#even though really it’s not like I’m putting all of that into it every day I just get up and go ‘i want to look nice today’

[cherrycheolkat]

Hi there! For ur bingo, would it be fine request worship with praise kink? With reader being kinda crazy over mingyu's abs/stomach... (idk if you've seen his new ck photos are wild!!!!)

hiii - yes i did see them - he looks so good ^^ and i hope you like this drabble

♡ kat

bingo squares: worship + praise kink

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

word count: 0.8k

rating: NSFW | MDNI

warnings: smut, implied squirting, ab riding (thigh riding but abs), two-year age gap

you had seen him run his hand over his stomach a million times. it was maybe the one plus to having your baby brother - mingyu was his best friend, which meant every summer, you got to watch mingyu hanging out poolside. and in your mind, his body only got better every time you saw him. 

but this summer was maybe the peak summer for his ab game. they were truly mouthwatering. you had even picked up darker sunglasses just to feel more comfortable ogling him from your lounge chair. 

because why not? he was the one taking his shirt off at every opportunity and never seeming to put it back on, and you were just a pleased onlooker. one of many, you might add. 

besides, you knew him well enough to know all the awards he won for science fairs - he wasn’t unaware of his effect on anyone. in fact, you were fairly sure that he enjoyed his ability to have almost anyone openly stare at him in appreciation. you did not count yourself amongst the people who openly stared - you were less obvious - always hiding behind sunglasses, a book, and a hat. he did not need you feeding his oversized ego. 

the only issue was that he seemed to want your attention. he would go for a swim and then come to sit next to you, all wet and dripping and annoying. not to mention, he always wanted to know what you were reading. and the number of times you found yourself alone with him in the kitchen was a bit sus too - it was like he knew when you were going to your secret caprisun stash. and then you had to share so he wouldn’t tell anyone. 

it seemed to all come to a head one afternoon though - there was something about the middle of the day when really no one was outside - even with the pool and the ocean within walking distance, it was just the time to head inside. unless you had kim mingyu quizzing you over your current book, since he wanted an update on the drama. 

“you could just read it when i’m finished,” you groaned, happy that you were at least sitting in an oversized covered chair and avoiding the worst of the sun. 

“it’s better when i ask you - you have all your own little thoughts and commentary,” he whispered, his fingers tracing lightly along your side. 

you swatted his hand away, “rude,” you huffed. 

he smiled, “at least i don’t try to hide how much i watch you,” his voice was still gentle. 

“i don’t think there’s anyone hiding how much they look at you,” you turned onto your stomach, wanting to end the conversation. but you were literally in a little covered bubble with him, and turning over only meant you gave him tacit permission to touch your ass. 

you were quick to sit up and glare at him. but he didn’t shrink back like normal. he wasn’t exactly afraid of the person who had once been his babysitter - a two-year age gap didn’t really qualify you as more adult anymore, but it had always been just enough to lord over your brother and his friends when they annoyed you. he only looked amused now as he leaned close, tracing his fingers along the underside of your breast as his lips made contact with yours. 

things progressed quickly. 

and you found yourself straddling him, riding his abs, while he pushed the crotch of your bikini bottom out of the way to see your pussy. you couldn’t help that they were maybe your favorite part of his body, and since he had no issue with you rutting against him, you weren’t going to pass up the chance.

“so fucking hot,” you mumbled.

he grinned, “yeah?” his gaze flicking between your face and your pussy. 

you nodded, grinding your hips slowly over him, feeling just how defined his muscles were, every ridge helping you get closer to what you wanted, to come all over his perfect stomach. 

you could feel his hand shift to your hip, urging you on, “so good, baby girl,” he whispered as he watched you. 

you gasped when he touched your clit, “let me help, yeah?” 

you flushed but didn’t stop him - he was always helpful. it only took a few moments of his ministrations, and you felt the tightening in your stomach and your cunt - your thighs squeezed against him, “ fuck, mingyu, right there,” you whined, knowing your fingernails were leaving little half-moon marks on his chest. you didn't exactly mind the idea of anyone seeing those.

