#did i used to tag things so much? no. but then i went tag diving for specific things and learned the hard way that it's better if you do

[vagueconfusion]

IV and Vessel screams; from the Teeth of God Red Rocks ritual [05/12/2024]

Video taken by literallynoone1289 on tiktok

[ratatatastic]

entering to panthers pulse does go pretty hard luosty yeah

Luosty Cup Day | 8.5.24 (x)

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 3

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

2.4k Words

Part 1, Part 2, Master List

Miles Cooper was still at school the following week, which meant that he was given no consequences for what had happened to you or for blaming Eddie. 

Eddie couldn’t even say he was surprised by this point. If Eddie really had been the one to trip you up, he was sure he’d get suspended or even expelled. It was so close to the end of the year and he could feel that Higgins was looking for any reason to keep him from walking across that stage to get his diploma. 

You hadn’t shown up on Monday. Not that it mattered to Eddie either way, you two didn’t even know each other. But you had cleared his name. That was the thought that kept buzzing around his brain like a mosquito that he just couldn’t swat. Despite the glares and the snide remarks, you had gone out of your way to make sure that he didn’t get in trouble for something he didn’t do, which is more than what he could say for a lot of people at this school.

He had to give you credit for that at least. Not many people outside of his small friend circle would stick up for him like that. 

With work and band practice, it was easy to forget about you until Wednesday when you showed up to English class with a thick white cast around your wrist and arm. Shit, your fall really had done a number on you. You were struggling with juggling your books and they fell off your desk with a clatter, and you thanked the girl next to you for helping you pick them up. 

Eddie would like to think he was above eavesdropping and gossip, but he’d be wrong. 

“What happened?” The girl- Sarah- asked. 

“I face planted on the bleachers at the pep rally.” you said, taking your seat again. “One minute I was trying to get down, and the next I’m getting elbowed and my arm hurt.” 

“I heard someone pushed you” 

Eddie heard that emphasis on someone and gripped his pencil, hearing the subtle sound of wood splintering against his thumb. This was not the time to make a scene. 

“No one pushed me. Miles elbowed me and I fell.” you said firmly. 

You were still defending him, Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“If you’re gonna spread rumors, could you do me a favor and make it sound more interesting?” You continued, “Like, start telling people that I dived off the bleachers to distract everyone that Miles shit himself.”

Eddie snorted loudly before he could stop himself. He slammed his hand pencil down on the table and covered his mouth. Dammit, why did you have to be funny?

Sarah laughed, much less obnoxiously and agreed before asking to sign your cast. You must be covered in signatures now, as you seemed to be friends with everyone. 

Everyone except him. 

Not that it mattered. 

It was nice and all that you saved him from getting in trouble, but it’s not like you two were ever going to be friends, no matter how funny you were. 

Class started and Eddie spent the rest of class doodling and barely paying attention to the teacher. This was usually how his school days went. Yeah, he had been trying harder in the past two years to graduate and pass his classes but some days his brain just refused to focus on anything important. 

The bell rang and Eddie took his sweet time getting his things together. Next period was his favorite- lunch. 

“Shit.” He heard you mumble as you tried to wrangle your books with one arm. He knew there was a rule about not being allowed to carry around a backpack but, shit, Eddie would have thought you’d get some help. Shouldn’t one of those many signatures be offering to carry your books? 

Obviously not, as you finally managed to tuck your notebook under your arm. You looked flustered, and hot in the face. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you finally let out a loud groan as your papers went flying everywhere as students for the next class started coming in. 

It was pathetic, and Eddie couldn’t exactly leave you stranded. You cleared his name, so at least he could try and help you out right now. Maybe he’d even figure out what your problem with him was. 

“Here.” Eddie said and grabbed the papers closest to him and picked up your binder before you could stop him. 

Normally when Eddie looked at you, you’d turn your nose up at him and look away. This time, he found himself giving you direct eye contact. Your eyes were wide with surprise that he had stepped in to help, followed by more frustration. 

“Thanks.” you said shortly. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?” Eddie asked. He’d wait for you to say no, to tell him to get out of your face, and he can walk away with a clear conscience that at least he tried. 

You were staring at him as if he were some sort of alien who had just asked you why the sky wasn’t orange. Yeah ok, he could take the hint. 

“Yes.” 

The word sounded choked out, as if the single syllable was a struggle to say. But you had said it, and Eddie was a man of his word, even though he hadn’t promised you anything. 

Eddie stacked your notebook and binder on top of his. You were still staring at him as if you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. Eddie couldn’t really believe it himself. 

He’d do this small favor for you as a thanks, and then you two could go back to ignoring each other. 

“Lead the way.” He said, offering up his best impression of his dad’s smile. If he was lucky (which Eddie never was) then maybe some of his dad’s Munson Magic might rub off on him enough so that you’d at least relax a little. 

You only nodded and led him out of the classroom. 

You didn’t like the cast and it’s off-putting stark white bandages. You wanted to choose a different color- maybe red or black or even that weird obnoxious toxic green that was offered to you. But your mom decided that white would be better because it would make it easier to sign, so white it was. 

Your parents at least took pity on you Monday, letting you stay home to wallow in embarrassment that you had broken your wrist and fractured your arm in front of all of your classmates. Tuesday they released you back to school, but you had instead skipped getting on the bus (because you could not drive one-handed) and played hooky at the local library. It’s not like anyone would care that someone your age was skipping school. 

Wednesday came, and you forced yourself onto the bus, the first time you had used it since moving to Hawkins. The ride was bumpy and long, and your walkman ran out of batteries halfway to school. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. A few people came up and signed your cast, some asking what happened. You just told them the same thing, that Miles elbowed you and you fell. It wasn’t as exciting as the idea of the school Freak attacking you, but you weren’t about to get Eddie involved in something that he had nothing to do with. You were just going to ignore the fact that Eddie had been the reason you were heading in that direction anyway. 

English class rolled around, and you spent most of it poking the inside of your cast with your pencil, trying to scratch an itch that just wouldn’t go away. It was bad enough that you had fucked up your dominant arm, but this was actually Hell. 

When the bell rang, everyone else seemed to be in a huge rush to get out of the classroom. Everyone but Eddie. Obviously. Because of course the one person you were trying to avoid was now slinking around you. 

Your long weekend, you had done your best to try and not think about him. You could handle falling in front of everyone else in school, but with Eddie it was different. Your stomach twisted as you remembered how he had yelled as you fell next to him and how he had looked at you as you had ignored your stinging arm as you ran out of the gym to clear his name. 

It was bad enough he had heard you make a poor joke out of context, you weren’t going to throw him under the bus either. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?”

Your face was already hot with the embarrassment of not being able to carry your own books. Your backpack had ripped the second you got off the bus, and you lost your math homework to a puddle. You hated that he was still here to begin with, was breaking your wrist already not enough pain and suffering? 

You were staring at him. Fuck- dammit- shit say something back-

“Yes.” 

The word almost got stuck in your throat. The only reason it came out was that as painful and embarrassing as this moment was, what Stacy would do to you if she found out you said no would be far worse. 

Eddie dropped your books on top of his, and gave you a smile that looked so forced that you couldn’t stand to look at him. Was this being done just out of pity? You’d run for the hills if he wasn’t holding you binder hostage. 

You led him through the hallway, and towards your locker. “I need to put some things up.” you said, and he followed you. 

The hallway was already mostly clear, and so no one seemed to pay you much mind. You weren’t sure what the rumor mill would churn out with Eddie carrying your books, but did it even matter? Two more months and you’d be out of this school and none of these people would matter. 

No one except the young man following behind you. 

Eddie dutifully held your books as you put them away. The door to your locker stopped you from seeing his face, which seemed like the perfect time to take the foot out of your mouth that had been there since the pep rally. 

“...I’m... uh... I’m sorry for what I said on Friday.” you started, pretending to rifle through a folder. “About you being in a cult. It was a stupid joke and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and you felt your whole body tense up as you waited for him to say anything. 

“Yeah we uh.. We aren’t big on sacrificing in Hellfire.” he said carefully. “Had to stop that with the club budget cuts.” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek and close your eyes tight to keep from laughing. You covered it up with a cough. “Yeah uh... sounds like that’d be a lot of paperwork.” 

You took a slow and deep breath before closing your locker to look at him. He was smiling at you, a far less forced one than before. It was almost the same smile he gave his friends when he didn’t know you were looking. 

It wasn’t much, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your chest. You should see a doctor about that. 

“Oh yeah, tons.” Eddie said. “And with all the letters we get about our club being associated with the Devil it was just a bureaucratic headache.”

I know that if I could just talk to him one then I’d be fine. You had told yourself that every single day since these pesky little feelings emerged. Maybe you had been right. The two of you made your way to the cafeteria. 

“You’re just some nerds playing with dice.” you said, and realize that could be taken the wrong way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve also... played board games.” 

God you were acting like a total airhead. Board games? Really? You were acting like your brain was broken rather than your wrist. 

You felt Eddie’s eyes on you, and saw how he also looked unsure about your answer. Whatever was going through his head, he brushed aside. 

“I should also thank you for clearing my name.” he said, changing the subject. “You came running out of the gym and saved my ass.” 

“I wasn’t going to let someone get in trouble just because I fell!” It was the most assured thing you had ever said to Eddie.

“Well, either way I’d say you’re my hero.” Eddie said. “I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t come running to my rescue I’d probably be expelled by now, and then who would be around to corrupt the youth of Hawkins?” 

Hero. Eddie called you his hero. You felt your body buzzing with an energy that you were not in a place to use. 

You two were in the cafeteria now, and you led Eddie over to where Stacy was sitting. Stacy, being the queen of subtlety that she was, was openly gawking at the sight of the two of you together. 

She was giving you a look, and that look said that the second that Eddie was out of earshot you would be giving her a play by play of every single second of this interaction. 

Eddie dropped your books on the table by Stacy.

“Hi, Eddie!” she said in a perky voice. You wanted to kick her, and shot her a warning look which she ignored. “Will you be dining with us today?” 

You wanted to rip your hair out. 

“As much as I would love to spend my lunch period with you two ladies, I’m afraid my freshmen wouldn’t survive out there in the wild without me.” Eddie gave a dramatic bow. 

“Thank you. For helping me.” you said stiffly. Being on the receiving end of Eddie’s theatrics was making your brain blow a fuse. 

Eddie gave you a nod and sauntered off to his usual table where he was immediately hounded by his friends for being seen with you. You wondered what they were thinking. Did you look weird next to Eddie? Were they judging you for not being part of their group?

“Stop drooling.” Stacy said. “Talk.”

I have never broken a bone and have done minimal googling.

Also these chapters are getting longer dammit. This is supposed to be the easy stuff to wright UGH. Also tell me if there's something you wanna see with this, because I'm winging it like I do with all my writing lol

Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias

@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess

@sp1dyb0y1008 @projectcampbell @emxxblog @thebadbatchfan

@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot

@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta

@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart @bambibiest @mylovelycrazyworld

@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 46!

another week, another rec list! before we dive in, though, i have a request: please have a look at this fic description and help anon find it!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a lighthouse in the fog | greenbergsays/@greenbergsays | 6.8k | T

The one where Buck wakes up after surgery and realizes that Tommy doesn't meet his emotional needs. i love the descriptions of buck and what he's feeling and experiencing here!! so so good

all my little words | youbetsya/@fleabagdiaz | 11.4k | T

Eddie: Did you just send me an email?? Buck: yeah lol (in which buck and eddie email while eddie is in el paso). email correspondence my beloved!! i love how well this captures their voices and dynamic through emails and texts. such a lovely fic <3

a straight guy and an ally walk into a bar... | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 23.2k | M

After Buck gets dumped, he remembers he agreed to go to Abby's wedding with a date. Eddie steps up and pretends to be his boyfriend. All hell breaks loose. buddie fake dating!! shenanigans!! this is unhinged and also soft and i love it so much. the scene where taylor pops up had me laughing so hard. brilliant!

bad idea, right? | brewrosemilk/@gayhoediaz| 6.8k | E

Buck stumbles across Eddie's grindr profile. no no this is the BEST idea actually. the coding is brilliant, this looks so so good, and it's also just fantastically written!

darling (you're the one i want) | archerincombat | 2.5k | G

Eddie keeps buying Buck gifts and Buck keeps not getting the idea. friends to fiances! barnes and noble! flowers! this fic has everything!! loved reading this <3

giving way to labored breath | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 1.5k | T

In which falling in love was the easy part, and learning how to actually be together is another beast entirely. They work it out. blanket rec for an author whose work i've really been enjoying this week <3 this one in particular is such a brilliant look at buck and eddie getting together <3

i could give you fifty reasons | marviless/@marviless | 15.7k | T

buck is on a mission to help eddie recover his self-confidence. it goes well for exactly zero parties involved. this might not go well for anyone who's actually involved but it went very very well for me <3 i love buck being earnest and a little embarrassing and so very full of love for eddie!!

if you love me right, then who knows? | ipretendtobesane/@userbuddie | 3.4k | E

buck and eddie stumble upon a feminization kink, and eddie really likes his boyfriend's tits. there's something about buddie playing around with feminisation that just hits so hard. this is so so good!!

love in the shock of lightning | justhockey | 4k | T

It was real. It had happened. It had happened to Buck, and to Eddie, and to see it again…to be confronted with it so abruptly, without any time to steel himself against the memories of that night? Eddie had almost collapsed to his knees then and there. hmmm yes spec fic we love to see it!! and stress baking! loveliest emotional hurt/comfort getting together fic <3

never seen a bluer sky | Chash/@ponyregrets | 1.9k | T

"Hey, what brings you joy?" Eddie is expecting some waffling in Buck's response. Maybe some suspicion. It's a weird thing to ask, obviously. Joy isn't a word he uses much, isn't a go-to. But even if what makes you happy is a more normal question, it's not right. He needs something deeper. buck and eddie finding joy my beloved <3 this hits the spot just right!!

promise you'll put your hand in my hand | farfromthstars/@doeeyeseddie | 4k | T

5 times buck and eddie hold hands platonically, and 1 time they don't. holding hands <3 so fluffy so sweet so so lovely <3

put on a slow dumb show for you | fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuck | 2.3k | T

they’re sleepy and a little drunk and buck’s one step behind. do i even need to say how much i love bed sharing fics? like i think you all know that by now lmao. anyway this one in particular hits that fluff and crack spot so perfectly and i love it so very much <3

since forever | @hotshotsxyz | 1.3k

the loveliest tumblr fic!! soft and sweet indeed <3 this eddie is brilliant!

skin still wet (still on my skin) | marrows | 6.2k | E

Buck’s hand is on his thigh. Eddie chokes on his beer, eyes fixed on the curl of Buck’s fingers, tucked in just above his knee to where his skin meets the sofa. He hadn’t noticed, how hadn’t he even noticed? 8xo6 codas haven't failed me yet lol and this is one of my favourites!! it follows the episode so naturally <3 also another appearance of buck's praise kink, my best friend yay

somebody i can kiss | Rianne/@rianneeyre | 7.9k | E

Buck might be a little touch-starved. And he knew that, but he was not prepared to deal with how the knowledge would interact with his newfound awareness of his crush on—no, realistically, his undying love for Eddie. [...] The point is, he should not spend Christmas on a fucking sleepover with Eddie. But he’s gonna. christmas sleepover <3 i for one cannot wait to drown in holiday fics soon and i already know i'll be revisiting this over the next few weeks. this is soft and spicy and just absolutely brilliant <3

take the bed warmed by the body | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck | 2.5k | T

It’s three parts bravado and one part reminder. He thinks about it, sometimes, his first shift at the 118—he doesn’t think either of them quite knew how much they’d meant it when they’d promised to have each other’s backs. He definitely hadn’t known, then, that he’d wake up one day and wonder why Buck isn’t in his bed. i love this twist on sharing a bed so very much <3 so brilliantly them!!

that kind of music just soothes the soul | KejfeBlintz/@kejfeblintz | 1.8k | G

Settling back into the corner of his couch with a happy sigh, Eddie let the fizz of excitement from his impromptu dance party hum beneath his skin. He had done something joyful for himself and had been rewarded with his best friend and a six pack of beer appearing on his doorstep. He’d danced and the world hadn’t ended. he'd danced and the world hadn't ended!! lovely episode coda and such a well-written eddie <3

through the looking glass | jukoist | 6.4k | G

Buck likes Tommy. He does! And he definitely isn't in love with Eddie. He's just... worried. Because Eddie keeps vanishing on Sundays, leaving Buck with the boyfriend he definitely likes as much as he should. Everything is fine. the dialogue in this fic is particularly great <3 lovely lovely fic!!

[macabr3-barbi3]

Entanglement (Sub Vox x Reader)

A request from the lovely @jurijyuu for a tentacle malfunction Sub Vox 💕📺

Tags: Restraints; Light Bondage; Sub Vox; Teasing; Begging; Dom/sub Undertones; Tentacles? Sort of? are Vox's cable/wire things tentacles? the world may never know

💙❤️💙❤️💙

Who could have guessed that trying to do something nice for his doll could have resulted in something like this?

Vox had been waiting for you to finish up with Velvette for the shoot that was happening this evening. He knew after hours of the fucked up poses that Vel forced you into to get the perfect shot you would be sore- she had had you hanging by your knees from the fucking chandelier on one occasion, insisting that the slight sway to the fixture would result it a cool shot from your camera (it did; that wasn’t the point). Her favorite photographer, Velvette was always fucking stealing your free time away from him. It was good for business, but bad for his plan of simply keeping you naked in his room at all times for easy access.

He had been laying in the bed, lazily stroking himself just in case you showed up, when the idea struck him to run you a hot bath and light some candles around the room. It shouldn't have been too much longer before you arrived so the candles wouldn’t burn out, and you always enjoyed it when he ‘set the mood,’ whatever that meant. He could probably sell you on fucking before your bath, too- even more deep aches and sweet bruises for the hot water to soothe.

He was too lazy to get up though, so he had snaked out a few of his cables from the back of his head, long and prehensile, a few pairs of them diving into the various drawers in the room searching for the candles and matches and two slithering across the floor towards the bathroom. Had he thought to check the floor for water from his shower a few hours prior before sending two very much electrical tentacles into the room he might have had better luck.

Currently though, his luck was shit. The water found its way into his wires and shorted them out, electrical current traveling all the way through to the base and fucking up the other cables as well; they whipped and snapped across the room in wide arcs and twisting wriggles, and his attempts to grab them from the air and cease the destruction to his room only resulted in his wrists getting tangled up in the mess.

So here Vox had been for the last fifteen minutes or so, restrained by his wrists in the bed and still achingly, frustratingly hard. His cables didn’t so much as twitch when he tries to send some power to them to reverse the entanglement, or when he tugged his arms a bit. His cock does though, and isn’t that something interesting that he doesn’t want to think about right now.

And then like an angel, there’s the sound of the door opening and you coming home. “Baby,” he shouts from the bedroom, and he hears the telltale thump of your camera bag on the kitchen counter. “I could use your help in here!”

“What did you do now? If you cracked your screen off the stand again-” Your voice trails off when you enter the room and see him- he’s sure he looks fucking ridiculous, spread out like he is, and he feels the spread of pink pixels over his screen in a blush.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” he says, “and got some water in my wires. Everything went haywire, and, well, now I’m here. Be a doll and help me get loose?”

The way you’re watching him is a little disconcerting- not bad by any means, he loved having your eyes on him, just a little unusual. You slide your jacket off your shoulders and toss it on the armchair, sliding your hair out of its bun that you wear to keep your hair out of your eyes while you work. When you go for the button on your jeans he clears his throat.

“I appreciate the strip tease, sweetheart, but there’s more pressing matters at hand here.” He lifts his wrists in demonstration, the wires brushing his skin in a way that makes him suck in a harsh breath, dick twitching in his boxers. “Come on, help me.”

You work your jeans and panties down your legs, his eyes trailing the whole way before settling on the space between your legs. Then your shirt comes off, perfect tits on display as you do a rotation, let him take in the visual of your body in front of him before running your hands down your skin and back up- one hand plucks at a nipple while the other dips down between your legs.

Vox’s mouth is hanging open, pixelated lines of drool coming off his mouth as he watches you, cock throbbing out of his reach. He tugs at his makeshift restraints, a little breathless when it sends a bolt of arousal through his body- seriously, what the fuck? “I am in no mood to be teased right now,” he tells you, but the words are a little reedy and almost whimpered. He clears his throat and tries again- “Seriously, help me.”

You come closer to the bed, climb onto it and settle yourself between his legs. “Come on, Voxxy,” you murmur, and the low, dangerous tone to your voice goes straight to his straining erection despite the use of that fucking nickname that he hated. “Tied up all pretty for me and not even going to say ‘please?’ That’s not how you get what you want.” Your hands run up his calves, up his thighs, and your thumbs brush into the dip of his pelvic bone. Your touch sends electricity crackling through him, static sparking between his antennae. “That’s what you always say anyway- you wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite, would you?” You drag the waistband of his boxers down, and he’s half-mortified when his hips automatically cant up to make it easier for you, his dick slapping heavy onto his abdomen when it springs free.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He can feel the manic grin on his face- confused by the turn of events, by his sweet, perfect doll not simply doing what you were told and, what? Trying to get him to beg? As if- even if it was hot as fuck (and it was, Christ). “Baby, I- ohhhh, fuck-” 

Your head ducked down to lick a stripe up his cock, tongue curling around the head- his hips buck up, try to sink into the wet cavern of your mouth but you pull back with a soft smile. “Say please.”

