#even in the form of like. Fuck Labels Ambiguity

[altschmerzes]

honestly i just think I will fundamentally never understand the very common (and sometimes posited as universal which i don’t love) sentiment among aromantic people/communities that like. oh one part of aromanticism is Not Understanding Or Caring About Or Getting The Point Of the line between friendship and romance, the distinction of different types of relationship. because for me as an aromantic person that line and distinction is actually Extremely important and clear and it feels… weird and bad to consistently see it posited as this like. Prominent Aro Thing to not understand/care about that.

ACTIONS will never inherently be allotted to one type of relationship or another, and the only feeling that is inherently romantic is romantic attraction/love, but the like. labeling itself of relationships and feelings and actions based on the person or people involved… idk. THAT is very important to me. it is Very Important to me that it’s extremely clear that none of my relationships or actions or feelings are or ever will be romantic and it’s important to me that those labels are seen and respected. it’s important to me in my personal life, and it’s reflectively important to me in the stories i tell and the ones i interact with.

idk. people are obviously welcome to the sentiment and i dont begrudge them having it and maybe im misunderstanding what this means when people say it. but it does make me feel a little anxious and once again the odd guy out in my own community to constantly be seeing this posited as like. An Inherently Aromantic Quality to not understand the difference between types of relationship or the point in differentiating. it will always be critically important to me that romance has and will have no place in my life or relationships. once i learned it was possible not to feel romantic feelings or attraction - and i accepted that it was true for me - everything became very clear to me at that point. ‘how do you Know’ i just know. I Just Know. and that matters to me.

[hyewka]

uhh.. well then, are you able to do any sub hybrid member from txt? like they’re in heat,, and begging reader to help them ><

warnings: non-proofread filth once again, wrote this on a whim lol. sub!dog hybrid beomgyu, corruption kink?

working overtime had become a routine for the past few weeks, consequently taking significant time away from spending time with your pup. when you'd come home at midnight, seeing your gyu sleeping right by the door, probably tired from waiting -- it had your heart clench as you'd pout at the sight.

after staring down at him in regret of how you've been neglecting him for the sake of work and appeasing your boss, you'd eventually see his fluffy ears twitching, signalling his wake -- he recognized your scent. he'd groggily flutter his eyes open, then immediately jump up at seeing the familiar worn out mary jane shoes, his tail wagging. "you're here!"

like always, you'd pull him into a tight hug of how sorry you were and how this would all end soon, the immense guilt weighing down on you, contrast to his cheeriness.

but soon was ambiguous, because yet again, you're arriving to your apartment door, completely exhausted after staying three hours more than you're scheduled to leave. when you unlock your door, revealing your dark apartment, your eyes fell to the floor, like always.

what was different this time was beomgyu's absence. which felt worse than seeing him there in the first place. but you shook your head, pushing down the selfish feeling. if he slept in the bedroom you've set up for him, that'd be an accomplishment.

closing the door behind you, you slip off your mary janes. your eyes loom over the large tv screen naturally as the volume is on higher than usual. it was the only thing lighting up the living room, which made it harder for you to quickly find the remote and turn the shit off. you eventually give up as a throbbing migraine dissipates your interest in looking anymore.

"ugh fuck." you say under your breath, rubbing your temple in hopes of relieving the short sharps of pain. you throw your bag on the couch and walk over to your bedroom -- which is oddly closed.

but then your eyes go over to gyu's, and a smile manages to form on your face. you decide to go to beomgyu's first and at least check on how he's doing, if he's sleeping or if he's awake playing with toys.

when you open the door labeled beomgyu with colorful doodles you both participated in drawing all over, your brows slowly crinkle, your expression dropping when you see no one in the bed. walking over to check more closely didn't change much -- beomgyu wasn't here.

panic pool your chest as your eyes widen, busting out of the pup's room, heading to the bathroom -- hoping that when you turned the knob it'd be restrained but when it opens easily, the emptiness of any occupance of the toilet or the shower making you breath even heavier than before.

did he run away? because you didn't pay attention to him? fuck.

fuck. fuck. fuck!

when you back out the bathroom, you take a shaky breathe in as you continue on to speed walk to where you had placed your bag, quickly scrambling in it for your phone.

but when you finally find it, your foot accidentally steps on an object which made you wince and in turn, drop your phone.

even worse, in response to the contact, your tv shuts close. making the place pitch black, only faintly being able to make out your surroundings.

"shit!" you curse frustrated, bending down to feel up up the carpet in hopes of finding your phone blindly.

but your ears pick up a sound, making your searching hands freeze.

though it was faint and distant, like it was in another room, a prolonged high pitched whimper of your name was still...hearable.

you slowly get up, turning to the one place you realize you were stupid enough to not check before almost calling to report a missing hybrid.

your memory of the floor plan manages to get you to your bedroom door quite easily with no tumbles of sorts, and you heave a sigh as you hesitantly open the door.

though you expected to see the sight, your mouth still slightly fall open when you see beomgyu's lower half feverishly rutting against your pillow, his shirt up exposing his abused, pink nipples, and once again..the moans. you've never heard him like this, ever.

he usually makes a point smugly to you that he can manage his heat period on his own, to which you would a sigh out of relief -- to be completely honest with yourself, though you offered him your assistance, you didn't think you had it in you to start a sexual relationship with your pup. or see him in that light.

but as you stand there, watching him, his hips grinding onto your bed insatiably, his mouth spilling out your name like a mantra...over and over again, you couldn't help but wish that his face wasn't buried in your pillow.

though, you quickly dismiss both the thought and the way your core heated up, an uncomfortable feeling settling in.

you don't think he noticed you coming in, so you decide it'd be best to leave and wait for him to finish instead of interrupting him -- it was the least you could do for him.

when you turn your back, your hear a whimper.

"y-y/n!" beomgyu's shriek only made you shut your eyes, as it felt more directed, sucking in a deep breath. "hnng—i need y-your help"

you turn to face beomgyu again, your previous wish coming true as his head is fully raised, his pretty face not hidden anymore. but your eyes furrow as you study the state of his face, his eyes pooled with tears, dried apparent on his cheeks, his nose flushed red, his black hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, as his hips still moved uncontrollably rabid.

your instinct of protecting your precious pup move your feet to hurriedly get by his side. "what—what do you need help with? whatever you need, tell me pup."

you're aware that you might have to do things you rather not do with gyu in hopes of keeping your relationship as pure as you could, but at this point, you've seen him humping your bed, which you now realize is covered with spurts of his cum all over -- there was no turning back from that.

when a moment goes without a word and only impure, sloppy moans filling the room, you decide you just have to do what you think is best. your hand glaze his cold cheek, your thumb instinctively wiping away his tears, as you lay a gentle kiss to his pink lips, the ones that were glistening from his drool.

the only thing you know about heat for pups was that they get the most insatiable out of most hybrids... but it still surprises you when his repocracy is instant and desperate, turning the soft kiss to a heaty makeout in a matter of seconds. you pull away with your eyes wide, taking a sharp breath in -- beomgyu letting out a frustrated whine at the sudden lack of your lips from his.

this is real. you were going to do this.

you reach to hesitantly rub the inside of his ear flaps, which makes gyu roll his eyes to the back, as he let out a satisfied moan. "gyu, turn to your back for me. let me make you feel all better." you gently coo, still slowly rubbing.

he obeys as he flips to his back, revealing thighs that were covered with dried cum, and most importantly, his dick coming into full view, the tip swollen red.

you gulp as you were now sitting at the edge of your bed, beomgyu's eyes shut with tear filled lashes made him look all the more beautiful, heaving as he fisted his cock.

"y-y/n, please t-touch. touch—hah! touch me?" beomgyu managed to slur in between his moans.

your finger first poke his tip, just to get a sense of the feel — it was hot. then you hold his wrist, to signal him to stop — he was clearly hurting himself.

when he lets go of his dick, you replace it with yours, and the end of his ear flaps noticeably bending out of relief. "this was how you were getting yourself off? by hurting yourself?" your voice wasn't loud, but it still expressed enough annoyance for beomgyu to whimper a little, as his arm laid on his forehead.

"th—they never taught me." he mumbles.

you pick up a steady pace, eliciting light whimpers from the receiving end.

feeling yourself get angry at yourself for not being aware enough, not checking up on him, selfishly not persisting on helping him out — your hands go up and down his length quicker. "fuck, you should've told me! you're such a dumb pup gyu." you spat, not in control of your emotions, nose flaring as you pump his cock, beomgyu's hip buckling into your hand.

"i'm shorry, i'm sho s—cumming, i'm cumming!" he incoherently rambles, his hips falling as white hot thick liquid spills onto your hand.

when you let go of his dick, that had softened, you bring your hand to your face, stare at the spurt quizzically, as you bite down on your lip.

your eyes go back to beomgyu hesitantly, his chest still rising and dropping, lips so inviting as they hung open — you remember you didn't take a long enough to chance to fully explore it and you internally curse yourself.

beomgyus eyes meet yours, a smile barely holding up on his face muscles, though reaching the shape of his eyes, making them the pure crescents you so truly love, his ears flopped down — and your only thought is to ruin him. completely shred him apart.

impulsively, you get on top of him in a matter of seconds, cupping his cheeks as you harshly met your lips with his. a cut off yelp from beomgyu is heard, so you pull away, a string of saliva slightly connecting your mouths.

what has gotten over you?

you try to apologize for doing what you just did out of whim, but beomgyus large hand pushes your head down, and once again, your lips crashed onto his — causing your noses to rub together as you turn your head's position insatiably like you haven't kissed someone in years.

beomgyu wanted you, hes wanted you for so long now, and for a bit, he thought you wanted him too, but you've been distant, and naturally he thought you didn't want him anymore — so when you voluntarily got on top of him just now, he didn't want to pass up the moment to express what he felt, he needed you.

you felt your pussy throbbing, underwear pooling wet, as beomgyu's unclothed dick was noticeably getting rock hard, pressing between your ass. you were thankfully wearing a short pencil skirt, so you easily slid it down your legs along with your panties when you pull away from the kiss.

you don't waste time to line up his fat cock with your pussy, sitting down on it fully, letting out a sharp gasp at how well it fills you up.

beomgyu doesn't expect the urgency, with no prep "y/n—!" he shrieks, eyes shut. you try to bite down the shit eating grin on your face as you try to move, but a squirm of movement immediately makes you feel a rush of hot substance spurting inside you — he came.

"what was that for?!" you yell, a bit disappointed at his lack of control, but also at the fact that he just cummed inside you. when his eyes open at the raising of your voice, they're shiny, so innocent-like, his brows furrowed upwards.

now you feel like shit.

his dick is still buried inside you, and with the pout on his face, you can't resist to rub his nipples in apologies, which makes him once again, whimper. "don't cum so fast this time, okay pup?"

he nods quickly, to which you smile at.

you move your hips slowly once again, your hands on his chest. finally when you're meaning to pick up your pace, you unbutton your dress shirt, taking it off you, revealing your breasts to gyu, whose ears show more than he needs to tell.

his hands try to grab your tits, but you slap them away. "no touching unless i say so pup."

his brows furrow. "why—" his childish whine is immediately cut short when you harshly pump up your pace, your pussy tightening around his cock as you pushed up and down, your breasts in turn slapping together.

"y/n, y/n! y/n—y/n" beomgyu was like a broken record, a pup fully gone mad as his mouth hung open, shrieking, moaning, any sound, his mind turning into utter mush, the more you rid his cock, unable to control his orgasms — you didn't mind, focused on your hands grabbing fist full of his long hair, as you milked his stupid dick dry.

you were going to fucking ruin him.

[frythatrice]

Otherside Picnic Rant

I'm coming off the high of shotgunning what there is of the manga and then the entire novel in about a week, so it's hard to gather my thoughts. It's incredible. I'm probably not being very objective about it right now, yesterday around midnight I wasn't even reading anymore, I got to volume 8 and it was less like reading and more like drinking the story. Just vacuuming it up like a burger on the brink of starvation. I don't know how coherent this rant is and I don't care, I just had to get it out there. Spoilers for the whole series below.

Seven volumes of romantic and sexual tension culminates in an entire book of romantic catharsis. A whole book dedicated to Sorawo's feelings. It's not even out of place, it's a horror series and there's nothing Sorawo is more afraid of than human emotion. It's so fucking smart. Every single deflection, every single longing look, every single comment, every single "I love you", every single moment of romance prior to vol8 pays off.

Sorawo falls in love without realizing. She can't take her eyes off Toriko and doesn't understand why. She gets jealous and protective. She rationalizes it using the "accomplices" label. She doesn't think too much about it, but knows Toriko is special.

Then, Toriko confesses her love. Initially, Sorawo genuinely doesn't even understand the implication of it. She realizes Toriko is acting like a boyfriend, and doesn't understand why. Slowly, Toriko shifts from "special" to "the most important person in her life". She still doesn't understand they're in love.

Then, Toriko keeps pushing, and Sorawo picks up on what's happening. She starts deflecting. She goes from being genuinely unaware of her and Toriko's feelings, to actively supressing them. At this point, she still acts like she doesn't get it, but understanding is slowly creeping in. As she continues to act like she doesn't get it, she starts purposefully ignoring these feelings, and it gets harder and harder. She sees all the pieces, and knows what the puzzle would look like if she put them together. The Otherside is terrifying, but that's never stopped her from trying to understand it - these feelings are worse.

Finally, enough is enough, and Toriko pushes one last time - 7 volumes of rising romantic tension come to a head in volume 8. Toriko doesn't know what the fuck is going on anymore, and asks Sorawo to sort out her feelings. Sorawo can't run anymore. Her fear of these feelings influences the Otherside in the most blantant and direct way so far. She is being directly haunted by her feelings for Toriko. It's barely even metaphor at this point. The Otherside has targetted Sorawo before. Satsuki is used to prey on Sorawo's fear of losing Toriko, as well as her jealousy and, to a degree, fear of becoming evil. The Red Person manipulates her through isolation and loneliness. T-san makes her fear losing her connection to the Otherside. All of the phenomena Sorawo encounters, in some form, prey on her emotions and insecurities, but it's at least somewhat obfuscated - they feel like evil monsters with a vague connection to her. They feel like tangentially related phenomena that just so happen to fit the bill.

Satsuki and The Red Person haunt Sorawo specifically, but you could easily make arguments for them haunting others as well. Vol 8's Mujina is different. It's a phenomena that is directly targetting Sorawo and only Sorawo, it's directly targetting her feelings for Toriko, in a way that leaves no doubt or ambiguity about what's happening. It's not even that scary, objectively speaking. Just one volume ago, Sorawo brutally exorcizes Satsuki in a triumphant, cathartic slam dunk against the horrors of the Othersie. Even before that, at this point, she's faced off against countless, unimaginable horrors and has come out on top. The Mujina is one of the simplest, most basic phenomena Sorawo has encountered. It's incredibly mundane. It's not some crazed serial killer, or an eldritch abomination, or some inhuman chimera. It's not some deep reflection of her past, it's not some sort of mind bending apparition designed in a lab to terrify. It's not a 20 stage haunted house with twists and turns. It's a scrap of paper passed to her during class, and all it says is "you love her and you know it". It's fucking genius.

Vol 8 is a mad dash and a chaotic scramble to sort out her feelings. It's never been this hectic before. She pulls out all the stops. There are stressful moments throughout the series, but for the first time, it feels like Sorawo genuinely might break under the pressure. She goes as far as asking her classmate for advice. I think vol1 Sorawo might choke out vol8 Sorawo for even thinking about doing that. She's scrambling through town asking everyone everything she can and all the way throughout she's being haunted, tormented, tossed around like a plastic bag through dimensions. She's fighting for her life.

All of this culminates in the single greatest chapter of any romance story I've ever seen. The 80 or so pages that have potentially ruined all other romance for me. If you got your hands on the original manuscript, tore out Accomplices No More and processed it into a drink, I'm certain you'd have made a love potion. File 26 feels like a fucking galactic event. A nuke could have dropped on them during their talk and I doubt it would have made into the footnotes. Any burglar trying to break in would be torn apart on the atomic level by the sheer level of desperate love on display. I'm surprised neither of them had a heart attack. I'm not surprised by the lack of Otherside interference - whatever it is, whoever it is trying to make use of it, at this moment, even God knows better than to try. Calling it cathartic feels like an insult.

Sorawo and Toriko sit down, pick up volumes 1-7 of Otherside Picnic, and take a leisurely stroll through every second of their time together, from the moment they first met, to the Big Bang of yuri currently occuring. It's love. It's always been love. Toriko lets her into her apartment. Sorawo doesn't care anymore. She accepts that she's not like other people. She accepts that she doesn't love like others do. She accepts that she doesn't think of people like other people do. She accepts that she loves Toriko. Their feelings fly off the page like a meteor shower.

Sorawo has never been interested in Toriko's past, because Toriko's present is so radiant nothing else matters. That's fine. She loves her.

Sorawo has never thought of Toriko in a sexual way, and how could she have? Have you ever wanted to fuck the sun? Even if Sorawo wasn't ace, I don't think she could have felt differently in this moment. That's fine. She loves her.

Sorawo has never wanted for them to become lovers, because, in her eyes, they were far, far beyond that point. That's fine. She loves her.

Sorawo has seen herself through Toriko's eyes in the past. It brought her to tears. I wonder, how Toriko would react to seeing herself through Sorawo's eyes?

Toriko's love is a lot more typical in comparison, but she loves her just as much as Sorawo loves her. Sorawo confuses her. "This girl keeps staring at me". "She wants to spend all her time with me". "She gets jealous of me". "She protects me at the cost of herself". To Toriko (and literally everyone else who has ever seen the two together for more than two seconds, including the fucking esoteric eldrich beings from beyond the realm of human imagination who don't even know what the fuck feelings even are), the way Sorawo acts towards her can be nothing but love.

Written from Toriko's perspective, Otherside Picnic is a romcom about a Canadian lesbian who progressively goes more and more insane over the fact that her hot, nerdy crush won't go out with her despite not even trying to hide the fact it's mutual, with a mild subplot about some monsters or whatever. At this point, I could argue that Toriko isn't even especially fearless or anything, and that the reason she handles the Otherside so well is because she's too thrown off by the densest lesbian to ever walk the earth to spare a thought to whatever the fuck the Otherside is trying to do. Maybe she'd be more shook by her ex being turned into the Grooming Devil if she wasn't busy writing a 50-page essay titled "What The Fuck Am I Doing Wrong" in her head at the same time.