your orgasm was like a sudden flash, leaving you moaning and shaking as you came. you shivered gently, as he pulled you down to him, kissing you, “so good for me,” he whispered as his lips pressed to yours.

a/n: so i can write drabbles under certain conditions - sorry, i did have to sit with this a bit - i like when they have some litltle background thing going on ^^ and yessss, they're soft for each other ;-; i am who i am lol

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo ask the original bingo, is [here] and new nsfw only bingo is [here] - you can ask for squares from both

tag list: @syluslittlecrow ☁︎ @gyuguys ☁︎ @haik-chu ☁︎ @tinyelfperson ☁︎ @lovetaroandtaemin ☁︎ @starlit-rin

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] & this is my [master list] if you want to read more

[bbadandboujee]

#BLONDED ASTRO OBSERVATIONS

so after a long day of drawing, it’s 2 a.m, i’m horny, why not do some astro observations idk?

this will mostly consist of synastry & solar return charts.

OBSERVATIONS:

VENUS IN THE FIRST HOUSE OVERLAY/VENUS CONJUNCT YOUR ASCENDANT SYNASTRY: ahh 🙂‍↕️, i have this with 2 of my side pieces!! chile best synastry overlay EVER. this can either go 2 ways, A. they really really find you attractive, they like your style, i find that they most likely like something about your beauty, for example the sign its in, let’s say cancer, cancer ascendants does enhance features like breasts, or big lips (from what i’ve noticed!) or even an hour glass shaped body (body TTT!!) either way, they’ll like that specific feature of you the most depending on what sign its in. B. ok so they MAY find you a bit different than how this placement usually works, they may think you present yourself in a way thats too over the top?? (girl idk men suck!) and i find this weird bc like, being yourself is all that matters so whats tea? anywho, regardless though, they’re gonna find you very intriguing and attractive, but on the flip side they might think that you’re like other people with this placement from what i’ve observed.

MARS CONJUNCT MERCURY SYNASTRY: yoo i barley see shit about this??? but girl the amount of times y’all will be sexting with this placement!! even on FaceTime it’ll be lots of flirting, i feel like the annoying part of this placement is talking over each other? i don’t find it annoying though trust i find it very stimulating..anywho, i feel like depending on which person is mars, the mars person will most DEF communicate with the mercury person first since mars does rule over action. so if you’ve met this person online or whatever mercury person, prepare for mars to slide in your dms idk.

VENUS IN 11H OVERLAY: omg so my venus is in his (i think side piece number 2?) 11h, and omg i did meet him online! definitely this is a friend crush overlay! also, friends to lovers vibes with this overlay too. i feel like its a lighthearted relationship and being friends honestly feels really genuine and sweet, i feel like with this overlay you don’t look at them with lust, you look at them a light hearted love (awe). if you definitely need a friend house person, you’ll have the bestest time getting to know the venus person fr, vise versa.

SOLAR RETURN ⬇️

this was in my drafts so i decided to bring it here chi!

MERCURY IN THE 7H: you will receive some kind of proposal, whether it’s business or relationship related. and if it is relationship related you will receive this from MULTIPLE people, if this is one of the years where you are in a relationship, expect to get proposed too. also a year where you can meet new connections online.

2ND HOUSE STELLIUM: i have this, this year, this just might be one of my best years istg? expect to make a lot of money ESPECIALLY if beneficial planets are involved. and not only that, your self worth will increase hell of a lot. also to see where your money comes from, check the ruler of the 2nd house.

A YEAR WHERE YOUR NATAL ASCENDANT IS THE SOLAR RETURN ASCENDANT: WHOEVER HAS THIS IS SO LUCKY!! this is one of your best years where you’re literally birthing a new project or starting something new, could also be a year where you’re put into the spotlight, achieving something, and fulfilling your natal promise!! definitely a good year for improvement, growth, and just like i said fulfillment.

MARS IN THE 6H: DEFINITELY a good year to get active, loose weight, or just become more healthier. a very busy year as well too. you could be surrounded by men more in your daily life/at work. definitely not a good year to start arguments with your coworkers or vise versa 😭 (edit: BUT IF THEY NEED THAT? GIRL GIVE THEM HELL IDK.)