“Fuck you.” Vox says this affectionately- he was the one in control in the bedroom, this was cute and all, but he wouldn’t plead with you for it.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t be,” you snap back with a wicked grin on your face. And you’re gone again, bent over to lick and suck at the hard length of him with your ass in the air, just the way that he likes.

Again, when he tries to thrust into your mouth you pull off, and he tugs uselessly at his restraints, head falling back against the pillows when you bring a hand up to cup his balls, thumb running gently over the sensitive skin. “Haah- you’re going to fucking kill me.” He’s a little embarrassed by that whiny moan that had escaped him, but you’re not even looking at his face, head resting on his thigh to gaze lovingly at his fucking dick while you stroke and kiss and generally tease him.

Vox thinks he might be losing his mind, just a little. But fuck does he want it, want to lose himself in the wet heat of your mouth, sink deep into your slick cunt and watch you bounce in his lap. He could still do that with his hands restrained, right? He wouldn’t be able to grip your hips the way he wanted to, or get his fingers on your clit and revel in the way that always made you clench tighter around him- but he could make do if you wouldn’t release him.

And there’s the thought that does him in- that maybe you wouldn’t let him go, would keep him tied to the bed with his own goddamn wires to tease him endlessly, unable to do anything about it himself, evidently unable to convince you to do anything for him. He was at your mercy here, the thought making him dizzy with arousal and an unprompted whine falling from his lips when he notices you working your fingers between your legs while you finally let the head of his cock slip past your lips, suction on the tip that makes him see stars.

“P-please,” he breathes out, and you release him with a pop, such excitement lighting up your eyes that he wishes he had given in sooner- you were so beautiful when you were pleased and excited, what would you look like when he gave in to you like this?

You move up the bed, legs on either side of his, and slide your drenched folds against the length of him. Leaning down so your face is next to his, you press a deep kiss to his mouth, slipping your tongue alongside his before you pull back and whisper, “again.” Your hands press into Vox’s chest as you slot him against you, rub the head of his prick against your clit and groan in ecstasy.

His hips jerk at the sensation. “Please, baby,” he says darkly, “let me fuck you.”

“Hmm, not quite what I’m looking for.” You lift off of him, slide back and out of reach again. “Try again?”

“What? Come on, I can’t-” He pulls at his restraints again, and the way your eyes go half-lidded at the sight gets the message through. “You wanna keep me trussed up, is that it?”

“Is it so wrong for the photographer to want to keep a pretty picture on display?” Your fingers twitch between your pretty thighs, grinding tiny circles into your clit while you wait for him to give you what you want. “I wish I hadn’t left my camera in the kitchen; I would love a shot like this. I’d have to get some different lighting…” Your hips stop moving for a moment as you look around the room. “Maybe candlelight would work? I think that would cast a nice glow on your skin, so pretty- fuck, should I go get my camera?”

“No!” The word breaks past the dam of his lips when you use one of his own tricks against him- the threat of ending the pleasure when you’re so fucked out and cock drunk, on the brink of cumming. “No no no, doll, don’t leave- fuck, please, alright? Please touch me, fuck me, ride my cock. I’m fucking begging, I need it-”

A shudder rolls through your body, and finally, finally you sink down on him, a slow, delicious slide that has his fingers clenching uselessly where they’re held, wishing he could hold you, dig his claws in like he usually did.

“I didn’t say stop,” you moan, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Come on, Voxxy, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop fucking t͖͖̠̬͛ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅi̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ me-” Your hips slow and Vox bites his tongue, rephrasing- and this time, to his chagrin, the stream of words doesn’t fucking stop. “Please, baby, don’t stop- f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, so fucking good, I w-want- I wanna cum, please, keep going, you f-feel so f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓-” An honest to God whimper comes out of him, so invested in both of you cumming that he can’t even find the sense in him to be embarrassed by what was happening. His screen is glitching out, his vision broken when he goes full static every couple of seconds, but the glimpses he’s getting in between of you with your head thrown back are going to fuel his jerk-off sessions when he can’t spend the night with you for the rest of his afterlife. You felt fucking perfect around him, your swollen pussy walls squeezing him just right as you rode him.

“Say please,” you command, fingers working between your legs, the back of your hand brushing against his abdomen and causing the muscles to flutter under you. “Ask me to make you cum- ask for permission and I’ll let you cum in me-”

And didn’t that just sound like the perfect end to the evening? He doesn’t even question it, couldn’t stop his traitorous tongue if he tried. “Please, doll, oh my fucking- please please p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, let me do it, cum with me-” He feels the tension in his entire body, from his suspended arms to the tips of his goddamn toes- he might actually fully fucking short out, he thinks deliriously, processors overloading in his brain at the sights and sounds and the feel of you sucking him into your greedy body. “- p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ let me, baby- oh f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, I’m gonna-”

You hit the peak of your orgasms together, your body jerking in his lap like you’ve been electrocuted while your cunt wrings him like a fucking towel, tensing and rippling around his cock as he spills into the slickness, long pulses of cum as far inside of you as he can get and its not enough- he can never be close enough to you to feel complete so he settles for filling you with everything he has to give.

Vox doesn’t black out, but its a near thing- the explosion of sudden voltage to his circuits actually jump-starts the core of his cable tentacles and they spring to life, his wrists finally coming free and falling to the bed so he’s spread out like some fucked up crucifixion. They’re numb, he realizes, but before he can get to doing anything about that you shift, reaching for them and massaging feeling back into his limbs. There’s some light bruising, but nothing crazy, not any worse than you had whenever the pair of you occasionally delved into bondage. 

The heavy breathing of you both evens out, and you bring his hands to your mouth to press light kisses to them. When you’re satisfied you release him, and his arms wrap around your back. You press a gentle kiss to his screen and rest your head on his chest. 

“You know,” you mutter into his skin, “technically I didn’t give you permission to cum. That’s gotta count for… something. I’m not sure what.”

He snorts into your hair. “Doesn’t count for shit. You cheated, waiting until I was right on the brink to say that shit.”

You hum, and snuggle closer. “You liked it though? Maybe a repeat in the future?”

His instinct was to say no, but he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it- you were a dangerous force in control, something he would maybe have to mention to Velvette so she would let you direct your own goddamn shoots. “We’ll talk about it,” he settles on, still a tad embarrassed by his reaction to the whole thing. “I do think you should have to draw the bath now, though- for both of us, since I think you rode me so hard my thighs have bruises.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh into his chest, but you still roll off of him and disappear into the bathroom- the sound of running water fills the room while Vox tries to remember how to make his legs work.

“I better not see that camera in here, either!” He shouts, and your responding giggle brings a smile to his face.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56081230

[cjlouwho]

Carry the Burden

read on ao3 or below. 7.6k, tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse, emotional/psychological abuse, depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of vomiting, love, care, no major character death

Summary:

With Buck, Tommy was an open book... mostly. There was one particular, very important chapter that he kept closed. He didn't bring up his childhood. Didn't mention his parents much. That was a part of his life no one but he and his therapist needed to know about. But a surprise visit from his father changes all that, and sends Tommy spiraling down a path he'd fought so hard to shun away.

They were on the couch, Buck laid out with his head on the arm rest and legs sprawled over Tommy's lap. Tommy had his own legs crossed and stretched out on the coffee table. Buck barely registered Tommy's phone buzzing as he reached and pulled it out of his pocket.

“Hm. Dad's in town.”

Tommy had been so nonchalant with his words that Buck was pretty sure he heard him wrong.

“What?” He asked as Tommy laid the phone beside him.

“My dad's here, apparently.” He didn't even look away from the TV as he spoke, keeping his focus on the basketball game.

They'd been sitting there for nearly half an hour now, Tommy watching the game while Buck did a deep dive on the history of mummification. It wasn't his first time researching the subject, but it was always good to get a refresher.

“Are you... are you going to see him?” Buck asked.

Tommy was an open book with Buck, mostly. It helped that Buck was always more than willing to share stories from his own past.

Tommy would talk about how he was a chubby kid growing up and got made fun of a lot for it. How he took up wrestling in high school. How he joined the military at seventeen, mostly to show his classmates just how strong he was. He'd go into detail about the missions he completed in the army, and the way it impacted his life to this day. He didn't shy away from who he was when he first became a firefighter. How he followed along with Gerrard because it was the easy thing to do. He made no excuses for himself.

Tommy talked about part of him wanting to stay at the 118 once Bobby came, but his past loomed over him like a dark cloud and, even though Hen and Chimney forgave him long ago, every time he walked into the station he was reminded of who he was and not who he wanted to be.

He talked about his first few weeks in therapy. How he went through three therapists before he found one he liked. How hard it was to come to terms with so many aspects of his life.

He still went to therapy, once a week, always on a Tuesday. That was one of his regular days off, and Buck knew there would always be a couple hours of radio silence from him then.

There was one aspect of his life that Tommy never really discussed in detail.

His parents.

It wasn't that he never mentioned them. Buck knew that his dad was not a good man, and that his mom died when he was young, but that's all Tommy had ever really said.

The scoff Tommy let out at Buck's question told him all he needed to know. “No, I- I will not be seeing him.”

Buck pushed himself up into a sitting position, bending his knees close to his chest. “How'd you find out he was in town?”

Tommy didn't have siblings. Didn't really have any extended family. None he was in regular contact with anyway.

“He texted me,” Tommy answered simply.

“I didn't even know he had your number.”

“Oh, he has it,” Tommy managed to look over at Buck and give him a grin that didn't quite reach the eyes, “he just rarely uses it.”

“But he is now?”

“Apparently.” Tommy turned back to the game, but Buck reached over and squeezed his forearm, regaining his attention.

“Hey, Tommy, use your words. I've never heard you mention your dad calling or texting you, but he suddenly is now? Is there a reason?”

Tommy sighed. He reached for his phone, unlocking it before handing it over to Buck. “That's all it says. He's not a man of many words,” he said, before mumbling out, “or many good words, at least.”

Buck read over the text:

In town. Let's talk. Stuff to figure out.

He handed Tommy his phone. “Are you gonna answer him, at least?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, I am not.”

“Aren't you a little curious...”

Buck's voice trailed off as Tommy reached for Buck's hand, gently tugging Buck towards him. Buck maneuvered himself until he was curled into Tommy's side, his head resting just below Tommy's shoulder. Tommy wrapped his arm around Buck, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I appreciate the concern,” he spoke quietly, “but this,” he added, lifting his phone, “is not happening.”

Buck understood issues with parents. He'd told that to Tommy so many times before. He'd gone over his life story time and time again, and Tommy always listened with the utmost care and consideration. He always seemed so happy for Buck too. Happy that he was able to, for the most part, work things out with his parents. They may not be on the best terms, and they'd probably never be what others considered a “close” family, but they were better. And that was good enough.

Still, Buck could tell that Tommy was done with the conversation, so he let it go.

“How much longer until the game is over?” he asked, changing the topic for Tommy's sake.

Tommy let out a laugh, shaking Buck slightly. “About ten minutes.”

Buck closed his eyes, settling further into Tommy's side, “Wake me up when it's over.”

*****

They'd been together six months now, had exchanged keys a couple months in, but Buck still felt a thrill every time he walked into Tommy's place knowing Tommy wouldn't actually be there yet.

Something about it just felt so domestic. And Buck loved that feeling.

They'd already discussed moving in together. If they both had a night off, they were never apart, instead switching between each place depending on what errands they had planned for the next day.

Buck had another two months to go on his lease, so they decided to hold out on actually moving in together until then. There was no reason to deny him getting his security deposit back, or being forced to pay rent for an apartment he was no longer living in.

Still, Buck preferred Tommy's house. It was an older place, and not very big, but it had a nice garage for working out and a good kitchen that Buck enjoyed cooking in.

Which was why he came to Tommy's today. Tommy was working, but he'd be off by six, and Buck wanted to have a good dinner ready for him to come home to. Bobby had given him a recipe for something called Marry Me Chicken, and well, who was Buck kidding, that was the ultimate goal.

They would be the first to admit they were a bit unconventional. Besides swapping keys two months into their relationship, they had discussed whether or not children were in their future on date number four.

Tommy never really let go of the fact Buck invited him to his sister's wedding after one failed date.

They had sex on Buck's balcony before they had it in his bed.

They said I love you for the first time in month three, when Buck was deathly ill with a stomach bug and somehow got vomit in his hair. Tommy got him in the shower, letting Buck rest all of his body weight on him as he cleaned him up. Wrapped in Tommy's arms, head resting on his chest, eyes closed as water and soap flowed down his body, and the taste of throw up still on his tongue no matter how many times he brushed and used mouthwash, he uttered out an “I love you” to Tommy. He didn't even care if Tommy said it back, but Tommy did. He pressed a kiss to Buck's temple, dragging a wash cloth down his back, and said, “I love you too, Evan. So much.” That wasn't just the day Buck knew he loved Tommy, it was the day he knew he wanted to marry Tommy.

And, no, the chicken wasn't going to be a proposal. That wouldn't be happening until after they had officially lived together for a while- which had been a discussion during date number six.

But the name of the recipe, the words marry me, made Buck feel soft in a way that almost felt ridiculous, especially since it was literally just a recipe for chicken breast.

Buck had just placed the chicken in the oven when there was a knock on the door.

He rolled his eyes. Tommy often came home with his hands full, opting to carry most of his items separately instead of placing them in his duffel.

“One of these days I'm not gonna answer,” Buck called out as he neared the door, “just to teach you a le- Oh.”

The words died out on his tongue when he was met at the door by an older man that was very much not Tommy.

This man had thirty or so years on Buck, and was a few inches taller too. He was broad- really broad. Like Tommy, but on steroids.

“Uh, sorry, I- I thought you were someone else,” Buck began after he collected himself. “Can I help you?”

“Is this Thomas Kinard's place?” The man's voice was gruff. The kind of voice you get after smoking a pack a day for years on end.

“It is.”

“You're not him.”

“I'm not.”

“Where is he?”

Well, this conversation was going swimmingly!

“I- I'm sorry, who... are you?”

“Right,” the man held out his hand, although the scowl on his face remained. “Charles Kinard.”

Buck couldn't hide the surprise on his face after hearing the name. He shook Charles' hand, which held on a bit too tightly. “Oh! Oh, you're Tommy's dad.”

“'S'what it says on the birth certificate.”

Once Charles let go, Buck moved out of the way, allowing him to come inside. “Come in. Sorry, I was, um, not expecting anyone. I'm Evan Buckley, um, Buck, by the way. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Charles noted as he walked farther into the house, eyes drifting around the place.

“Yeah, I- I know. Sor- uh, Tommy should be home pretty soon. He's been working. Was he... Did he know you were coming?”

He cringed at the question, knowing it was an odd thing to ask. He was still trying to catch up with what was going on. Tommy hadn't mentioned his father since three days ago, when he got the text he never answered. Maybe he had ended up answering and just never said anything to Buck, but that wasn't like Tommy.

“Not really,” Charles answered, finally turning to face Buck. “Who are you?” he asked, eying Buck up and down. Buck wasn't really sure if Charles was looking at him, or his apron, which he now remembered said, 'I like my meat rubbed, jerked, and pulled!'

Buck untied the apron and unceremoniously pulled it off of him, crumpling it up in his hand. He realized in that moment that he had no idea what Tommy's dad actually knew, or didn't know, about him. “I'm his friend,” he settled on, “from work.”

“You work together?”

Buck nodded. “Sort of. Different stations, but, yeah, um, yes we're both firefighters.”

“Mm.”

“Uh, why don't you have a seat,” Buck suggested, motioning toward the living room as he stepped closer to Charles. “Tommy won't be too much longer now.”

Charles moseyed into the living room, glancing around at the décor before taking a seat on the couch. “You come over and cook for your friend while he works?” Charles asked as Buck returned to the kitchen.

He wanted to text Tommy, or call him, and let him know what was happening, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't exactly talk about his dad while he was right in front of him, and Tommy wouldn't check a text when he was driving.

“I, uh, I like to cook,” Buck started, trying to think of an explanation that didn't sound too ridiculous. “And he's got a good kitchen, so I come over, um, sometimes to cook. I- I pay with food.” God, he was an idiot.

Another grunt like sound came from Charles, and Buck was about ninety percent sure he didn't buy it.

Buck wasn't sure how to communicate with the man. He was usually pretty good about stuff like this. He could make up random things to talk about with anyone, whether they wanted to hear it or not. But this was his boyfriend's father who didn't know for sure that Buck was Tommy's boyfriend, and all the questions that were coming to Buck's mind were only questions a significant other would ask their partner's parents.

“So, Mr. Kinard,” Buck began, beginning to slice a cucumber. He wasn't even planning on using a cucumber for anything tonight, but he needed something to do.

“Charles.”

“Charles, um, what... are you visiting LA?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, good. That's... that's good. I'm sure Tommy will be happy to see you.”

Yet another grunt. This one almost sounded like a snort. Buck leaned over slightly to get a look at the man, who was staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the turned off TV in front of him.

“You should stay for dinner,” Buck suggested, hating himself as the words left his mouth. “There's gonna plenty.” That was true. He always made enough for leftovers.

“Okay.”

This truly was a man of few words.

Buck was just about to tell him he could turn on the TV and watch something when he heard the sound of keys jiggling in the doorknob.

The door opened before Buck could get to it.

“Oh my God, Evan, what smells so good? I could smell it from outside,” Tommy said, walking inside. Buck met him at the entryway.

“Just chicken. Um, Tommy-”

Tommy dropped his duffel at the door, “I even put my stuff in it this time,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabbed at Buck's shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Usually, Buck would've been thrilled. Told him it was about damn time and asked if he could take a picture to remember this moment forever.

Instead, he quickly pulled away from the kiss and unwrapped himself from Tommy's touch.

“We have a visitor, Tommy,” Buck said when he was met with a confused face. “You do, I mean.”

“I was wondering who's car was out front,” Tommy replied. “Figured the neighbors were having another party or something.”

“No, um, it's...” Buck's voice trailed off. He could tell Charles was somewhere behind him now. Could see that Tommy's eyes trailed from looking at him to looking at his father. Whatever was left of the smile on his face disappeared, his skin paling.

Part of Buck wished he could disappear. Just melt into the floor and turn into a puddle of goo.

The other part of him had the urge to stand between the two men forever, making sure Tommy was protected from whatever pain his father had obviously caused him.

Buck had never seen the look on Tommy's face before. It looked like fear and sadness, mixed with rage.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asked as Buck stepped to the side to get out of the way.

“Well, hello to you too, TJ.”

TJ? That was new.

“Don't call me that. What are you doing here? How'd you find my house?”

The problem with where Buck was standing, was that he couldn't move toward the kitchen without walking directly in front of the two men, and he wasn't sure this was a good moment to move.

“I'm not an idiot. You own the place, I looked it up. I texted you when I got to town.”

“I know you did.” Tommy shrugged off his jacket, dropping it on top of his duffel bag. “Thought you'd get the hint when I didn't answer.”

“You know how I am with subtleties.”

“Not answering a single one of your texts for three years is not exactly subtle, Dad.”

Buck could not do this any longer. He could feel Charles' eyes on him and, if he was going to be Tommy's friend, he couldn't exactly go into protective-boyfriend mode.

“I'm gonna,” he pointed toward the kitchen, “just go over there.”

Tommy waited for Buck to be out of the room before continuing. “You need to go,” he said, staring his father dead in the eyes.

“Hm. Thought you wanted to know what I was doing here?”

“Decided I don't care.”

Charles smiled. It didn't reach his eyes the way Tommy's did. There were no laughter lines, no scrunched up nose. Just a meaningless smile. “You're lookin' good, TJ. Lower BMI than the last time I saw you. That's good.”

Buck wasn't sure if he was hearing things correctly. Who says that to their kid after not seeing them for years?

“And you're looking me in the eyes. You always struggled with that before.”

“It's easier now that I'm too big for you to hit.”

Buck sucked in a breath. It was impossible to not overhear the conversation. With the open floor plan, Buck could still see Charles, although he didn't have a view of Tommy.

Charles laughed. A deep, guttural laugh that made Buck feel uneasy. “You're never too big for that, T-”

“You need to go. Now.”

“Hang on a minute,” Charles said, waving Tommy off. “I gotta talk to you about my will.”

“I don't give a damn about your will.”

“I've got fifty acres of land in Colorado, TJ. Been in the family for generations.”

“You've got a double wide trailer on that dump of land and couldn't get rid of it if you tried. I don't want it.”

Buck could hear shuffling, so he quickly picked up a knife to make it look like he'd been chopping away at that same cucumber from earlier.

Tommy entered the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink before turning to Buck. “Need help with anything, Ev?”

“N- No, um, no, I'm good.”

“I'm not getting any younger, TJ.”

Tommy placed a hand on Buck's lower back. It was as though it was an anchor for him. Something to keep him steady.