Jokes aside, Toriko's love for Sorawo really is just as big as Sorawo's love for her. Toriko might be a bit rough around the edges, and she herself admits she's not great with people. Toriko got books on childhood trauma so she wouldn't hurt Sorawo by accident. Toriko has been agonizing potentially having overstepped Sorawo's boundaries. Toriko knows she's hurt Sorawo before, both on purpose and by accident, and she hates herself for it. Toriko lets her into her apartment, something she's never done for anyone else before, and she tells Sorawo everything she's afraid of telling other people.

She loves Sorawo. Not the cool, smart Sorawo, the fearless Sorawo, the Sorawo that treats the Otherside like an adventure. She loves Sorawo. The cool, smart, fearless, weak Sorawo. The jealous, pathetic loner Sorawo. The dense, ovethinking Sorawo who can't hold her composure. The heroic Sorawo. The Sorawo that says she doesn't care about people. The Sorawo who faced hell for her. The Sorawo who wouldn't let her go. The Sorawo she wouldn't let go.

The moment Sorawo and Toriko sit down in her apartment, all doubts of whether or not they love each other are incinerated. All that's left is to clear up any misunderstandings, and figure out where to go from here.

Toriko places lovers above accomplices, Sorawo does the opposite. Misunderstanding resolved. Toriko says she loves Sorawo, Sorawo responds in kind. All clear. Sorawo thinks that maybe it's not romantic, Toriko isn't buying it, in the end, the label feels meaningless. It's love regardless. Toriko is worried her advances went too far. Sorawo doesn't get much out of the kissing, but absolutely doesn't mind it. We're getting somewhere. Before a label is decided for their relationship, Toriko admits she wants to have sex. Sorawo doesn't get the hype, but she's down. They have boring, normal, incredibly disappointing sex, and get nowhere.

If this is as far as it went, I could see Sorawo compromising and labeling them as a couple. I don't think sexual incompatibility could ruin their relationship. Toriko would be disappointed, but they'd happily work out some kind of compromise and end up a happy couple. Happily ever after.

Thankfully, Toriko is horny as hell, a bit mean, and a sore loser. Turned on, next to her beloved, her pride as a second generation lesbian having suffered critical damage, she mutters about taking care of business herself, something I'm sure is partly just an actual idea she had, but also as a bit of a mean jab against Sorawo.

Sorawo's internal monologue following this statement is the best string of letters and symbols I've ever seen in my life. I'm fully aware I'm still riding the hype and not being objective. I don't care. As of writing this, I don't think anything I've ever read or ever will read will ever reach the heights of Sorawo discovering what a kink is. 16 hours later, I'm staring at it, and I'm still floored. I imagine I still will be a week later. I would do deplorable things to get Iori Miyazawa to write a version of this scene from Toriko's perspective. I'd go as far as watching Hibike Euphonium if it made him put his pen to paper.

Toriko's offhanded remark leads right into the most insane sex (???) scene I've ever seen. I could wax poetic for days, words just don't do it justice. To begin with, it's beautiful, romantic, erotic, absolutely hilarious, as well as just a touch terrifying. It fits thematically, both in the obvious sense of it being kind of horrifying, but it also touches on the overarching themes of the story.

The horrors of the Otherside are often used to represent abuse, and a big part of Sorawo's character is coming to terms with her abuse by both claiming the Otherside for herself, as well as fighting against the horrors representing her abusers. Using these powers in such a loving, passionate way that stands as a direct counter to the Otherside is an incredible middle finger to their abusers as well as the powers that be. Come what may, they can't be broken, and together, they can heal.

It's also relevant to the struggles Sorawo has throughout the series. She's not like other people. She doesn't think like other people. She struggles with societal expectations and labels. On top of that, both her and Toriko have been irreversibly changed by the Otherside. Sorawo is pushed by others to label their relationship, she's pushed by Toriko to conform to typical sexuality. Of course the normal sex was terrible - neither of them are normal, and once they accept that, they're rewarded with reality breaking sex that puts the horrors of the Otherside to shame.

Lastly, it's also the final piece required for them to fully accept each other. Throughout the series, they push and pull each other through various misunderstandings and such. Once the misunderstandings are cleared up, the issue that remains is that they're incredibly scared to hurt each other. Sorawo is scared of driving Toriko crazy with her eye. Toriko is scared of… whatever the hell her hand can do to Sorawo. The thing that finally clicks is simple - they're scared of hurting each other, but neither of them are scared the other would hurt them. They're scared of hurting each other, but the thought of being hurt themselves doesn't even occur to them, and since they trust each other with their lives, there's no reason to be afraid.

Rationally, I can look at this sequence of events and understand that it's only four pages or so long, but I don't think I'll ever be able to wrap my brain around it. It's a masterpiece.

Once they're done inflicting permanent mental damage on me, the Otherside, as well as everyone in a 5-mile radius, they go back to labels. Suddenly, the idea of normal is a lot less interesting for the both of them. At this point, it doesn't matter what they call each other. With the nerdiest justification ever put to paper, they label themselves after some weird, esoteric Japanese beast. Why not?

I'm usually not a fan of the "we don't need a label" trope in yuri, as it's usually used as a copout to avoid labelling the characters as queer. Otherside Picnic is like the polar opposite of that. It's not trying to avoid labelling the characters as queer. I think it just invented a whole new brand of queer. I'm exceptionally happy about how it handles the topic of sexuality, from Toriko's lesbian mothers, to Toriko herself, to Sorawo's asexuality, to whatever the fuck they did to each other.

Given that Iori Miyazawa could be called the father of "yuri of abscence", as funny as the memes are, and as sure as I was that he was mostly joking, I was still a bit worried that Sorawo and Toriko would end up being ambiguous. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Iori Miyazawa really said "a bench by the sea with room for two is yuri. You know what else is yuri? Two women having sex". What an incredible man. What an incredible story. I don't know what I'll do with myself once it's over.

[cobra-creampuff]

how is mickey’s sexuality ambiguous?

Well. We all assume he didn't actually have anything going on with Angie because of the context (myself included), but it's not actually textual whether he did or didn't. I also recall shortly after I stopped watching people being Upset Online about him having consensual sex with a woman. And Ian put him under a LOT of pressure to identify himself by that specific word when he did, and while I did only watch to a certain point I have seen clips and gifs of Mickey openly addressing his sexuality without using it again ("You're homosexuals?" "Nah. Well, he is, I just like another man's cock up my ass." etc).

In my opinion that leaves not insignificant room for interpretation. Maybe he is gay and he just prefers to be a cunt about it. Maybe he's gay, but only because he's committed to Ian and they're both men and that's gay. Maybe he's on the ace spectrum. Maybe he's bi or pan or any number of other multi-gender attracted sexualities that it's kind of unlikely he even knows are options, but only actively interested in men - or only actively interested in Ian, even. Maybe he has split attraction, which I also doubt he'd know about (and if he did he'd probably think it was silly/a waste of time to ID by even if it technically fit him tbh). Maybe he's queer as in fuck you, or maybe - and this is my personal interpretation (most of the time lol) - he's fucking nothing because he didn't have the opportunity/resources to go figuring out the details and he doesn't particularly care to anyway; he just likes what he likes.

Like, I know a character doing the "I don't like labels" things is often annoying and can be a form of erasure. Obviously. But that's because there's a precedent in media of using that attitude to avoid certain specific labels in particular, not because preferring not to identify by any label or just straight up not caring to have even an unlabeled orientation isn't something that can really happen. I think something like that fits Mickey really well and is very, very easily supported by the text.

[the-unnecessary-commentary]

We need to let people use labels they identify with freely and stop vilifying them when they come to the conclusion they aren't what they thought and change the labels they use to better fit their self descriptions.

People figuring themselves out means they can end up trying labels like tshirts and find that maybe the label they found most fitting at the time didn't keep on fitting as time went on and they learned more about themselves, and that's okay

Example: If you once identified as bi and then realized you were actually ace because equal attraction to both genders (and more) just so happened to be zero? Valid. Glad you went on this journey. Did it myself. I used to identify as straight and then maybe bi. I got "crushes" in which I'd get interested in a person and then rapidly pull back if they ever reciprocated because the idea was nice but the reality was I had no interest in acting on the very fleeting feeling of attraction. I identify now as aro ace because I have no real interest in pursuing relationships, romantic or sexual in nature. Maybe that'll change in the future. Maybe not.

Another example, you identify as gay/lesbian but find you do have an attraction to the opposite gender (or more) and find you're bisexual or pansexual? Valid. Glad you went on this journey. (Even if you find you're only 20% attracted to men and 80% women, you're still a valid bisexual if you find that label comfortable to use.)

If you were ace until you found someone you are sexually attracted to and decide that label doesn't fit you anymore, you are valid. If you did the same thing but still identify as ace, you are still valid. If you did the same thing and want to adjust your label, gray-ace comes to mind, you are still valid.

What's not okay is being an asshole and yelling at those people, looking for community and understanding, who end up changing their minds when they go through realizations and find they want to find another label that better fits them.

Quit fucking policing other queer people. Quit starting in-fights and doing the bigots job for them because they will gladly watch us tear each other apart and wait until you're done to finish the fight and get rid of all of us.

If you want to be ambiguous, you can call yourself queer. It's not a slur. It means ambiguous. It's faster to say than reciting the ever growing inclusive alphabet of LGBTQIA. It means some form of not straight and/or not cisgender.

And if you don't want to use labels, you are valid. You don't have to. Anyone trying to force you to label yourself against your will is an asshole.

You don't owe anyone an explanation.

(don't tag this as q-slur, I will send shadow spiders to haunt your nightmares and steal your ankles.)

[rayasland]

I'm sorry but your post about Aging Up characters delegitimises hundreds upon thousands of fanfictions across all fandoms and is a ridiculous ask. You're basically asking all fans to only write about the adult characters in NSFW situations - even if the teen character is now an adult in the fic??? So we can't explore how the teen now struggles with life as an adult, including new adventures or settings, because its somehow problematic??? I can assure you authors aren't picturing kids when writing Aged Up fics, the point and the intent is to explore how they'd function in different/challenging situations, not if their homework needs to be in on time. I understand your intent- you're coming at this topic from a place of worry- but bullying fanfic writers is just going to silence all forms of fandom. We're cannibalising each other enough as it is, and your words are doing more harm than good

uve completely got it all wrong. ur saying u understand but ur sending this long ass paragraph and that says otherwise. im actually getting pissed.

how is bringing attention to smth thats been happening for a while now gonna be labelled as “bullying..?” a bit confusing. im not forcing no one to stop writing abt minors, if u wanna live ur life writing about kids despite knowing its pedophilic, do as u wish. like i said im 1. bringing to light how wrong it is 2. seeing how many ppl will agree. im not bullying anyone either so idk wtf ur on abt. all i can say abt that is that u must be real fucking sensitive if u think that was bullying bro. cannot wait to see how u react to real life bullying!

i cant even lie how u gon write a paragraph of pure yap😭😭

its okay to write kid characters experiencing real life things that could happen to literally anyone(non-sexual), i never said u couldnt. whats not okay and what i completely disagree on is blatantly writing porn about them. "i understand your intent!" mm sure, and i understand what you’re saying is that its okay to write them having sex?? bc it's something that they can "explore as an adult"? you’re okay with a child experiencing that? regardless of whether they're real or not??? honestly you’re js trying to justify ur weird ass behaviour and its as clear as day. also… tbh, why r u acting as if sexual activities are the only ways a minor aged up as an adult can explore or wtf that means??? pretty sure theres a million other ways so maybe get ur mind out of the gutter.

tf was the point of that message? that why you asked anonymously? bc YOU YOURSELF know posting that is pedophilic behavior disguised behind ur so called moral ambiguity by bringing in other shit that only justifies writing porn about A CHILD??

u wanna be dramatic about "bullying fanfic writers," "cannibalizing each other," and my words doing more harm than good? how about you get a fucking life you self righteous pedophile. like okay, sure fine we'll let it slide. and then we should let real-person fictional literature porn about a child slide. and then we should let porn videos and drawings of little kids slide. and then we should normalize minor + adult relationships so that everyone can have a chance regardless of their age because experiencing something is better because it makes both parties understand!

in all forms!! incest, pedophilic, power imbalances, rape from randoms on the street, in our schools, in the transports, out in public, in private, in our homes, when we're young! when we're old! when we don't know what's between anyone else's legs! they a boy? they a girl? they both? they none? even better! honestly if ur reading that kinda shit and r actually getting off to it, please seek help. and if u STILL after reading all this have no idea why its not okay, use google or read the comments and reblogs on the actual post and go talk nonsense at them bc im not going to be responding to whatever bs u have to say in response.

[castiel-ten]

Looking at those responses, while understandable if given in good faith, I would argue that they don't seem as such. Yes, love does take place in many different ways. But it seems as if Mr.Gaiman is giving himself a cop out for not acknowledging them as textually queer in any form. It can textually be a queer love story and be acknowledged in text without using labels, but this is just not true of the show. Largely, the show makes it seems ambiguously on the cusp of something rather than acknowledging them as life partners. This is not a revolutionary act; as there are arguably a lot of shows displaying this ambiguity. You could argue that textually supernatural could be seen as such, although as you said you and I both view this as queerbait. Mr.Gaiman has also made responses before these on twitter in which he plainly stated they could not be queer, gay, or otherwise. It seems that he has disingenuously flipped his view

personally I don't understand how this could be a cop-out for neil when he has so many other "explicitly queer" characters. I just don't understand what he gains here. I also don't think it's fair to judge based on GO1 alone, since it's basically the development of their relationship into being established (for the audience).

also, it is a queer love story. like, it is and I don't understand why we're still on that.

There's a difference between the relationship itself being ambiguous in nature and the existence of an ambiguous relationship. The former is true, the latter is not in Good Omens, in my opinion. Destiel was regularly canonically backtracked and dismissed in and out of text.

This is Neil's preferred definition of queer (by his daughter).

I also think it's important to mention, in regards to "flipping his view," that he did write the show differently than the book very much intentionally. That doesn't somehow make it all wrong. Even if he somehow is ~covering his ass~ I literally don't care, it's still a queer story canonically. Supernatural covered their ass by killing Cas and shutting down fans, kind of a different ballpark here. GO2 will tell us if this truly is "revolutionary" in my opinion.

I honestly can't say that Neil is doing what I deem as best (or that he's completely innocent -- I can't know that), but I don't think there's enough of anything to say this is queerbait. I believe season 2 is where there'll be a line drawn. What side of the line A&C will be, I don't know. I'm hoping for some small narration thing like "and although they didn't give a name to their love, Aziraphale and Crowley lived their happily ever after anyways" literally something so easy and simple as that but nothing more. Anything more would be unnecessary.

I'm gonna address something different here just so I can have it all in one post, nothing at anon here. What I'm most sick of is people trying to "justify" A&C's relationship as if it isn't enough on its own. It is enough. No "they need to kiss" "they need to be say they are agender/nonbinary/aroace." "they're gay!" not if they don't call themselves that. they do not have genders, they get to make the rules. if I see one more "you cast two cis men!" I'm gonna scream. GENDER is NOT presentation. sorry they couldn't get real fucking angels. there are people you think are binary men and they look like you think binary men look like and they are not binary men. those people are real live people and walk amongst you. I sometimes consider myself one of them. There is nothing wrong with a genderless entity presenting as masc because yknow what? he has to present as fucking something and he can choose whatever he likes. it literally has nothing to do with their sexuality if they don't want it to.