SUN IN THE 5H: a very fun year!! omg every year i had this in i’d literally call it satire cus wtf was that?? lol, honestly a light hearted year where you’re having fun, not taking life to seriously, also a year where someone announces their pregnancy.

ALRIGHTY THATS IT! hope y’all enjoyed! 🙂‍↕️

[muletia]

Heya!! I LOVE your pocket AU and your OP obsession is so damn relatable ^-^!! I love reading and re-reading… and RE-re-reading your work and everyday I look at your account at least once! You’re so cool and your work is just *genuine chef’s kiss*

Now… I never ask anything to anybody… requests aren’t really something I do so I’m just gonna go for it… in your pocket spouse AU.. imagine a human who’s like SUPER talented in art… mostly traditional art… and he/she/they become a pocket spouse… and ONE DAY… this human draws their spouses as a beautifully drawn masterpiece… I wonder how they’d react… (I’m mostly asking for TFOne… but I don’t mind if you put TFP OP in there lol)

I can imagine Sentinel finding this super cute and bragging about it, even asking his spouse for more… buying his little lover the stuff it would need to create more masterpieces like that…

I only have an idea for Sentinel… but I also wanted to know how YOU’D think they’d react… anyway I think I yapped a lot… idc I love your work enough to make it worth yapping about! Which is a RARE occurrence even for me.

- With luv, Meg >:3

hello! and kdbskvu thank you so much for the kind words!!! <3 hope you'll enjoy these short headcanons <3

[tfo] sentinel x human!reader [tfo] b-127 x human!reader [tfo] elita one x human!reader [tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

word count: 1200

Sentinel is thrilled.

Finally, someone has managed to capture his beauty and magnificence in art, naturally, without exaggeration. The way you have transferred his image onto paper is truly admirable, and in his optics, it is a masterpiece. Not only because he is the inspiration behind your artwork, of course. Though he will undoubtedly go on and on about himself, criticizing every tiniest detail and pointing out proportions, he is still genuinely happy in his own egotistical and manic way that his adorable pocket spouse has gifted him such a delightful present.

Naturally, your painting will be displayed in a very visible place so that every bot can admire how talented Sentinel’s human is, and so the self-proclaimed ruler of Iacon can boast about you and your skills. After all, you are his pocket spouse, you must be the best, and your artistic talent must match the grandiosity of his ego.

One portrait/artwork will definitely not be the last. The moment Sentinel discovers that you have a knack for transferring his likeness onto paper in such an exquisite way, he will definitely ask for more. This time, however, he will suggest that he be your live model to make it easier for you to capture his beauty. And yes, he will be striking different poses (you ARE drawing him like one of your French girls), expecting you to capture every single one. You’re going to have a lot of fun with him. Of course, your patience will be tested, he will underestimate how long a single drawing session can take, so expect some hurrying up, but his nagging will fade into the background when he praises your skills, staring at the drawings with a kind of genuine admiration you have never seen in him before.

You mentioned traditional art, so Sentinel will definitely find a way to scan his portrait onto his datapad. He glances at it whenever he doesn’t have access to the physical copy, or simply when he starts missing you while dealing with the utterly boring (and manipulative) business of ruling a city under his forged Prime title.

And yes, you will never run out of art supplies with him around. Sentinel will make sure you have the most exquisite drawing tools, ensuring you never run out. You must keep creating such magnificent works of art for him!

"Oh Primus, oh Primus, this is for me? Really?! Oh, I’m so happy! No one has ever drawn anything for me before! Thank you, thank you so much!" dies

To say that B-127 is happy with your drawing would be an understatement. He is ecstatic, absolutely over the moon that you willingly did something for him. Ugh, his sweet pocket spouse! He will literally be ugly crying while yapping about how much he loves you, how beautifully you drew him, and how grateful he is for such an amazing gift.

As thanks, he will smother your entire face with kisses (still sobbing and wailing) before pulling you into his chassis, holding your artwork in his other servo, unable to take his optics off it.