He glared over at his dad. “You're still here?”

“Don't be dumb, Thomas. I'm not leaving until we talk about this. Besides, your friend here invited me for dinner.”

The hand on Buck's back stiffened, before being removed completely. He turned his head toward Buck. “You did?”

“I- I thought you two might, um, might want to catch up.”

He hoped Tommy could read between the lines. Hoped he understood what Buck was really trying to say.

“I felt like I had no other choice. This was really awkward, even for me, and I panicked. Please, don't hate me.”

“That's kind of you, Evan,” Tommy replied, his attention returning to his father, “but we don't have anything to catch up on.”

“Hey! Don't stand there acting like I'm the problem,” Charles said, crossing the room in three steps. Buck could feel Tommy stiffen beside him. “You're the one who left, not me! I've been the one contacting you. You can act like I'm a terrible father all you want, but I'm the one that helped you be something!”

“You didn't help me! I ran from you! I was seventeen years old, Dad, joining the army to get away from you!”

Buck wanted to say something. Wanted to kick the man out of the house, or at least hold up his bowl of finely chopped cucumber and ask if anyone wanted a bite.

But, this wasn't his house. Not yet, anyway. And, somehow, he felt responsible for this whole debacle. He couldn't stop thinking about how he should have done things differently. He shouldn't have let Charles in the house. Shouldn't have attempted to make conversation. Shouldn't have invited him to stay for dinner. Should have figured out a way to call and warn Tommy. Should have texted him anyway; maybe he would have read it before getting out of his truck.

“You know, I really should have known better,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Should have known you wouldn't want to help your old man out.”

“Help you out?” Tommy asked, exasperated. “I have done nothing but help you out for years! I bailed you out of jail three times. I paid your gambling debts for you. I took a second mortgage out on my home so I could pay your back taxes! If I didn't stop answering your messages, I'd be living on the streets! And now you want to come talk about a will? On property that you've nearly foreclosed on twice? I'm surprised you even have that place any-” he stopped mid sentence. Buck glanced over at him, worried something had happened.

“You're about to lose the property, aren't you?” Tommy asked. That made much more sense.

“Now, just listen-”

“You're really here to have me buy the property, and give you the money, so you can go blow it on booze and steroids and hookers and whatever else you feel like.”

“This is what family does, TJ,” Charles said, pointing at Tommy as he eyed him down. “They help each other when they're in need.”

“When have you ever helped me, Dad?” Tommy asked. His voice was different now. Resigned, almost. “Never.”

“I don't need to stand here and listen to these lies in front of your friend!”

Tommy scoffed. “I think you know he's more than a friend.”

“Yeah, I do know. He's been bumbling like an idiot since I got here.”

Buck could feel his face turning red. He wasn't embarrassed by Charles' words, more surprised by the man's lack of filter.

“Get out.” Tommy demanded. “Now!”

Charles moved even closer, a tight fist placed on the countertop of the island. “You owe me!” he spit out through gritted teeth. “The embarrassment you have caused me. Being the way you are, having to answer questions from my friends! I have been trying to knock sense into you for years!”

“Maybe I was too busy lying to doctors in the hospital for the sense to really get knocked in there!”

“Pathetic,” Charles said, before mumbling out, “like your mother.”

“Get out.” It was Buck's voice this time. It no longer mattered to him that this wasn't his home. He didn't care if he was overstepping. Tommy could be mad if he wanted.

For as little as Buck knew about Tommy's family, he did see the way Tommy's eyes got red and glassy when he mentioned his mom. How he'd clear his throat and say she was a good woman, a great mom, gone too soon. From what he'd pieced together on his own, it was a suicide.

Tommy had never said as much, but he came to Buck's after a particularly bad shift. Buck hadn't even been expecting him. He showed up at the door, eyes blank, mind somewhere far away. He'd even forgotten he had a key of his own.

He'd curled into Buck the second the door opened, arms tight around Buck's waist and head turned into the crook of his neck.

Buck squeezed him back just as tight. Asked if he was okay, accepted the silence in return. They stayed there for a while, until Buck was finally able to convince Tommy to move to the couch.

Tommy snuggled up to Buck's side the second they sat down. He laid his head on Buck's chest, one arm curled between them and the other resting over Buck's stomach. They'd rested like this before, but this was the first time Buck ever thought that Tommy looked small. Not physically, obviously, but the way he acted was like a child in desperate need of comfort.

So that's what Buck did.

It was the longest thirty minutes of silence before Tommy spoke. “I worked the ground today,” he explained through a shaky voice, making no effort to move off of Buck. “We were short-staffed. There was a call. A kid found... he found his mom. She was in the bathtub. She was already,” he swallowed down a sob, “she was gone already. He was freaking out. I waited un- until his dad got there to be with him.”

“That's terrible, Tommy,” Buck said, running a soothing hand up and down Tommy's bicep.

“It just... it reminded me-” he cut himself off, took a deep breath, “I like being in the air.”

Buck wasn't dumb. He could put together a puzzle that was missing half its pieces. He knew better than to press the issue. Knew what Tommy needed right now was simply to be held.

So he held him.

He held him until Tommy's breaths evened out and the sun had long set.

And now, with Charles in front of him, it was all Buck could think about. That moment replaying in his mind as Tommy's father spewed venom from across the counter.

“If you're not out of here in ten seconds, I'll call the police for trespassing, and you seem like the type who has warrants waiting for them.”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Buck grabbed for the phone in his pocket.

The older man held his hands up in surrender and, without another word, turned and left the house.

There were a few beats of silence before Buck spoke. “Tommy, I-”

“I need to go for a walk.” Tommy's voice was stoic.

Buck didn't like that. He followed behind Tommy as he headed for the door. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

Tommy picked up his jacket and slipped it on. “No, I'm fine.”

“Tommy, I don't-”

Tommy stopped in the open doorway, hand still on the knob but halfway out the door already. “Evan, I'm fine,” he repeated. His voice wavered this time. Only slightly, but enough for Buck to catch it. “I just need a minute.”

Buck nodded, pursing his lips together. “Yeah, okay.”

He stood there long after the door had closed.

*****

A cool breeze filled the air as Tommy walked down his street. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets as a chill came over him.

He was tense. He kept trying to make sense of the thoughts in his head, but everything felt all jumbled.

He'd been doing so well. Therapy had helped him work through so many of the issues he had with his dad. Had helped him cut off contact. He stopped enabling the man and set himself free of him.

The only reason he didn't block his dad's number was because he knew, one day, a police officer or one of his dad's deadbeat friends would be calling to say he was dead. Even if he cared nothing for the man, he'd still like to know when it was all over.

There were times Tommy would sit and think about the things he'd say if he ever came face to face with his dad again. He had a list. All the ways his dad had screwed him over throughout his entire life.

And then the one time he actually did come face to face with the man after all these years, he didn't say a single damn thing he'd written down.

He knew he'd never get the chance again.

Knew his dad wouldn't really care anyway. He never cared about the pain he caused, even when Tommy was a little kid.

His jaw tensed. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He didn't want to cry anyway. He wanted to be mad.

That's what his dad always got angry at him for. Tommy would get upset, and he'd cry. His dad would yell, and he'd cry. His dad would hit him, he'd cry. His dad would hit him harder because he was crying, he'd cry even more.

Kids at school would make fun of his weight.

His dad would make him run laps until he'd puke.

He'd avoid eye contact to try and not be noticed.

He'd cry.

He'd cry.

He'd cry.

Not now though. Now he could hold it in. He finally learned that as a teenager. Perfected it over time. His therapist helped him with that too; taught him not to hold in his emotions. For the most part, he didn't anymore, he'd let himself feel whatever he was feeling. Right now he needed to control something, and this was the something he could control.

So he didn't cry.

But he let himself be mad.

Because he was so damn mad.

Mad at himself.

Mad at his dad.

Mad at him showing up to his house, invading his safe space, a space that had been free and clear of the trauma of his youth.

Now, every time he'd step in that house he'd see his dad there.

He hated that.

As much as he hated to admit it, a part of him was mad at Buck too.

No, mad wasn't the right word.

Envious, maybe.

Every time Buck talked about his parents, a twinge of envy sparked inside of Tommy. He knew it was stupid. He didn't even particularly like Buck's parents. He definitely didn't like who they used to be, how they used to treat their son.

But, to their credit, they had been trying now.

And that's where the envy came in.

Because Buck's parents went to therapy with him. They started showing up, being there for their kids, through good and bad, even when they weren't comfortable.

And yeah, they were a little late, and not all wounds ever completely heal. There were still problems, and they were always a bit on edge when Tommy was around, but they were there.

They still put on a smile for Buck, however forced, and corrected themselves when they called him Evan.

They'd never hit their kids. Sure, they were a little too busy ignoring them, but Maddie and Buck never had to be afraid of their parents.

“We were invisible,” Buck had told him once.

Tommy didn't say it, he'd never speak the words out loud, because he knew how much being invisible hurt Buck. But, the first thing Tommy thought when he heard that was I wish I could've been invisible too.

Even thinking something like that made Tommy feel like a bad person. Actually, he often felt like a bad person. A terrible, terrible person who was so undeserving of any forgiveness, happiness, and love. He'd think about who he became in the military. Closed off, angry, ruthless at times. He'd killed people. He didn't think about it. Just dropped the bomb on whatever target he'd been told to hit. They were just targets. Living, breathing targets. He'd hear reports of kids getting hit with missiles, innocent casualties who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that was war, and you didn't get emotional with war. Until you got home and you had to reason with who you'd become.

Then he'd think of who he became when he got hired as a firefighter. More closed off, angrier, trying to make up for what he'd done by saving lives instead of taking them. But, no matter how many saves he got, it didn't make up for the kills. And you could get close to people, but you'd probably lose them just like you did in the military, so why have a friend if they're just gonna die anyway?

Plus, there was Gerrard. Gerrard, who was so much like his dad in so many ways. A crass bastard who didn't care who he offended or how he mistreated people. Tears were a weakness, emotions were a weakness, and Tommy was tired of people thinking he was weak. So, he made sure he wasn't.

The difference between his dad and Gerrard was that, if you fit in with Gerrard, he wouldn't bother you as much.

His dad bothered him regardless.

Tommy was not a good person when he had Gerrard as a boss. At first, he blamed Gerrard. Healing came when he took responsibility for himself.

Even with the healing; with leaving the 118 and starting over. With getting therapy and changing his mindset and forgiving himself, there were times when he felt like the biggest fraud in the world. Because he may have forgiven himself, but he didn't deserve the forgiveness of the people around him.

He didn't deserve the friendship of Howie or Hen. He didn't deserve Eddie, who was always excited to hang out. He didn't deserve weekly dinners with Bobby and Athena, who would ask him about his week and listen to his stories. He didn't deserve Maddie, who was ready and waiting to watch The Bachelor each week with wine and a cheeseboard.

He definitely didn't deserve Evan.

Evan.

Who was always there, no matter what. Wore his heart on his sleeve, would do anything for anyone, Evan.

Evan, who was a soft kiss after a hard day. Who's body fit with Tommy's like two puzzle pieces that were finally placed together. Stubborn, smart, bold, unafraid, open, honest, loving, kind, adorable, Evan.

He'd talked to his therapist about it one day. Things were going too well, his life felt too good, and that nagging voice drudged its way up from the back of his mind to repeat over and over you don't deserve it, you don't deserve it, you don't deserve it.

Then his therapist asked him a simple question. “When you hear the voice, is it your voice, or is it your father?”

After thinking about it for a while, Tommy answered, “A morphing of the two. Starts as him, ends as me.”

A nod. “Let's dissect that.”

They did.

It sucked.

But it helped too. It didn't make the feeling go away, but it did help him recognize that what he was feeling didn't just stem from the choices he made as an adult, it started all the way back when he was a child. When he was told, time and time again, how he didn't deserve good things.

Oftentimes, Tommy felt like his mind was a cruel joke that liked to play, well, mind games on him. As soon as he'd push through his feelings of being undeserving, his brain would laugh and tell him he was pitying himself. Making himself the victim when, in the majority of the things he did as an adult, he was in fact not the victim. This would, in turn, make him feel undeserving of feeling undeserving.

“My mind is a very screwy place,” he said on a particularly grouchy day at therapy. “Truly can't believe they let me fly an aircraft.”

“It sounds kind of like you're torturing yourself for not being perfect.”

“I feel like the more I try to learn and grow from my past, to- to move on from it, it throws itself right back up in my face. I try. I really, really try to let it go, but I can't.”

“I know it's a sensitive topic for you, Tommy, but-”

“No.” Tommy knew where this was going. “No, it's not that.”

A sigh. “Tommy, how old are you?”

He was not in the mood for this today. “Forty-one.”

“And how old was your mother when she passed?”

“Forty-two.”

“I know you've mentioned before how she held onto her guilt. She felt hopeless. Worthless. Let it eat away at her. Your words.”

“I'm not like that. I'm not... I wouldn't do that. I don't feel that way.”

“I'm not saying that you do. I'm saying, sometimes, the reason we feel certain ways stems from our parents, grandparents, etcetera.”

Tommy uncrossed his legs, picked at a string hanging from his jeans. “Can we change the subject? Evan and I have a date tonight and I don't wanna be bitchy when I pick him up.”

*****

Tommy continued down the sidewalk, the only light from the street lamps above him. Occasionally, he'd hear a dog bark or a bird chirp but it was mostly quiet.

He was a couple miles from home now. He knew he should be heading back. His anger had mostly died down to something else by now. Something he couldn't really explain.

Emptiness, maybe?

Yet another word he'd used to describe his mother before.

But, he wasn't like her. He could always get out of bed. He didn't have problems brushing his teeth. He didn't let himself go. He never lost his appetite. He never felt like downing an entire bottle of pills on a regular Sunday afternoon. Would never think of risking his future child walking in the room, excited to tell him about winning the little league game, and instead find him on the floor, long gone.

“I'm the complete opposite of her,” Tommy said at his next session, still annoyed from the previous week. “I don't call out of work, I take extra shifts, I always have something planned when I'm off. I'm in a stable relationship which, yeah, I've only been in for five months, but it's been the best five months of my life. I manage everything fine. Sometimes my mind is just a dick to me.”

“Depression is different for everyone,” his apparently all knowing therapist replied. “Some people have all the symptoms, some have a few, none are exactly alike. There's levels to it, different kinds.”

Tommy slumped back on the couch, sighing as he stared out the window. “Well, that really sucks.”

He tried to be open with Evan. He'd told him so much about his life, about who he was. Evan knew everything about Tommy's time in the military. He knew what Tommy was like when he worked under Gerrard. He knew all the ways Tommy had struggled with himself and his sexuality. He knew all the bad parts, and he loved him anyway.

“I've made so many versions of myself, Tommy,” Buck told him one day, “I think I lost count at 5.0. They're all still me though. I wouldn't be here if I was never there, and I really, really like being here. Sometimes the crappy stuff makes you better in the end.”

Maybe it wasn't as well spoken as something his therapist would have said, but Tommy understood. No matter what, Evan wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't scared off by Tommy. Didn't judge him. He loved him. They loved each other.

Still, as Tommy walked the desolate street, he couldn't help the new voice inside his head. This one was his alone. It was telling him that, as open as he'd been, he'd still closed off a huge part of his life to Evan. It wasn't even necessarily intentional, it was just easier. Easier to avoid the topic altogether. However, it wasn't exactly fair.

He could hear his therapist in his mind, asking him the questions. “Why do you think you've closed that part of yourself off to Buck?”

He'd answer, “I don't exactly like revisiting the subject.”

“Do you not trust him with that part of your life?”

“Of course I do! I trust him with every part of my life.”

“Then why don't you tell him?”

“Because...”

“Because?”

Tommy would feel like pulling out his hair at this point. “Because I have spent so many years letting those parts of me go!”

“Have you really let them go? Unless you hit your head and get amnesia, is that even possible? Wouldn't it be easier if you let your partner help carry the burden when it gets hard for you?”

“He doesn't need to carry my burdens.”

“Don't you help carry his?”

On the street, Tommy stopped in his tracks. He groaned, staring up at the sky as if his therapist was some ethereal being. “I hate you,” he mumbled, before turning around and heading back home.

*****

He opened the door expecting to be hit with the ghost of his father standing there just hours earlier. Instead, he was met with the sight of Evan. Straight ahead at the kitchen table. He plopped his phone down on the table and stared up at Tommy, eyes wide and wet.

“Hi,” Buck said softly. He eyed Tommy carefully, trying to gauge the mood.

Tommy let out a shaky breath. “Hi,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and, once again, placing it on top of the duffel that hadn't moved.

“I was worried about you. You didn't take your phone and I- you were gone a long time.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize.” He really hadn't. He forgot he had ever put it in his duffel in the first place, usually opting to keep it in his pocket the majority of the time.

“S'okay.”

Tommy walked over to the table, pulled out the chair next to Buck, and sat down.

“I'm sorry, Evan,” Tommy repeated, for a different reason this time. “I shouldn't have left like that.”

“You don't need to be sorry.” Buck sat up straighter, splaying his hands out on the table. “I'm sorry. I had no idea your dad was like that. If I did, I never would have let him in your house.”

“Our house,” Tommy corrected. “Soon enough, anyway. You don't need to be sorry either. You didn't do anything wrong.”

Buck smiled at him, turning one hand up for Tommy to take. “Can neither of us be sorry instead then?”

Tommy held onto it, Buck's touch relaxing him in the way it always did. “Sounds good to me.”

“Are you hungry? I left the food in the oven on warm, just in case.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I am actually. I'll get it though, you relax.” He squeezed Buck's hand as he got up. Before walking away, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Buck's temple. When he began to pull away, Buck held onto his shirt, turning his head and giving him a real kiss. He moved his hands up to Tommy's face, stroking his thumbs along his cheeks as he did his best to project all his love into the kiss.

Tommy looked dazed as they parted. “I think I need to go on walks more often.”

Buck rolled his eyes, swatting at Tommy's butt as he walked off. “Ass.”

“And you love it.”

“I suppose I do.”

“So, what'd you make?” Tommy asked, putting on some oven mitts before pulling the dish out of the oven.

“You're, uh, not allowed to laugh at the name. It's a recipe I got from Bobby, but he got it from the internet or something.”

“Oh God, did you make that goat in the boat dish again?”

“It was toad in the hole, and you loved it!”

“Mm,” Tommy hummed. He got out a couple plates and started plating the food. “What's it called?” he asked again.

“It's... It's called, um, it's Marry Me Chicken.”

After a beat of silence, Buck looked over to see Tommy staring at him, an eyebrow raised. “Evan Buckley, are you proposing to me over a chicken dish?”

Another eye roll. “Absolutely not.”

“You know the saying, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

“And all this time I thought it was through his ass.”

“Aye!”

Buck laughed, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Tommy finish up in the kitchen. “There's also some very finely chopped cucumber in the fridge if you'd like that as well, but it's not part of the dish.”

“Still a delightful addition to any meal,” Tommy replied, grabbing the bowl out of the fridge. He balanced it on his wrist before picking up the plates and bringing them to the table. “This looks amazing, Ev.”

“I hope it tastes good.”

“I'm sure it will.”

As Tommy and Buck both began to cut up their pieces of chicken, Tommy glanced over at his boyfriend. “So, um, tonight was... it was a lot.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I wanted to...” Tommy's voice trailed off, unsure of how to articulate what he wanted to say. He put down his cutlery and focused on Buck. “I was thinking on my walk about how open you've always been, talking about your mom and dad. Even the hard stuff, the uncomfortable stuff, you share it all. I- I haven't done that with you, Evan. That's not fair to you.”

“I've never felt that way,” Buck assured him. “I understood.”

“Still, I- I've always shared everything with you, besides that. It's not even the worst parts of me, really. I know... I know that stuff, when I was a kid, I know none of that was my fault. I think part of me felt like if I ignored it forever, it would eventually go away.” He shook his head. “It doesn't go away.”

Once again, Buck held out a hand for Tommy to take, connecting them on top of the table. “I'm here. Whenever you're ready. Now. Ten years from now. Whenever.”

Ten years from now. Those words hit him hard. He could feel his heart swell.

They were forever. Evan was his forever.

He took a deep breath, his residual anxieties melting away. “There's a lot about my parents you don't know.”

“Practically everything,” Buck agreed.

Tommy let out a laugh. “Well, I'd like to change that,” he replied, sharing a soft smile with Buck.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because we don't have to right now, if you're not ready.”

“No, I'm ready,” he answered. He squeezed Buck's hand tighter. “There's a lot to talk about with my dad,” he started, grabbing up his fork with his free hand to pierce a piece of the chicken, “but I think I want to start with my mom. She was... She was a lot like me.”

Buck nodded, smiling gently. “I love her already.”

[d6volution]

Corporeal

Caine/Fem!Reader

caine wants to learn more about humans, so why not become one himself? surely, these new waves of emotions and new desires won't become an issue.

tags: human!caine unresolved feelings, sexual tension, lingerie, making out, pining until the end, explicit sexual content, caine is pussy drunk.

minors dni.

Chapter Three.

previous chapter.