[epiceneandroid]

i know, and it sucks that we NEEDED a mainstream study in the first place for fellow tme people to know this shit was HAPPENING and it's as insidious as fuck. i'm not sure where nonbinary people who are both, neither (like i am sometimes), or both and neither (like i am now) would be represented in this study, but i assume that, at least under the binary transmedicalist system (that trans women and nonbinary tma folks suffer under alike to have to even get the stuff a lot of them need to ease dysphoria or gain euphoria), nonbinary people seeking feminizing hrt or surgical transition would be considered trans women (e.g. a toongender toygender girl seeking feminizing hrt would be considered a trans woman, despite toons internal reality as more toon and toy seeking a typical girl-shaped outer shell that helps toy feel euphoric) and nonbinary people seeking masculinizing hrt would be considered trans men (i could offer you as an example, as you identify as a transmaverine bigender neutrois trans man, and you have sought masculinizing hrt and from the posts i've seen, top surgery). (i'm not sure how, under this transmedicalist system, nonbinary people like me who only desire social transition for the most part because they don't consider their bodies inherently as their former agab and moreso as the desired gender of their transitions, but i'm fairly sure both non-hormonally and/or non-surgically transitioning tma people, especially those who present counter to their assigned sex, are HEAVILY penalized in comparison to non-hormonally and/or non-surgically transitioning tme people, who tend to be perceived simply as "tomboys" or lesbians instead which is bad because Misgendering in a lot of cases but not as bad as "risk of being put in a psychiatric hold or arrested/killed/subject to violent police brutality esp. if psychotic, level 2-3 autistic, lesbian or mspec, black or indigenous if you're a "non-passing" trans woman who wears clothes typical of cis women or even niche transfem or transfem inclusive fetish subcultures" so i'm pretty sure tme people like me who either only plan to socially transition or have "only transitioned" (ugh) with hormone blockers after puberty who neither identify as trans women/transfem or trans men/transmasculine are not given as much of a raw deal as tma people in general, whether binary or nonbinary gendered.)

and like. it's so disgusting that dr. devon price, for what i'm aware of is a transmasculine/trans man sociologist, having to be the one to break this report that trans women and presumably tma nonbinary people are reviled even in comparison to trans men and tme nonbinary people when trans women and tma nonbinary people have been telling people this FOR YEARS and most tme people have not been listening or because a lot of tma people are heavily critical of some types of "do what you want forever" type forms of gendering (such as like basically reinvented circumgender style "afab transfem" stuff which is almost always excused by someone being intersex when. a lot of the intersex people who identify with the afab transfem label have fucking pcos or some type of congenital adrenal hyperplasia which are both disorders that mostly only cause visible symptoms in babies who are either clearly or ambiguously but eventually assigned FEMALE at birth, like. just because i'm discovering i have possibly a mild form of simple virilizing congenital adrenal hyperplasia (which can cause both hyperandrogenism and hyperprogestinism in people who were afab) with pcos or fibroids (which can cause hyperestrogenism in people who were afab) likely developing after it because of the effects of the disorder and secondary cushing's likely because of the mild simple virilizing cah (which also causes further hyperandrogenism as a little known side effect) doesn't mean i'm transfem. just because i wasn't Consistently treated like my birth gender and instead treated like i was wholly and completely genderless and unpersoned and inhuman doesn't mean i'm transfem, despite transfems often sharing that experience. that specific experience of mine is because of more severe than most autism and adhd and likely schizoaffective bipolar disorder that's pretty much undiagnosed except for one psych evaluator basically saying in unambiguous terms i'm basically bipolar and borderline with schizophrenic features in a psych evaluation sheet that my mom and current therapist refused to listen to as well as my undiagnosed at the time but suspected as of now intersex conditions, not because i'm Inherently a trans woman because i'm "masculine" even though i was "assigned female" that is so fucking reductive). it's just.

god.

when will the lgbt community and the mogai/liom/whatever they're calling themselves now subcommunity i'm a part of finally recognize actual tma people and their issues instead of throwing up their hands and saying "EVERYONE IS TMA, TRANS WOMEN SHOULD STOP ACTING LIKE RADFEMS!!!!" and pushing even more transfem people that could be questioning whether they have parts of their identity that could get a bit nonbinary/xenogender with it away from the mogai/liom/whatever we're calling ourselves now community.

it's always bothered me especially as someone who's pretty pro-good faith identities for the most part and even accepts stuff like bi lesbian and lesboy as frequent identities that primarily transfems (and yes, i've seen lesboy transfems, not all lesboys are transmasc and not all lesbian transfems are femme, stop with that stupid binarist gender essentialist assumption too) identify with to explain their complicated relationships with their sexualities and genders like. it's so irritating. i hate how our community purports itself to be Radically Inclusive but ends up so Radically Inclusive they end up Radically Excluding tma people from it.

omg did not expect to see “we have mainstream research evidence for transmisogyny now” this morning but happy friday?? thanks dr. devon price for pre-digesting it

and of course there’s the angle of, well lmfao yes trans women have been saying this in mainstream print since at least 2007 and doubtlessly in other fora for much longer, but sometimes an argument from authority has more force and how do we emotionally reckon with ongoing lack of agency in conversations about us, but i digressss

[tw1stedthicket]

sad rant below lol just ignore me i just need this to exist in the world rather than not in my brain.

I crave death. Why am I questioning my sexuality again. I wanna cry dude I wish I didn't know any labels and just wanna fuck off into the woods and say I don't fucking know what I am except confused. I really, really like women, but also think sex with anyone is cool (even guys) because stimulation from multiple forms feels good and connection itself can feel good

and men can be cool but I don't really wanna date them though tbh, but also I can't say with 100% earnest that I have no appreciation why people are attracted to men because even though I do feel disgust sometimes at some things I also think painting with too broad of a brush erases the qualities/dynamics in people that transcend gender and are attractive in everybody and I can admit that I am attracted(*?) at times to men

or i at least feel kinda fuckin sick of it being funny to be repulsed by men bc like cmon touch grass at some point youre an adult why aren't men also great and desirable learn a different method of expressing your interest in other things than an online way of saying "ew cooties" to all of men who are individuals too

also I do think that at least for myself any hard line I draw feels redundant as fuck because the world is chock full of people and perhaps sexuality in and of itself is a phenomenon experienced in the context of others in relation to yourself meaning that it's heavily alchemized and influenced by people and there are always people who come across my path that I feel like I could really go through life loving and ppl's own genders can change as well or how they interpret even just "woman" means something wildly different and varying in its own way from a binary meaning that the utility of an identity emphasizing one specific "format" of person makes me feel icky, and also why the fuck does it make sense that i can be attracted to ppl who are bigender or genderfluid for example and they are women at times but men at others, like, is that a different kind of man? idfk.

but also I kinda feel like I don't know how to parse attraction vs. desire vs. arousal, and sometimes what I feel for men is more so arousal and getting off to the notion of being wanted -

except that probably has more to do with things like self esteem & someone finding me desirable, yknow (which is not hard to find in men, which with them being cool and all is like...well...*obligatory you have to be cool and reciprocate kicks in*) and even tho women are RIGHT THERE sometimes it's harder to believe that women, the vastly cooler ppl (lol sorry men i didnt mean to go back to being mean), would find *me* desirable, plus also it's prolly preferable sexual dynamics emphasizing wanted-ness (submissive peeps like myself WANT that setup of attention and desire and control so naturally I might gravitate toward that feeling), and overall male approval and validation can be a hell of a drug

a drug i might add that historically at no point in time in my life has ever been fucking normal and led to authentic experiences and always leaves me feeling like I just enjoy a cat and mouse feeling more than anything and being wanted - which in itself is interesting because a big aspect of feeling the resonance of an identity like "lesbian" that centers women is in how much greater i think life would be if i *wasnt* ever attracted to/desired/whatever men and vice versa and just lived in a world without those complicated feelings where every guy truly was just a bro to me and it was all kumbayah and i never had to worry about any ambiguity at all and i would pull that switch permanently off forever, and also because the fun always always stops the moment the other guy is interested in going further than just sexual messing around stuff and them experiencing legitimate /attraction/ like not just arousal or desire or pursuit but like legitimate ****romantic*** connection & that's a very gross and uncomfortable feeling that just kinda makes me feel guilty and wanna say "oh, buddy..."

except i don't know how to take it that as of the past few weeks i have been feeling fucking strange and topsy turvy because i for some reason have had my sex drive shoot through the fucking empire state building

and i know men are extremely easy access and you can play them like a fucking fiddle when all you care about is transactional (sorry men) and that's cool when you want to be all subby about it and let them dominate you which ppl into that are happy to do if you are a playful participant except also it feels incredibly shameful for me because i don't think that's what i truly want.

because why is this here when for the last few years i have been utterly enamored with women to the point i wanted to say "fuck all men!" and have been super happy to imagine life with women

and i also have some weird internalized beliefs/scripts im aware i unconsciously hold regarding women's sexuality and sapphic women's sexuality in particular that why do i sometimes feel like women are just purer or something and are like the people getting-fucked and not doing-the-fucking like deer or some shit like that classic tumblr post about how gay women dont owe anybody anything other than the nastiest sex they want to have. and all of the sparklies and butterflies in the world at beautiful women are also not just "hehe so pretty" but also "I WANT TO FUCK YOU INTO THE MATTRESS" and even how lesbian sex is im not sure how they do bdsm and i kinda feel at times like i'm operating solely in a vacuum just theorizing shit because it's not like i've even been able to have a single fucking conversation with a lesbian in my life -- ive met plenty of ppl attracted to women and even sapphics that are, but it's always a point of comraderie sometimes like "haha women are so pretty right"

NO FUCK SHIT DAMN IM TIRED OF THAT

I WANT TO MEET UP WITH A HOT WOMAN FOR COFFEE AND HAVE A GOOD CONVERSATION WITH HER AND FEEL AUTHENTIC AND REAL AND HEAR ABOUT HER LIFE AS SHE HEARS ABOUT MINE AND WE CLICK AND THEN MAYBE GO TO SOME STORES AND HANG OUT A LITTLE AND BE FLIRTY AND WE PICK OUT WHAT THE OTHER PERSON LIKES LIKE "HEY THIS IS SO YOU-CODED LOL" WHEN HOLDING A LITTLE FUCKING GHOST MUG

AND WE BE SILLY AND WALK AROUND OUTSIDE AND MAYBE FIND OTHER COOL THINGS TO DO TOGETHER THAT WE BOTH HAVE SHARED HOBBIES IN AND THEN SHE HOLDS ME AS I TELL HER ABOUT HOW VULNERABLE A FEELING IT IS TO BE SO HAPPY IN LIFE AND STILL YEARN SO BAD

AND SHE WOULD HOLD ME CLOSE AND CARESS MY HAIR AND TELL ME THAT MAYBE I JUST HAVE NEEDED SOMEBODY TO SHOW ME THAT I WAS WORTH YEARNING FOR TOO

AND WE BUY EACH OTHER LITTLE TREATS AND CALM EACH OTHER DOWN IN A PANIC AND LEARN TO TALK ABOUT HARD SHIT AND SHE GIVES A FUCK MAN AND WHEN IT COMES TO THAT POINT

WHENEVER IT IS

THEN SHE IS MATURE AND SMART ENOUGH TO BE HONEST THAT SHE WANTS TO FUCK ME AND WE CAN FUCK LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE AND HAVE DIRTY FUCKED UP FANTASIES LIKE WE ALL DO AND HAVE OUR MOMENTS AND IDK ITD BE VERY NICE IF SHE REALLY DID KNOW WHAT SHE LIKED AND SHE LIKED TO DOMINATE PEOPLE AND MAKE THEM FLUSTERED AND GOD LIKE IDEK HOW TO PARSE WOMENS SEXUALITY TBH BUT I KNOW I WANT IT

AND IM NOT HAPPY ANYMORE MAN. IM NOT SATISFIED AND FULL ANYMORE ON JUST THESE SUPER WONDERFUL DREAMS OF RELATIONSHIPS AND HAPPINESS KNOWING I HAVE THE FREEDOM TO PURSUE THEM I NEED TO ACTUALLY FUCKING PURSUE THEM

LIKE IM FUCKING LONELY AND THE THING ABOUT LONELINESS IS THAT ITS LIKE A FUCKING NEWTON CRADLE OR SOME SHIT THAT PINGS OFF ITSELF AND THE LONELIER YOU ARE THE HARDER IT IS TO STAND YOUR GROUND AS YOURSELF AND AS A WHOLE PERSON AND A COMPLETE PERSON AND YOU FEEL LIKE A WEAK DOG WHO IS PRONE TO BEGGING THE LONGER TIME GOES ON AND IT BECOMES EVEN MORE SHAMEFUL TO SHARE WITH OTHERS THAT SEE YOU AND WANT TO AVOID THAT DESPERATION AND I HATE THAT IT'S PROBABLY MY FUCKING RITALIN IVE BEEN ON THAT HAS MADE ME NEED DOPAMINE AND WANT TO BE HORNY AS SIN ALL THE GODDAMN TIME BUT I ALWAYS JUST END UP CRYING WHENEVER IM ALONE BECAUSE IDK IF I NEED MY HAIR PLAYED WITH AND KISSED OR MY FACE SHOVED IN A PILLOW BUT I NEED IT DJDIDIFIFOGOGOVOVOGOG

[narcoticv3nus]

A Kiss Left of You ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

summary: simon and you, introduced by mutual friends in the military, enjoy a heartfelt moment outside a bar. you engage in playful banter, and despite knowing you will soon part ways, you express genuine affection for each other. tags/trigger warnings: f!reader, sfw, reader is not from the uk, author attempts at accents, jealous!simon, doomed romance (maybe), drugs and alcohol consumption, soap makes an appearance, simon is bad at feelings, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, ambiguous ending, self-indulgent, hints at reader being autistic wc: 3.7k

a/n: this is a very old wip. i may or may not make this into a series. anyway, this is just a short collection of drabbles between simon and you. any constructive criticism is highly encouraged. enjoy!

pt. 1 ･ pt. 2 ･ pt.3

Breathing deeply, Simon admires the evening scenery as the last rays of the Sun disappear beyond the horizon. Hues of orange once highlighted it, but now it has turned into a deep shade of blue. Exhaling, a puff of smoke escapes his lips as he taps the lingering ashes along the railing. He stands just outside a dingy bar, its label, "Velvet Verve," gleaming brightly, casting Simon underneath its neon purple glow.

The cool night air chills Simon's lungs as he pulls deeply on his cigarette. His dark brown eyes follow the specks of snowfall as they dance through the air. As the soft flakes of snow drift by, Simon remains still and unbothered; he can appreciate a good view, and the evening air offers him that chance. Taking deep breaths, he savors the wind's chill against his skin and the scent of the air, which has started to take on a crisp note.

It's fucking freezing. You think to yourself as you step outside, feeling tipsy as you shiver against the wind's icy gust. There are specks of snow twirling downwards just in front of you, teasing you and your distaste for the weather.

Looking to your left, you spot Simon leaning against the railing as he blows out puffs of gray smoke. His signature skull balaclava is pushed past his lips, resting on his crooked nose. He seems lost in thought, yet he somehow always remains alert.

The man was large, much larger than you by far. He was slightly shy from 6'3 with an even more impressive frame. His right forearm consisted of a sleeve of tattoos in swirling black ink. His voice was deep and smoky, yet he rarely raised his voice (or let alone speak). He didn't come off as shy; he just seemed to prefer his company to others—which you could relate to. He was very aloof and a bit socially unskilled in his blunt and impolite nature, but underneath it all, you could tell he was a good man. He has this element to him that no one seemed to be able to cross, like how he was now: secluded and lost in his mind. You wondered what he could be thinking of.

A familiar scent of perfume catches his attention, and upon realizing it's you, Simon flicks his cigarette over the railing and turns his attention to you. The slight smile on his features turns into a more visible grin when he notices your intoxicated state. Simon watches you shiver as chills make their way through your body, your breath forming in front of you as you glance up at him. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he watches you momentarily before finally speaking up. "Aren't ya’ supposed t'be drinkin' inside, or did they cut ya’ off?"

Giggling, you made your way over to where he was standing, the heels of your boots clicking against the hard wooden tile. You could feel the effects of the alcohol warm your belly, leaving your brain fuzzy. Keeping a respectful distance, you stand before him, assessing him thoughtfully.

Simon was very different from many of the men you'd met, yet so stereotypical at the same time. He was mysterious, an intangible force of nature that had always piqued your curiosity. However, you never let yourself wander too close. Unlike many others, you weren't scared of the man. He was intimidating, sure, but never had you felt genuine fear in his presence. Maybe if you were one of his soldiers, or god forbid one of his enemies, you'd think differently. And yet, Simon never gave you any reason to fear him; if anything, it was safe to say you felt very protected under his watch.

You’d met under curious circumstances. Kyle Garrick, a buddy of yours, was stationed in northeast Britain while you were vacationing. After you had met at a bar to reminisce about your past, he introduced you to many of his army buddies. One of them was his Lieutenant, Simon Riley, who most of them referred to as "Ghost." He's always been some enigma, ever since the start. He always sported his typical skull balaclava, which you had yet to see him without, and only pulled up past his nose to take a swig of bourbon or smoke a cigarette.

"Just needed some air." You smiled, watching as your breath formed into wisps of condensation in the crisp, navy-blue sky.

Simon's lips curl into a smirk at the sound of your voice. "Careful there." He gently warns as you stumble, his voice still deep but with a hint of amusement. He reaches forward to steady you, only to stop just before he touches you. His eyes meet yours, and Simon feels the intensity of the moment.

"Thank you." You mumble, gazing up into his brown eyes, the top of his face hidden behind his mask.

"Aren't you cold?" You asks curiously, dipping your head to the side with a grin. Your voice had a hint of teasing mixed in with genuine concern.

Simon remains quiet for a moment before finally responding. "M’ fine." He answers coolly, turning his gaze back out into the evening sky. He leans over, the cool winter breeze brushing past his skin. His expression is genuine as he offers a gentle smile. "But you," he glances back over your shoulder at the bar, "maybe we ‘oughta get ya’ back inside."

"But it's so loud in there," you whine, leaning against the wood. "Need a minute."

The corner of Simon's lips curls up in a half-grin as he watches you. "I di'n't know ya’ can't handle yer alcohol." He murmurs, teasing once again.

"I can!" You protest with a giggle. "I'm just a bit tipsy."

"Jus’ a bit?" Simon echoes, chuckling softly to himself.

"Mmm…” you hum, half-acknowledging him. You close your eyes, embracing the moment as the cold nips at your nose. Out in the distance, a lamp post flickers off and on again, its warm yellow light blinking in contrast to the melancholic blue-and-white atmosphere.

Simon shakes his head internally, wondering when he allowed himself to babysit whining drunk girls stumbling out of bars.

He watches you for a long moment as your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward further. His face takes on a slight hint of concern for a second before he returns to his usual expressionless state. His eyes follow the lamp pole, his thoughts drifting off somewhere far from here. The world seemed to come to a standstill as he watched a million different scenarios in his head. His mind wandered between thoughts of the both of you perched like two birds in the frigid air and going your separate ways like strangers passing each other in the night.

A sudden gust of wind sends the snow swirling around the two of you again, and Simon turns towards you. His eyes take in your appearance, noticing how the cold seems to dig its icy, unforgiving claws into you. He takes in every detail, from the slope of your nose to the slight quiver in your bottom lip. He takes note of the way you huddle yourself inside your coat.

"S'bit nippy, innit’?” He asks, his voice low and warm, a welcomed ironicity. He keeps his eyes on the drifting snowfall, allowing you to meet his gaze at your own pace.

"Haven't gotten used to it yet." You admit sheepishly, grinning up at him as you burrow yourself further into the warmth of your furry coat.

Simon can't help but raise an eyebrow at this. "I take it, it's warm where yer from?" He asks in a puzzled tone, and though he's trying to keep his voice neutral, his curiosity gets the better of him.

You nod animatedly, a small smile hidden underneath the jacket.

A small laugh escapes Simon as his mouth curves into a small smile. His tongue traces along the top row of his front teeth as he watches the small grin form beneath the fur of your coat. A silent moment passes between you before he finally speaks.

“Mus’ be nice.” He murmurs, his voice still maintaining an even tone despite his body language giving way to a more keen and interested one.

You shrug your shoulders with a heave, followed by a long sigh. "Until it was summer," you mumble dramatically. "unbearable."

"So, it's either too 'ot or too cold wit’ ya’.” He observes softly, and something about the fact that he's paying so much attention to this seemingly dull conversation baffles him.

You grin, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, eyes wide and glowing. "Pretty much," you murmur, your smile toothy.