"Is this really how you see me?" He looks so cool, so good. Whatever self-image he has built in his processor, whether it’s B-127 or Badassatron, you have managed to perfectly capture it on paper. And he will not let you forget it. Will tell you this the first, second, and fiftieth time, because Bee will not shut up about praising your skills for a long time after receiving his portrait.

Sometimes, you catch him staring at the drawing, wearing an enormous, dreamy smile while his digit gently strokes the paper, careful not to damage it.

At some point, he will shyly ask if you could make another drawing — but this time, he really wants you to be in it too. Whether it’s you sitting on his shoulder or holding hands, B-127 wants you to be in every part of his life, always and forever. And that includes a snapshot of your life together, captured on paper <3

Elita’s reaction may not be as explosive as Bee’s or Sentinel’s, but internally, she is barely holding herself back from bouncing off the walls with excitement. If she could, she would staple your masterpiece to her spark.

When you show her your drawing, Elita takes her time. She studies it carefully, searching for details, memorizing every single feature, immersing herself in human art. The silence as she does this is deadly and nerve-wracking — but then, a simple and meaningful, "It’s beautiful." and you know you did a good job. That’s a rare compliment from her, after all.

Elita doesn’t praise often. She doesn’t like sugarcoating things. So when she does compliment you, it’s like winning the lottery.

On the surface, she may seem indifferent, and her reaction may come across as cold or ungrateful — but inside, she is overjoyed that you chose to spend your time capturing her likeness on paper. And in such an amazing way!

This is an especially key moment in your relationship because, at first, Elita didn’t understand the hype around pocket spouses. You were assigned to her, not her choice, and it took her time to warm up to you. But this gift, this drawing, ignites little sparks of a growing bond. A bond that, if nurtured properly, could become something truly special.

Optimus is deeply touched that you chose to spend your time drawing him, but he is also intrigued. So this is how you see me type beat.

You give him a new perspective on himself — one that he has never thought about before. For the first time, he can look at himself through your vision of him. Maybe… just maybe, it will help his self-esteem a little?

Of course, he won’t let it show. His reaction will be humble, but he is happy. Immensely so. It is a great honor to receive something from you, especially something given from the heart, not out of obligation. His gratitude won’t be overly expressive as words suddenly seem to get caught in his intake, blocked by the overwhelming emotions — but he will make sure you know how thankful he is. That he sees how much effort you put into this, and that your artwork is masterful.

He will definitely hang it above his desk in his habsuite. A risky and irresponsible choice, because Optimus will constantly catch himself pausing his work to admire and analyze the masterpiece you created for him.

He is still working on understanding human art and its meaning, but in this case, he is certain that you have done an incredible job.

He will try to repay you. He is a busy mech, always with so much on his servos, but for you, he will always carve out some free time to prepare a gift in return. And as an old-fashioned mech with a romantic spark, he would write you a poem.

It will be cryptic, intricate — just like his overwhelming and tangled feelings for you. But it will be a glimpse into his spark. A moment of unveiling, revealing a part of himself he keeps hidden.

He will read it to you in private, in a quiet, intimate place, hoping that you will cherish his love almost as much as he cherishes the gift of your artwork <3

[meadowfics]

I love your kang family series. Can I request a story of reader being in labor and Daeho being her rock thru it all and maybe even have some bits about how great he is helping her once they arrive home with a newborn. I live for domestic daeho - I love your writing!! If you don’t want to write this, that’s totally cool too lol

I wrote it :D I love this concept <3

seoah's and byeol's birth headcannons:

kang dae ho x f!reader for the kang family series

seo-ah was born exactly four months after the nightmare of the games ended.

you and dae-ho had been trying to put yourselves back together, trying to find normalcy in a world that no longer felt as stable as it once did.

your daughter is your light, the one thing that reminded you both that there was something good waiting for you on the other side of survival.

labor was terrifying, but not because of the pain though.

you had endured worse.

it was because you had never felt so vulnerable before.

this was different from fighting for your life.

this was bringing a new life into the world, one that you and dae-ho were responsible for protecting.

dae-ho was your rock through every contraction, every wave of pain that crashed through you.

he held your hand so tightly, whispering reassurances in your ear.

