to you, nobody deserves that, but you have the power to reclaim your life and the things you enjoy doing and I'm proud of you every step of the way ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[35milimetross]

Cinco nuevas series que llegan en octubre

Ha llegado ese mes tan deseado en el que todas las series vuelve del parón a la televisión. Pero no vuelven solas,  sino acompañadas de novedades que llaman bastante la atención. Octubre trae cinco nuevas series que tienen pinta de llegar para quedarse y aquí vamos a hacer una breve introducción de ellas para que podamos conocerlas mejor y apuntarlas en el calendario.

THE GIFTED

El pasado dos de octubre se estrenó la nueva colaboración entre Marvel y Fox TV después de Legión. The Gifted trata sobre la vida de una familia aparentemente normal, hasta que sus mellizos muestran tener poderes propios de mutantes. Pero esto se complica ya que el gobierno decide crear una ley anti-mutantes, por la que la familia protagonista, los Strucker, tendrá que huir.

La serie promete muchísimo, sobretodo para todos aquellos enganchados al mundo Marvel que está tan en auge con series como Jessica Jones, Iron First, Daredevil,…

The Gifted (o Los Elegidos) llega a España el lunes 23 de octubre a las 23:05.

  SUBURRA

Nueva serie original italiana de Netflix centrada en un pueblo costero en Roma. Aquí reinan la mafia, los juegos ilegales, los políticos corruptos. Se sitúa años antes del suceso ocurrido en la capital italiana que cuenta la novela homónima de Carlo Bonini y Giancarlo De Cataldo.

Más que recomendada por su cruda historia y los grandes actores escogidos para vivirla.

Suburra se estrenó en Netflix el día 6 de octubre, por lo que ya está para disfrutar sus 10 episodios en VOSE o doblada al castellano.

  LIAR

Nuevo thriller de HBO, sobre las diferentes caras de cada persona. De los creadores de The Missing, aparece esta pareja formada por una magnífica profesora y un cirujano de renombre que se verán envueltos en un enredo de delitos sexuales. Profundizando sobre la verdad y la mentira de las relaciones.

Liar se estrenó en HBO España el 11 de septiembre, emitiendo los episodios semanalmente, pero al estar siendo tan comentada y con un misterio más que intrigante, no podíamos pasar esta recomendación por alto.

  VALOR

La serie se centra en la vida de dos pilotos de helicópteros del Ejército de los Estados Unidos, que sobrevivieron a una misión secreta en Somalia. Al ser los dos protagonistas los únicos supervivientes, siendo uno de ellos una de las primera mujeres piloto de esta unidad, mostrarán a los espectadores por medio de flashbacks lo que ocurrió de verdad en la misión. Poniendo en contra punto la lealtad del puesto y los deseos y sentimientos humanos.

Valor aún no ha encontrado un hueco en la televisión española, pero su primer episodio será emitido por The CW el 10 de octubre.

  MINDHUNTER

Y llegamos al último estreno de este mes de Octubre con una de las series más esperadas de esta temporada. La nueva serie de David Fincher (House of Card) sobre dos agentes del FBI y su investigación de la mente de los psicópatas. Inspirada en el libro “Mind Hunter: Inside FBI’s Elite Serial Crime Unit” sobre este estudio y lo que se podría lograr al adentrarse en la mente de los asesinos en serie de cara al futuro.

Mindhunter llegará a Netflix el 13 de octubre con sus 10 episodios de esta primera temporada, que podremos disfrutar en VOSE y doblaje al castellano.

La entrada Cinco nuevas series que llegan en octubre aparece primero en 35milimetros.

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[claquete22]

É um pássaro? é um avião? Não,  são as séries com os heróis dos quadrinhos. DC ou Marvel..não importa. Essas séries trazem emoção para os telespectadores, relembram a infância e apresentam para um público novo esses personagens maravilhosos.

OBS: sem ordem de preferência ou qualidade.

1- The Flash

O homem mais rápido do mundo…ok, na série isso é bem relativo. Logo na primeira season , os vilões mais conhecidos já aparecem , o que diminuiu as possibilidades para outras temporadas, mas o roteiro é bem amarrado e o elenco está em sintonia.

Uma das coisas mais legais desse show é a homenagem à série anterior do herói que foi ao ar nos 1990. O ator que dava vida ao herói, John Wesley Shipp, agora é o pai de Barry , Amanda Pays que era o interesse romântico do herói agora é a dona de um laboratório concorrente do S.t.a.r.s Labs e Mark Hamill voltou como o trapaceiro ( mesmo ocupado com a volta da franquia Star Wars).