The corners of his lips curl up into a smirk as his eyes follow your mouth for a moment before shifting back to your eyes again. The grin spreads across his face, almost like a blush, as he stares back at you. His expression lightens further as your eyes meet, and it is as if he feels something stir deep inside him when he looks at you.

You breathe a short laugh through your nose, taking in his expression. "I should probably get going soon.", you acknowledge, closing your heavy eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

"Aye, prob'ly." He murmurs, still grinning. Simon's thoughts return to a thousand scenarios as his eyes travel around you momentarily. There's no doubt that he feels something soft make its way inside him, something he hasn't felt in a while. He shifts his weight, his body leaning against the wooden railing as he turns his head toward the bar again, letting out a slow breath.

"Think you could give me a ride?" you ask, leaning into his personal space.

His expression shifts quickly, his heart racing at your playful suggestion. He clears his throat before glancing back at you, his face momentarily caught off guard by your closeness. His eyes meet yours, and he can't help but feel a tingling sensation throughout his body. It's almost as if his body is slowly reacting to yours, the chemistry of a connection.

"Aye, dun't see why not,” he murmurs, his tone shifting slightly more severe with his agreement.

"Thanks! You're the best." You shoot him a playful wink before turning back to look out towards the flickering lamppost, yet refuse to put the space back between you.

"Hmph..." Simon's voice comes out with a tinge of a teasing hilt, and he feels just the right amount of comfort with this closeness between you. Another gust of wind rushes by, sending snowflakes into the air again; he watches as they make a home on your head and shoulders.

"Come on, yer gonna freeze out here." He murmurs, not wanting to let you linger in the frigid cold much longer. He finally shifts his weight off the rail and paces towards the parking lot.

Reluctantly, you push yourself away from the rail to follow closely behind him. "I think I'm starting to get used to it now." You chirp from behind him, not even attempting to keep up.

“Us'd to what?” He forgets about your pointless conversation as he turns back, watching you and laughing softly at the image of your shorter legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“The cold,” you answer, humming to yourself. Your eyes stay closed as you stuff your hands into your coat pockets.

The parking lot is a short distance away, and Simon's steps slow as you approach his truck. He opens up the passenger side door for you, waving you over.

You giggle, strolling towards him with an attempt at grace. "Thank you, Lieutenant." you grin, saluting him with the wrong hand before clambering inside.

He shuts the door with an unimpressed shake of his head.

“You smoke?” Ghost asks, offering you the cigarette between his fingers.

“Not those cancer sticks.” You turn your nose up in disgust, not caring if you offended him. To your surprise, he shrugs before placing it between his lips.

He smirked as the cigarette hung from his mouth, not seeming to mind your aversion towards them. You’ve always been straightforward, preferring to precisely say what you’re feeling or thinking rather than hiding it behind politeness or social conventions. He knows that your tendency to be so direct can sometimes rub people the wrong way. But this is just one of the many things he finds refreshing about you. He leans back against the wall with a sigh and slightly glances at you before saying, “Does it botha’ y’ then?” He mumbles in between a drag.

You take a moment to consider his words before shaking your head. "No, not really. You're a grown man; you can do whatever you want." You shrug, appreciating how he turns his head away from you to blow the smoke from his nose.

"Mmhm..." he mutters, nodding in understanding but looking you over when you aren’t paying attention to him. Your relaxed attitude appeals to him, and he grows more comfortable around you.

He watches, his eyes drifting up and down your body as he takes in your appearance, his gaze landing on your exposed neck. It's a rather tempting sight, as the smooth skin of your throat is only made more attractive by how you lean forward while talking. He watches you intently as you form words with your mouth; your accent, which he used to find unusual, now strikes a chord within him—a voice he can only describe as heavenly.

"Ghost?" You ask, turning to look up at him. Confusion is written on your face when he stays silent after you ask him a question.

He snaps out of his reverie, his body twitching as he realizes you’re now looking at him. A slight smirk flashes across his face as he sees the perplexed expression on your face, as he had been so caught up in his admiration of you that Simon hadn't even realized he was supposed to be paying attention. "Sorry, luv," he says softly, his voice slightly teasing as he maintains his gaze on you. "Wot were ya’ sayin’?"

“Here, try some o' this.” Commands John, otherwise known as “Soap,” as he slides you a glass of tequila. For the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to consist of Kyle’s task force forcing you to try their taste in alcoholic beverages. A vodka-lime wasn’t impressive according to their standards.

“Why do I have to try out every single one of your stupid ‘manly’ drinks?” You grumbled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol as you took a quick sip of his drink.

“Is tha' tequila?” Ghost scoffs as he appears in your peripheral vision, causing you to cough and sputter in surprise.

“Why do you always do that?” You complain, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips as John laughs at your misfortune.

Ghost’s eyes widen in what either looks to be humor or surprise—probably both.

“Gettin’ the lass tae expand her horizons,” John explains after collecting himself.

“You sound like an alcoholic,” you mumble, your face warm in embarrassment.

“Why tequila?” Ghost interrupts, still seemingly confused by John’s choice of beverage.

“Whae naht?” The scot shrugs, taking a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows. You glance back and forth between the two men, trying to decipher their unspoken conversation.

“Ya,’ tryna kill her, mate?” Ghost snorts in sarcasm, sitting beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he makes himself comfortable. He doesn’t even glance in your direction, but John’s eyes flicker back and forth between you two knowingly. You hide your shame behind another long sip.

“Are you?” You mutter, staring out the window as silence fills the air.

“Wot?”

John’s laugh rings loud as your face sets up in a blaze.

“Do you like it?” You inquire with anticipation, watching him take a bite of the cultural dish you had made for him to try. You asked him to stop by your temporary place so you could cook him something other than British cuisine. He seemed a bit irked but agreed nonetheless.

“S’ alright.” He mumbles after swallowing, refusing to meet your eyes as he takes another bite.

“You like it, c’mon.” You giggle, poking his bicep, which he swats away, simultaneously shooting you an annoyed glare.

“I said it’s alright.” He reaffirms, chewing slowly. “S’ a bit spicy.” He comments in a neutral tone, but you assume it was supposed to be his form of constructional criticism.

“Yeah, well, everything is spicy to you people.”

He rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh.

“You could’ve just said ‘thank you.’” You sass, hands on your hips.

“I’d 'ave t'be thankful for it first.”

You swat him in the arm this time. He chuckles in response.

Simon grunts as he slams his fist into the black fabric of the boxing bag. The thick material of his gloves protects his fists, but he can almost picture the bruises and cuts decorating his knuckles as he bashes the face in of that smug-looking private.

Simon had nothing against the man—personally speaking anyway—yet he still couldn’t get over how he looked at you. How he danced with you, twirling you around like some bloke, tripping over his feet and his words to impress you.

And you just smiled and laughed, batting your pretty eyes up at him with a sweet smile—the same way you do with Simon.

Simon furrows his eyebrows, pulling his face into a deep frown. He clenches his fists a little tighter as the images of the man dancing with you and making a fool of himself flash through his mind. Simon can also clearly see how you responded to his advances in those images: your saccharine smiles and bashful glances, your symphony of laughs that could bring a choir of angels to shame. He grits his teeth and raises his fist to strike the bag again; his jealousy is getting the better of him.

The more he seethes, the more those memories twist into something else entirely. He can't help but imagine the way the man must have touched you, maybe even kissing you or pulling you into his arms—holding you close. The thought of that makes him even more furious, as he's now thinking about him putting his hands on you in a way that only he is supposed to—or would if only he just asked.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side as you sit across from Simon in a booth, enjoying the meal he had gotten for you both.

He stops eating for a moment, his busy thoughts halting a little as he hears your voice hit his ears, concerned with a hint of indignation. He hesitates for a second before answering you, not wanting to admit that he's felt a little insecure about his relationship with you. "Nothin’," he gruffs softly, forcing disinterest as he looks at you. "Why?”

You run your tongue over your front teeth as you assess him before looking past his shoulder in thought.

"Is it because I have to leave soon?" You ask softly, deciding to poke at your food with your fork to remain casual.

The mention of your departure only makes his frustration grow even worse, as the thought of you not being here with him brings forth an uncomfortable hollow feeling deep in his chest. "No," he mutters softly, but his response carries a hint of irritation because he believes you have seen through him too quickly. "I jus’...'ave some things on my mind."

He stares at you silently for a moment before looking away and grunting. He can't help but feel slightly guilty for not wanting to be honest with you. Especially when he knows you’ve always been upfront with him, and now he's keeping secrets from you even though there's no real reason for him to. The guilt compels him to consider admitting a little more, but he realizes that doing so would mean ripping back the layers he’s built up around himself for so long. So instead, he says, "It's nowt important."

"Then stop acting so weird."

You sigh, swallowing your frustration. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me." You promise with an empathetic smile.

He sighs and looks away again, feeling even more shameful now that he has to look into your pitful expression after lying straight to it. Simon has been so busy hiding his insecurities that he's lost track of how he’s been treating you, and now Simon realizes that he needs to open up, or else you’ll probably start feeling as if he's abandoning you. "Yeah..." he mutters, shaking his head slightly in disappointment with himself. "I know, m'sorry...I'll be fine."

You soak in the awkward, silent tension for a few more moments, trying to make peace with it.

"Y'know..." you begin tapping his leg under the table with your foot to get his attention. "I'm gonna miss you too." You confess with a bittersweet smile.

His expression softens just a bit, his gaze shifts to make eye contact with you for the first time in a while, and upon seeing your sweet and somewhat sad smile, his discomfort shifts towards a bittersweet tenderness rather than the frustration and resentment he felt before.

"Y'will?" he asks softly, a small smile forming on his lips as he looks away almost immediately, his heart now fluttering at the thought of someone as kind and gentle as you, missing someone as cruel and fucked up as him.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, your eyelids lowering as you admire him with a strange fondness. “But I’m glad—I’m happy I got to meet you, to miss you.” You smile, abandoning your attention on everything else and redirecting it towards him.

“I’d rather miss you every day than not have gotten to meet you at all.”

NEXT → main masterlist, rules

[clairecrive]

Billy idea that I have no time to write myself loool: reader and Billy are friends with benefits. Reader is happy with the arrangement and knows Billy is sleeping with other women but she doesn't care. It's not serious with them. Billy however hadn't really thought about Reader sleeping with other people and he finds out. Maybe from friends (Frank, Curtis and Karen because hello AU) or maybe all of them are out at a bar and he sees her go home with someone else? But he gets suuuuper jealous about it and realises he wants more. I'll leave it up to you if Reader wants more too. Angsty jealous Billy though, am I right? Lmaooo (this is faulty-coding btw, hello 🖤)

"Commitment"

A/N: omg hi! I love your work so much I feel incredibly honoured that you chose me for this request! I hope you like it x This is also for this anon, I've combined the two requests since they were similar.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, slut-shaming, hurt-comfort, smut at the end

Word count: 3K +

Tags:@blackst0nes7077, @thefictionalgemini, @tarkanelima-blog

@pansysgirlfriend, @acciorudolphx @supernaturalcat7, @crazyclownchick (I don't know why it won't let me tag you)

To add yourself to my taglist, fill in this form.

NAVIGATION PAGE

"Hey, stranger." A familiar voice and then his familiar touch on your back before he sat in front of you.

"Hi, Billy."

"it's been a while," he mentioned casually while his eyes took you in.

It had been more than a while, actually. Last time you saw Billy had been over a week ago. Well, you hadn't really seen him, that was the problem.

Ever since you had started your "agreement" you'd drop by his office from time to time to surprise him. He had told you that he deeply enjoyed office sex while you had never had it. Needless to say, it soon became one of your favourite things.

And that was why that day, you were at Anvil. You hadn't told Billy that you were coming. It wouldn't have been a surprise then, would it? However, when you stepped in front of his door, just one touch away from opening it, you heard it.

Well, heard her actually.

It was Billy that ended up surprising you that day. You usually loved surprises but that one you would have gladly skipped.

Although it had taken you most of a week to come to this realisation, you realized that it was actually a good thing to happen. The thing you had with Billy wasn't labelled. It was fun but it wasn't serious. Despite the fact that you were friends and hang out with the same group, you had never committed to each other.

And you were honestly fine with it. You enjoyed your time with Billy, outside and under the sheets.

It had been months though and you hadn't wanted to acknowledge it but it wasn't enough anymore. Billy's role in your life was ambiguous. He was your friend sure, but one you'd have sex with. He wasn't your boyfriend but he was the one you'd spend the most of your time with, the one with whom you were intimate.

You wanted more, you realized. Enough with these half measures.

Billy will understand, you told yourself. He inwardly made it clear where he stands. Time to broaden your horizons.

And, as matter of fact, you had. It was true that the ocean is full of fish but you hadn't had a lot of luck with them before. Sure, Jake was nice. He was polite and nice. An overall good guy.

He was just lacking a... je ne sais quoi that made you unsure about it. But you were willing to give him a chance and so you kept going on dates with him.

Needless to say, you hadn't spoken to Billy since that impromptu visit to his office.

"Been busy," you offered him taking a sip of your beer. It was a lame excuse but you couldn't care less. Karen offered you some appetizers. You stared at them for a bit before shaking your head refusing them. Ignoring Karen's questioning look, you took another sip.

"Yeah, she's been busy alright." Frank's low chuckle came from the other end of the table.

"Meaning?" Billy asked, now curious about the implication seeing how your cheeks had suddenly turned red.

"She met someone," Karen chirped in, winking in your direction.

Mentally facepalming you, you swore them off. It wasn't the way you wanted Billy to find out. Not that you cared what he thought since he couldn't be bothered to be as transparent with you, but still. You hated being put on the spot.

"Has she now?" Billy's eyebrow arched and he gave you an amused look. But his jaw clenched and that gave him away.

"Not that it's any of your business. But yes, I have. His name's Jake, he's a nice guy." You explained briefly, ignoring the intensity of his stare.

"So you're that kind of person then." Leaning over the table, his voice took an edge he had never directed at you. "Ditching her friends as soon as she meets a guy?"

"You know that's not true." Narrowing your eyes at him you were almost offended by his institution if it wasn't for the fact that you knew that it was his bruised ego speaking.

"Tell that to my many unanswered calls on your phone."

"That's not on Jake," you scoffed taking a sip. His eyebrow arched while his hands gestured to you as if to say "do tell".

"Let's just say that I saw firsthand just how busy you keep yourself when I'm not around." You tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice, you really did. But without success.

Billy's lips pursed in thought. You had no doubt that he had an inkling about what you meant but he couldn't figure out to what exactly you were referring to.

"So is this what it is? You being petty because I've been with someone else?"

"That's me wanting more for myself and taking it."

"If you were that insatiable, y/n, you should have just told me."

"Stop making me sound like a slut, Billy. That is not what this is about."

"Isn't it? Because that's exactly what this looks like to me."

Pursing your lips, you refused to show him just how much he had hurt you. Nodding your head you decided that you'd had enough. You did not have to sit here and take his bullshit.

"You know, Billy. Slut-shaming isn't a good look on you." Waving to your friends, you quickly told them that you had to go. An emergency you said. But they knew better, their eyes fixed on Billy as he watched you walk out of the bar. Hands tightening around the bottle of beer he had ordered, he stood up once you disappeared amongst the crowd.

Without bothering to explain himself to the group, he simply followed you outside.

"Y/n." He called your name once he saw that you were already a bit far from the bar. In a couple of quick strides, Billy had gotten to you since you had slowed down.

"Go away, Billy." you didn't bother to look at him.

"Wait, wait," he said gently taking hold of your arm to get you to stop. And you did but stared at his hand on you until he dropped it and took a step back. "Look I'm sorry, I was an asshole." he apologised.

You only nodded to show him that you understood him but didn't offer any words to assure him that you forgave him.

"And I'm sorry you had to find out about Madani that way." He added hoping to make things right between you.

"Don't worry, it was actually an awakening for me." You added briefly looking at him. Tone harsh and unapologetic. You were still too mad at him to care about being considerate of your voice.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it made me realize that this," you gestured between the two of you, "was not working out for me."

"Oh really?" now the word had lost every tint of disbelief it had before. It was more like he was challenging you. Like he didn't quite believe you.

"Yes." you stood your ground pushing your shoulders back, "I figured out that I want more. And I know that I'm not going to get that from you."

"It was good while it lasted though," you called over your shoulders as you turned, ready to get the hell away from him. But the words he said though, made you halt on your feet.

"Who said you're not going to get that with me?"

"That would require feeling something for me other than lust, Billy." you snicked not fully turning around to face him, just your head.

"Who says I don't?"

"Madani, maybe?"

"She doesn't mean anything, y/n." He scoffed rolling his eyes.

"Of course you'd say something like this, Billy. Doesn't help though." As if him admitting to having meaningless sex with other women could help his case. Men. Fully done with this conversation you gave him one last look before turning away again.

"I know why you didn't eat those appetizers before." Again, after a few steps, his voice made you stop. This time, the implication of what he meant, sat heavily on your shoulders making you tense. Still, you didn't turn around.

That didn't deter him though.

"I know that you love them but they remind you of your grandfather. He used to make sure there would always be some of those at home whenever you went to visit him. And I know you haven't eaten them since-"

He stopped when your head whipping to him, eyes glaring.

He was right. You knew it, he knew it. But him strumentalising your beloved grandfather's death to get through to you? That was low, even for Billy.

Not only it called for you to acknowledge out loud that your grandfather wasn't there anymore but it also surprised you because you didn't think anyone would notice something so small.

"What are you saying, Billy?" Eyes glossy, like everything someone mentioned him, you tried your best to not let your voice waver.

"What I'm saying is that I care about you, y/n. I care enough to notice things. The tiniest details that you don't even know are there. Like that every time you're reading and something bad happens, you press your hand on your chest over your heart, as if you wanted to stop the pain from coming or something. Or that you always cook whenever you miss your family even if you never say it out loud. Or-"

"I get it Billy." you raised a hand to stop him. "You're observant. I knew that. That's basically what you do for a living. Not counting that you're a fucking sniper."

"Maybe," he conceded slowly taking a step in your direction, "I notice things, that's true. That doesn't mean that I store them in my mind, though."

"I care about you, y/n. A great deal. Enough to notice all the little things that make you you and enough to memorize them."