“you’re so strong, baby. you’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. you can do this. i know you can.”

he refused to leave your side. even when the nurses suggested he take a break, get some food, stretch his legs...he wouldn’t hear it.

“she’s doing all the work. i can sit here.”

the fear was there, though.

not of the labor, but of the world outside this hospital.

you and dae-ho had survived something most people could never comprehend.

now, you were bringing your daughter into this world.

one that had already shown you its cruelest side.

would she be safe? would she ever have to suffer the way you did?

then, the moment she was born, all of that fear melted away.

the second she let out her first cry, the second her tiny body was placed on your chest, it was like nothing else mattered.

she was real. she was yours. she was safe.

dae-ho cried.

he tried to hold it back, but when he saw her, so small, so perfect, his whole body trembled with emotion.

he kissed your forehead repeatedly, his voice breaking as he whispered,

“you did it. you did so good. she’s beautiful. she’s ours.”

he counted all of her little fingers and toes like they might disappear if he didn’t memorize them right then and there.

when you were too exhausted to hold her, he took over immediately, cradling her with the softest look in his eyes.

“hey, baby girl,”

he murmured, his voice thick with love.

“i’m your appa.”

he never put her down.

the nurses had to tell him to rest, but he just sat in the chair beside your hospital bed, watching over both of you, like he was afraid that if he blinked too long, this would all disappear.

once you were discharged, the reality of being home with a newborn hit hard.

neither of you had slept properly in days, and yet, dae-ho never complained. not once.

he handled the diaper changes when your body was too sore to move, holding seo-ah carefully like she was made of glass.

he rocked her in his arms when she was fussy, pacing the bedroom in slow steps, humming softly to soothe her.

“i got her, baby,”

he whispered when you stirred in the middle of the night, hearing the soft cries of your newborn.

“go back to sleep. you need rest too.”

you never wanted to sleep, not really.

you just wanted to watch them, watch your husband, the man who had been through hell and back, holding your daughter with so much love, so much devotion.

the games had hardened you both, made you see the world in a different way.

when you looked at seo-ah, she was proof that there was still softness left.

dae-ho told her stories while she lay in his arms, even though she was too young to understand.

“your eomma is the bravest person i know,”

he’d whisper against her tiny head.

“she saved us both. you have no idea how lucky you are to have her.”

he took pictures of you with seo-ah whenever he could, knowing you’d be too tired to think about it yourself.

“i don’t want you to forget these moments,”

he said when you caught him doing it for the tenth time.

he made sure you ate, made sure you had water, made sure you took your pain meds when you needed them. he took care of you while taking care of seo-ah.

he never let you feel like you were alone.

in the hardest moments, when the exhaustion was too much, when the fear of being a good mother weighed heavily on your shoulders, he was there.

byeol:

your pregnancy with byeol was a completely different experience from your pregnancy with seo-ah.

with seo-ah, you had been five months pregnant while fighting for your life, every day filled with stress, fear, and the uncertainty of whether you’d even make it out alive on that island.

this time, you were safe.

you were home.

you had everything you needed, and most importantly, you had dae-ho right there beside you through it all.

this pregnancy felt like a reward.

a chance to experience it the way you were supposed to.

no survival games, no debts, no trauma weighing down every thought.

just you, your growing baby, and your beautiful family.

since it was your second pregnancy, things were so much easier.

you knew what to expect, how to handle the morning sickness, the weird cravings, the exhaustion.

you weren’t as anxious this time, because you had already done it once before.

“you’re glowing,”

dae-ho would say at least five times a day, his hands resting gently on your belly, his lips pressing kisses to your forehead.

“i mean, you’re always beautiful, but pregnancy looks really good on you.”

“you just like that i get all round and soft,”

you teased, nudging him.

“i like you,”

he grinned, kissing you again.

the one major difference this time?

you had a toddler to take care of too.

seo-ah was only three when you got pregnant with byeol, which meant you and dae-ho had to balance raising a little ball of energy while preparing for a newborn.

dae-ho, being the incredible husband and father that he was, stepped up in every way possible.