Well, he kept his word. You two did meet the next day, and the day after that. You told him whatever bits and pieces of your time as a human that you could remember. He seemed to listen.. but also seemed a little out of touch... like his mind was elsewhere. Whenever you brought it up, he simply put on his usual act.

"Oh, not to worry dear! I am beginning to understand a bit more about how.. caring humans can be, so if you're worried don't be! I am perfectly fine! In fact, better than ever. I have certainly learned a lot from you." He said, almost sounding impressed.

"I'm glad I could help, Caine." You couldn't help but smile at the praise he was giving you.

Your smile caused him to look away, those funny feelings returning.

"My, my look at the time!" He was glancing at his wrist, which was adorned by the wacky watch.

"Oh, already..?" You didn't realize just how fast time passed when you two were together, "Same time tomorrow then?" You said, hopeful.

"It would seem so," He studied your expression. "Hmm, I can't help but notice that you seem a little ..disappointed." He hope he correctly evaluated your emotions.

"No, I mean— a ... little." You wanted to deny this observation but he could see through you, so it would be no use.

"Worry not my dear! I'll always be around of course, though I've come to realize it is normal to miss people you spend a lot of time aro— mmf?!" Your hands yanked at his collar before he could try and put anymore distance between you, your lips meeting. He talked too much.

Couldn't he feel the tension that was growing between you two? It was palpable in the air. Maybe he just needed a little push.. your tongue even brushed against his closed lips.

You were nervous, but maybe, after getting closer to him.. it was easier, or maybe you were just desperate and simply losing your mind in this digital world.

Your lips were soft and inviting, the heat from your mouth was diving him crazy. He couldn't think.

Caine went stiff, he wanted badly to kiss you back. Squeeze your hips and pull your closer but .. he couldn't. Surely these feelings of yours were simply because you took a familiar form of a human.

They couldn't really be for him right?

His hands slowly lowering onto your shoulders and gripped them gently, pushing you away. "W.. Well, y/n what a very.. bold act of affection!" He was beet red now, almost like he was short circuiting. "U‐Unfortunately you're aware I cannot return these... feelings, yes? It would be.. dangerous."

You were at a lost of words, you acted without thinking and now he was looking at you with pity in his eyes, "I.. sorry, I don't know what I was thinking— .." You took a few steps back. But your lips were still tingling.

"N-No, need to apologize!" He tugged at his collar to let off some steam and without another word he wrapped an arm around your waist and within a blink of an eye you were both in front of your room door.

"There we are! Now go and rest your pretty little head, I.. will be back at a later hour to check on you, how's that sound?" It was an excuse. He wanted to see you again after this. Just.. to confirm a few things after you've settled down from these heightened emotions.

You nodded, still suffering from embarrassment of your feelings and advancements in general being denied. Yet you weren't completely unaware.. you could see it in his eye too, the stuttering and fidgeting it was as if he were holding himself back.

Maybe.. he just needed another little push.

"This.. this certainly isn't right, far from family friendly.. far from appropriate." He was pacing back and fourth inside of his "room." "I could risk abstracting if this gets too far! .. Well, maybe not. Iam the showrunner here.."

Bubble emerged from his hat unannounced, "This all apart of the human experience Caine! Why not give her all the love you're legally allowed to give..?"

POP.

That mischievous bubble certainly was not helping. The thought, even coming from bubbles silly mouth made his cheeks dust with a light pink. Everytime he thought about you in such a way he could feel a piece of his resolve breaking off.

He needed to end this, this experiment had provided him with plenty of knowledge but, if continued to play human it would only lead him into heaps of trouble that he was certain of. Before he changed back... he did promise to check in on you.

He arrived at your door, and hesitated to knock. Attempting to groom himself a little beforehand. He inhaled, then knocked.

"Caine..?" You called out from the other side of the door.

"Yes, that's me!"

"C.. Come in." Your voice was muffled by the door, but he heard you clearly and opened it up, stepping inside his eyes immediately got wide. He slammed the door behind him so no one else could see what he was seeing.

You lying in bed with silky fabric hardly covering your body, your skin on display. Your expression vulnerable, yet desperate. Caine felt like he was going to glitch out of existence.

"Y/N! You.. someone else could have seen you like this and it's hardly appropriate! You are aware this show is supposed to be for all ages." He said but his fists clenched and he could feel his pants getting tight.

Not good.

"Can't we forget about all that for one night Caine..? I've.. seen how you look at me.. even earlier, you wanted to kiss me back right?" Your voice was sultry as it was desperate, you crawled towards the end of the bed and the silky fabric was sliding off of your body.

He swallowed and rushed over, attempting to fix it. "W-Woah there!" You took this chance to cup his growing erection.

"Is this family friendly... Caine..?"

The feeling of your small hand caressing his straining dick was enough. It throbbed in his pants and he pushed you onto the bed. Straddling you, his breathing had grew heavy.

"It seems I've been caught red handed, I am supposed to be gentleman like my dear, " His eyes roamed along your half naked body.

"But, you are making it quite difficult. I suppose, as my human test bunny your are willing to take responsibility?" He sounded as desperate as you looked now.

"O.. Of course, Caine.." Your squirmed under his gaze, and he slowly pushed aside the silk lingerie that was comcealing your nipples. His erection was pressed against your thigh and he was unknowingly grinding against your soft skin.

"Just.. for today, I'll indulge in your i.. inappropriate behavior, dear y/n." He swallowed.

"Take them off Caine.." You mutteted and tugged at his the waistline of his pants.

"Oh, no no my dear. After all this trouble you caused I think you deserve a little punishment!" He said with a grin, his resolve was gone. Completely, whatever code was inside of him urging him to obey the rules was temporarily disabled.

"Now, as lovely as that silk looks on you would you mind taking it off?" His voice fell at the end of his sentence. He planned on having you completely in the nude while he stayed fully dressed.

You sat up and he scoots back on the bed, allowing you to stripped in front of him.

He couldn't help it, his dick was straining violently against his pants.. he removed himself from his pants, and started to stroke himself. "Do forgive me dear, I've always said you make my body act so strangely and this is no exception."

You stared at the heavy cock in between his thighs, you could feel the slick between your legs.

"Caine.." Your eyes finally met his, "Please touch me.."

"Well, if you ask so nicely how can I say no?" He grins and climbs atop you again, this time quickly closing the distance between you both and pressing his lips against yours. It was to make up for earlier.

Your body instinctively arched towards his, your hips shifting to feel his cock brush against your bare cunt. You were practically humping at his shaft like a dog in heat. He groaned into your mouth and returned the movement. Both of your sexes rubbed against each other as you made out, breathlessly moaning in between the kiss.

"Feels good.. more Caine.." You whined, your arms locked around his neck and holding him close to you. He smelled like the most expensive cologne mixed with his natrual musk. It was simply intoxicating.

He didn't say anything, his eyes swirling with lust as he lined up his tip with your slick entrance. After slipping a few times he finally plunged inside.

His mind went blank with pleasure and he hardly gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips began to move. "C.. Caine..! hh.. fuck..!" You cursed, and made a not that it wasn't censored.. maybe you really had broken the ringmaster. In one sense.

Your nails dug into his back and as he slammed into your tight cunt, balls slapping against your ass as he fucked you like his very life depended on it.

Your moans didn't go unoticed, your whimpers and whines only fueled his need to fuck you harder. Faster, the bed was rocking beneath you as he seemed to loose all sense of himself while buried inside of you.

He nudged at that spongey spot in your cunt and you saw stars, your back arched and toes curled. Caine was silently taking note of how tight you got all of the sudden.

"H.. How interesting.. it seems like I have much more to learn about you my dear, like how much you tighten around me when I.." He slammed against that spot again, and again. Over and over, til you were in tears.

"C.. Caine..please.. gonna c-cum.. !" You managed to sputter out, but he was way ahead of you. He planned on having you cum together.

"Nngh .. that's .. the plan darling.." He grunts and your body suddenly began to spasm, cunt convulsing and gripping his shaft vicely. His own hips sputtered to a stop as he spilled into you without thinking. The relief washing over his body as numbness washed over your own.

You stared at the ceiling coming down from your high. Caine thrusted a few more times, before pulling out.

"My, my.. what a cruel creator I must have to hide such pleasures from me.. are you alright, y/n? I didn't seem to be completely myself there." He pushed some hair from your face and you nodded grabbing his hand and nuzzling it.

His face was hot again, just as this little display of affection.

"I suppose being human for a little while longer couldn't hurt."

[petitemistletoe]

S.O.S. She's In Disguise

Part Two to She-Wolf

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin, Potter!Reader

Warnings: smut and angst!

Word Count: 4.8K+

A/N: I had to do a deep dive into Beauxbatons and all I can say is I wish we got more Beauxabatons and Durmstrang content because they're both phenomenally interesting. Also the James Potter in She-wolf absolutely eats up the James Potter in Grudges! There were a few of you who asked to be tagged that you could not be :( so sorry! If I left you off the taglist please let me know :)

“What do we do?” Peter asked, wringing his hands. 

“You two get Remus back to the shack. I’ll try to carry her to the hospital wing.” James put on his authoritative voice but everyone could tell he was incredibly rattled. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” Sirius asked but James shook his head, picking you up gently and hoisting you over his shoulder. 

“No, no. Take the cloak and go. Madame Pomfrey should be down here any minute you have to go now.” James was not able to hide the quiver in his voice. 

“Okay. We’ll see you soon.” Peter nodded at James before helping Sirius support Remus back to the shrieking shack. 

You woke up as James was setting you down on a bed in the hospital wing. 

“Don’t try to talk, it’s alright,” James said when he saw your eyes widen, “Madame Pomfrey will be back in a few minutes. I filled her in on everything but you need your rest.”

“You know?” You croaked, accepting the water from James and soothing your scratchy throat. 

“That you’re a werewolf? Yes, I worked that out what you stumbled out of the woods.” James pursed his lips and you could tell that he was trying to hard to keep his voice level. 

“I imagine you have some questions, then.” You said, trying to keep your own voice steady as well. 

“Yes. But you can rest first if you’d like.” 

“No, no. We can talk now.” You sat up straight in the hospital bed and smoothed out the blanket that was laid out in front of you. 

“When exactly did you become a werewolf?” He asked. His nails were digging into the palms of his hands. 

“Last year. Beauxbatons has a requirement for outdoor education for all wizards and witches and I’d chosen the option of solo fitness survival. I failed the first round of solo fitness survival so I apparated to a random forest last summer to practice. I did not pay attention and it was during the full moon and I was attacked by one of Greyback’s pack. I barely survived and when I apparated back home I splinched myself pretty badly. My parents knew they couldn’t take me to a hospital because I would be forced to register myself immediately. My mum called your mum and she was able to stitch me up and then was sworn to secrecy. The medi-witch at Beauxbatons tried to help me as much as she could but she’s never dealt with this kind of thing before. Then your mum mentioned in an owl a few months ago that Madame Pomfrey had some experience in this field so I went down yesterday to try to find more information but there were too many people in the hospital wing so we did not have any privacy. I ran into the woods last night and thought that I’d be able to pull myself into the hospital wing in the morning and get Madame Pomfrey’s help then. I knew that Madame Pomfrey’s experience must have come from a student who was also in hiding but I had no idea it was going to be your friend Remus. I also still don’t understand why you were there?” You took a deep breath as you realized you hadn’t taken one breath the entire time you were speaking. 

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” James looked deflated as he put his hand on top of yours, “I was there because Sirius, Peter, and I are all animagi. We became unregistered animagi to help Remus during the moons. They make his moons easier, having other animals to run around with  and he doesn’t have to be stuck in the shack.” 

“Oh James,” you bit your lower lip hard to stop yourself from tearing up, “Remus is so lucky to have friends like you. The moons can be so terribly lonely.” 

“I wish you didn’t have to go through this,” James said, finally breaking. He laid his head in your lap and sobbed. You just ran your fingers gently through James’ hair until his sobs were reduced to a few sniffles. The curtains were pulled open and Madame Pomfrey stepped in, pulling the curtain closed behind her. 

“How are you feeling, Ms. Potter?” She replenished your water and ran her hand soothingly over your forehead. 

“Tired.” You said with a small smile. 

“Of course you are. Take this sleeping draught. Your parents will be coming by later and meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Will you be staying, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes I will. Is Remus awake?” James asked, standing and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yes, he is. He’s supposed to rest so make it quick, Mr. Potter.” Madame Pomfrey left after she made you drink the rest of the draught and you drifted off to sleep. 

James made his way over to Remus’ bed where he was engaged in rapid conversation with Sirius. He was only able to catch the tail end of what Sirius was saying, 

“-That explains why you were so attracted to her. It was the wolf instincts and-”

“James!” Remus cut off Sirius off when James pulled the curtain back. 

“Alright Moony?” James asked, taking the seat next to Sirius’. 

“Yeah, yeah. How’s your cousin?” Remus asked.

“She’s alright. My aunt and uncle are coming to meet with Dumbledore but neither of us know what it’s specifically about.” James sighed. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius asked. 

“I just…I don’t get why she didn’t tell me. We tell each other everything.” James shook his head. 

“You didn’t tell her about being an animagus.” Remus offered. 

“That was different.” James thought about it for a moment before looking back at Sirius and Remus, “You two were talking about attraction and wolf instincts. What the hell is that about?”

“I think it’s probably time for me to go back to bed!” Remus said quickly. 

“Alright. I’m going to see if I can catch my aunt and uncle before they see Dumbledore.” James said with a sigh and left Remus and Sirius on their own. 

“That was close.” Sirius said once he heard the door to the hospital wing shut behind James. 

“Definitely.” Remus nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked. 

“Honestly, the best I’ve felt in a long time. The moon was invigorating rather than draining.” Remus sighed again, thinking about the uncomfortable, awkward implications. 

“You should talk to her.” Sirius suggested.

“Yeah…maybe I will.” Remus said with a small shake of his head. 

✰

When you woke up again, your father was leaning over you, rubbing your forehead gently. 

“Hey,” you said softly, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Hello darling, I’ve heard that you’ve had quite a night.” Your father said with a sad smile on his face.

“That’s an understatement.” You said, weakly. You pushed yourself up on your shoulders and saw your mother, your Aunt Effie, your Uncle Fleamont, and James were all sitting around your bedside. 

“Have some more water, love,” Aunt Effie poured a goblet for you and held it up to your lips. You drank gratefully, not realizing until the present moment how dehydrated you had been. 

“Professor Dumbledore will be coming down in a few moments to talk. I’m not exactly sure what he wants but I’m sure he will help with the situation. James shared with us that you know about Remus. Your parents said you do not want to register with the ministry, is that correct?” Uncle Fleamont pushed his glasses up further up his nose as he explained the situation. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “my life will be ruined if I register. I…I don’t want that.” 

“Of course. Then we’ll make that clear to Albus.” Uncle Fleamont said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

“Thank you,” you croaked, “for all being here. I…I don’t know what I do without all of you.”

“We’re your family.” James said, grabbing your hand and giving it a tight squeeze. You nodded and accepted another large gulp of water as you heard the door to the hospital wing open and the deep, calm voice of Albus Dumbledore say,

“Thank you, Poppy. Just that bed over there?” 

“Yes sir,” Madame Pomfrey replied. Your mother stood and pulled the curtain back for Professor Dumbledore to enter. 

“Hello Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter. Oh, Euphemia, Fleamont, I was not expecting to see you two as well.” Professor Dumbledore bowed his head respectfully as he entered the room. 

“Hello Albus. We thought it best that we come to help with our niece at this time.” Uncle Fleamont said, standing to shake hands with Professor Dumbledore. 

“Of course. Ms. Potter I trust that you are recuperating well.” Professor Dumbledore set his bright blue eyes on you. You nodded. 

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I want to apologize for any alarm I may have caused.” You responded. 

“Yes that is something I would like to discuss. I have no problems with the young Ms. Potter finishing her schooling here at Hogwarts where Madame Pomfrey can better care for her. However, Ms. Potter, I am sure you are aware of the ministry’s registry for werewolves.” Dumbledore said. He was speaking perfectly calmly but there was something off-putting about his statement. 

“She will not be registering. Just like Remus.” James said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Is that how you feel, Ms. Potter?” Dumbledore asked. 

“Yes sir.” You nodded. 

“I would be remiss if I did not highlight how seriously the ministry takes such affairs. There are severe implications that are in place for witches and wizards who fail to register.” Dumbledore said, placing one of his hands on your bedpost. 

“She is quite sure of her decision, Albus.” Uncle Fleamont stood so he was eye-level with Dumbeldore. 

“You know as well as I do, Albus, that the registry is discriminatory and the way the ministry has treated magical creatures has been nothing short of barbaric.” Aunt Effie said, placing her hand over yours and giving it a light squeeze. 

“I will have Professor McGonagall bring the sorting hat over and then we will set up your schedule and accommodations. I understand, Ms. Potter, that you were Head Girl of your house at Beauxbatons?” Dumbledore diplomatically changed the subject. 

“Yes sir, I was. I was also in Ombrelune house at Beauxbatons. I believe the closest house to it would be Gryffindor.” You said, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. 

“Ah, Ms. Potter, the houses of Beauxbatons do not directly correspond to the houses of Hogwarts. I will arrange with your future head of house for a prefect position for you as we already have a head boy and girl. If you would be more comfortable, you may stay in James’s dorm this evening, as I understand it has been quite a weekend for you.” Dumbledore left without saying much else. Your parents and aunt and uncle wanted to stay for longer but you sent them off, promising to write and telling them not to worry, the Christmas holiday was just two months away. 

Remus, Sirius, and Peter joined you and James as you waited for Professor McGonagall to come back with the sorting hat. 

“Here,” Peter said, thrusting a wrapped package into your hand, “it’s a chocolate frog. Moony always says they make him feel better after a moon.”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, munching on his own chocolate frog, “chocolate makes everything better.”

“Thanks Peter,” you said, patting the boy’s hand lightly, “so I take it you forgive me for the broomstick incident.”

“Never! I don’t care if you are a werewolf.” Peter laughed. But the word hung heavy in the air. Werewolf. You looked down at your lap.

“Nice going Wormtail.” Sirius elbowed Peter hard in the stomach.

“Hey! I didn’t mean anything by it.” Peter grabbed at his stomach and glared at Sirius.

“No, you never mean anything. Do you?” Sirius retorted. 

“Tell us more about the houses at Beauxbatons.” James interjected, sending a look Peter and Sirius’ way. 

“There are three houses: Papillionlise, Ombrelune, and Bellefeuille. Papillionlise is the house of kindness and good nature. Ombrelune, my house, is the house of ambition, curiosity, and logic. Bellefeuille is the house of bravery, sensitivity, and compassion. Everyone wants to be in Ombrelune and we have a little rivalry with the Bellefeuille students.” You explained. 

“Ambition and logic?” Remus asked, “That sounds like Slytherin.”

“There’s no way that you’ll be sorted into Slytherin. She’s a Potter. All Potters are Gryffindors.” James said with a sense of finality in his voice. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being sorted into Slytherin.” A new voice said. It was Lily, carrying a tray of sandwiches that must have been from dinner. 

“Cheers Lily.” You said with a grin, practically shoving an entire sandwich into your mouth. 

“What are you doing in the hospital wing?” Lily asked, “Remus, you’re out of bed early. Feeling better already?” 

“Uh, yeah, well…you see…” James was searching for an excuse but you just shrugged. 

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Oh!” Lily almost dropped the tray.

“You can’t just go telling anyone.” James scolded you.

“Lily isn’t anyone. She knows about Remus and I didn’t want to be a secret between you and your girlfriend, James. Besides, you’ve gone on and on about how smart Lily is, she would have figured it out herself eventually. Lily, I trust you won’t tell anyone?”

“No, no. Of course not. Are you all right?” Lily asked, immediately sitting at your bedside and grabbing a cool soaked rag and placing it on your forehead. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You said with a small smile. You filled Lily in on your new attendance at Hogwarts.

“Like I said before, there’s nothing wrong with being sorted into Slytherin. One of my good friends is a Slytherin and so is Sirius’s entire family!” Lily said, glaring at James. 

“That’s not much of an argument.” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“I can’t protect her if she’s sorted into Slytherin, Lily.” James narrowed his eyes, “Those Slytherins are bigots and you know it.”

“It’s not very safe for Remus in Gryffindor either. The way werewolves are seen in the eyes of the wizarding world is not only a Slytherin problem.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest.

“Respectfully, Evans, stay out of this.” James said, coolly. 

“There are many fine and brave wizards in Slytherin. Don’t listen to James.” Lily told you, 

“If this is about Snivellus again, so help me Evans.”

“Fine,” Lily stormed out of the hospital wing. 

“So much for coming between you and Lily.” You said sheepishly. James was still seething with anger but he took a deep breath and said, 

“I’m going to go for quick walk. Sirius, call me when McGonagall gets here.” James stormed out of the hospital wing as well.

“Is Slytherin really that bad?” You asked Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

“A lot of dark wizards, most of my family included, come from Slytherin.” Sirius said with a sigh. 

“That’s all? A lot of dark wizards come from Ombrelune too but so do a lot of amazing wizards. I can’t believe James is being so silly about this.” You shook your head. 