"I don't know if I can believe you, Billy. If you cared you wouldn't be going around sleeping with other women. And I know-" you added when you saw his mouth open to protest- " I know that technically we weren't together but still Billy. A technicality is not going to earn you my trust." Shrugging your shoulders you opted for being honest with him. You had never lied to him and you certainly weren't going to start now. Billy had never lied to you either, not that you were aware. And even if this thought should have reassured you, you were still hesitant about believing him.

"Then give me a chance to do so. Let me prove to you just how much I care about you and how little I care about everything else." He insisted, taking another step and then another until he was in front of you. Hands on your jaw, he delicately craned your neck so that your eyes could meet.

The height difference had always been a reason for jokes among you. It was no secret that Billy had a slight size kink, at least not to you, and so more often than not he'd use that.

Thumb slowly caressing your jaw, his eyes flickered between yours. They were full of hope, of promises but there was also a lot of vulnerability. Billy was not the type to be so forthcoming about his feelings. The fact that he had been with you, on a side street nonetheless, was a demonstration on its own.

Sighing, you knew you needed to decide. Yes, hearing Billy having sex with another woman had hurt you but you were not together. While that didn't make it hurt any less, it made the situation slightly less grave. He hadn't cheated on you, not really. You hadn't told him you wanted more. Hell, before that you didn't even know that you wanted more.

And now that you knew, now that he knew as well, here he was promising it to you. He wanted to give you exactly what you wanted. So could you really say no to him?

Of course not.

"Alright."

"Yeah?" a big smile grew on his face, his eyes twinkling in joy.

"Yeah, I'm going to give you a chance. Only one, Billy. So you better not mess this up." Poking his chest with a finger you warned him that this time around, things were going to be different.

"You're not going to regret that, babe." His eyes held a solemn promise. Just briefly though because soon, they were back to their usual mischief. Billy leaned to you, his lips meeting yours in a small kiss.

At first.

He kissed you soundly, his mouth perfectly on yours, building his tempo slowly. Then, you felt his tongue on your lower lip and you knew that things were about to escalate quickly.

Not that you minded of course, but it was not appropriate to do what you had in mind in the middle of the street.

"Billy," you moaned slightly leaning back to warn him that you couldn't get too carried away.

"Call that Jim guy," his mouth peppered small kisses along your jaw, "tell him that it's over. That he never stood a chance," he moved down on your neck.

"Yes."

"Let's go home so that I can show you how much more I can give you."His mouth had trailed back up and stopped so that it was hovering over your ear. His voice was low and breathy and husky and fuck it sent a wave of pleasure right in between your legs.

------

No sooner had you stepped over your threshold than Billy's hands were on you. The door barely closed, he pushed you against it. His hands cradled your face, effectively keeping you holding you in place while his mouth ravished you.

You gladly let him do as he pleased. Mouth opening to welcome his tongue while your hands gripped his jacket to keep you steady.

"Billy," you whimpered his name as his lips left yours. You tried to follow them by getting on your tiptoes but he didn't let you. Chuckling, he gave you another small kiss.

"Yes. Remember that it's me that it's making you feel this good. Me. Not Jim or whatever his name is, not anyone else. Me." He growled on your lips while one of his hands gripped the hair at the nape of your neck making you gasp.

Staring at his glowing dark pits you couldn't do anything other than nodding feverishly. You were at his mercy. Completely. And Billy knew that and it did nothing but please him to no end.

You'd always enjoyed whenever Billy was rough with you but him being jealous and kinda possessive too? Game changer.

Smirking at your reaction, his hands moved lower on your body until they hatched behind your knees pulling you up. Biting your lower lip, he swallowed your whimper for the friction once you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Billy didn't waste any more time, in quick long strides he was in your bedroom and threw you on the bed. You'd almost giggled when you bounced on it if it wasn't for the savage look in Billy's eyes.

Fuck, he looked so sexy. A sin.

For a moment, he just stared at you laid there waiting for him. A hand quickly wiped his face before he unbuckled his pants. Now it was your turn to stare at him. More like ogle but you knew he didn't mind.

Shedding his pants, he crawled over you until his face levelled yours.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you want. And then some more." He promised, nipping your earlobe. "You're never going to feel the need to look for other guys."

"There's no one else I'd rather be with, Billy."

Your hands trailed over his still clothed back before tangling his always perfectly styled hair. "Only you." You whispered in his ear.

If it wasn't for your hand on his back, you would have missed him tensing. "Say it again," he demanded, his head still in the crook of your neck.

"You're the only one I want, Billy." You repeated knowing fully well how he struggled with accepting love and affection. This meant to him just as much as it did to you. He was giving you the promise of commitment but so were you. And despite the fact that you had already been loyal to him, you knew how important it was for him to hear the words.

"There's no one else for me either, y/n. Never was, never will be." He raised his head to say this. It was a confirmation, yes, but it also felt so much more coming from him.

He had been telling you how much he cared about you since you left the bar but somehow, him saying it again now held more meaning.

"You promise?"

You felt childish and it was probably pathetic of you to ask him again. But this was you being vulnerable, letting him know that you needed him. And you trusted Billy.

"You're mine." He said instead. One of his hands coming to cradle the back of your head while the other closed around your right breast.

"And I'm yours."

And here it was, the promise, the reassurance you needed. His lips met yours in a bruising kiss. It was wet and more teeth and tongue than anything but it was passionate. You were claiming each other.

Not separating your lips, he used his hands to get rid of your clothes. While he unbuckled your pants, you took his shirt off. Him doing the same with yours while you pushed his brief down on his legs.

Once you were completely naked, Billy crawled back over you. His hands resting at the sides of your head. He was everywhere. You could feel him between your legs, your arms wrapped around his back, your vision field occupied by his beautiful face.

He was everywhere, he was everything.

"And now, I'm going to leave no room for doubt in your mind anymore." He whispered on your lips, his cock rubbing over your slit teasing you about what was to come.

You had asked him for a commitment and fuck if he didn't commit to it. All night long.

[sanghyukstattoos]

SF9′s reaction: you comfort them when they are exhausted and upset

Characters: Sweet guys who could only appear in your dreams 

Word count: lmao

Genres: Fluff, smut, suggestive smut 

A/N: For more works like this one, click here

Hearing the front door open, you called out, ‘’Binnie?’‘, voice distinctly echoing in the walls of the hallway. They were ghostly practitioners because your husband did not answer back. Like you, he had just come back from work, his briefcase already tossed to the side and entering the storeroom turned jacket area, he hung his suit jacket. Unlike his morning attire, his shirt was crumpled from the sleeves to the back and the belt was quickly rounded, thrown into the basket of belts. 

You watched him sigh in overall discontent, chuckling at his need to just take a day off and relax. You excitedly stretched your limbs, setting down the numerous take-out fliers you had pulled out. Your eyebrows went up and your mouth puckered in question. Looking from side to side, you wondered, what is the rush?

He had not answered your call but upon seeing you, he lit up, quickly moving towards you as a rabbit would when it is cuddled and gave you a tiny, baby peck on the cheek. You smiled in delight, walking along with him as he asked, ‘’How was your day?’’. You hummed, stating that it was hectic yet good and he agreed with the former point. 

‘‘Mine was hectic too’‘ he pouted and you caught his attention with a gentle smile, taking him in your arms and giving him a hug. He settled into your arms, the tiredness looking familiar to you. You were sure that his head was hurting. His expression was similar to when he was in a fucked-out state- hazily staring at you through those beautiful half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted as he gazed at you, but only this time he was dreaming. 

‘‘You know’‘ he whispered, leaning into your embrace. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest as he rested in the crook of your neck. He did not explain any further, choosing to rest in the silence of your comfort. ‘’We should have some wine.’’ he whispered, hugging you closely. ‘’Now?’’ you asked, purely curious. He agreed and you replied, ‘’How about after we do this?’’, motioning to the bath.

You found it evident that he was fatigued, saying, ‘‘Come with me, I’ll wash your hair’‘. He happily nodded, taking off the rest of his clothes and feeling the stickiness of the day escape him. He felt less stuffier now than when he first entered the house, smelling like the office he had worked in all day. His eyes reflected greediness as he stepped into the water, making you chuckle, pleased that he was looking more handsome than ever and in good shape. 

First on your list of things to do was to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him. Passionately, your lips settled onto his, lovingly holding him in place. He was enjoying it, gently gripping at your shirt. Although he had this innocent appearance to him, the strength and endurance he had in his ambition paralleled yours, one of the reasons why you had fallen in love with him. There was little lingering, yet feeling like you could be closer. 

Sometimes, you spent your lunch with him, overlooking the pretty white blossoms cornering your building. It crowded your view of the often busy street and sometimes went bald but in your office, you forsook the working relationship you had with him. Sharing your food, plotting the evasion of your higher-ups orders- How could you explain it? It was intimate, fiery and included a tingle of the senses. (Perhaps, all of the senses?)

You wanted to love him over and over again, like watching one episode after the other, late into the night. The two of you were intimately brought together, your feelings escalating when you made love on the bed, on the kitchen counter on a lazy morning or on the sofa while watching some boring movie, sometimes switching fast sex to casual. 

He leaned back, hands quickly motioning to you, ‘’Get in here please’’. You laughed aloud, excitement filling your system like blowing air into balloons at birthday parties. He breathed out a sigh of relief as your fingers tangled in his shampoo-filled hair, white, scrubby bits everywhere, some even floating in the air. 

He was relaxed, soothed by your touches before he started giggling and playing with the water, running his hands through it and smiling at the ripples that formed. ‘’Should I join you?’’ you teasingly pondering as he pouted at you, maybe thinking, get in here? Please?. Not caring whether you were ruining your clothes, you took them off with your soap covered hands and threw them in the basket. He admired your figure and the way it was enveloped by the warm water. 

He welcomed you with extended arms and you straddled him, comfortably settling on his lap. You could not choose what to liken his smile too. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pretending to be distracted because you were unable to to contain the heat that rose to your cheeks that in turn, rose with your smile. You wanted to give him some advice which got pushed back when he began to wander your body, delicately bathing your skin with warm water. 

You paused, purely curious as he rested a hand on your ass while you were brought close to him, his lips encasing yours in a touch that evoked a heated response from you. You rose with the kiss, unconsciously grinding your hips against his tip that brushed your inner thigh. You were taken back with his unexpected actions, very much enjoying the effects.

He parted your ass cheeks, arousal flooding to your sex as it was embedded within the two of you. Every time felt congruously new, like a passionate relish of red, plump apples or biting into a ripe mango, feeling the juice trickle into your mouth, encasing your tongue in something watery yet sugary. 

He left you little to the imagination: water spilt out of the tub, rippling with fast movements. You threw your head back, heavily breathing, both of you vicarious in the feeling of sounds. You let out soft cries of pleasure while he thrusted his hips up, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his member. He felt the smooth curve of your ass, grabbing it as he buried himself inside you, kissing every part of your body that was accessible to him as you held onto him, bouncing unrhythmically. 

He roamed your body, over and over again. You were lost right now, gasping, moaning, crying out in intimacy as you held onto the tub. You lifted your hip, and then in a quick, repeated motion, you met his own. You could feel him trail your legs as you got off him and faced the wall, hands slipping for grasp as he entered you from behind. He was pleased to end his day with you, to feel you around him, habiting his nearest surroundings. And for you words of advice, he was thankful too. 

Today had been rough. Inseong was swamped in how people were treating him, the intentions behind their behaviour ambiguous. So he found it vague to explain it to you or rather, find a label for it. He said that it was complicated and you understood, telling him that many things were hard to justify too, because it didn’t fit the category of direct and explainable. It was the small things that either added up or didn’t. 

Then came the pressure that followed such things. The embedded attitudes of people felt relentless. It was similar to an unjustified attack, tiring Seong out from daily routines and schedules. He had informed you of what was going on. When you asked him what his plans were, he simply shrugged, sighed and gave you a smile (keeping hopes up that it would go away). Some things did not go away unless you told them too. 

You couldn’t tell him to ‘let it pass’ or ‘ignore them’ because although it did not seem like it, those words were inconsiderate. Instead you told him to stand up for himself, in small ways, like their behaviour. You refused to see him hurt like this- partly defeated and showing easy acceptance of something that could be changed. You did your best to encourage him, lightly scolding him for keeping such a mindset in the first place. 

As he sat on the sofa, suit still on and laying exhausted in your arms, nestling into the comfort he found in you, you combed through his hair, wanting to ask him some questions. He mumbled his answers sleepily, not bothering to hide the truth from you, saying it plain and simple. As it should have been told from the start, you heard it, brainstorming of how to combat this. But both of you were equally worn out and so you accidently fell asleep in the living room, waking up hours later in each other’s arms. 

The next time, you had come home some hours after him, daylight fading into the distance but the blues had already set in, much earlier than you had thought. You remember entering the house and placing your shoes in the stand. You had placed your stuff in the bedroom, quickly changing into home clothes. All the while, the air was silent albeit the presence of Seong who had already texted you that he had reached home. 

You were happy to see him, having kissed him in a hurry to feel him on you unlike the first half of the day when you had so dearly missed him. After a good conversation, he downplayed the events in a deflating manner. The story was malicious and you did not appreciate their insincerity. They had treated him more roughly then before and it occurred to you that Inseong’s tunnel of vision had narrowed. In hope he thought that there wasn’t much for the future but you were infuriated upon hearing his story. 

You were still on for fighting back, not hitting the knees or lightly shoving. There was no sugar-coating, making the relay barren but you had wanted him to understand what you had meant. Instilling some fight into him, he had understood, swallowing your advice to find others that disagreed with this type of treatment. To find like-minded people and rid himself of his problem, once and for all. 

It wasn’t easy for him but in the coming weeks, you noticed a change- that he was happier than before. He was giddy and you reflected on previous memories, thinking that he had always managed to be happy, those people had just dampened it. Today, you sat with an unopened wine bottle, texting your friends till Inseong came home. And when he did, your phone was flung somewhere (so precious, hopefully on the sofa itself) and he took you into his arms, giving you a hug. 

You excitedly returned it back and the familiar thudding returned when you saw him smile, gummy version and lit eyes showing. Although he was tired, he was brimming with energy, agreeing to your proposition of wine and cookies. He rolled onto the sofa, throwing the covers over your thighs and leaning on your shoulders. His legs ached from the walk to get home as quick as possible but it felt worth it.

You gave him a peck, grinning as he cutely leaned in for more. The more you gave into him, the more you smiled from ear to ear. The screen of the television greeted your eyes in the bright light of the living room, heart beat steady as you embraced Seong. Bringing his hair back, you chuckled at his facial expressions that immediately relaxed, taking a sip of his wine in the process. ‘’That felt good’’ he commented, feeling the rumble of your chest as you laughed. 

‘‘Including your whole day? That sounds good’‘ you replied, cross-legged as you grabbed a cookie, Seong’s eyes tracing the crumbly deliciousness. Breaking a piece, you plopped it into Seong’s parted lips, smiling at his quick response to the melted chocolate. ‘‘It was and things are looking up’‘ he happily motioned, responded and you listened as he spoke more, entailing you to the details. You firstly felt happy, secondly thrilled that you had won, unanimously. 

You could hear someone distinctly coughing in another room, its nature echoing and reverberating and hence catching the attention of JaeYoon as well. He kept silent, not a peep from his mouth when the familiar pain affected his temples, lighting up like red lights around his eyes and cheeks, inciting him to desire a cough. 

You watched from your spot at the door, his back hunched and eyes monotonously staring at the screen. You flinched as you thought of the pain of staring into something that bright in a room so dark. As you leant against the door frame, you saw him harshly rub the pain away from his heavy eyes that would not open as far as they usually would. 

He looked like he was having trouble looking up, heavily exhaling as he tried to resist the pain. They grew stronger like the thudding sounds of boots against a wooden floor that by the second neared closer to you. 

He gets up from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as it is pushed back with sheer force of his anger, annoyance, irritation. It takes him less time than swinging a baseball bat to launch a last-minute defence than to grab the chair he sits on and fling it at the wall. He believes that no one around as he sighs, then shamefully picks it up and sits on it again, reflecting. 

You wondered what he was imagining, looking lost in thought. His cheeks turned red like the sunset, a gradient of embarrassment. What he was feeling was understood by his team members and although you were blameless, a part of your decision-making process pricked at your mind. It started to gnaw until you shooed it away, tricking you into thinking that his pain was influenced by you.

You were mindful of your perception of his situation, understanding that if you did not have the full details, you did not have the right to serve him harsh words either. There could have been more to what he had told you because he was an excellent soldier and knew how to weave tales to best fit his situation, even to his team leader. 

He knew now that you were at the door, shadow having shifted due to the movement of light. When he faced you, he settled his hair down, even though it already was- a habit he had when he was nervous. He yearned for your comfort like a hug or a few words of advice. It was not selfish of him for it was human desire and unable to breach the relationship he had with you, he settled for your praise whilst watching you from afar. 

Under your gaze, he felt nervous but his thoughts overcame him because he felt hardened to the fact that he could not change the past and knew still, that it was useless to ponder over such things. As you scanned his form, the anger he felt was irreplaceable and you felt that you could not soothe him, yet. For the kind of person that he was, you knew that he would pull through. 

You made your move to give him time, giving him one last look as you turned back and walked away. Hours later, he must have been calm, rationally thinking of the situation when you saw him in the swimming pool on the roof. Leaning against the wall, he put his phone down upon seeing you enter. You said nothing, his eyes wide and suggesting something that could not be put into a sentence. You expected him not to question and he did not, waiting for you to speak first.

As you slipped into the water, a line of goosebumps trailed your leg yet you entered without flinching, letting a wave of water swallow your body. You were engulfed and while basking in the liquid, you moved towards him, coming together for camellias and carnations presently unknown.

Warm sunlight and the mindless singing of birds filled the air like filling water into a jug. You paddled towards him, watching him stand up straight, eyes never moving below your jaw. He waited and waited till you came to him, till your face was as close to him as two threads sewn one after the other. His system was frozen, back against the wall, water still, only small ripples forming as you moved towards him. 

‘‘We can’t let someone know about this’‘ you mumbled, regretfully looking at his confused eyes. His lips were parted in question, words barely coming out as he shook his head in agreement. Unconsciously moving closer to you, you smiled, exclaiming, ‘‘Should I show you the place where everyone goes to take a break without me knowing? And you too apparently’‘. 