“baby, sit down,”

he would tell you whenever you tried to do anything remotely tiring.

“you’re growing a whole human, let me handle it.”

he overcompensates on this pregnancy, since he felt terrible that he couldn't help you when you were pregnant during the games.

however, he would never say this out loud.

he cooked more, cleaned more, made sure seo-ah was entertained so you could rest.

he even started taking seo-ah out on little father-daughter dates just to give you some peace and quiet when you needed it.

there were times where seo-ah was obsessed with your growing belly.

dae-ho melted every time he saw seo-ah talk or gush about your belly.

“she’s going to be the best big sister,”

he whispered one night, his hand resting on top of yours as you both watched her fall asleep curled up beside you.

this pregnancy gave you a level of peace you never thought you’d have after everything you had been through.

nine months after conceiving, labor was still painful(obviously), but it wasn’t terrifying like it had been with seo-ah.

there was no underlying developing trauma this time, no lingering fear of the outside world.

dae-ho was there, holding your hand just like he had before, whispering words of encouragement, rubbing your back through every contraction.

“you’re amazing,”

he told you between kisses to your damp forehead.

“you’re so strong, baby. just a little more, you’re almost there.”

at last, byeol was born.

she was placed on your chest, and the second you looked at her, your heart stopped.

she was you.

your nose, your lips, your cheeks.

everything about her was like looking into a smaller version of yourself.

“well,”

dae-ho chuckled, his voice thick with emotion as he gazed down at her.

“guess i lost this one, huh?”

you laughed breathlessly, tears filling your eyes as you pressed your lips to byeol’s soft little head.

“she’s perfect.”

“she’s you,”

he corrected, stroking her tiny hand with his thumb.

“and that means she’s definitely perfect.”

seo-ah was beyond excited to meet her baby sister.

“she’s so small,”

she gasped when she first saw her, her big brown eyes wide with awe.

“you were this small once too, baby,”

dae-ho told her, helping her climb onto the couch to sit beside you.

“no way,”

she whispered dramatically.

daeho handled the nighttime feeds when you were too tired to move, he made sure seo-ah still felt just as loved even with a newborn in the house, and he took care of you.

“you just gave birth, baby,”

he would remind you whenever you tried to do too much.

“sit down. let me take care of things.”

he would press kisses to your temple as he held byeol against his chest, rocking her gently.

“honestly, I think i’m the luckiest man alive,”

he would say out of nowhere, watching you nurse byeol while seo-ah played with her toys.

“oh yeah?”

you smiled, exhausted but happy.

“yeah,”

he nodded.

“two beautiful daughters. the best wife in the world. i don’t need anything else.”

he is right. neither of you did.

[howlett-dekarios]

𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢

▏Hugh Jackman x Reader

▏Summary: You didn't handle breakup with your boyfriend well, and Hugh ended up picking you up from the club in the middle of the night.

▏Warnings: throwing up | breakup themes | alcohol | actress!reader | toxic ex-relationship | a lot of drunk behavior |

▏Word count: 3,8k

▏A/n: Scenario of him despite it being fucking 3 am, picking you up while you're shit-faced drunk and him taking care of you? It's just too much to handle. I used the "abcdefu" fragment and also obv inspired the title on one of Fergie's songs.

You’re the fans favorite. Even though you are one of the most recognizable actress in the whole industry and still young, you’re also down-to-earth woman. Not hiding from the world or doing anything special to look better, coexisting with fans, which was the reason of many arguments with your manager. But that was the promise you made to yourself when starting it all; being true to yourself, modest and just polite to the world which gave you a chance. Enjoying every day without acting like you’re anyone special. Because in your opinion, you really weren’t. Of course there was no doubting your pure talent and hard work you put into your development but still, a horrendous part of your successful career was just a pure luck. Right place, people and time. 