“I think he just wants to protect you.” Peter said, obviously uncomfortable at the idea of speaking ill about his best friend, “you’ve always been like a baby sister to him and he already hates that Sirius and Lily have strained relationships with Slytherins. I don’t think he wants anything like that for you two.”

“All that is premature, anyway.” You said with a head shake, “I haven’t been sorted yet.” As if on cue, you all heard the voice of Professor McGonagall in the corridor. Sirius whipped out his pocket mirror, one that you recognized from your family vault, and whispered for James to come back. 

“Ms. Potter, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Minvera McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration, head of Gryffindor house, and deputy headmistresses of Hogwarts. Do you have any questions before you are sorted?”

“No Professor.” You said, taking a deep breath as James made his way back into the hospital room. Professor Dumbledore placed the hat on your head. 

“Another Potter,” the sorting hat murmured in your ear, “in all of my years I have only ever sorted Potters into Gryffindor. But you, you are not like the other Potters. You are ambitious. You are curious, always seeking more and more. You have secrets, more than most of your contemporaries. You seem to be the perfect fit for Ombrelune. You know the origin of the name Ombrelune, don’t you?” 

“Uh…no I don’t.” You said, fiddling with your fingers. 

“Ombre is shadow and lune is moon. You hail from the house of shadow moons. Quite ironic, isn’t it? Considering your currently monthly situation,” the hat chuckled, “alas there is no equivalent to Ombrelune so I will have to say SLYTHERIN!”

There was an eery silence that broke out over the room. Professor McGonagall took the hat back and cleared her throat. 

“Congratulations, Ms. Potter, on being sorted into the fine house of Slytherin. Your head of house is Professor Slughorn. I believe tomorrow during breakfast you will be assigned a companion from your house that will show you everything you need. I’ve been told that you’ll spend this evening with your cousin?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall, that’s correct. She’ll spend the night in my dormitory.” James said quietly. 

“Alright then, have a pleasant evening.” And with that Professor McGonagall marched away. 

“So the conversation is no longer premature.” You said with a weak chuckle, “I’m a Slytherin.”

“It really isn’t that bad James,” Remus said. 

“I can’t protect you in Slytherin.” James said with a sad shake of his head. 

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“It’s been a long night. Why don’t we go to bed and revisit things in the morning?” Peter offered. You all nodded and headed back up to the dormitories for bed. 

Remus had a restless night. The moon was over but he still felt on edge around you. Of course, things made a lot more sense now but he didn’t want to make an advance for a number of reasons. He didn’t want to burden you, he wasn’t really sure of what he was feeling himself, and he did not want to bring down the wrath of James Potter. It must have been four in the morning when he turned again from his side to his stomach to his other side and then settled on his back. 

“Alright Moony,” Sirius’s sleep laced voice cut through Remus’s thoughts, “what the hell is going on?”

“Can’t sleep.” Remus sighed.

“I figured,” Sirius propped himself up and glared at Remus, “considering you’ve woken me up at every toss and turn.” 

“Sorry. I’ll go downstairs and have a smoke.” Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’s forehead before making his way downstairs. He wasn’t expecting to see you leaning at one of the open windowsills, angling your blunt out the window so the pungent smoke made its way outside instead of back in the common room. Remus cleared his throat and you turned at the noise, giving Remus a small smile. 

“Hey Remus. What are you doing up?” You asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Remus said with a sigh. 

“Me either.” You handed Remus to joint, which he took gratefully, “Is it always this hard? This soon after a moon?”

“I usually sleep better after a moon, because I’m so exhausted from it. Having you here, though, it’s been different.” Remus realized that he had smoked half of your joint without thinking. He handed it back to you with a sheepish smile. 

“Me too. It’s been easier, having you with me. I guess that was the goal, though, right? Being able to connect with others who could understand my…being a werewolf.”

“Yeah, it can be lonely sometimes. I’m glad to have you here with me.” Remus realized that your eyes had been trained on him the entire time he spoke. You closed the distance between the two of you, crawling into his lap and pressing your lips against his. 

Remus was caught off guard at first but then he kissed you back just as hard. It was intense, hungry, teeth clashing against teeth. You kissed down Remus’s neck and bit along the way, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh. Remus winced at the pain from your sharp teeth but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop because he loved the feeling. You pulled his thick jumper off and ran your nails down the front of his chest, tracing his scars. He felt, awkward, ashamed at first, but you took off your own shirt and he saw the pale, magical scars that lined your own chest. He took a moment to kiss down your chest, kissing your breasts and around your nipples. Finally, he took your right nipple into his mouth and bit down harshly. You moaned out in a mix of pain and pleasure and shock but nodded at him to continue. 

Remus’s hand went down your pants next, tearing your panties off. He held them up to his nose and sniffed harshly. 

“You smell delicious. Good enough to eat.” Remus said, running his tongue over his sharp canines. He pulled your pants all the way off and shoved his face between your legs. You had never been eaten out like this before. Two of his fingers were deep inside you as his tongue made a repeated assault on your clit. His teeth would bump your clit occasionally, sending shockwaves through your system and you had your fingers buried in his hair, yanking the tendrils so tightly that you were near the point of ripping them out. You came on his face, your legs spasming, and you released a howl. That sobered you and Remus right up. You pulled up your pants and chuckled nervously. 

“I, uh, I’m going to go back to bed.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night.” Remus was cursing everything as he watched ascend the stairs and couldn’t help but think about how it might be better that you were going to be sleeping all the way in the dungeons. 

The next morning was a bit awkward as you made your way down for breakfast. The place was alive with rumors swirling about the new girl at Hogwarts. You sat down at the Gryffindor table next to James. Lily gave you a warm hello and then sent an icy glare James’s way before sitting down next to Marlene and Mary. You desperately wished you have spent the day with the Gryffindor girls but the boy you saw a few days ago made his way over to your table. 

“What do you want, Snivellus?” James glowered at Snape.

“I’m your cousins assigned companion.” Snape returned the glare. 

“It just keeps getting better and better, huh.” You said with a small smile. “Alright Severus, I’m all yours.”

Snape barely let you out of his sight for the next month. You were more than adjusted to Hogwarts after the first week but Snape wouldn’t leave you alone, much to James’s chagrin. The marauders joked that Snape must have some twisted crush on you but you weren’t so sure. It felt much more sinister than that. The moon was this evening and you felt like you could crawl out of your skin. It didn’t help being close to Remus. Everything about Remus felt like your nerves were exposed, especially being so close the moon. Tensions were still high between James and Lily, the couple were barely speaking and when they did, it only devolved into a fight. 

You were lucky enough to have potions with Gryffindor but the lovely Professor Slughorn had assigned Snape to be your partner. Your spine felt like it was doing somersaults and kept shifting in your chair uncomfortably. 

“Are you alright?” Snape whispered in your ear as Slughorn prattled on and on about whatever the day’s lesson was. 

“Fine.”

“That time of the month, eh?” Snape asked. 

“What?” Your blood ran cold. 

“Forget I said anything.” Snape said with a smug grin. Icy sweat ran down the back of your neck. You pushed it out of your mind. Snape didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Right? You were lost in thought as you walked with the boys up to lunch. Snape had made some rude comment to Lily which caused James to jump in front of her and draw his wand. 

“You take that back, Snivellus.”

“Or what, Potter?” Snape asked, drawing his own wand. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, James.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Shut up, mudblood.” Snape spat. You felt yourself surge forward but Remus held you back. 

“Don’t. You’re emotional because of the moon,” he whispered in your ear.

“Get away from us, Snivellus. Take your disgusting plague somewhere else.” Sirius looked down his nose at Snape.

“Oh I’m the disgusting one?” Snape laughed, cruelly, “You would know all about unsavory actions, wouldn’t you Black? Lupin?” 

“Take that back.” Sirius was very pale. 

“Everyone keep moving,” it was that boy, the one who looked like Sirius. You knew by now his name was Regulus and he was indeed Sirius’s brother. Regulus was a prefect for SLytherin and it looked like he would be making head boy next year. 

“I don’t answer to you, Reggie.” Sirius said with a hard look on his face. 

“Just go. Before I take points from Gryffindor and Slytherin.” Regulus gripped Snape’s arm hard before Snape could fire off another comment. Everyone made their way to lunch in a much more sour mood than before. 

The moon descended upon you and Remus that evening and things had been great. But for the second time, you woke from a moon at Hogwarts with an uneasy feeling in your chest. James wasn’t there, which was odd, but Sirius was. Sirius looked down at you and Remus with a nervous smile and said, 

“So I messed up.”

Taglist:

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[kaizoku-gary]

Fair Winds and Following Seas

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 coming soon

Pairing: Buggy x afab/female reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst.

Word count: 1315

Warnings/Tags: oral sex (reader receiving), gentle sex, unprotected sex, soft Buggy.

Summary: After spending the night together, Buggy and you struggle to acknowledge the strong feelings growing between you. But no matter how much you deny it, you can no longer live without each other. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, you must separate sooner than expected, and you're left overwhelmed by the fear that this could be the last time you see each other.

A/N: I swear I wasn't planning to write smut.

Read it on AO3

@slaggylemon Enjoy :)

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The sun shining through the window woke you up. It took a few moments for you to realize where you were. There's a first time for everything, and you could already cross out 'waking up next to Buggy' from your list.

The pirate was lying on his side, soundly asleep. His face paint was all over the place, but he still looked delightfully handsome. It struck you as odd to see him so calm and vulnerable, and you felt the sudden need to touch him, to caress his face, to cuddle him and spend a cozy morning in his arms.

But this whole situation was confusing, to say the least. Buggy and you were used to intense fucking sessions and parting ways after both of you had scratched the itch. If any of you were too tired to function after, you'd sleep on the couch, then leave before the other woke up. It had always been like that, and none of you seemed to care until now. What changed and why it did? You didn't know. Still, it scared you to feel this way for someone and be at their mercy.

Watching his chest move with every breath, you recalled those endless nights spent missing him, praying for him to come to you at least once more because the pain of not seeing him again could kill you. Even if you tried to deny it, you had fallen for him long ago.

Then you remembered the way he held you last night like he was clinging to a capsized boat in the middle of the ocean and the tone of his voice when he asked you to stay. Buggy was at your mercy too and maybe this whole thing wasn't as bad as you thought.

Hesitantly, you reached out to put an arm around Buggy's waist and bring your body closer to his. You needed his warmth because anxiety was freezing you. Fighting back the impulse to kiss him was futile; there was no way you would resist those lips, and without a second thought, you reached forward until your mouths touched.

Gentle as you were, you couldn't avoid waking Buggy up. Still sleepy, the pirate hummed with delight, responding to the kiss and trapping you in a tight but gentle embrace; from there on, time went slower.

Buggy let his mouth travel across your skin, peppering it with soft kisses. He took his time to explore your body; his touch was feather-light, nothing compared to the rough fondling from the other nights you shared. It was hard to believe this was the same man you knew.

A while later, Buggy dived between your legs, using his fingers to spread your folds before wrapping his lips around your clit, eliciting the most lascivious noise from you while his detached tongue twisted and curled inside your wet walls. That was another first, and you were enjoying every second of it.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and your hips bucked against his mouth. You were eager for him to bring you higher and higher, and the pirate just let you take control and use his face for your own pleasure.

Shortly after, you came against his face, with your eyes closed so tight you saw flashes of light dancing behind your lids. Buggy didn't stop sucking on your clit until you pushed him away gently.

"Good morning," he finally said while kneeling between your legs, his voice dry and hoarse, and his lips curved in a self-satisfied smirk.

"Good morning, yourself," you panted, gazing at his already rock-hard erection. "Need some help?" you invited him, spreading your legs wider.

Buggy presumed you would be sore from last night, but when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him to your entrance, he lost his line of thought. "Are you sure?" he asked, and you rolled your hips against him.

The pirate sank into you slowly and leaned down to press his lips against yours. A trembling sigh escaped him when you put your arms around him and pulled him closer. Your bodies moved in sync, hips rolling in sensual rhythm, hands kneading and grabbing, tongues exploring each other's mouths leisurely. There was no rush, no need to hurry the climax. Neither noticed it instantly, but you were making love for the first time.

"Buggy," you whimpered as your second orgasm hit, and you dissolved into pleasure, arching your back to him. The pirate pounded into you once more before filling you with his hot seed, your name never leaving his lips.

Exhausted and high on endorphins, you hold onto each other for a while, not wanting to let go, refusing to get back to the real world, to the pain of being away from each other.

There, in your arms, Buggy felt safe, weightless, stress and problems muffled. Still, he fought back the cozy feelings flooding him, terrified of letting his guard down; the last time he loved someone this hard, his heart broke into pieces and never healed. In his world, there was no place for love or happiness. He only knew disappointment and betrayal.

"Buggy?… Are you alright?" you asked after hearing the pirate sigh heavily a few times. Something was wrong, and you could sense it.

"Yeah…" Buggy replied, pressing a kiss on your forehead until the tear that ran down his cheek mixed with his sweat, going unnoticed.

Suddenly, the transponder snail on the bedside table rang, bursting your bubble and forcing Buggy to pull away.

"What!?" the pirate snapped, holding the transmitter close to his mouth.

"Sorry, Captain. We spotted a Marine ship approaching. With this wind, they'll be here in thirty minutes. The crew is ready to sail when you give the order," announced the man on the other end of the line.

Buggy felt his blood boiling and almost sent one of his hands to choke the poor bastard who dared to disrupt your peaceful morning. He was going to hit those Marines with all he got and make sure every soul on that ship would suffer a horrible death.

"We set sails in ten minutes. Prepare the canons and tell the crew to ready their weapons. We won't flee this time. I want that fucking ship burnt to the crisp!" Buggy growled, ending the call, his body burning with anger.

When he finally turned to look at you, his eyes were empty, tired. His hand cupped your face as he told you to leave, hatting every second after that call ended. "Things will get ugly, and I don't want you to get hurt," he explained, stroking your cheek one last time. "You can take a quick shower and grab some of my clothes, but please hurry up."

It all happened so fast it felt like a bad dream, an ugly joke from your mind. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you rushed to Buggy's private bathroom and cleaned yourself up as fast and well as you could with cold-as-ice water. The pirate never stopped apologizing and checking on you while he prepared for battle and cursed under his breath.

Ten minutes were gone in the blink of an eye, and there you were standing in front of each other, hands reaching out for a last embrace.

"See you next time, y/n," Buggy whispered against your lips before kissing you, making it last as long as he could while holding you tightly.

"Take care, Buggy," you replied, holding back your tears, missing him already.

There, it dawned on you both that this was your first goodbye. At least the first that felt like one, the first to crush your hearts and leave you with the realization you weren't crossing paths in a long time. And while you blew Buggy a kiss before leaving, both prayed for this not to be the last time you met.

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More a/n: This ended up being longer than I thought. I hope you guys liked it :) I'm currently working on a next chapter, btw ;)

[lynzishell]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire 💛Atlas & Asher🩵

✨TYSM for the tag @raiiny-bay, @zosa95, @dandylion240, @sirianasims, and @hannahssimblr 🤗💖

Of course, I went overboard with this, so grab your favorite beverage and let's dive right in, shall we? ☕💕

-what common/uncommon fear do they have?

💛Atlas: [Pointing to Asher] Water. 🩵Asher: You can’t just leave it at that. It’s not like if you set a glass of water on the table, I’ll run screaming. I have a fear of drowning, so I don’t like to be submerged in water. You’re never going to catch me out swimming. Probably not on a boat either, while we’re at it. Not taking any chances. 💛Atlas: Fair enough. But you won’t even put your face under the water in the shower. 🩵Asher: That’s because it reminds me of being submerged in water. Anyway, this conversation is making me sweaty, and there just happens to be water on the other side of this fence, so let's change the subject. Next question.

-do they have any pet peeves?

🩵Asher: Oh, Atlas fuckin’ hates mindless small talk, like the kind you use just to fill the silence, or because you awkwardly feel like you need to talk to the person next to you. Seriously, he’ll like you a lot more if you just sit next to him in silence for an hour. 💛Atlas:  Very true. And yet, your record for silence is, what, twenty minutes?  🩵Asher: Maybe. But I don’t make mindless small talk. 💛Atlas: Yeah, I do like listening to you ramble on about your latest obsessions. You get all animated and excited, it’s really cute. 🩵Asher: You’re really cute.

-what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

💛Atlas: Uh, I don’t know, what’s in our room besides the obvious? Probably too many electronics. 🩵Asher: Right, between the computer and the switch and my drawing tablet and our phones... 💛Atlas: And your sketchbooks and pencils. How many pencils does someone need? 🩵Asher: I don’t have enough; I’ll tell you that much. Count yourself lucky that most of my art supplies are scattered between Lex’s place and my parents’ house. One day I’ll get it all organized in one place, but that day is not today.

-what do they notice first in a person?

🩵Asher: Hm. That's a good question. What did you notice about me first? 💛Atlas: Your hair, obviously. 🩵Asher: [laughs] 💛Atlas: But no, I would say your eyes. I’d never met anyone with such pure gray eyes before, they’re striking. Your eyes are very expressive too. And you make eye contact with people more than anyone else I know. Like, whenever I talk to you, I always feel like you’re really listening. 🩵Asher: [smiles] I am.

-on a scale of 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

🩵Asher: Oh god, mine is probably like a 5, and Atlas’s is probably a fuckin’ 8 or 9. 💛Atlas: I would’ve said 7, but we can go with 8.

-do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

💛Atlas: I think my first instinct is freeze, but then probably flight. Depending on the situation, I’ll walk away or hide away. 🩵Asher: Mostly. But with James, you definitely went to fight. 💛Atlas: That was different. I don’t care if people hurt me, but I’m not going to let them hurt the people I love. Ash is definitely more of a fighter than I am.  

-do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

🩵Asher: I don’t come from a big family, it’s just my parents, me, my sister, and my niece, but we are very close. But honestly, family isn’t just about relatives. Chosen family is just as important. When I say my family is the most important thing to me, I don’t just mean them, I also mean Atlas and Lex and Dawn and Phoenix and Aspen too. And Jasper, obviously. 💛Atlas: Exactly. If we’re talking about relatives, I come from a very large family, but I will never see or speak to any of them again, except for Dawn, of course. A few years ago, I never would’ve considered myself a family person, but Ash’s family taking me in changed all that. I’d definitely say I am now. 🩵Asher: I love that.

-what animal represents them best?

💛Atlas: Oh, that’s easy. Ash is just like Jasper, his border collie. Playful and energetic, friendly, intelligent, hardworking, and he loves to snuggle. 🩵Asher: Hm. I think for Atlas, I’d say a deer. 💛Atlas: A deer? 🩵Asher: Yeah, like, you’re quiet and cautious, a bit anxious with a tendency to hide, but you’re also beautiful and sweet. 💛Atlas: You make me sound more like a bunny. 🩵Asher: No, definitely not a bunny. Have you ever come upon a big buck deer? They’re majestic and intimidating, and they’ll kick your ass if they have to. They’re… survivors.

-what is a smell that they dislike?

💛Atlas: Ammonia. 🩵Asher: No one likes the smell of ammonia. 💛Atlas: I know, but when I was a kid, at the end of every school year, we’d have to clean our desks with this ammonia spray. Twenty kids spraying ammonia in an enclosed room. It was awful. I’m sure they had the windows open, but even still, that smell is seared into my brain, makes me want to gag just thinking of it.

-have they broken any bones? if so, how?

🩵Asher: Okay, story time! So, when I was ten? Eleven? Something like that. Anyway, I was dancing around in my room, as one does, and I tripped on a book, one of many scattered around my disaster of a room, and tried to catch myself as I went down. Bad decision. I’ll spare you the details, but the pain I felt in my wrist was horrible. I literally saw stars. And then I almost puked when I looked at it. So, of course, I started screaming for my mom. She came running in, and I told her that I’d broken my wrist. And what did she do? She yanked on it and snapped it back into place! Because apparently, I’d just dislocated it. But, fuck, it hurt. If a broken bone is worse than that, then I hope I never break one. 💛Atlas: I broke a toe once. Stubbed it on the corner of my bed when I was in college. I wasn’t good about taping it up or anything either, so it healed a little crooked.

-how would a stranger likely describe them?

🩵Asher: For Atlas? One word: quiet. How they interpret that quietness varies though. Some people think he’s really shy, others think he’s just aloof. But he’s actually neither. He’s introverted and pensive, sure, but he’s also very warm and enjoys chatting with people if it’s a more meaningful conversation, y’know. Like, when we first met, we would talk for hours and hours. 💛Atlas: That’s true, but you’re such an easy person to talk to. I think that’s what people would say about Ash. He’s just very relaxed and friendly and has a way of putting people at ease. He’s good at connecting with people and getting them talking and making them laugh.  

-are they a night owl or a morning bird?

🩵Asher: Probably night owls, I’d say. Atlas prefers starting his day later and working late, if he has the option. 💛Atlas: Yeah, but these days, it feels like I’m working all the time. But even still, Ash starts his day earlier. I don’t know. I think he’s somehow both. He has no issues with mornings, but he also gets a burst of energy in the evening and sometimes it’s hard to get him to come to bed. 🩵Asher: To sleep, anyway. 💛Atlas: [laughs] Right.