‘‘Did I read that wrong? Or something? I thought-’‘ he asked, clearing his head and halting your movements when you began to walk away. You chuckled, replying, ‘‘Hold on-’‘. You disagreed as you continued, ‘’No, you didn’t. I just thought it would be better to be somewhere private than here.’‘. He came to the realisation pretty quickly, turning his opinion around at the open space for a lack of privacy or none thereof in the first place. 

As he followed you, it clicked to him and he didn’t stop himself from asking, ‘’There is a place where people go to relax?’’. You laughed, pointing to some place beneath the surface of land, carefully opening the door. You marvelled in amazement when it did open, exactly as you were told, your eyes meeting his affiliating gaze based on the way you smiled in wonder. Reflective, you looked around, laughing as you caught each other turning at the same time. 

‘‘I don’t know why we haven’t been introduced to this place as yet’‘ you stated, seeing a glint of something shiny in the background. 

‘‘I agree and shouldn’t you know about this? Given where it is’‘ he motioned, pleasantly unsurprised, figuring that you had your own place to relax. As he bent down to crawl you responded, ‘’If anyone, I might be the last to know’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you at how true it was. 

The entrance was wide, allowing you to swim without hitting the sides. Lights lit the sides and you were met with a staircase, droplets cascading down your wet clothes as you stepped out of the water. Neither of you bothered to comment on the spiral staircase or the enormous dry room, filled with private corners of games, food and drinks. 

You stared at with mouths agape until Jaeyoon broke the silence. After finding a place to change into fresh clothes, you met him at the massage chairs, twined in a corner that gave you a view of the doors. ‘’Here’’ you handed him a beer bottle, asking him, ‘’Aren’t you going to switch it on?’’, looking around for a button. He shook his head, popping open the cap between the bend of his arm and taking a sip from it. 

Well, you thought, Jaeyoon’s attention turning to the buzzing machine as you relaxed, sighing in content. He was bewildered, asking, ‘’You turned it on?’’ while trying to configure the buttons himself. You met his stare, trying to playfully kick him, exclaiming, ‘’Stop staring at me, turn it on!’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you as he slipped into the darkness of the massager. You were caught in the trap of the machine, its gentle massages turning sinister. 

Your bottles were left empty handed as you felt the soothing motions of the machine. The place was appropriately sized for a team of eight people and two people had managed to occupy a small corner of it. You smiled, thinking of the room itself, trying to enjoy yourself in the moment without thinking of anything else. Meanwhile, Jaeyoon was drifting off, pleasantly lost in the idea of starting something new with you.

Sanghyuk leant on his elbow, propped up by the pillow, peering at you with ambiguous eyes. You merely hummed at his offer and a small smile tugged at your lips. This proposition of his always stood, no matter the circumstance. You thought that there was nothing for you to lose but you were wrong. And so you shrugged, tossing the covers aside and getting in beside him. 

There was a gap in between, obvious that he was treading the waters carefully. You laid next to him, not touching his arm or leg, perhaps expecting him to pull you towards him. The gap was evident, but only to the both of you. He lingered next to your fingers and you interlocked it, turning on your side as you asked, ‘‘Are you worried about something?’‘

Strands of hair flopped on his forehead as he nodded, taking in a deep breath. In doing so, he swallowed his stress and looked at you. He flashbacked to your features, expressions, mannerisms, recounting them one by one. Your breath hitched as he grasped your waist, pulling you closer till your body was touching his. 

There it was. He did not say anything, evident that he didn’t have a reason to be with you today. Unlike his usual line providing you an explanation, he chose to forgo one this time. And he didn’t need to. There had been another fall today at work but he didn’t particularly care about it. Not until he heard you say in that tone of voice, ‘’It’s all the same, it doesn’t matter’’ with that look in your eyes.

It was as if you didn’t know each other that well, that you hadn’t been sleeping with each other all this time. Like he had once heard, there is an emotional component to sex. All he had done then was nod, but then began his doubts and he wanted to know if it was true. 

If you reciprocated his feelings. You cleared your throat, removing the strands of hair from his face. ‘’Say something’’ you murmured, and he only replied by caressing your cheek and bringing you closer to him. He wanted your lips, to feel you on every part of his body and for you to pull him close and hold him and tell him how much of a good boy he was for you. 

‘‘You look like you’re in a different place today’‘ you continued and he decided that he would tell you. His heart began racing and he got nervous, shifting his line of sight to the ceiling. You sighed in frustration, leaning a distance away from him, removing his hand from yours. 

There was no rule that you couldn’t like each other, you were adults and you could sort this out as it happened. But you hadn’t known why you did not speak about it all this time. You had purposely thrown him off these days, either by telling him that you were busy and you couldn’t meet up with him or that you just were not available. And like that, what was in sight was out of mind. 

But it hurt you. To see the look on his face was painful and you could remember crying about it once. But whatever your reason was, you wanted to settle this. 

Your friend could not understand why you wanted to turn Sanghyuk down. She was in disbelief over his physique and how sweet of a guy he was and the fact that the two of you got along very well. She was proud of you for finding someone whose intentions were good, inside and out. ‘’You need to say something Sanghyuk’’ you said, reaching out for his hand. 

‘‘I’m not sure how to-’‘ he started, waving his hands in the air. But he pulled you, planting his lips on yours. And you did this thing with swinging around on your decisions. You gave in, kissing him back. It was pretty, sure, because you had kissed many times. This time, there was a confession leaning over your head and Sanghyuk did not anticipate the fact that you would accept. 

You needed to think about it. ‘’Please stop thinking so hard. Tell me. I just want to tell you that I like you. You want to say, ‘’Although, I like you too, it’s complicated’’.’’. It was a gold-mine worth of information which shouldn’t have been worth its value. As you leaned back and told him, he listened and just when you had finished he groaned out a ‘’come here’’ and pulled you into his arms. 

In three moments, he told you some statements that began to mean so much more than some cheesy lines written on a paper. Perhaps, when those lines were written, the writer had empathised with the person and then understood the deeper meaning of those lines. You realised that you hadn’t read the text properly, skimping over it. But now, you gasped in awareness, his softness and gentleness bringing tears to your eyes. 

He wiped them away, pressing a kiss to each cheek. The two of you laid there in the peacefulness of being in each other’s arms, the threads of your relationships being folded by beautifully intricate knots. When the last hours of the week had arrived, Sanghyuk was so exhausted that he fell asleep in your arms. You had been watching tv as he sat there, persistently asking to eat you out. 

You had narrowed your eyes but you then as you looked at him, you remember caving in. The yes was fairly quick. He also moved quickly onto his knees, clearing telling you, ‘’Thank you’’ before he took off your bottoms, propping your knees on his shoulders. You had tugged his hair, making him go faster as your eyes absent-mindedly trailed to his messy nose and mouth. 

You had told him how much of a mess he was making and when you asked him if he liked it, he proceeded to giggle. He ate you out multiple times, ignoring the ache of sitting on his calf muscles and only focused on you. You cleaned yourself up, making a mental note to return the favour, in another way as you tucked him into the sofa, throwing your leg over him and falling asleep like a baby. 

'’Are you feeling okay?’’ you asked your boyfriend, whose sighing was aimless, less than distinct the fatality of the sound of giving up. He was constantly running his hands through his hair. However, to take the hair out of his face he was met with the bright sunlight that the open curtains let through, shining almost everywhere apart from you. 

You were barely covered by the warmth of the high-numbered tog cover. Each part of your body was warming up, leaving with something of an uncomfortable feeling. Seokwoo was rehearsing lines in his head, too many thoughts swarming, not permitting him to concentrate. He was unaware that you were watching him, almost losing him to a daydream. 

Attention on him when he discarded his slippers, you pulled the covers over him as he settled into your side. He grumbled nonsense words that made you chuckle, lovingly caressing his cheek, losing your grasp as he smiled. You smiled back, nestling into the warmth of his arms, throwing an arm over him and kissing each eye that blinked in wondersome, secretly glowing with love too.

He laid on his back so that you were on top of him and hence, earned a giggle from you. Looking at you, he softly spoke, not vague in his indication of what he was speaking about, ‘’You know how I’ve been working all these days?’’. It was unfair, that so many people in his profession had to deal with a distinct loss of sleep and fatigue.

You hummed, encouraging him with a nod, understanding that it was building up and today, he couldn’t seem to make it work with what he had in front of him. ‘’I can’t do it- No, I can but I’m too tired right now’’ he continued, heaviness not allowing him to continue. 

As he told you the details in a soft, whispery voice and light-heartedly neutral tone, you felt a deep sense of sadness overcome you. You wanted to help him so you told him many things. There was a story of your own work, wrapping the details with a snapping recovery from previously stimulated events. All the while, he listened carefully, not saying a word, occasionally asking a question or too. The latter especially made you smile as you carded your fingers through his hair, laying your head on his chest while speaking to him.

‘‘It won’t be the defining moment of your life, ever. It always feels like it in the moment but when you pass it, you won’t look behind. And when you do, it will be because you have already encountered something so difficult. ’‘ you spoke, peeking at him humming in agreement. ‘‘How much longer do you think you’ll need on it?’‘ you asked and he sighed, lost in contemplation over the calculation of the number of days he would need for this. 

You chuckled, grasping his fingers and softly nestling against his cheek, bringing him back to reality. ‘’Should we do something instead? Maybe you can take a break for a little while?’‘ you questioned, thoughts already forming in your head. He lit up at this idea, giving one last look to the work on his desk before you tugged him along to the kitchen. 

‘‘It’s good for you, you know. Like it’s good to get out and do stuff’‘ you said with a laugh, flailing your hands arounds to try and get him to understand that you wanted him to cook. You held back your laughter as he stood there with an apron on, utensil tilted at an angle, egg almost about to be whisked and an unamused expression adorning his handsome face. 

He had not thought that he would be the one to cook! The pearly whites of your teeth showed as he looked up, sighed, collecting himself while standing in front of the counter, holding in his laughter as he heard yours float the room. He shook his head stating, ‘‘You are so sneaky? When did you even put this on me?’‘ he laughingly questioned, motioning with an open mouth of feeling startled towards the apron that he had no idea how- landed on him. 

You whole-heartedly shrugged, smiling as you grabbed a handful of chocolate cereal, dipping them one by one in Nutella. ‘’Give me some’’ he salivated, opening his mouth as you filled it. He gladly received them, moaning in delight, instantly savouring the double-sweetness of the snack. 

His cheeks moving in cute, little circles as he crunched, flipping the sizzling pancake. Leaning back, he cleared his hair from his face and you admired his bare face. ‘’More’’ he said, bringing you out of your day-dream. You were watching the way he moved, licking his lips as you asked, ‘’Should we add some Nutella to the pancakes?’’.

He excitedly nodded, saying, ‘’And some bananas and that, what is it?’’, leaving you mid-state as you collected the ripe ones, peeling them open and slicing the softness. You began guessing, ‘’Caramel?’’ to which he replied, ‘’Similar!’’. You were suspicious, adding, ‘’Are you just going along with the first thing I say?’’.

‘‘No’‘ he stated, laughing, even more so when you said, ‘‘Yea, honestly, I can’t think of anything else. What do we have in the house?’‘. The pancake almost burned before you pointed to it and in a hurry he turned it over. The both of you sighed in relief because it could be eaten. It hadn’t been too far gone for it to meet the trash. 

‘‘The thing that people drizzle on their- oh! maple syrup!’‘ he exclaimed and it clicked in your head, saying, ‘‘That! Where is it?’‘. He threw his head back, holding back a playful groan, replying, ‘‘I don’t know. I have never tasted it’‘.

‘‘It’s been in our house for decades though’‘

‘’Don’t play. How did it taste?’’

‘‘I thought that it would really sweet you know?’‘

‘‘Uh-huh, like when they drizzle too much and the whole thing is just-’‘ he expressed distastefully with his mouth.

‘’Yea! But it wasn’t. It was kinda sweet and I ended up having some more’’

‘’What did you have it with’’

‘’Bananas and buttered bread’’ and he agreed, salivating in delight.

What a cutie, you thought, getting off your seat to pinch his cheeks and make cooing noises at him, then wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his side. When you looked up at him, he leaned to give you a kiss, beautifully wholesome and restrained, warm breaths exchanging as he comfortably moved against your lips, hands mid-air but lips softly pressing against yours. The pancakes sizzled, crisping around the edges as you softly moaned into the kiss, the thumping of your heart ever present in your ears. 

Almost as far as he could grasp the situation, he was also having trouble. The trouble to walk as he would occasionally stumble, he tried not to make a habit of it. He was sweating, mini droplets of blood splattered over the right side of his hair and face. 

He chuckled, muttering an incomprehensible set of words as he looked down at his right leg. It was bleeding, viciously. The blood was seeping from out of the wound and staining his trousers and he could feel it. He could feel its pain, jolting out his dream-like state when a car honked. 

He was surprised because it wasn’t that loud as compared to other cars. The sound was almost muffled and he smiled, clutching his leg as he continued walking. He shook his head, clearing his mind when he realised that he was supposed to be catching the suspect. 

Adrenaline flew through body, almost faltering but he wouldn’t give up. Sweat greatly stained his hair, dampening it to stick to his forehead. He stumbled, catching the corner of a wall to steady himself, and then he moved on. He walked and walked, not giving up and finally, the perpetrator was in sight. 

He weakly called out for you to stop. You had just taken a rough turn and although your muscles ached, you needed to keep going. The faint rustling of the detective’s steps and voices could be heard. You ran and ran, the distinct voices of cry ringing through your mind. 

You did not hear Zuho at first. He reached out for you in the darkness of the night, lightbulbs then collided with a huge trash can. The noise echoed and you jumped back, struggling to get yourself in the blind spots of the cameras that lined the alley. 

Breathing heavily, you glared at the figure that was crouched. You only figured that it was someone drunk or high, until the headlight lit up. You were taken back, your system freezing as you viewed the fatigued face of Zuho. Through the ups and downs of your career that had been impacted by the fall of various democratic powers, the two of you joined the resistance. 

In its early stages, when there were hardly many people, you slowly climbed the ranks, proving yourself to be an asset to the growing group. Zuho, on the other hand, remained close by, not desiring to engage in the ranks of the resistance. Instead, you kept your status as his mentor, teaching him how to hone his skills. 

He looked after the house that the two of you owned, taking on the role of domestic duties till you came home from work and made love to him. When the resistance wanted to utilise all their people to the best of their abilities, he gladly took on the role of househusband, even if they did not have a job opening for him.  

‘‘Shit’‘ you muttered, walking back to Zuho. The bells rang louder, the closer you approached Zuho. His lieutenant’s badge shone in gold and you crouched, desperately telling him, ‘‘I can’t take you back. They will find out about you’‘. He moaned in pain and when you pushed back his hair, you were overcome with the need to kiss him. 

You pulled yourself back, watching from the corner of your eyes about the detectives and in that moment, he collapsed. His weight gave way and with a thud, he hit the floor. You decided not to let him die on this floor. You adamantly shouted into your receiver, ‘’Help me!’’. You heard the footsteps rush behind you, pulling you off the floor and pushing you in the direction of the car. 

As you looked back, you saw them in a co-ordinated manner pick him up. Getting into your cars, you drove away, your colleague looking back at the soldiers who were scrambling to treat Zuho. ‘’This will fuck our plans’’ he muttered, holding back tears at Zuho’s state. You weakly chuckled, eyes dropping but you fought to stay awake saying, ‘’We will see from here on out’’. 

Handling businesses on the ground made you realise that your group had more power than you thought. The workers of the law were corrupt, not all of them though. Some of them fought against these dirty workers and while some slipped into the greediness of money, some held on, even if their hands were burned off. The pain that rotted the city was terrible and you were sure that you had not seen the worst of it.   

You were received by medics of a nearby camp and you woke up, shortly before the completion of two whole days. When you woke up, you reported to your boss first, then searched for Zuho. You walked the place by yourself, not wanting to answer any questions. Although, it was nice to know that people still cared for you even after your undercover disappearance for the last six months. 

You smiled, pausing when you saw Zuho laying on the bed, saline attached to his right hand vein and catheter hanging on the other side. You showed your badge to the cards and the barcode right above your right hand elbow. As soon as they verified both, you almost slowed down, tracing the board that held his information. 

You did your best to hold back your tears, repeatedly blinking, walking and turning around. Clearing your throat, you stood up and shook your shoulders in a motion that was similar to shaking the weight off. You sat back down, leaning on Zuho’s shoulder and grasping his hand, you softly squeezed. The last of your relief washed over you and you desperately wanted the feeling to come back. 

It felt good and after so long, you knew that your battles had only just begun. You had made a mistake by bringing him here. But it was either that or he would have died by the time they had gotten him to a hospital past the civilian areas. Zuho woke up, seeing your form peaceful. He was overwhelmed, mouth dry and a groan escaped his lips causing your head to snap up. 

You handed him a glass of water, his thirst as a result of the injection he had been given. You smiled, reaching over to place a kiss on his cheek. ‘’Should I just stay with you?’’ he groggily asked, gently squeezing your hand when you smiled, placing another gentle kiss to his cheek. ‘’You should stay’’ you commented, having already chosen a plan with your commander. 

It included Zuho and all you needed was his approval on his part. You pressed the button on the control and you kicked your shoes off, joining him. ‘’I was worried about you all the time, you know.’’ you spoke, breaking the peaceful silence. He had been stationed not far from you but you could never see him. Such meetings were prohibited. At the end of every three weeks, you did meet and bask in each other’s warmth in your provided house. 

But once every twenty-one days was not enough. He always wanted to be with you but there was the risk of your jobs clashing and interfering with your work plans. ‘’I was worried about you too. It was hard not to’’ he replied, nudging your cheek with his nose. He wanted to reunite with you right now, squeezing your arm as he slid down to your waist. 

You connected your lips, running through his soft hair, grasping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Your bodies touched, the warmness exchanging in your own space. You put a hand on his chest, smiling as you leaned back, whispering in his ear, ‘’ We can’t, you have a catheter on’’. 

Only for this context was it a moment of finality and his ears almost burned when he groaned, kissing you and leaning back, throwing his head back on the pillow. Your laughs mingled and you patted his better leg, getting off the bed. ‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, eyes curiously wide and hand reaching for your presence. 