Canal: CW (EUA)/Warner (Brasil)

2-Arrow

“Você falhou com essa cidade!” , mas a série Arrow não falhou em apresentar a lenda do arqueiro e personagens até então menores no universo da DC. A versão de Olivier mais sério talvez não tenha convencido todos os fãs de HQs, mas o valor da série em estimular novas produções do gênero é inegável.

Depois de um período considerado como morto, o playboy volta a sua cidade para colocar a ordem agindo como vigilante. Primeiro com uma equipe pequena e atualmente com mais ajudantes.

A narrativa é intercalada com flashback de seu período fora da cidade. Muitos acham essas partes bem monótonas, mas são necessárias para explicar algo da história. Outra característica é o crossover com as outras séries de heróis da CW o que une todo o universo desses personagens.

Canal: CW (EUA)/Warner ( Brasil)

5- DC’s Legends of tomorrow

Mesmo não querendo ser chamado de heróis, eles estão em nossa Check List! A equipe formada por personagens secundários e vilões de outras séries da CW combatem o mal pelo tempo.

Na primeira temporada, liderados por Rip Hunter, eles enfrentam o poderoso Vandal Savage, apesar que no programa o vilão aparece bem menos poderoso que nas outras versões em quadrinhos e animações. Mesmo assim a série é bem divertida e com uma reconstituição de época digna para uma série de TV.

Além também mostrar personagens pouco conhecidos, como a Sociedade da justiça da América, as referências à Star Wars tocam fundo no coração da autora desse artigo.

Canal: CW (EUA)/ Warner ( Brasil)

  6- Supergirl

Ela veio de Krypton para cuidar do primo, mas acabou que ela chegou só depois em nosso planeta. O nosso Sol a tornou em SSSSSUPERGIRL…

A tímida Kara não parece ser a valente heroína, mas não se engane, ela é uma moça determinada que conseguiu a admiração até da durona ( e maravilhosa) chefe Cat.

Para mim, a inclusão do Caçador de Marte é um dos pontos altos da série. O poderoso marciano é pouco explorado no universo televisivo da DC e no programa ele é um dos protagonista. Um outro destaque é a irmã adotiva de Kara, Alex.

A série originalmente era da rede CBS, mas foi comprada pela CW onde aumentou a audiência e a qualidade de seus efeitos especiais.

Canal: CW (EUA) / Warner ( Brasil)

6- Os defensores

Sim, eu sei que ainda não começou, mas é a melhor forma de falar sobre as 4 séries da Netflix que mudaram a visão da Marvel na TV.

Tudo começou com Demolidor.  O advogado cego de Hell’s kitchen foi logo um sucesso de público e crítica com sua trama densa e sem pudor de mostrar violência gráfica. Um elenco em sintonia também foi fator para a qualidade do programa.

Os antagonistas Wilson Fisk e o Justiceiro ( que terá uma série própria) são a calda e a cereja do bolo.

A parte feminina dos protagonistas de defensores , Jessica Jones chegou entre a primeira e a segunda temporadas de Demolidor. Com uma trama mais “”arrastada” que a  de demolidor, acompanhamos uma mulher que passou por um grande trauma tentando se encontrar como detive particular.

Além de apresentar o personagem da próxima série desse núcleo, Luke Cage, o vilão Kilgrave mostrava a fragilidade da mente humana e Trish ( a futura heroína Hellcat) mostrava como uma amizade pode superar qualquer truque mental.

E com um olhar sério ( e sexy) chega Luke Cage. Essa série teve menos apelo que as outras anteriores, apesar de uma trama com mais destaque na máfia local e as pessoas de lá. Novamente o vilão se destacou: Boca de algodão.

Para finalizar a equipe dos defensores, temos Punho de ferro. A série lançada esse ano não agradou o público e a crítica, mas ainda tem alguns fãs. As principais reclamações foram a trama rasa, o mau uso da cultura oriental, a atuação do protagonista e as coreografias de lutas que ficam aquém do esperado.

Canal: Netflix

7- Smallville

Somebody saaaaaaave me!!!! Com uma icônica música de abertura, temos a única série de nossa lista que já foi finalizada.

Goste ou não do programa, algo é certo: ele foi o estimulante para as atuais séries de heróis. Além de mostrar mais do universo DC. Nela assistimos a construção do Superman: de estudante em Smallville ( ou Pequenopólis na tradução do SBT) até o jornalista em Metropolis. Ela durou  DEZ temporadas com muito sucesso entre o público.

Menções honrosas: Lois & Clark e Wonder Woman.

  E vocês? Concordam com a lista? Alguma outra sugestão? Fala que eu te escuto, na verdade leio os comentários…

Escrito por Luiza Novaes que concorda com David Bowie…Todos nós  podemos ser heróis também…

    Check List: Séries de Super heróis É um pássaro? é um avião? Não,  são as séries com os heróis dos quadrinhos. DC ou Marvel..não importa.