-what is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

💛Atlas: Ah, Ash hates vinegar and anything pickled. And he loves warm spices like cinnamon and cardamom. 🩵Asher: Oh my god, and Atlas is fuckin’ backwards when it comes to this. He likes bitter flavors to a strange degree, like super bitter beer and strong coffee and he’ll only eat chocolate if it’s the super dark stuff, otherwise he hates it. He doesn’t like sweets. No sugary drinks or candy or even pastries.

-do they have any hobbies?

🩵Asher: We both love gaming and dancing. Otherwise, I like to draw and spend time with my dog. My favorite is taking him down to the beach to play fetch, he loves it there. 💛Atlas: Yeah, and I don’t know, I like to stay active because I feel like I’m constantly at a desk otherwise. I used to rock climb a lot, but since we climbed Mt. Komorebi, we took a break and never really got back to it, so I pretty much just run and work out at the gym occasionally. And I like to sing. 🩵Asher: Seriously, I wish you could hear him. He has the most incredible voice. 💛Atlas: Aw, thank you.

-boom, surprise birthday party! how do they react to surprises?

💛Atlas: Ash would love it! He’d be so stoked that everyone showed up for him like that. 🩵Asher: And Atlas would probably dump me on the spot if I ever did that to him. 💛Atlas: I don’t know if I’d dump you, but… okay, yeah, I probably would.

-do they like to wear jewelry? if so, what is their favorite piece?

🩵Asher: I don’t think I’ve ever seen Atlas wear any jewelry. 💛Atlas: No, I’ve tried, but I could never get used to it. I’d always end up taking it off by midday. 🩵Asher: I can see that. I wear earrings, but that’s it. I used to wear a necklace that an ex gave me, but I threw it out when we broke up. I wanted to throw it into the ocean, but I didn’t dare to walk out on the dock [laughs] so I tossed it in a dumpster instead. 💛Atlas: I didn’t know that. Which ex? 🩵Asher: Elias. 💛Atlas: Ahh. Yikes. 🩵Asher: Yeah. Anyway. Next question.

-do they have neat or messy handwriting?

💛Atlas: I think we both write fairly neat. 🩵Asher: I think so too. Yours is all sharp angles, but it’s not sloppy. 💛Atlas: Yeah, and you have a strong preference for uppercase letters. Sometimes it’s rushed, but it’s never messy. Actually, I’ve never thought about it before, but I really like your handwriting. 🩵Asher: I like yours too.

-what are two emotions they feel the most?

🩵Asher: [points to Atlas] Anxious. 💛Atlas: All of the time. 🩵Asher: And, hm, we can only pick two? I’d probably go with either introspective or focused. 💛Atlas: That’s probably right. For you, I’d say, passionate or inspired and then maybe playful or energetic or something like that. Okay yeah, passionate and playful.

-do they have a favorite fabric?

💛Atlas: Probably cotton, I guess. 🩵Asher: Yeah, same. I don't know. Never really thought about it, to be honest.

-what kind of accent do they have?

🩵Asher: I don’t know. Do we have accents? I mean, I guess Atlas gets a hint of a drawl when he drinks, it’s pretty cute. 💛Atlas: I do not. 🩵Asher: You do! I never told you because I didn’t want you to get self-conscious and try to stop. 💛Atlas: It’s a good thing I don’t drink often, I guess. 🩵Asher: Whatever. I love it. 💛Atlas: And I love you. 🩵Asher: I love you too.

And I love them too!! 🥹

Okay, whew! What are the chances anyone actually read all that? I really can't just be normal about these things, can I? Oh well... Now it's your turn!! I'm gonna tag @madebysimblr, @crownsofesha, @xldkx, @honeyjars-sims, aaaaaaaaaaand @igotsnothing 🤸🏻‍♀️💖 Answer them normally, or have a little fun with it, or ignore me completely, that's fine too (no it's not) 🫶🏻

[nobodysdaydreams]

More Hatchetverse Theory: Sycamore High and the Timberwolves are connected to the Hatchetmen and the Tree-People

Starkid's Hatchetverse has retriggered my hyperfixation, and by golly if you think I'm not gonna share every unhinged theory...you're wrong. I’ll tag them “#hatchetverse theory” to make it easier. So let's dive in.

One thing I haven't seen anyone talking about is the fact that, based on what we know about canon, Sycamore High School likely shouldn't exist.

Hatchetfield is a "tiny town". There doesn't seem to be a reason for them to have two high schools, especially when Sycamore seems to not even have enough staff and students for most extra curriculars and programs (in TGWDLM, Paul mentions they don't have a theater program).

So why does Sycamore High School exist? Well, one thing I noticed was that SYCAMORE High as well as its mascot, the TIMBERwolves, have tree related pun names. And what a coincidence, trees happened to be big in the hatchetfield universe, particularly when it comes to the hatchetmen and their hatred of the LIB and magic/“the gift” in general. They did plant a forest of magic tree people after all. And, since they hate the LIB so much, they likely wouldn't want their children attending high school at one of the black altar locations, which just so happens to be Hatchetfield High. That gives them a motivation to build an alternative school.

Sounds like a pretty solid theory to me, but then there's also the fact that the residents also seem to have an odd attitude towards Sycamore High. It's not hated by Hatchetfield High with the same level of hatred they give the Clivesdale Chemists, but they still don't like Sycamore, and the students hate the idea of transferring there. Which seems odd. You'd think it would be the other way around since Hatchetfield High is the school with the black altar. Unless being around a black altar makes the students hate Sycamore, and I could probably do a whole different rant on how the LIB's influence is messing with the perceptions and behavior of the people of Hatchetfield, particularly at the altar locations or when someone uses or has used the black book, but maybe I'll save that for later.

However, if you really wanted to take this theory to the extreme, it could be part of the reason why Paul "doesn't like musicals." Musicals and music are the primary way Pokey expands his influence in Hatchetfield, at least in TGWDLM. That might be one of the reasons Sycamore doesn't have a choir or theater program: not just due to lack of students, but strategically to keep Pokey's influence out. Paul went to Sycamore High, which isn't a black altar (and indeed, might even be designed to counteract or resist the LIB), therefore he's more put off by music and musical performances in Hatchetfield, though he doesn't really know why.

I also suspect this isn't the only instance where the name of locations around town have significance. This has already been seen several times, particularly with the black altar locations.

For example:

The Starlight Theater: has a star theme similar to "the Church of the Starry Children"

CCRP (COVEN Communication Research and Power): Literally has the word "Coven" in it.

Lakeside Mall: Used to be the old mill (which would be located near water, also "mall" and "mill" are one letter off).

And trust me, I have my theories about Clivesdale as well, but again, maybe that one is better for another time.

I hope you enjoy Starkid fandom!

[yanderemommabean]

You know a concept stardew fans seem to not bring up? How wonderfully pathetic Yandere Clint would be. Like he is such a pathetic and insecure guy but I have a feeling he can become dangerous if in the right circumstance. Like we know he’s a blacksmith and you’ve even mentioned he’d make cuffs/chains. So what if he decided enough was enough and chose to take his beloved for himself.

I can already imagine how it happens; After so many years of pining for Emily, he’s grown tired of being alone and can’t work up the nerve to talk to her… But then a charming new farmer arrives and he can’t help but fall head over heels! He tries to deny his love for the farmer since he doesn’t want his years of loving Emily to feel like they went to waste, but the farmer seems to naturally grab his attention. He starts using his crush on Emily as an excuse to ask for the farmer’s help, but in actuality just wants to get close to them.

But naturally, the farmer has both men and women fawning over them and Clint feels threatened by this. He closes up out of fear of rejection and is terrified that he’ll end up pining for the farmer just like Emily. He doesn’t want this and decides that his only course of action would be to take the farmer away from everyone else.

(Sorry if you’re not up for discussions of stardew valley, I just remembered seeing one of your posts during my dive into the tags)

Omg??? I can’t believe I never considered this option. I’m not the biggest fan of Clint but he hasn’t really done anything for me to hate him, so this really puts him in a new light!

He really does just want someone to love him and once he finally gets someone to show even a shred of attention to him, he makes sure to hold an iron grip. He doesn’t want to hurt the farmer, not ever, but sometimes in order to have what you want you have to do some…questionable things.

Such as spreading rumors that you up and left once the bus was fixed, finding the town horrible and the people obnoxious. The whole town is left broken hearted and bitter about it but Clint seems more or less unphased. Swears he’s just not that attached to you and you leaving was sad but won’t hurt his life.

They all go with that lie too. They don’t question the banging coming from his shop because well, he’s a blacksmith, heavy clanging and banging is apart of the job. They don’t pay attention to certain marks and scars along his arms either, probably just apart of his job too, accidents happen.

Gunther started poking around a bit too much but a brutally busted display and some broken museum artifacts made him stay in his place. He didn’t know who did it, but his job and reputation isn’t worth the risk.

All of this while you’re locked in a new addition to his shop, beneath his bedroom, nice and locked up where no one can take you. It’s nice that you’ve learned to stop screaming for help, your poor throat used to get so sore!

It’s nice to have all this alone time with you too. Most of the town stays away from his shop, not really needing anything unless they want to sell some odds and ends. Just you, and him, and all the time in the world.

-Mommabean

[assignmentimprobable]

Per my last gobbledygook infused post about the excessive use of Stryker’s influence in the X-Men movies, I’ve come with my promised rant. This time taking a deep-dive into some of the more consequential changes to Fox X-Men’s storytelling choices when making movies based on different comics, specifically how they chose to adapt Weapon X in Origins, and all my gripes. 

Disclaimer: (1) I know that the Origins movie takes much of its creative liberties based on Wolverine Origins; (2) I know that killing your darlings is necessary when adapting books to the big screen, but there’s the difference between a few darlings and cutting the entire thrust of the story. These are two completely different stories with different audiences, and I’m pontificating informally about a bunch of nothing at the end of the day for my own fun. 

That said! Join me for the biggest bitch session about how the movies took on the ‘ohh how did Logan become The Wolverine” angle. This has been an essay for 4 years in the making so. Prepare yourselves accordingly. 

Trigger warnings for: Graphic body horror with images, non-consensual nudity, torture, experimentation, sexual assault discussion (not discussed in depth, but touched on in a quote) and blood. 

More under the cut

To preface… I don’t consider myself even a passable comic fan. I floated by on X-Men Evolution and the Fox films for my X-Men knowledge until I was an adult. I’ve got some measure of Lore knowledge, but at the end of the day I’m a filthy casual, so jot THAT down. Don’t expect me to know shit about Romulus’s involvement. So I, a fool, went into Weapon X (1991) expecting what I saw in X-Men Origins back in (checks calendar) 2009. 

What I find most interesting is that movie adaptations of Weapon X tend to give a badass tilt to what happened, when what actually happened was far from it. 

Starting with the first gripe: In X-Men Origins, we see that Logan volunteered for the Weapon X program as a means to get strong enough to beat Sabertooth for killing Silver Fox (Here, Kayla SilverFox. Which. :U ), his girlfriend. It was about single-minded vengeance. In the comic, Logan didn’t have a choice. They caught him while he was drunk, walking out of a bar and presumably on his way back to wherever he was staying. 

What happens next is a series of episodes and observations about the state of his body, his nature, and his use as a weapon. Furthermore, it’s not an action comic.

It’s a horror story.

The core changes for the big screen can be boiled down into one paradigm shift: Logan is an active character moving the story along instead of a passive one in Origins. And really, that’s the problem, because a key element to the whole premise has to do with his role in the events that made him who he is. Weapon X is not a story about Wolverine, the characters never actually refer to him by his title, only by first name and project designation “Experiment X”. It’d be more accurate to say that Weapon X is a story that revolves around things that happen to Logan. More precisely: The things that people do TO him. At its core, the story is about the dehumanization that accompanies having your bodily autonomy meddled with. 

Origins plays with this a little bit, having Stryker make the call for Logan’s memories to be wiped so that he can be used as a weapon. Which brings us back to the main problem: Not only does it undermine the themes of the story for Logan to be recontextualized as a completely willing participant- but introducing that angle entirely just feels totally flavorless, as opposed to the government having pulled his personnel file and tagged him as precisely the kind of volatile presence that no one would miss. Systems do that all the time, marking people as ‘other’ and making a judgment call on their worth. 

I think it would’ve been so much more interesting if the movies played with the ambiguity of Wolverine’s participation in the experiment. Because in an X2 scene, when Logan says “you cut me open, you took my life.”, Stryker responds “you make it sound as if I stole something from you. as I recall it was you who volunteered for the procedure.” and everything comes into question. On one hand, it begs the question: Who WAS Logan before he lost his memory? Was he the sort of person to grasp destructive power for power’s sake? On the other, It’s a classic abuser tactic on Stryker’s part, shifting the blame onto the victim and putting forth the idea that they wanted it, and so that what took place was completely fine. It’s a sickening, spineless rationalization. Logan can easily be seen as an abuse victim being manipulated by the abuser. 

Which is actually a good segue to my next point— the abuse in the comic. It’s graphic and uncomfortable. There is a crazy amount of nudity in this story (warning: pictured below). Not the fun kind either, there’s enough of it to make you feel kinda icky about what’s going on. 

Logan spends virtually all of the story naked and a good amount of it bound in dehumanizing ways. The method feels weirdly evocative of bondage, muscles flexing and body bare, the form twisted into forced submission. It isn't his choice to be unclothed, and so it feels like you’re not to see him like this. There’s a layer of wrongness to it that you can’t quite shake as a reader.

According to the center for victims of torture: “Forced nakedness creates a power differential, stripping the victims of their identity, inducing immediate shame and creating an environment where the threat of sexual and physical assault is always present.” Nearly all of the elements are met in the story. Logan is drugged, stripped, bound, and subjected to multiple forms of violence. He has hot coffee poured onto his unconscious naked body for no other reason than a doctor’s bad mood. His abuse is justified by his status as a mutant, being told “This infernal thing is what [he] has always been” while left naked and unconscious in a pile of glass shards. The Doctors and staff have all the power, and he himself has none. 

At every corner of doubt expressed by Carol Hines the lab tech or Dr. Cornelius the co-project lead, there’s someone ready to express that his identity is inconsequential. That person is typically the lead scientist, Dr. Thornton- or “The Professor”. He’s the menacing bald guy you see in a bunch of different cartoon adaptations of the Weapon X story.  

(^ This guy. Like to slap his bald head. Reblog to stab it.)

Autonomy is defined by the Merriam Webster dictionary as “ self-directing freedom and especially moral independence.” It is the capacity to make an informed, uncoerced decision. Here, where Logan is constantly in and out of reality due to the drugs and conditioning equipment, there is no autonomy. Logan is incapacitated, has no information on what is happening to him, and is being fed scenarios that he did not give his permission to be in.The nakedness is part and parcel of what the Weapon X project is trying to do: They are trying to tear Logan away from his identity and personhood. Whether Logan breaks from the programming or not, he is treated as a tertiary consideration in all aspects. Humiliation is necessary to the conditioning. And I feel the need to clarify that it IS humiliation, defined as “to reduc[ing] (someone) to a lower position in one's own eyes or others' eyes.” The doctors must bring Logan down under their heel as a monster to tame, their agenda can’t survive without the subjugation element. The program wants to assume dominion over his body, mind, and by extension his abilities. 

Addressing the vaguely sexual tilt to the nudity: I’d wager that the objectification stands to poise him in the eyes of the scientists and lab staff. Something to observe, a passive subject to be engaged with at their leisure. It’s a framing device. Logan is effectively robbed of his voice for much of the story, speaking in broken fragments and more often than not expressing how much pain he’s in. The underpinnings of the nudity are grounded in asserting control over Logan’s form, the Professor at multiple points talks about how this experiment and awakening the animal inside Logan is the latter’s destiny. He has decided that it’s this man’s highest calling because of who he is, a mutant and one of the troubled undesirables of society. Mentally ill, violent, drunk. The purpose of Experiment X is to mold Logan into a mindless beast, because that’s what they think he is, the rest is to strip him of any pretense or illusions about what he thinks he is. It’s an oppressive environment that reinforces its power dynamics through violence on the body and mind. 

Next gripe: That really satisfying scene in Origins where Logan breaks free from the adamantium tank and shrugs off the bullet Agent Zero put in his head. It has all the trademarks of cool. The shredded figure of a big dick legend, the angry snarling, the bodies flying and claws slashing. It’s about intention! We are meant to see this man as effectively invincible and totally badass. It’s a short stint of medical malpractice that ultimately brings us the character we look up to and admire. It doesn’t hurt that he’s got a lovely figure and a handsome face either. It’s all pure, bloodless action. The scene on a tonal level doesn’t scratch the surface of how invasive or horrible the experiment was, nor do any of movies seem to capture how fucking GROSS! The closest we get is the sequence in X2 where Logan runs down the hallway naked, hurting, and horrified at what’s been done to him. And to Hugh Jackman’s credit, this brief and bloody snatch of memory leaves people unsettled, asking “What happened here?” This is the first time Logan’s seeing the claws, he doesn’t know what we know about their use now, only that it HURTS and he has to get AWAY. That’s creative storytelling within the limitations of a PG-13 rating.

Meanwhile, with Barry Windsor-Smith…

Having re-read the story a few times for the sake of this essay: I can see on some level why a major studio wouldn’t tackle this in full-fidelity. It’s not marketable in a “Middle of the road, grandparents and little kids can see this movie” way. It’s also fair to say that it’s hard to pivot from, because his involvement doesn’t end with the adamantium bonding. We still have several years of false memory implants, missions with Team X after the successful conditioning, and then getting to a solid stopping point before the X-Men recruits Wolverine. Marketing heads and studio executives don’t want to grapple with a complex trauma narrative and Wolverine being brutalized in deeply un-fun ways nonstop, no matter how compelling it would be to bring to life. 

However, it’s a total missed opportunity that in shifting the perspective of the story to Logan as its driving force that the movie didn’t try to get at the juicier quirks of his mental state under the strain. Since you know, it’s the subject of at least 3 PTSD nightmare sequences in the X-Men films where Logan is at the forefront. Experiencing such immense psychological trauma impairs the ability of a victim to cope because of the deficiencies in endorphin activity following a traumatic experience. Volpicelli J, Balaraman G, Hahn J, Wallace H, Bux D. The role of uncontrollable trauma in the development of PTSD and alcohol addiction. Alcohol Res Health. 1999;23(4):256-62.  Alcohol is a common method of compensating for the endorphin withdrawal by increasing endorphin activity, avoiding both the withdrawal, and also impairing the parts of the brain that recall memory. Ibid. Considering the detailed abuse in previous paragraphs, it’s no shit that Logan is an alcoholic. The trauma conga line of Wolverine’s history aside, an extended trauma event such as the one in Weapon X alone warrants the kind of hyper-awareness, aggressive outbursts, and self-destructive behaviors that the character is known for. The scene in X-Men 2000 where Logan attacks Jean while she’s putting the IV in his arm makes complete sense, having the context of panels like these behind it.

Is there something to be said here about depictions of masculinity that go out of their way to avoid showing vulnerability? I’d be willing to say so, especially based on the commentary around what the filmmakers wanted for the Origins movie. They wanted to prioritize the action and invoke Robert De Niro’s “oh fuck this guy is scary” factor in Cape Fear, highlighting the sheer badassness and animal edge of the character. He’s sexy, he’s a wounded soul, he’s a killer, and most of all: a Fighter. He gets back at Zero for killing the Hudsons, tracks down Victor and annihilates him with his newfound strength, and kills anybody who gets in his way.  

To contrast: There are plenty of points in the Weapon X story where Logan fights and kills. He kills every animal they sicc on him. Slaughters a lab tech who goes into his cell while he’s screaming bloody murder. There’s no victory in it though, because he is doing precisely what the Professor has set out to condition him for. In text, it affirms the view of his abusers that he’s a “Mindless murdering animal.” He slaughters the security team sent to him and most important: He kills the architect of his immediate misery, he kills the Professor, the most satisfying slaughter of the story. But that very same satisfaction is hollow, it’s the product of unreality, false memories being planted into his mind as another part of the experiment. They’re empty for Logan, the subject. He doesn’t get to triumph. 

This is the story of an abused man in the thick of that environment, not so much a story about how he beat the odds. It’s hinted at toward the end, but likely not shown because this is a prequel story, and Wolverine’s integration into the X-Men in the modern day IS the triumph. This is a contextual tale. This story can’t be all that there is and it isn’t, because Logan is destined to make it out. The Logan we know is at the end of this, but the Logan in this story is only just beginning down a path of trauma that will rip away his sense of self. The distinction lies in what kind of story both mediums are trying to tell. The tale of victimization, abuse, and dehumanization that is told in “Weapon X” undermines the kind of story that Origins wants to tell, one of a man’s journey down the long road and the choices and intentions that set him on the path to being Wolverine. 

With the amount of blood, gore, and misery at work here, some might be compelled to characterize what happens in Weapon X as torture porn. However, Torture porn implies a level of gratuitousness that I just don’t think is present in the story proper. There’s a perfectly good reason for the raw, visceral discomfort and atmosphere: It speaks to the total lack of compassion and empathy in these people. Those who aren’t actively mocking this man are complicit at best, lending their help in a project that they know the subject isn’t a voluntary participant in. 