You hummed, a bounce in your step as you said, ‘’I’ll go get some food for us’’. He nodded, pausing when you spoke up once again, ‘’I was just thinking of how to pleasure you. Think about it while I’m gone.’’, patting the wall as you left. Upon hearing you, he groaned,  letting out a small cry. The catheter was the least of his problems because it was the wound that would take most time to heal. 

He smiled at your words, looking at the direction in which you left, thinking, what a person. However, he was filled with an even bigger sense of determination. He would live and see this problem to its end. And then he would buy a house with you and have kids. He could see himself eating the food he cooked and watching tv with them all day, smiling into his dream. Your relationship was never founded from this war anyways. 

It was never torn apart because of it and you always stood by each other’s side. He decided that he would fight beside you, taking your guidance and training himself for the final war to come. He imagined a gun in his hand, pulling the trigger over the perpetrators of violence against the civilians he had spent months building trust with. 

Taeyang came home bone-tired. His shoulders ached, joints unnecessarily struggling. There was a familiar tiredness in his body, radiating throughout. It seeped into whole wavelengths and he was sure that you noticed it. And it was hard not to as he mumbled something incoherent, resting his head on your shoulder, sighing as he inhaled the smell of home. 

Secure was the feeling that surrounded him, the one he realised was the most important after being in this industry for so long. So normal were some things that many didn’t even notice how invading it was. He found that it came from his members, his family and you. To get home after a long day and not be all alone in the house. It was the knowing that saved him from rolling his eyes and falling asleep on the floor. 

You awed, snuggling into him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing him whisper, ‘’I’m too tired, we should go to sleep’’. His stomach garbled, empty from hours of burning and burning, tirelessly or passionately, easy to understand that he had some sort of fire raging within him. All that fire was laying low now, needing fuel to rage. You chuckled, grasping his hand as you asked, ‘’How was your day?’’, leading him to the kitchen. 

He nodded, giving you a thumbs up and slumping on the table. You turned around in surprise as he whined a little, telling you belatedly, ‘’There are too many things to do. I have to shower, wash up, eat and then sleep. It’s like there is a never-ending list of things to do.’’. You cracked up at his statement, drawing some chuckles from him too.

‘‘I’m just saying, you know.’‘ he said as you placed noodles in front of him. The smell was enough to wake him up as he perked up, drooping eyes being set aside. ‘’I ate, you go ahead.’’ you said, motioning to his food. 

‘’What time did you get home?’’ he asked in between bites.

‘‘Afternoon’‘

‘‘Was it tiring? How was it?’‘, he questioned, slurping the noodles.

You hummed, nodding, ‘’Tiring and we did the best that we could. Anyways, I don’t have to leave until tomorrow afternoon. So, at the office-’’.

Twirling the noodles around, he listened to your story, commenting, ‘’You did it because you thought it was best. The important thing is that now they know. They don’t have questions and stuff.’’ 

You agreed, ‘’They don’t have questions and they aren’t confused’’, continuing, ‘’The competition is tough, you must be stressed no?’’

‘‘You know what I’m worried about. Although it is the same old, even if we manage to get something out of this, I will be proud’‘.

You wowed, replying, ‘’You should always be proud of your team. It’s not easy wanting something. When your own standards haven’t been met for a long period of time, you don’t realise that you’ve been trying to achieve even the littlest of things.’’

He was silent at your statement, inquisitive to your words, gears turning in his head. ‘’Between the both of us, it will be stronger if it comes from you. Aim higher, this is the real-world so be careful of what you want.’’

‘‘Fair enough, not everyone gets what they want’‘ he hummed, washing his bowl. 

Shifting to the bed, he joined you after his shower, bouncing on the mattress with a sigh of content. Like a child receiving their favourite toy, he smiled upon meeting the comforter, its warmth hugging him. You held him to your chest and he snuggled right in, lulling to the way you carded your fingers through his hair.

The night was pleasant, enough for him to kick the covers off, speaking to you with closed eyes, ‘’This competition will keep me awake forever’’. He chuckled, continuing, ‘’I’m buzzing right now’’. 

You lolled, ‘’Buzzing? You did the most activity around today and you are still awake? That’s remarkable’’. The comment drew Taeyang to open his eyes who gently poked your side, chuckling as he commented himself, ‘’Are you asleep?’’. You hummed, throwing your leg over him and asking, ‘’What do you want?’’. 

He lay awake, pondering over your question and you literally peeled open your eyes to tell him, ‘’Sleep Tae, nothing bad will happen. You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.’’. He turned around at your statement, bringing you closer to him. You were safely tucked away in your fiancé’s arms and the two of you slept until late dawn, only stumbling in the kitchen for some lunch.               

He groaned, over and over again. Ever since he had laid down to sleep, he felt nauseous, its grip vice in his stomach and throat. He tossed back and forth, side to side, changing positions to comfort himself. He was alarmed at the sensitivity of his body, aware that something was wrong, but was unable to discern till the last moment that he would vomit. 

He released the gruesome contents into the bucket he had prepared mid-struggle. He was scared. He did not want to experience the same thing again. The pain in his throat was like stinging, but from the inside. It was like something had clawed through, letting the marks fester. He kept wondering why this was, it had never happened to him before.

He grasped his head, the pain causing him to fall back onto the bed and close his eyes. Till the pain had passed, he did not move an inch, holding still. The pain faded away and after laying down some more, he picked up his heavy bones and made his way to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

He called out to you in the darkness, cautiously entering to find you. For the type of person you were, he knew that you’d take action immediately, questions later but he didn’t think that mattered. It was more about the fact that he loved you and felt comfortable in your arms. 

He knew that it would be a heavy confession for you, if he ever got around to telling you about it. His feelings about you were big and complex, especially when he was unaware of how you felt about him. You were dead asleep, softly snoring but when a specific word like ‘’Noona?’’ floated in your head, your eyebrows furrowed and you wondered if you were really dreaming. 

Waking up with a jolt, you groggily asked him, ‘’Are you okay?’’, reaching out for him in the darkness. He shook his head and you pulled him to sit on the bed, him telling you in reply, ‘’I puked’’.

You awed, pulling him in for a hug. He looked so adorable as he said it, a small pout adorning his face, cheeks probably pink and cutely looking at you. He looked small in this moment and you couldn’t help but bring him into your arms, comfortingly running your hands through his hair while whispering soothing words of praise. 

You also could not help pouting yourself, deep sadness spreading within you as you thought of him in pain, thinking, poor baby. ‘’I should-’’, ‘’Huh?’’ overlapped as he quickly got up, starting to regret his decision to come here. You grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bed. ‘’You can sleep here’’ you motioned, separating your pillows to give him one.  

You got into the covers, leaving half the bed for him. He opened his mouth in question and you rested on your elbow, telling him, ‘’If you aren’t comfortable enough, you can go back. Trust me, I won’t mind. It’s all the same to me’’. You cleared your throat, laying back down, regretting your last set of words. He got into the bed, thinking at the same time, Alright, it’s all the same. 

After resting for a couple of seconds, you turned around, saying, ‘’I lied, it’s not the same to me’’. He hummed, snapping his head to you, taken aback by your taking back. Exposing his beautiful gummy smile in the near darkness, he replied, ‘’Just to be clear, I feel the same way about you’’. It was shorter than he had anticipated because you had given a response he had not thought would happen.

‘‘What’s on your mind?’‘ you asked and through some small words, it became a better conversation. He elaborated himself and under the softness of the light, you curled up into each other. You snuggled in each other’s warmth, some peacefulness filling this hectic lives of yours. You pressed a kiss to his temple as he slept like a baby, keeping a close eye on his condition throughout the night. 

Chani was asleep, amongst the fluffy covers that enveloped his frame from head to toe. Snuggled with an air of warmth around him, insulating him from the slight cold of the autumn breeze, he softly snored in the midst. The clock of his sleep was ticking for almost ten hours now and so peacefully did he look as he slept that you let him be. 

After running from pillar to post and staying up for filming, he was undeniably exhausted. His eyes would not open, heavy in their mood and feeling almost like tape held them together. Prying them open, he groaned, catching your attention. The refusal of his eyes were utmost and so he shut them and laid back down, comforting himself on the pillows. You moved from your desk to the bed and you laid a hand on his chest, softly calling out, ‘’Baby?’’. 

Hearing no response, you leant over him, giving him a kiss and gently shaking him. You repeatedly whispered your nickname for him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck and snuggling into the warm space. You chuckled as he hazily groaned, words indistinct to your ears, laying a hand on your waist. 

You had just finished completing your report, thinking nonsense vacation dreams to yourself of the things you could do if you had time off for the next few days. ‘‘I’m up’‘ he noted, pulling his eyelids open regardless of how much they hurt. When he found clarity, he switched your positions so that he was facing you. ‘’Go back to sleep but I just wanted to know if you were okay.’’ you stated, placing another soft kiss to his jawline. 

His cheeks were puffed from having just woken up and he looked adorable. If you had told him that he would have asked, ‘’Why?’’ and tossed his head back and forth in playful frustration. Even then you would have found him cute. You tucked a stray hair back into the softness, admiring his sleepy form, eyes barely staying open as he lingered over you. 

‘’I won’t go back to sleep’’ he murmured, making you chuckle, knowing that sooner or later he would lay on his back again and doze into another world. He shook himself awake as you replied, ‘’It looks like you need sleep though’’ causing him to roll his eyes. He hummed, throwing a leg over you and nestling into your neck, probably still in the state where he felt as if he was dreaming. 

You kissed his neck, peppering a trail of light kisses in the same area, combing through his hair. He could feel the touch of your lips leave a trace of warmth on every spot, gently urging him to wake up. After a couple of minutes, Chani inquisitively asked, ‘’How long was I asleep for?’’ startled at the answer you gave him. He poked his head out from the crook of your neck, staring at you with open eyes as he registered the double-digit number.

‘‘I had work to do...’‘ he said, trailing off. After two seconds of debating, he plopped back into your warmth, deciding that he could do it later. Lightly pushing his shoulder emitted a groan from him, one that resembled ache. Plopping on his back, your giggle turned into concern as you asked him, ‘‘Are you feeling okay?’‘. 

‘‘My back hurts, and legs too.’‘ he nodded, playing with strands of your hair. You hummed, asking, ‘‘Do you want me to give me you an oil massage?’’. He perked up at the idea, graciously kissing you and telling you that he would return the favour.

As he sat on the bed, you admired his toned back. Squirting a bit of oil onto your palm, you rubbed your palms together and at the first touch, he relaxed. You brought both your thumbs together, rubbing in circles and squeezing the ache from his muscles. 

He moaned in delight, hands on knees as he lost himself in the pleasure. It was like the pain was evaporating from his overworked muscles. You chuckled at his noises, his soft whines escaping when you touched a particular part in the middle of his back. When you were done, you grasped his face and kissed him passionately. 

His hands wandered around your waist, tugging at the hem of your top. You giggled in delight, breaking away from the kiss, meeting his eyes. He grabbed your legs that had been straddling his waist and leaning back from planting another kiss onto your neck, he asked you, ‘’Should I do you?’’. 

You squealed as he tossed you on the bed, motioning to your top and as you took it off, he began his lustful descent, starting by him dragging the whole thing out, leaving you in beautiful shambles. 

[dilfzas]

Going off my last post, I really wish the DSMP fandom would look more into different kinds of relationships besides just plain old romance. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for pining and fluff, but god I want so much more. So here’s some dynamics that aren’t romantic but aren’t fully platonic either. Not even in the middle, just sort of. Label-less. Now I will clarify once again for those who lack common sense, this isn’t shipping in any way shape or form. Multiple CCs mentioned have said they’re uncomfortable with it, and that may translate to their characters, although I’m not quite sure. This is all characters, not creators. Shit’s wack, yo.

Phil and Techno

I said on my last post that I MUCH prefer their characters’ relationship to be looked at as queerplatonic. It makes so much sense to me.

Two demigods growing old together, not friends, not husbands. They are each other’s person, two halves of a whole.

Wilbur and Tommy never really knew what Techno was to them growing up. He wasn’t a brother figure, or a father, or an uncle or a friend. He was all and none at the same time. That’s the SBI dynamic I prefer.

It also ties back into the aroace headcanon I have for c!Techno.

Wilbur and Schlatt

It’s like enemies to lovers except enemies to enemies with platonic benefits.

It’s literally just No Children by The Mountain Goats that’s it that’s their whole relationship.

God, it’s rocky. It came from being forced to survive together, thinking they were the last ones left in the world when the skies rained floods and lava rose. They settled on working together, but fuck they hated each other.

Don’t picture c!Schlatt and c!Wilbur in their underwater house, with Schlatt finally breaking under the pressure, thinking that they’re gonna die miserable. Wilbur leans foward to put his hand on Schlatt’s shoulder, but Schlatt hugs him. It was the only time Wilbur saw Schlatt cry.

Years later, they parted ways. Schlatt shows up again, and they initially rekindle the subtle hatred. But then Schlatt takes everything Wilbur ever loved, ever fought for. And Wilbur realizes he feels betrayed, and he struggles so much with the fact that he may have cared for Schlatt more than he really knew.

Ranboo and Tubbo

God yes!!!! Canon queerplatonicism!!! Can you tell how much of a sucker I am for qp?

It makes me so happy to see it portrayed in such a positive light, too. Like they’re married but not romantically!! They just feel that strongly towards each other!! Marriage don’t gotta be romantic and they prove that!!

They have a son I’m crying.

Dream, George and Sapnap (also Karl and Quackity)

They’re homies but also a little bit in love! They act like friends but have the benefits of cuddles and kisses in a way that isn’t completely platonic nor romantic.

Quackity and Karl wholeheartedly support Sapnap’s homie kissing endeavours, even sometimes getting in on the cuddle puddle.

Fuck it, all five of them are more or less ambiguous towards each other. They’re best friends but also they all flirt but some of them are engaged to each other but they still all try to sleep in the same bed for some reason.

Dream big spoon for his boys 🥰.

That’s all for now but if I find more that strike my fancy, I will add on in the rbs!

Reblog with your favourite unlabel-able pairs!

[kawaiijohn]

another prompt - Quizz's first run in with Danny maybe?

Alrighty you want me to infodump about my OC through phic? Bc this is how u get me to infodump about my OC through phic.

CW for a lil bit of language lmao.

Quizz uses he/they pronouns!!

"Now where are you?" Danny floats through the decrepit news station turned labyrinth, squinting through the magical darkness currently clouding his vision. He could have sworn he passed the same sound booth twice already, but it's hard to tell when a freaky ghost news anchor keeps switching up the floor plan like it's a game.

And what right did this guy even have?!?

It started off with the local celebrities. This guy's rumor mill segment on the news skyrocketing their ratings all the while making some damning accusations (if true) mixed in with petty level generic bullshit to lessen the blow (and the accountability). And at first Danny thought it was fucking hilarious! The guy's segments on Vlad were always in good humor, but then he had a whole 'conspiracy segment' played off as a joke about how he somehow fudged the election results, which Danny, and only Danny (and Sam and Tuck) knew was true.

It was like the guy was just itching for the information to come to him in the form of confessions from the pressure he was putting on some of these celebrities.

Danny had honestly overlooked almost everything that wasn't about 'Vlad Master's lonely cat owner routine', and for a while he'd only really cared to hear whispers of the rumors during passing time in Casper High's halls.

But then it moved to less celebrity level.

It seemed to Danny that nearly everyone was on edge if they had a secret, but thankfully, anyone his age was completely off the hook. On one hand, it was a relief to not have to worry about his secret being spilled somehow- he knows he was God awful with going ghost in the middle of busy streets at the beginning. But on the other hand, it meant half the school was tuning in every day to see which new gossip would be dropped.

Danny had fallen in with it!

Who didn't want to hear speculation about the mayor's deep dark secrets and possible embezzlement? It was comedy gold to him, hilarious to the boy!

Until the new host started talking about the ghosts.

Until the new host knew things that a normal human shouldn't.

Until the host 'speculated' about Phantom's obsession and gotten it right.

They always phrased everything ambiguously- in a way that lets the viewer draw their own conclusions and absolves the host of any libel or slander charges.

It was good TV, even if it was a edging bit too close to creepy territory.

But he hadn't expected the ghosts featured on the host's show to rage about their secrets being broadcast, always taking it out on Danny as the only outlet for shit as innocuous as one of Johnny and Kitty's breakups or Skulker's relationship troubles. (How the host even KNEW about this was a mystery)

And Danny sighs in annoyance. If anything about the background check Tucker had run, this guy was 100% a ghost fucking with his town, and that meant he had to punch the asshole back into the Zone.

And if that was the case, couldn't this guy wait until after he was done with his homework before inciting Danny's rogues gallery to rage in the streets? He has way better things to do than babysit the Box Ghost after his fuck ups are broadcast for all of Amity to see.

As he wanders the abandoned TV station (how had they not noticed an abandoned TV station on the outskirts of town?!) he could only hope that this ghost wouldn't be like Spectra.

After a few more minutes of aimlessly levitating about, he spots the end of the hallway! The only way out though, is a door labeled garishly with 'The Quizz Show', complete with a tiny 'on-air' light blinking above it.

It could be a trap, but at the moment Danny was running out of ideas for how to send this jerk back through the portal.

As he reaches for the handle that isn't there, he sees a poster of the host next to the door and grimaces. It's a poster done in the style of a promo for the type of daytime talkshows his dad watches, complete with the host ginning (too widely) ear-to-ear. How nobody noticed this guy's ghostliness makes Danny worry about the survival instincts of Amity as a whole.

"Who does he think he is, Dr. Phil??" Danny says to nobody.

"Please! That old coot wishes he were as hot as me! My left heel has more charm than he's has in his entire shitty body!" the ghost's voice echoes through the hall, the door finally slamming open with a thud.

"You know, it's not really all that hard to be more charming than a guy who's only recognizable trait anymore is funny reaction images." Danny responds, hesitant to walk through the door.

"Hilarious!" the voice chuckles. "C'mon Phantom, you can't be late for your interview, now can you? You're my top story, my special guest. C'mon think of the ratings, kid!!"

Danny flies through, fists clenched in determination. He's gotta to put a stop to this ghost's chaos before curfew. "Please, everyone knows these fists are rated E for everyone."