Everyone seems to be in on a joke that Logan is the punchline for. Even if not everyone laughs, the point stands that Logan is stumbling blindly into spectacle for the entertainment and voyeuristic study of the project workers. It all feels like one big horror side-show. Windsor-Smith was doing a thematic breakdown on human apathy and sadism through characters like the Professor, Dr. Cornelius, and Carol Hines. The Professor is sadistic and clinical, he feeds little fish to the big fish and taps the glass for his amusement. Cornelius and Hines are apathetic, they will occasionally express remorse (with Hines crying multiple times), but both of them continue to be active participants in an unwitting man’s abuse and torture. Cornelius because he feels that he doesn’t have any other choice but to be here, and Hines because of her sense of loyalty to the project and general obligations as a staff member. The graphic imagery and out-of-touch quality of Logan’s mental state are meant to evoke compassion, sympathy, and anger in the readers. This is the Wolverine we’re talking about. If it’s one thing he does, it’s fight back. He kills, he gets even, but here? He doesn’t. He can’t. He’s helpless. 

It’s an interesting exploration, seeing a major icon for masculine ideals being subject to the sort of objectification that we only tend to see rendered in such explicit ways with female characters. Nobody expects someone associated with such strength to be brought this low. The story doesn’t diminish the value of his suffering or imply that the abuse diminishes him in any way, I never quite got the implication that Logan was less of a man for any of the things that the experiment put him through. It’s absolutely insane for a story written during the Bush Sr. era to be able to tackle the kind of nuance on abuse creating victims across genders that people still struggle with today. Hines, Cornelius, and the Professor are the central drivers of a dialogue on what it means to be human, and through their contributions to Logan’s suffering, they prove that for being the supposed “human” opposites to his mutant monstrous self, only acknowledged as human as lip service, there is an endless capacity for cruelty. It brings us back around to Logan, who in being subjugated has shown the audience that The Wolverine is human too. 

TLDR: X-Men Origins fumbled the ball adapting the story in an interesting way and I blame executive meddling. I think it would’ve been a really cool exploration of the character to showcase the horrific parts of the origin story, and if not that, then to explore the various themes highlighted by the original story but that probably would’ve required an R rating, and you know how studios take to those for their big IPs. That said, I cannot recommend reading the source enough. Barry Windsor-Smith tells a damn good story, even if it doesn’t feel characterized by the same quirks of an X-Men tale. Quite honestly? I think that’s the appeal. It’s as much a character study as it is a horror show of all the ways one person can be unmade. 

[bteezxyewriter12]

Desire/ 3

Pairing- Seonghwa x Named Reader

Word count- 3.5k

Includes- Voyeurism, pussy eating, fingering, cum eating, marking, missionary, sex from behind, stomach bulge, choking, cock riding, squirting, multiple orgasms, sort of fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxmine @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @hotteokhatyu

Gif Credit- hwanswerland

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Seonghwa Masterlist

Seonghwa POV

Keeping her legs open, I slurp all over her throbbing clit, moving my fingers in and out of her cunt

She moans my name, her hand gripping my hair hard

I don't fucking know what this is with us but we keep ending up together

She came to the dorm again to hang but as soon as we went to my room and the door closed, we were all over each other

I asked her to please let me eat her out since I didn't do it last time and here we are with me between her legs, sucking her clit, fingers fucking her cunt, her juice and cream all over my face and my neck

And I've seriously never been more content in my life

Her cunt squeezes my fingers as I push through the tightness, driving them right into her spot

She shakes with each suck, getting closer to her orgasm

I'm waiting eagerly for it, waiting for the sweet taste of her cum

It's like I crave it

I really don't know what's wrong with me but I'm not worrying about it

The next tug of her swollen clit has her crying my name, coming all over my fingers

I suck her through it, massaging her spot to keep her coming, my eyes lifting and watching the stunning sight before me

"Seonghwa"

I wait until she finishes before I pull my fingers out, wrapping that hand around her leg and spreading her legs wider

I bury my tongue in her hole, licking up all her delicious cream, moaning from how utterly good she is

"Seonghwa, will you tell Yunho that I'm right- oh my god!"

I glance up to my now open bedroom door, Yeosang, Yunho and San staring at us with disbelief all over their face

I don't give a fuck right now

Ignoring them, I continue what I'm doing, running my tongue up and down her soft wet pussy

"Are...are they going to stop?", Yeosang whispers

"I don't....I don't think so", Yunho answers

He's right

We're not

I honestly don't give a fuck if they watch

I just want her

She's all I'm concerned about

"What are you guys watching?", Wooyoung's voice asks, "Oh. They at it again?"

"Again?", San asks

"Yeah", Wooyoung answers

"They've....before?"

"Oh yeah", Wooyoung confirms, "He walked in on me and her and I asked if he wanted to join. He did"

"No fucking way!"

I don't stop, diving my tongue into her tight pussy, feeling her clench around my tongue, sending shivers up my spine

"Yeah. They went crazy. She rode him like I've never seen before. I don't think I've ever made her cum as much as he did"

"You...watched?", Yeosang whispers

"Oh yeah"

I know he's smirking as he's telling them

"I told them what to do and they did it"

Silence follows, the only sound in the room is from my tongue licking her pretty cunt and her soft moans

"I...wow", Yeosang finally says

"Yeah. It was fun. They don't care about other people watching them"

I mean it's not something I want every time I'm with her but once in awhile I don't care

And right now I couldn't care less

"Seonghwa", she moans, my tongue slipping in and out of her pretty hole

"Goddamn look at him go at it", San comments

"Oh yeah, he loves eating her out. Couldn't get enough last time", Wooyoung answers, "To be fair she tastes completely good so I don't blame him"

"Goddamn", Yeosang gasps

Sliding my tongue up, I flick her clit few times before I suck on her again, her loud cries drowning out their talking

I alternate between sucking her clit and tongue fucking her hole, her pussy clenching harder every time my tongue goes in

"Seonghwa", she moans loudly, her hand snaking in my ponytail, her fingers twirling in the strands, gripping hard

Her hips move in time with my tongue plunging in her cunt, fucking my face and I can't stop the loud moan I let out

Every thrust of my tongue, I lick crazily inside her, living for the pulses her cunt does around my tongue

"Goddamn, she's fucking his face so goddamn hard", someone says

Who, I don't know, I'm not paying attention

Sliding my tongue up out of her hole, I suck on her clit a few times, then slip my tongue down back inside her

Her hand not in my hair, grips my wrist so tightly, my name the only thing she cries

Fuck, I could listen to her call me forever

Sucking hard on her throbbing bump, she screams loudly, her body arching as she cums

"Seonghwa!"

I instantly slip my tongue in her hole, letting her cum all over it, her sweet cream all in my mouth

I swallow over and over, groaning, wanting every last drop

Her legs shake hard around my head and I fucking love it

I keep licking as her orgasm ends, making sure she's clean

"Good god she's hot when she cums", Yunho exclaims

He's right

She is hot

Moving away from her soaking cunt, I press a kiss to her lower stomach

"Hwannie", she whispers

I feel the overwhelming need to kiss her and I'm not stopping myself

I trail kisses up to her stomach, taking my time sucking on her soft gorgeous skin, leaving my marks all over her

So everyone knows who made her feel so fucking good

I leave a trail of purple bruises on her sexy body from her stomach, up to the skin in-between her breasts, along her collarbone and on her neck

And she moans the whole time, her body trembling under me, her hand pulling my ponytail out, fingers running through the strands

She still has the marks I left all over her last week, some still a light purple, other fading

They're so pretty on her and I'm proud she wants them on her

Hovering over her, I get her legs around me, then lean on my hand, next to her head

"Gonna wear your pussy", I murmur and she nods

"What? What did he just fucking say?", San exclaims

Her arms reach out for me and I go willingly, laying on top of her, her arms around my neck, my forehead against hers

Her fingers slide back in my hair gripping tightly

My god, I never knew how pleasurable it would be to have my hair played with until her

I absolutely love it

"Do you care if they're here? Watching?", I ask

"No", she whimpers, "I don't care. I just want you"

Happily, I guide my cock to her entrance, slipping my head in, then grip her thighs hard as I push in

"Hwa", she moans, her body arching against mine

"Baby", I groan, pushing into her inch by inch, the pleasure fucking incredible

She keeps my head against hers, both of us breathing hard against each others mouths

It's so fucking hot, so erotic, turning me on

I slide in more, opening her tight wet pussy around me, finally bottoming out, my length snugly deep inside her, her cunt throbbing so hard already

"Hwa", she whimpers, her eyes opening, meeting my gaze

She so fucking beautiful it's insane

"Kiss me", she whispers

"Always jagi", I answer, "Always"

Pressing my lips against hers, I fall into her kiss, stars explode in my vision, just like the first time I kissed her

Her kiss is amazing, like I'm in heaven

She deepens the kiss, licking my lip and sliding her tongue in, right against mine

Moving my arms around her body, I pull her against me, starting to move, thrusting into her waiting pussy over and over

Pleasure fills my body as I kiss her, one of her arms against my back, the other deep in my hair

As I pound into her, my pelvis rubs against her clit, making her moan in my mouth, arching her body right against mine

Her skin is so perfect, I love feeling her against me, love feeling her shake, tremble, shiver

The harder I fuck her, the more wild our kisses become, our tongues down each other's throats, our hands gripping each other hard

"Jesus Christ", Hongjoong gasps, "What the fuck is going on? Why are you watching them?"

"They're letting us", San answers

"Actually they're way too into each other to care", Wooyoung answers

He's right

I'm too into her to care

She moans loudly, her pussy squeezing the life from my cock, right there

She breaks the kiss, the sounds coming from her are so fucking pretty

I press kisses to her neck as I fuck her, wanting her to cum so badly

It feels so fucking good and fuck, I'm addicted

After last time, I'm so addicted

"Cum on my cock. Want all that cream on my cock", I murmur, moving my kisses down, groping her boob, latching onto her nipple

Sucking hard, she falls over the edge, screaming my name, her cunt locking on my cock, completely drenching me

Bliss pours all over me, moaning on her nipple as I feel how absolutely tight she becomes

"Seonghwa. Oh god, Seonghwa!"

I keep my dick all inside her, letting her cream all over me

So fucking good

As soon as she finishes, I'm up, pulling out and flipping her over on her hands and knees

Slamming my cock right inside her, I split her tight cunt open, both of us crying out in pleasure

"Oh fuck", I hear one of the guys say

Looking up, I find them watching us, this position letting them see us clearly as we're both facing them

She clenches my cock tightly and I'm too far gone to care about them watching

Holding her hips, I pull back then plunge into her, this position letting me hit so much more deeper

"Seonghwa!", she shrieks

I move my hips so fast, I'm even surprised at how fast I'm moving

I just can't stop

I need her pussy spasming around me, I need to fuck her wide open, need to make her drench me

Need to make her scream

Opening her legs more, I thrust into her as hard as I can, her screams of more and harder driving me insane

The pleasure is so fucking astounding, nothing I've ever felt with anyone but her

I'm so hot, sweat all over me

I run my fingers in my hair, pushing it back off my face, then grip her hips hard as I destroy her spot on my cock

"This is better than porn", Jongho gapes

"Wanna give them a show jagi?", I murmur

"Ddd...don't stop fucking me", she whines

"I won't baby. I promise"

"O...ok", she gasps, her hands twisting my sheets so hard her knuckles are white

Leaning over her, I wrap my arm around her and pull her up with me when I straighten, exposing her body to them as I continue to move inside her

"Oh my fucking god!", Hongjoong gapes

"She's...sexy", Yunho gapes

"Perfect", San says in shock

"I didn't know I liked abs on a girl", Yeosang whispers

She is perfect and right now she's mine

They can watch but they can't touch her

Her head tilts back on my shoulder, her labored breathing in my ear

"My god look at her stomach bulge everytime he fucks into her", Yeosang gapes

"Fucking insane", San says

Wooyoung is just watching and smirking

Whatever

Slowly moving my hand up, I wrap it around her neck, her cunt squeezing my shaft in a death grip

"Like that jagi?", I whisper

She nods, "Yes"

"Want me to choke you?"

"Yes Hwannie"

I can do that

I definitely can do that

Squeezing her throat, her body stiffens against me, her pussy dripping so much, so fucking tight

Letting her throat go, she whimpers so cutely

"Good baby?"

She nods

I kiss her cheek, "Good girl"

Shoving my cock up her cunt, I stay buried in her, my hand not around her neck, slides down to her clit

I press my fingers onto her throbbing bump, rubbing circles quickly

"Oh my god", she whimpers, sliding down a little, her legs shaking

"Stay up jagi", I tell her, pulling her back up "I'm gonna make you cum. Make you squirt for me. Do you want that?"

"Yes Hwa. Please baby, yes", she whines, her hands holding onto my arm, her nails digging in my skin

"Anything for you", I promise

Choking her, I play hard with her clit, her body arching and shaking, bliss showering over me as she cums

I feel so much liquid drench my cock, my legs and I know she squirted

"Oh my god she's squirting!", Jongho yells

"Gushing so much", San says, his eyes on her cunt

"So pretty", Hongjoong murmurs

Yeah it is pretty and it feels out of this world

Letting go of her neck, she shatters the silence, screaming my name, "Seonghwa! Seonghwa! Seonghwa!"

"That's it baby girl. Such a good girl for me"

When she finishes, she slumps against me, breathing hard

I run my fingers in her sweaty hair, leaning down, pressing my lips to hers

I just have to kiss her

I have to

She responds, kissing me softly, slowly turning in my arms, hers wrapping around my neck

I move mine around her waist, her sweaty body against mine

I get lost in her kiss, lost in her and I don't want to be saved

Slowly, she pushes me back, both of us moving until I'm on my back and she's straddling my lap

When the kiss ends, she pulls away, smiling softly at me, her fingers pushing hair out of my face

"Gonna ride you Hwa"

I nod, "Please jagi"

She gives me a gentle kiss, her hand guiding my cock to her hole

She slips down easily, bottoming me out in one move, her cunt so wet

Breaking the kiss, she sits up, her sexy body hitting me in the face

She moves my hands onto her hips, then starts to bounce on me

Pleasure fills me, my cock pushing through her tightness

I watch the gorgeous sight of her riding me in awe, my eyes not tearing from her for a second

This is definitely my favorite position

I can see her beautiful face, seeing pleasure there

I can see her body clearly, see her boobs jiggle, her sweat dripping down her body, see her cunt taking my cock, creaming it

I love watching her move on me

"Seonghwa", she moans, eyes closed, hips circling when she bottoms me out, using my cock to open her up more

"They're seriously not done?"

"I told you. The fucked for a long time when I was there. They can both go for a long time", Wooyoung answers

Her eyes open and lock on mine as she starts bouncing on me

Her hands move along my stomach as she moves, her eyes not moving from mine

A small smile forms on her face as she leans over, her hand cupping my cheek

My heart pounds in my chest just from this small touch

My heart flutters and all I want is to kiss her again

As if she reads my mind, she comes closer, her lips against mine

I kiss her back hungrily, wanting her lips against mine every second of everyday

I'd love nothing more than to kiss her all day

All too soon the kiss ends and she sits back up, riding me hard

"Christ she's so good at riding", Jongho awes

"Yeah. She works out her legs at the gym so she can ride cock for a long time", Wooyoung divulges

"Fuck, I wouldn't mind her riding me", San says

Absolutely not

No fucking way

She's mine

"God, are the rest of you guys dying? I'm so hard, it's uncomfortable", Yeosang mutters

"You can jerk off to them", Wooyoung says, "I did when I was watching them"

"Really?"

"Yeah. They don't care"

I'm too busy watching her ride me, watching her cream coat my cock with every bounce to give a fuck about anything but her

"Hwannie", she groans, her bounces big, hard, her cunt glued to my cock, "I'm gonna cum Hwa. Fuck, I'm coming", she cries

I watch her body cum, watch her hole clench my dick, cream my dick, watch the ecstasy in her face, listen to her call my name, all while feeling intense pleasure myself

"Hwa", she whispers as she finishes and I fucking need her right now

I need to feel her body against mine, need her in my arms

Taking her wrists, I pull her on top of me, her skin against mine

She buries her face in the side of my neck, her arms wrapping around there too

She begins to bounce on me again, this new angle having her taking me deeper

"Hwa", she whimpers, "So good Hwannie"

"Yeah jagi", I murmur, grabbing her ass and helping her bounce on me, as I thrust up into her, "My good girl. Such a good pussy, taking me so deep inside"

"My god, look how much she's creaming his cock", Mingi whimpers

I don't even know when he got here

That's how much I'm not paying attention to them

"Baby loves my cock deep in her cunt huh?", I ask, the pleasure of her tight pussy throbbing around me so intense

"Yes"

"Love being full of my cock?"

"Yes"

"Full of my cum?"

"Fuck, Yea Hwa", she whispers, clinging onto me

I'm so hot, sweating so much, my sweat mixing with hers and I wouldn't have it any other way

"Do you hear how wet you are for me?", I ask, squeezing her ass hard, "How loud your cunt is?"

She nods, the squelching sound reverberating in the room

The other sound is the guys jerking off to us but I ignore that

"Do you feel how hard I am for you?", I ask, thrusting up into her cunt as she comes down, "I swear jagi, I've never been this hard before. It only happens when I'm with you"

She moans softly, her lips pressing a kiss to my jaw, sending shivers down my spine

"Have you even been this wet before?"

"No Hwa. Just for you", she murmurs, "Only with you"

Hearing her answer makes me happy

Happy that I have such a big effect on her as she has on me

"Let me fuck you jagi", I tell her, driving my cock into her loud pussy again and again, "Let me give it to you"

She stops moving, my hands still on her ass as I jack hammer my cock up into her, crashing into her spot over and over

"So much cream", one of the guys moans

"Hear that baby? You're creaming my cock so much", I whisper, "I can feel it jagi, feel it dripping into my lap, feel it run down my cock. I love that feeling"

"Love feeling your cock inside me Hwa. Want your cum filling me. Please"

"I will baby. You first then I'll fill your pussy"

I'm so lost in the pleasure, my body electrified with it and I love that it's her making me feel this way

"Yeah Hwa. Don't stop. I'm..", she says breathlessly

"I know jagi. You're close. I can feel it baby. I know when you're gonna cum"

I've fucked her enough, given her enough orgasms to know when she's going to come

It's any second now

Ploughing into her, she clenches rapidly, hard as she moans my name in my neck, shaking in my arms

I feel more squirt all over me, drenching everything and I'm shocked I made her squirt twice

"Holy shit she's squirting again!"

"That's so much", Mingi groans

"Look at that tiny hole gush around his cock. Fuck"

"Hwa!", she yells, "Fill my pussy Hwannie! I want your cum"

"Jesus Christ!", one of them moans

I thrust a few more times when out of this world ecstacy rips through my body, blinding me, my brain shutting off

The only thing I can do is feel her cunt milk my cock as I shoot my cum deep inside her and scream her name

"Joanne! Fuck, Joanne! Baby!", I scream, my body shaking under her

I feel her kisses all over my face as I ride the waves of bliss, hear her call my name softly, almost lovingly

When it's over, I lay there not being able to move

That was the most intense orgasm I've ever felt

Moreso than the other ones I've had with her

She kisses my lips and even though I'm exhausted, I kiss her back

I will never not kiss her back

She moves off me, both our bodies turning to each other, our lips never leaving each other's

I hear the door to my room close and I'm assuming the guys left but fuck I'm not stopping kissing her to check

Even though we just had intense sex, we kiss for a long while, just holding each other

And as I kiss her I feel the feelings I can't deny anymore, coming through

I want her

So much more than what we're doing

I want to be with her

I...I think I'm falling in love

No...no...I am in love

With my best friend

I don't want to think about what that means right now, don't want to freak out, not while she's here, in my arms

Right now I just want to feel the love

I just want to kiss her

And I do

[kalinara]

A long time ago, for a former blog, I did a write up of one of my favorite random little X-Men stories, specifically the backup story from Classic X-Men #41-42.

Since, nowadays, it's a lot easier for all of us to go and read random old issues, I thought it would be fun to showcase this story again.

So what's the appeal, you may wonder? Why is this going to be my first (and probably not only) deep dive into a particular comic book story for this blog?

Well, it's a backstory issue. I enjoy backstory issues. And it involves my favorite character. And there's something that newer fans, who may have gotten into the X-Men through other media, like the movies or cartoons (welcome! By the way! 616 is a trip!) may not know, and that is:

Scott Summers's backstory is fucking batshit. And this is one tiny peek into it! Enjoy!

(Warnings for spoilers for a story that came out when I was three years old.)

So what DO we know about Scott Summers's backstory before we start?

We know that, at one point, Scott had parents and one (?) brother. Eventually that total gets a little murky. But at some point, when Scott was about 8-10 years old (retelling vary), they were on a nice little plane trip. things kind of went to hell. Parents were "killed", kids went out the plane with one parachute, the parachute caught fire, and the kids fell. Alex bounced, Scott didn't.