"Snappy comebacks? Oh the audience will adore you- 'specially the teen demographic." the voice comments. "Think of your fans, kid!"

Danny opens the door to blinding lights and a hissing, almost TV-static like cheer from an audience that probably isn't there, not if the abandoned station was any indication. The ghostly news... well talk show host sits in a comfortable looking chair, hair pushed back and eyes gleaming dangerously as he holds a notebook in his lap and a cane in one hand.

"Now everyone, welcome to the set, the illustrious savior of ghost and human kind alike, Danny Phantom!" the host shouts and the crowd goes wild. Danny sheepishly walks onto the stage and floats a bit of a distance from this ghost, trying to look confident, but the cameras pointing at him (which he hopes aren't actually real or rolling) are making it difficult.

"Welcome, welcome- I'm the host of this show, Quizz, and I'm honestly surprised you've decided to grace me with your presence, kid. What finally brings ya here?"

"Yeah, yeah don't suck up to me, you know why I'm here as well as I do," he crosses his arms and refuses to take the seat offered to him.

"Please, kid, enlighten me. I assume you're here to give me the interview of the century, but if there's another reason you've spent two hours trying to find me in my haunt, please go ahead 'n elaborate." the host grins devilishly, but Danny has seen more evil looks from the Box Ghost.

"Oh drop the act! You and I both know you're manipulating Amity Park and trash talking everyone and anyone you can get information on. Even worse, you're making the other ghosts rampage through the streets just to get ratings! How can you not know why I'm here when there's been an extra dozen ghost attacks since you started hacking into the local news broadcasts!!"

"Hey, it's not hackin' if I can do it with the press of a button!" Quizz retaliates and rolls their eyes. "And nothin' I'm doin' is illegal. The morning news is loving the extra ratings!! I'm doin' them a favor and satiatin' my curiosity all at once," they shrug and grin smugly. "'Sides it ain't my fault if the ghosts are gettin' their undies in a twist 'cuz I'm sharing what's pretty much common knowledge that any smart person can gain just by observin' em."

"Dude, do you have like... any friends? No seriously how do any of the other ghosts tolerate you if you're like this??" Danny questions in disbelief.

Quizz just shrugs in response. "Hey if one of 'em is cheatin' on their partner the other deserves to know. And Boxy's good for ratings."

"Yeah I doubt any of the other ghosts even tolerate you, holy shit."

"Kid, you ain't the person doin' the interview, I am." they start, sitting forward in their chair. Their red eyes nearly swirl with excitement. "Now for my first question; is it true that you're a new ghost? One that's less than a year dead?"

Danny shudders at the directness of the question. "Uh, no comment?"

"Alright then, this one is less of, 'who is Phantom' and more of 'rumors about Phantom's accomplishments. So how was it that you and another human were able to defeat the infamously horrible Spectra, not once but twice while she was actively feeding on the emotions of those in this town?" their eyes stare directly into his soul and Danny freezes before his brow furrows and he nearly snarls.

"Dude what part of 'no comment' and 'I am here to kick your butt' do you not understand??" an ecto blast charges in his hand and Quizz scoffs.

"Damn, was hopin' somethin' outta left field like that woulda gotten an answer, even in rage. You're good, too good." The host ghost stands from their chair, book vanishing into nothing as they brandish their cane. It twirls in their hand elegantly and Danny notices the never-there crowd's static hissing. "You sure you wanna go this route? If you answer some questions I'm willin' to up and bounce, pinky promise."

Danny thinks for a moment, but sees the gleam of hunger in their eyes when they mention questions. Did this guy have some sort of information Obsession??

"No way! It's already nine pm and my curfew is in half an hour. Fighting is the easiest way to do this, especially since you'd blab my secrets to the whole town, even if you didn't record me." he takes a fighting stance and Quizz sighs deeply.

"Damn, and here I thought I was givin' a good compromise. So be it then, I'm not one for fightin' but I did go n' fuck with your sleep schedule, so it's only fair for you to come beat my ass back to the portal seein' as I'm not gonna leave without a scoop." Their staff slides into place and they grin sharply as they press the button on the top of it with an audible buzz.

The station shakes as the walls change and the studio set is shrouded in a weird blue-black haze, the shadows moving in a way that makes Danny's head hurt and the only source of light are the host ghost's gleaming hellfire coal red eyes.

"Well this isn't gonna be easy, but I gotta make it quick!" He launches himself towards Quizz only for the other ghost to vanish and reappear in a shadow behind him.

"You can say that again, kid." they reply as they smack him into a wall with their cane. "Don't forget I've got a home field advantage here."

"Dammit." Danny hisses.

This was definitely gonna make him late for curfew,

[slasherholic]

Essay: On Michael Myers and Muteness

A little foreword: This essay is in response to a sentiment I’ve noticed circling in the slasher community for some time. While nobody, to my knowledge, has been outright accused or attacked about this, I do find it concerning how eager some are to spew hate when confronted with people who don’t share their specific ideas of how a fictional character should be viewed—especially when those ideas have very little ground to stand on.

This essay will cover common sources of psychological mutism, and examine how they apply (or don’t apply!) to Michael’s character, to determine the most likely cause for his mutism.

Disclaimer: I have no formal education in the field of psychology. All information presented is taken from case studies and the dsm-5.

Let’s begin with some definitions to clear up a few misconceptions.

Selective Mutism.

Selective mutism is defined as the consistent failure to speak in specific social situations in which there is an expectation for speech, despite speaking in other situations. (DSM-5, pg. 195) 

Selective mutism can be diagnosed only when a child has an established capacity to speak in some social situations (e.g., typically at home). Selective mutism is not the consequence of trauma, neglect or abuse—it is strictly an anxiety disorder.

Progressive Mutism.

Selective mutism may develop into progressive mutism. (Note—progressive mutism does not appear to be mentioned in the DSM-5, but it did show up multiple times while I was researching selective mutism. Take the following with a grain of salt.) Progressive mutism is when a child becomes mute in all settings, with all people, even at home. It occurs due to heightened stress within their environment, or by way of negative reinforcement—for example, if an adult tries to help the child out by “speaking for them” during an episode of mutism.

Traumatic mutism.

Traumatic mutism is sudden mutism following a traumatic event (e.g., the death of a loved one).

Note: There are a great many other causes of mutism resulting from psychological factors, ranging from autistic spectrum disorder, to dissociative disorders, to schizophrenia—but considering how we don’t know enough about Michael’s backstory to say whether he is affected by any of that, I’ll be staying away from explanations requiring heavy speculation.

Alright! We have our definitions. Now, let’s see if any of these would apply to Michael’s case.

(Of course, the only interpretation of the character where his muteness even needs an explanation is the “Michael has a mental illness” take—which, again, is just one possible way of many to view him. The mindset that Michael must be unwillingly mute excludes the most canon-compliant take on the character—that he is just evil. Obviously, a Michael who is “just evil” chooses not to communicate with others because he doesn’t fucking care.)

Option one:

Michael is selectively mute. He suffers from an anxiety disorder. He is physically unable to speak under certain circumstances, but, by definition, he is able to speak under other, more comfortable circumstances.

Why it isn’t likely: There is no evidence in canon to suggest that Michael suffers from an anxiety disorder. Zero. You simply won’t find it. If you want to label Michael as ‘selectively mute”, by all means, do so—everybody has the right to their headcanons! But please, understand what you are saying by using that label; that Michael does not suffer from total mutism. There are situations where he can speak, and there are situations where he cannot.

Option two:

Michael is selectively mute, and his muteness has advanced into progressive mutism. 

Why it isn’t likely: Again, for this type of mutism to occur, Michael must have first had selective mutism. We are not told enough of Michael’s background to speculate about whether he suffers from any sort of anxiety disorder, and I doubt we ever will be. While this explanation for Michael’s mutism is technically possible, to treat it as immutable fact would be nothing short of dishonest.

Option three:

Michael is totally mute as a result of trauma. Whether from the shock of murdering his sister, or being suddenly separated from his family, some traumatic event triggered an episode of mutism that Michael never recovered from. He is now permanently mute.

Why it isn’t likely: Let’s get one thing straight—this view of mutism is a Hollywood bastardization.

The trope in which a character is rendered permanently mute due to trauma/psychological factors may be popular in movies and television, but in real medical cases, this idea holds little merit.

“While cases of mutism have occurred as a result of a child being abused or emotionally or physically traumatized, it seems to be very rare. I have not yet seen such a case, where a child spoke normally until a traumatic incident and then stopped speaking.” (https://www.selectivemutismfoundation.org/knowledge-center/common-myths)

“While it is possible for a child to become mute after a traumatic experience, usually the child avoids talking about aspects of the trauma itself, rather than becoming completely silent.” (https://childmind.org/guide/teachers-guide-to-selective-mutism/what-is-not-sm/)

Of course, this is not to say that trauma-based mutism does not exist. It is a documented occurrence, and it inarguably does.

However; to insist that Michael must have been rendered completely, irreversibly mute due to childhood trauma, and that his mutism persisted for the next 55 years, (2018 Michael is 61,) is not a medically feasible claim. This trope works fine in a fictional setting, but please, acknowledge that this attitude is more rooted in fiction than fact. I scoured case-studies on psychological mutism for hours, and was unable to find a single occurrence of something comparable happening. It is statistically more likely that a person who is mute for this long is making a conscious effort not to communicate. Which brings us to the final explanation:

Option four:

Michael can speak, but willfully chooses not to.

It should not come as a surprise that this is the only explanation for Michael’s mutism that can be sourced by canon material. Dr. Sartain, whose entire job it was to observe Michael’s behaviors, concluded that his patient was indeed capable of speech, and that his mutism was self-imposed. In all brutal honesty, the mental gymnastics required to get around this statement is pretty damn ridiculous; and to knock others for not performing the same mental gymnastics is even more ridiculous. 

This explanation is further evidenced by the 1978 novelization of Halloween. (Which, I don’t personally view as canon, but I know of some who do, so it is worth mentioning.) In the novel, Michael continues to speak normally up to a year after his institutionalization. There is no mention of a traumatic event at the sanitarium that might have triggered his muteness; the closest we get is the near-death of a girl at a Halloween party, but it is very heavily implied that Michael was responsible for that incident—and all because the girl beat him at musical chairs.

Simply due to the evidence we have, this option is the most likely explanation for Michael’s mutism. (For those interested, I go more in-depth about this interpretation of his mutism in this essay.)

But! All of this speculation is ignoring the fact that Michael Myers is a fictional character. His behaviors cannot be studied in a medical setting, by a medical professional—meaning that he cannot be diagnosed with psychological mutism in the first place. If you are one of the individuals trying to claim that Michael is undeniably afflicted with any of these forms of mutism, or any other mental illness, etc. You are wrong. That is not how psychiatric diagnosis works. The absolute best we can do is speculate.

So here it is, plain and simple:

If you hold the belief that Michael Myers must be fully, 100% incapable of speech due to psychological factors, and insist that your viewpoint is the only valid one, not only are you ignoring the ambiguity of this 40-year-old franchise, not only are you ignoring the massive potential for individual interpretation, but you are also fundamentally wrong. You are perpetuating false, or highly simplified information about psychological mutism, and you are trying to apply that false information in an ambiguous fictional setting. Please get off your high horse.

The takeaway: Michael’s mutism has many possible explanations.

Due to the fact that his background is not extensive enough to supply us with a set-in-stone answer, it is irresponsible to insist that any explanation is “the right one”.

So headcanon Michael as mute. Headcanon him as fully capable of speech. Headcanon him anywhere in between. I can’t believe this needs to be said, but you have the right to enjoy this ambiguous piece of fiction however you want—and nobody can tell you that you are wrong for doing so.

Thanks for reading.

[mariaiscrafting]

What if I’m Latino and want to draw sapnap as Latino as well? Is neurodivegent headcanons for the dream team okay but this isn’t?

I’ll admit, the lines are blurred with Dream SMP characters because they are both characters and representative of real people. If you want, I can talk about the various levels of Problematic™ that are involved in this question, and since I’m bored and procrastinating, let’s get into it:

First off, there is, actually a history of Tumblr fanartists in particular drawing traditionally white characters as POC and getting backlash for it, so honestly, I’m not totally agains the practice. Frankly, drawing classic characters as POC when they haven’t really been confirmed as any race - just assumed to be the default of white - isn’t a bad thing. One such example is Hermione, who many fanartists have depicted as black, with curly hair or an afro. Because Hermione’s character and story are not intrinsically tied to any particular cultural or explicit details that would make it logically flawed to hc her as non-white, there’s really nothing wrong with this.

This is different from the opposite because it is a way for non-white audiencemembers to drive home the point that non-white Americans/Europeans are, in many ways, just like their white counterparts. That is to say, whether Hermione is black or white doesn’t change who she is; she can be a white English lady or a black English lady, but being black doesn’t necessarily mean she would act any differently or be a totally different person. It is a means to combat the assumption that any American/European character whose culture isn’t explictly brought up by the creator of a work is white.

This isn’t the same as the opposite - portraying POC characters as white - because the latter is a form of whitewashing. When you portray assumed-white characters as POC, you are not erasing anything from that character, while portraying POC characters as white erases their culture, the visibility of that ethnic group/race, and any details the creator of the content might have included in their story about that character. That’s why films are criticized for casting white actors to play POC characters, and artists are criticized for lightening character’s skin tones or erasing physical features of theirs that can be attributed to their ethnic/racial identity.

Now the question with portraying Sapnap as Latino is, is this wrong, exactly? I’d like to preface by saying that everything I’ve said about portraying Sapnap as Latino has been purely my opinion. At the end of the day, I’m not an expert on racial theory or art; I’m just a poli sci major who’s taken a couple courses on racism and has talked and learned a bit about POC in media. You can come to whatever conclusions you like, at the end of the day, and portray him however you like, love.

As I see it, there are several reasons portraying Sapnap as Latino is Problematic™. First off, Sapnap and other white members of the Dream SMP already have problems with recognizing POC and the implications of POC within the SMP. Sapnap has actually answered a donation before by saying that he’s not 100% white because he’s part-Greek, completely unironically and without recognizing why him saying that was wrong. Imo, this indicates a lack of understanding for what it really means to be a POC in Western countries that so many white people exhibit. Being a person of color in Western Europe, the US, Canada, Australia, etc., means functioning within a society where you have to battle with yourself everyday your own, multiple, and seemingly contradictory identities. It means functioning within a society where you have to navigate the crossroads of oppression within you must survive. White people who falsely claim that they aren’t white like this simply don’t understand or are even aware of exactly what it means to be shaped by the oppression of being a person of color. They believe that being a person of color, beyond occassionally experiencing explicit racism, is just a label and a tie to one’s ancestry, when it’s much more beyond that. And the thing is, Sapnap can’t claim that label because he simply hasn’t gone through the lived experience of a POC in the United States. And that’s fine. It’s fine to be white, and to just be a little ignorant to your whiteness. I’m not attacking Sapnap by pointing this all out, I’m just stating facts.

Secondly, this would mean that a 100% white person is essentially playing the role of a Latino character, which is already a far-too common practice in film and TV showmaking. Then again, I will admit that a counter-argument can be made here, in that, headcanons are not actually canon to the Dream SMP plot. For example, Ranboo has told his audience he’s fine with viewers headcanon’ing his character as nonbinary, even though Ranboo himself is cisgender. This is an ambiguous aspect of his character that can be manipulated however the viewers like since there has been nothing within the canon to refute it, so far. However, it would be a different matter entirely if Ranboo, a cisgender man, attempted to write his character as a nonbinary person and then act out that nonbinary character himself. That would actually be unjust and kinda fucked. Now, along a similar vein, one could argue that audiencemembers headcanon’ing Sapnap as Latino isn’t really a bad thing since it isn’t Sapnap himself trying to portray what he believes a Latino character would be like. So I get the potential counter-argument there.

Thirdly, my main problem with this whole drawing Sapnap as Latino ordeal is the hypocrisy of it all. Far too often within this fandom, I see fanartists and writers erase Quackity’s ethnic identity, whitewashing him in their art or completely disregarding his race in their work. And while one could argue that the lack of focus in this fandom on Skeppy can be explained by his infrequent streams and departure from the SMP lore, Ponk is rarely drawn or written about, and he streams regularly and always has something going on with his character, in side plots or otherwise. I just find it lowkey absurd that this fandom thirsts for a Latino character so bad that it has to portray Sapnap, who is played by a white actor, as Latino, when there are other POC whose identities are either disregarded or the characters as a whole ignored.

Fourth, my main question, at the end of the day, is, why are we not advocating for more POC in the SMP? Why headcanon characters as POC, when they could literally just make an effort to uplift more POC CCs, who are highly marginalized within the streamer and Youtube communities? I’m Latinx too, mate, and I’d fucking love more POC characters to fall in love with, but Sapnap isn’t the one to fill that hole.

Regarding other sorts of headcanons and how those relate to headcanon’ing characters as different races: my thoughts on this are way too complicated, at the moment. But to sum it up as concisely as possible: a) I am not neurodivergent, as far as I know, so I cannot do the subject nearly as much justice as a neurodivergent person could; b) my thoughts still kinda align with the same thought process as race - that it’s useful to hc characters as neurodivergent because it helps to break stigmas that ND people are so vastly different from neurotypical people that traditionally-assumed neurotypical people couldn’t possibly actually be ND; c) I would still advocate for more ND representation in the SMP, rather than try to warp the neurotypical people’s characters to fit into that yearn for representation that I so desire; d) there actually are ND people on the SMP - a couple of people with ADHD, as far as I know - who do exhibit ND characteristics in their characters/lore, as well, so frankly, why not give those characters ND hc’s?

Anyways, this was so much longer than I wanted it to be and I still don’t know if I fully articulated my take on the subject properly. It’s really just too complicated a subject to be applied to Dream SMP fanart, so my conclusion is: Imma diss people for drawing Sapnap as Latino when Quackity is RIGHT THERE, and you can draw him however the hell you like. At the end of the day, we’re both just people obsessing over block men, and there’s no significant harm  that will come from either of our opinions or your artwork. I hope this was a satisfying answer, and seriously, thank you for getting me to write this all out because it actually made me realize that I’m not as fully against the idea as I thought I was <3