Eventually, Scott ends up in the "care" of a dude named Jack Winters. Jack is pretty awful, using him to commit crimes, and in general is an abusive dick. I have a tag for him, if you want specific examples. Our good pal, Charles Xavier saved Scott from that guy, and well, the rest of the story is known.

This story takes place in between, and the big twist is kind of revealed from the Marvel Unlimited summary, as well as one of my tags to this post. Oops. Oh well.

Anyway, welcome to the "State Home for Foundlings" in Omaha, Nebraska. And even Claremont kind of snarks about the name:

One funny thing about poor Scott's origin is that the orphanage that makes up a big part of it was an outdated concept even as far back as 1986. It's only become more so as the rolling timeline continues on.

I love that we get a nod to that here. Let's just say, though, that there's a reason that it still works when we transplant the events of this story and others to 2007-ish*

(Insert your own time scale here. I chose 2007 because whenever anyone at Marvel is asked about Scott's age, they usually give 27-28 as a bench mark. Does that make sense? No. But that's comics for you. Sixty real life years, twelve in universe years. Huh, for once it divides evenly. I'm going to enjoy that.)

Anyway, we start out with a fight. Initially, it's between a kid called Toby and a kid called Nate. Funny coincidence that name. But our Scott is a hero at heart.

Sadly, he isn't much of a fighter. But I appreciate Toby's read of Scott having a "suicide complex." Kid, you have no idea.

So funny thing about the staff of this orphanage, I'm not sure how many of them actually...exist. You'll see what I mean later.

But we do get to meet one that almost certainly does exist, the new orphanage doctor, Robyn Hanover:

I love her, if only for her use of the phrase "sweet science of pugilism." And that she calls him a "brave young paladin."

Potential fanfic fodder here: might Robyn's profession and particular linguistic quirks have led a young Scott to be more comfortable with Hank early on? Or less?

She does know at least some of the story though, but this bit is rather interesting:

Toby thinks Nate's a creep. Even Scott doesn't like him that much. So what IS Nate like?

We might find out. But not yet, because Scott's got to have a pretty horrible nightmare:

Something interesting about Nate in THIS version of the origin story that's a little lost in some of the other peeks into the Orphanage days, is that this Nate is smaller than Scott, and blond.

It's maybe worth thinking about how, in this nightmare, this smaller, blond child is begging not to be dropped. And it's interesting how one of those faces in the fire is a man with a mustache.

We might want to come back to this in a bit.

So this is Nate. Hi Nate.

One cool thing about Marvel Unlimited, if you decide to splurge for it, is that you can actually zoom in on panels.

This is the first panel, zoomed in close. Neat, huh?

So anyway, Dr. Hanover, being a doctor, is not so inclined to take a ten year old's word for his roommate's condition:

So as an older adult reading this, I find myself noticing things I didn't necessarily notice before.

Like the homophobic tone of Toby's insults toward Nate, in particular. "Sittin' in a tree", "sissy boys". What exactly is Toby accusing Nate of?

So what IS the deal with Nate? This next part might explain it. And then raise a whole lot of questions.

So, that observation that Dr. Hanover had before? About Nate acting like he ran the place? YEAH.

It's probably worth noting that initially, Mr. Sinister's backstory hadn't been established yet. The whole Victorian scientist who spent time among the Nazis and was genetically obsessed with mutantkind and did scary scientific experiments in the basement wasn't what Claremont initially had in mind.

IIRC, Claremont's idea for Mr. Sinister was that roommate Nate was the real thing, an immortal who aged very slowly, and the cartoonish Mr. Sinister was his psychic projection. It's worth noting that even in this version, Nate was chronologically supposed to be an adult, fixated on a twelve year old boy.

And when we take Toby's taunts into account, it's still very strongly...allegorical. Shall we say.

That said, the Victorian Scientist DELIBERATELY disguising as a ten year old boy so he can be Scott Summers's roommate does make it even worse. That said, it provides a really nice explanation as to why "Nate" looks like Alex.

(Reminder: this is the guy that Xavier put on the Krakoan Council. And stood by at least once while Sinister said creepy shit to his "son".)

Anyway, Dr. Hanover is intrigued by Scott and decides to do some investigating. She learns the following backstory:

Scott was brought here four years ago.

He'd been in the hospital for a skull fracture, and spent a year in a coma.

He's never been adopted, because he's got brain damage. We're told it's a "combined effect" of the injury, plus exposure from being out on the prairie in the middle of a blizzard. This leads to my favorite panel ever:

Of course, you should have guessed. I love comics. I really do.

This is when we meet Mr. Pearson, the chief administrator of the orphanage. And I'm not entirely sure how he fits with Claremont's original idea for Mr. Sinister. Since it's pretty clear that this guy is ALSO Mr. Sinister.

I'm not going to show the whole page, but here's some choice bits.

So yeah, Mr. Pearson does not approve of Dr. Hanover's everything, it seems. And he particularly does not like that she's "focusing [her] interest on one child ... to the possible detriment of his fellows".

He gives a speech on not playing favorites, noting that the charges should be treated equally, and that he thinks of the staff and children as family.

Dr. Hanover rightfully thinks he's creepy.

Anyway, I love Dr. Hanover, because she listens to the creepy asshole tell her that she should not focus interest on one particular child and responds to it by immediately asking said child to help her set up her office.

And they even get to bond a little:

Of course, she's a pilot too!

Scott, right now, is pretty cynical about his ability to fly and confesses his pretty terrible headaches. Because optic blasts kind of suck, even before you actually have them. Again.

But they're interrupted by drama. Remember bully Toby?

He's on the roof. Nate, in the crowd outside, doesn't think this is a big loss. Scott disagrees and runs up the fire escape.

Dr. Hanover tries to talk to Nate, and it does not make things LESS creepy.

Not to excuse bullying, or homophobia, but you ever get the sense that Toby might have had a point. Because this shit is fucking creepy. Back away from the twelve year old, Essex.

So it's time for Scott to get a new trauma:

It's funny, but sometimes I think you could actually make a convincing argument that Scott Summers has some kind of very low level precognitive ability. This is somewhat similar to the fire dream above. (Another example might be the dream-execution in Fall of the House of X. Ever notice the presiding judge, sitting with Orchis issues before he joins up?)

Anyway, Dr. Hanover and Scott share a moment on the roof, while the ambulance takes Toby's body away. Scott's rather understandably upset.

Dr. Hanover's a fun protagonist because she doesn't know what the audience does. But she's starting to put some things together:

I like the lowkey horror of this cliffhanger. You're in danger, Doc.

There is an interesting note here though. Scott's apparently confided in her about his nightmares: flames, fallings, and dropping someone whose life depends on you.

We know what that means, but she doesn't. Why wouldn't Scott TELL her about it though, if he trusts her enough to tell her about the nightmares themselves?

-

So the story continues in #42. (The main, reprinted story, by the way, is the Dark Phoenix Saga. Just worth noting.)

We start this one out with a much happier twelve-year-old Scott. He's at the Sage Air Force base, with friends of hers: Rick and Trish Bogart.

We learn that Scott can identify WWII planes on sight, like the DeHavilland Mosquito. Rick and Trish show off another old plane that Rick flew in HIS war. Presumably Vietnam, but if we're rolling time-lining the story, they could mean the Persian Gulf, or even Afghanistan.

One of the reasons I've never minded the rolling timeline is the unique perspective it gives us about history. Have you ever thought about how easy it is to update certain storyline beats? A man in his thirties fought in a war when he was a little younger. Which war? Does it really matter?

There's always a war.

But let's ditch the bleakness for some trauma.

See, the airshow is going really well, and Dr. Hanover's friends are pretty awesome. Rick, who flew in the show, is immediately very friendly and offers Scott a ride in the plane. Scott is initially enthused but freezes up.

And then the skydiving part of the show starts. Parachuters who use smoke for a special effect. And well, Scott's got some issues with burning parachutes.

I love how no one in the crowd seems to care about the screaming child in their midst. Nebraskans are cold, man.

But it's really interesting that Dr. Hanover doesn't know who "Alex" is, isn't it?

How does that work? She's read his file. And Alex was in the crash too, adopted out when Scott was in a coma. There SHOULD be records. Unless you're in an orphanage run by a weird obsessed telepath, anyway.

It's also worth noting that Rick Bogart took special attention to the kid raving about roman candles and burning canopies and is starting to wonder.

Back at the Orphanage, Nate continues to be creepy:

Mostly I included these panels for the art. I love the creepy shadows, and Nate's face at the bottom. This is a horror comic, after all.

Dr. Hanover, by the way, still flies occasionally, and she tells Trish Bogart about Nate.

Unlike a certain bald professor, Dr. Hanover admits she's in over her head. She's a physician, not a psychiatrist. But Scott apparently really wanted to come back to the air field.

Per Trish, Rick's excited too. Apparently he loves kids. Scott's apparently with him, while the girls fly together.

I mentioned before, one of the things I love about this story is getting these outside characters putting clues and observations together. Here, it's Rick Bogart. He's talking with another air force guy, both noting that Scott apparently has a knack for preflight procedure.

And here, we get maybe some explanation as to why Scott hasn't confided anything about his backstory.

That's a little suspicious, isn't it?

Inconsistent memories make sense with Scott's medical condition, but why would he suddenly forget that he was just talking about them? It's almost like SOMEONE is fucking around up there.

Later, Dr. Hanover is violating HIPAA laws by filling her friends in on Scott's medical state. There's one bit that solves a bit of a long-running mystery throughout most of Scott's origin stories.

It's always kind of a running question as to wear Scott got the glasses he has when he's on the streets, and then with Jack. At one point, Jack claims he'd gotten them for him. (Maybe he'd gotten him a replacement pair?)

This at least gives us a basis for the knowledge. I always wonder how common ruby quartz actually is in the Marvel universe.

I do like the line about glasses being "isolating". It's funny to remember that, in the 80s, glasses weren't as common or unremarkable as they are now. I can remember so many YA books or sitcom plots of the pretty girl suddenly needing glasses and her social life was in PERIL. Nowadays, it's just sexy librarian vibes.

Also, we get proof that the records DO mention a brother. But apparently not by name. Why is Alex's NAME sealed?

Another notable thing about this scene is that Rick's been doing some digging, based on some of Scott's statements. Blackbird pilots are rare. Scott's dad was a NASA applicant, and Scott mentioned the cold.

Rick thinks he can find out where Scott came from. And well, even if not...

I love how they're wearing sunglasses indoors. Scott, we've found your people.

Let's pretend the story ends here, for a moment. A poor kid in a creepy place finds a family of sunglasses-wearers who love him, while Dr. Hanover gets to help a lot of other kids.

Or, maybe not.

So what happens now?

That, basically. Dr. Hanover is a zombie. The Bogarts are dead. And Scott remains trapped in Nate's hellish little game.

I love his smirk in that lower left panel there.

But maybe it's not entirely hopeless, as Scott is not an idiot. He resolves to get the fuck out of here as soon as he can. Aw, don't worry kid, you'll make it out...

You've got a lot more trauma ahead of you. You're just getting started.

But at least we get to end the comic with some panels that I've showcased before:

This is one of those sequences that really only works with the idea that the Phoenix is, indeed, a part of Jean Grey.

I'm really glad that they went back to that idea. Because otherwise, we'd all have to deal with the idea that this spectral entity is also possibly a pedophile.

Hey, a fun note to leave you on. Remember how Scott's kid is also named Nathan?

Yep. It's probably best that Cable never find out where his name actually comes from...

[brokebonewritings]

Sinking Waters

Matt Murdock x reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, language, mentions of alcohol/drugs, fluff, light angst

Summary: Matt and Foggy invite you out for a night. You wondered if Matt would ever make a move on you or if you would keep being mistook as a couple. Song: The Pink Phantom by Gorillaz

Word Count: 2K

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Your dorm room had filled with a haze as you blew the white smoke from your mouth. The blunt you held between your fingers had only been lit a few minutes, and it seemed like half of it was already smoked. 

This was the only nice thing about not having to share a dorm with anyone. You could sneak things like this in with no one snitching. Occasionally the kid from your Civil Procedures class would come smoke with you, along with his roommate.

His roommate. Matt Murdock. He was definitely a looker. Oh and Foggy was cool. Franklin Nelson. They both were definitely a dynamic duo. You all had become fast friends, finding lots of things in common.

A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You dropped the blunt in the ashtray and went to open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask, hand on the doorknob.

“Housekeeping.” 

You laugh as you open your door, Matt and Foggy stand there with the dumbest grins plastered on their faces. Foggy had his arm wrapped around Matt’s shoulder while the other man gripped his cane. 

“Why do I feel like you guys are coming to kidnap me.” You say as you give Foggy the side eye.

“We were wondering if you wanted to come to a bar with us?” Foggy says casually.

“A bar?” You stared at them blankly. “Like for drinking?”

“I sure hope so.” Matt says lightly.

“Sure, let me finish my blunt and grab my coat real quick.” You say moving aside. They happily walk into your dorm room.

Matt sits at the empty desk chair while Foggy sits on the bed. You walk back over to the window and pick up the blunt and take a long inhale. The smoke no longer affected your lungs as you let it all out.

The three of you joke as you finish, and put on your winter coat. Within 20 minutes, you all are walking off the Columbia campus and into the busy streets of Harlem. It was a much different dynamic

You let Foggy and Matt the way to this mystery bar. They were both pretty trustworthy of a fun time. However some of the places you’ve trusted them with were absolute dives. This looked like one of those places. 

“Josies?” You mutter.

“Don’t like how it looks?” Matt’s voice responds questionly.

“Murdock, what did Foggy tell you this place looked like?”

“I told him it’s the sistine chapel, let's get moving people.” Foggy said before Matt could respond.

Opening the door, all three of you step in one by one. It was definitely a dive, but it was charming. You and Matt found a table and waited for Foggy to bring over the drinks.

“How many times have you actually been here, Matty.”

As he folded his cane up, he replied. “A few times, I think the owner likes Foggy.”

You turn your head towards the bar to see Foggy pseudo flirting with the waitress. He had a charm to him, and she definitely found it funny. Giggling, you turn back to Matt who was also chuckling.

“Okay but I gotta know, how did you even find this place?”

“Foggy stumbled upon it, and then forced me to come.” He starts. “It isn’t the sistine chapel, is it?”

Snorting in amusement, you shake your head. “It’s definitely not, but it’s not a bad place either.”

Three glasses were slammed on the table in front of you. Looking up you see Foggy looking triumphant.

“Lady and Gent. I have brought the gift of free alcohol, won by yours truly.” He announced.

“No way, how?” You ask

“Like I said, the owner likes Foggy.” Matt replied.

“Ha ha, you’re just jealous that the bartender actually thinks my jokes are funny.”

“Sure, man, let’s go with that.” 

You hand Matt his glass before taking your own. The golden liquid looked refreshing in the chilled glass. Okay so maybe it wasn’t a dive, but still. You take a long drink before setting the glass back on the table.

Before you knew it, you all had gone through a few drinks. Foggy gets up once more to retrieve more drinks which meant more time alone with Matt. Weren’t you so lucky tonight. Or not.

“Hello, handsome.”

You and Matt look up from your conversation to see a girl standing in front of the table.

“Can I help you?” Matt responds.

“Well I was just wondering what such a good looking man like you was doing here.” 

You stared at the girl before turning back to Matt. His jaw was slightly slack, like he didn't know how to respond. Which didn't happen often.

“My friends and I were just having some drinks. You know, enjoying each other's company?” He states. She turns to look at you before looking back at him.

“Oh sorry I thought you were single.” The girl nervously said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

You side eye Matt trying to gauge his reaction, but he looked stunned. He cleared his throat before responding.

“Oh no, we’re not together.” He starts and this makes your heart drop just a bit. Of course you weren’t together, you had only known each other a few months. Why were you getting your hopes up then?

“In that case, maybe I could get your number?” She says, smiling and twirling her hair.

Looking around to avoid listening to anymore of the conversation, you see Foggy coming back towards the table. He looks confused as to why you’re staring at him, until he sees the girl.

Finally reaching the table, he greets you and Matt again and sets your drinks down in front of you. The girl finally satisfied with her winnings leaves before Foggy could introduce himself.

“I think I need to use the bathroom.” You said as your heart beat loudly against your chest. Getting up, you walk to the back hallway in search of the bathroom. Of course once you entered you weren’t surprised by the state of it.

Two stalls and a makeout session. Classic. You enter the empty stall and lock it. Waiting. For what exactly, you had no idea. Time to pass, maybe.

After five minutes, you exit the stall after pretending to flush the toilet. Lo and behold, Matt’s new plaything was standing at the sink. Stalking over to wash your hands, you feel her eyes burning holes in your skull.

“It’s a little sad that he can’t see huh?”

You freeze. Was she talking to you? Dingus. Of course she was talking to you.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah I mean like, he’s cute, but like if he can’t see then what’s the point?”

“Why did you ask for his number then?”

There was a pause. Your voice was filled with something other than curiosity. You continue.

“Maybe the point is that he’s funny, smart, and considerate?”

“Uhm right. Anyways…” 

Apparently she deemed the conversation to be over as she turns and exits. You stand silently for a moment, taking in the full conversation. It was the first time you had defended Matt’s honor. 

Finally you make your way out of the bathroom. Looking around to remember where you all sat, you notice Matt staring in your direction. Or rather his head was turned that way.

You caught yourself staring, even after his head turned away. Did he know you were coming back? Another crazy thought. You make your way back to the table and find three shots of fireball waiting for you.

“What’s the catch?” You say as you arrive.

“Hey! Welcome back!” Matt said slightly slurred. 

“Oh my god, Foggy, what’s wrong with him?”

“I think Fireball is his kryptonite, dude.” He replied with a laugh.

“Yeah I’ll drink to that.” You say before slamming each shot back.

Never before had you seen him drunk. Not even tipsy. How in the world did he manage to get like this? After a few more drinks, both you and Foggy cut the other man off. Deciding it was finally time to get back to campus.

The walk to get Matt back to the dorm was long and silent. It was the first time you had seen him get as drunk as he was, but you and Foggy had no qualms of taking care of your friend.

Once you had finally gotten him in bed and settled, Foggy had asked to walk you back to your own dorm. You agreed and said you would wait outside.

Waiting along the long concrete wall you pull out your pack of cigarettes and light one. The night had been eventful to say the least. Your crush always seemed to pick other people. Not that you have actually tried to make advances.

You turn your head to see Foggy step out into the cold. Throwing your cigarette on the ground, you turn to face him as he walks up.

“I get the feeling that girl ruined your night.” He states bluntly.

“Why does this always happen? Every single time we’re in public, he gets hit on!” 

“Why does it matter?”

There was a long pause. Foggy gasps before grabbing your shoulders and shaking you.

“You like him!”

“Foggy, stop!”  You grab his wrists. “It doesn’t matter because he’ll never like me back!”

“Oh common, you don’t know that!”

“No it’s true! I’m too timid to even ask him on a date.”

You both stood quietly. He was processing what to say, and you were waiting for his response.

“Then, maybe, I don’t know.” 

“Nice, Fog. Really insightful there.”

“Okay, look. Yes, the guy is attractive but maybe just be his friend?” He starts. “He has enough women swooning over him.”

Nodding, you understood what he was saying. He continued to speak.

“Maybe things will evolve if you just be his friend. That’s how a lot of relationships work out anyways.”

He was right. Lots of relationships sprouted from friendships. It would be a way to get to know each other.

“You’re right. Sorry I snapped at you.” You say.

“It’s alright, I know I can be a lot sometimes.” 

“Not at all, You’re very charming and any girl would be lucky to date you.”

“You’re too kind. Now, let's get you home.”

With that he offered his arm out to you and you gladly took it. You realize that you’ve finally found some friends who cared about you. Nothing like people back home.

New York had some strange characters. Nasty one, yeah, but also some that are fun to be around. Just like Foggy, and just like Matt.

Halfway back to your dorm room, you look up at Foggy. He was going on about how one of his professors had the hots for him. You giggle, and lean into his shoulder. Feeling him tense up a bit, you look back up.

“You okay?” You ask.

He nods at you and looks up towards the sky.

“You know, Aristotle said ‘Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.’”

“Since when did you pay attention in Philosophy?” 

“I’ll have you know that just because my eyes are closed, it doesn't mean that I’m not listening.” He chuckles. “Anyways, the point is it’s clear that you and Matt were made for each other. You just gotta wait.”

“That might have been the most comforting thing you’ve ever said.” You smirk. “But thanks. You’re a great friend, Fog.”

“And you know how you thank great friends?” He says stopping in front of your building.

“How?”

“By offering them to come inside and smoke a joint.”

You begin to loudly laugh, and he joins you. Not caring about the passersby staring at you both. Nodding you invite him in and give him a little extra for later on. 

After he leaves, you sit alone in the dorm. It’s dimly lit by the small lamp you have and the lights from outside. Being with one of the guys you realize how comfortable you feel and less lonely. 

Foggy’s words linger in your mind, “You just gotta wait.”. It was easier said than done, but you listen. You wait. The whole semester. Through graduation. Years. Until…

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