One of these people was sitting beside you, laughing his ass off because of the joke you’ve just made. You knew Hugh for a few years now, almost instantly clicking the first day on set of one of the x-men movies. You just understood each other, having similar characters and valuing the same things in life despite the age difference. That’s way your energy on screen was probably such an impregnable thing, natural chemistry of two friends off the set pass on the final products.

“Y/n our source gave as an info about you breaking up with your long term partner, is it true?”

How the fuck did they know it? You couldn’t tell. It was still fresh and honestly you wouldn’t have been surprised if that ‘source’ would be your ex himself, wanting to put you in a bad light. Make you embarrass yourself in public eyes. The look Hugh was giving you wasn’t making it any easier, since you haven’t told him yet. His eyes full of worry and damn knowing him, he really would like to talk with you outside of the cameras before you’d answer this question.

“Well, yes, unfortunately we separate our ways.” You forced yourself to smile “But it was a mutual agreement. We decided that it wasn’t working for us anymore. Wish him all the best, though.”

Best your ass. He was a controlling freak who was so scared of you cheating on him with one of your co-stars that he ended up having some lady sucking his dick himself. It all started months ago, arguments about what you can and cannot do, his family pressuring you to help them out, saying how you will never be enough for their saint and lovely boy. His tantrums about you spending too much time on sets, or how you’ve been wearing too revealing clothes on premiers or other events. For the last months you’ve been feeling like a prisoner, used only for money. Which was only worse considering your public image of strong and independent woman, a feminist who would never allow that to happen. You felt ashamed of yourself for it, for how you’d been okay with him treating you like a complete trash.  

Hugh knew about it all. He has been giving you advices, being your arm to cry on after another fight in the middle of the night, suggesting a break up long before that asshole cheated. But of course, you’ve been to blind to do anything. Blindfolded by love and old memories when he had been a good guy.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Interviewer smiled apologetically, but you knew better than that to know hoe pleased he was with all of it. Having a hot take to treat media with. “Well, I’m sure a lot of guys gonna stand in line offering his hearts to you.”  You really did not need that now. You have enough of ‘fans’ both men and women posting nasty comments online. “Thank you guys for your time and wish you further successes.”

“Thank you very much.” A forced smile once again appeared on your face and Hugh did the same.

After all the cameras went off and you were on your way out, Hugh stopped you, feeling of his big palm on your arm too familiar to mistake it for anyone else.

“You okay? Why haven’t you told me?” His eyes full of concern. He isn’t mad about you not telling him, rather about that he found out this way.

“It’s just.. it’s still getting to me, okay? I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. He was a dick who didn’t deserve to breath the same air as you.” But Hugh also was quite aware of how deeply you loved that asshole. If that was up to him, he would’ve knocked the shit out of him long time ago but just for your sake he stayed silent.  “You’re sure you’re fine? Want to talk about it?” It was the least he could think of right now. Knowing your character and how young and unpredictable you were..  well it was the best for everyone if you won’t be left alone for a while.

“No, no, it’s okay. As you said he was jerk anyway. I’m completely fine, no need to worry, Hugh.” You smiled, no really sure who are you trying to convince now.

“Okay, just.. call me if you need anything. And I mean anything, Y/n, you get it?” If you gonna do something stupid, he’ll rather like to know what.

“Thanks, but everything’s fine. I got it.”

He has been reading at his place when Ryan texted him. Nothing unusual especially considering how the last adjustment to the schedule of shots to new Deadpool were made. But the time got him curious.

‘You should check it out.’  And two twitter links below.

One took him on your ex’s profile where this scumbag posted some teary statement. Rearranging whole narration of your relationship, how he was the hurt one, how you aren’t the person you’re showing to public and many, many more words that were just bunch of lies. At this point he was fucking sure that this scumback was the one who spread the information about your breakup to the media.

Not good.

But the latter one.. it was even worse.

Video of you in the club, dancing and drinking with random people. Your pupils were enlarged, forehead sweaty and your voice a bit more rough than usual, which gave him enough insight to know that you are very drunk.

It was like jumping in a rabbit hole. After one post, there was another, and another. All from the same club and all very recent. Fans being overjoyed how you were taking photos and socializing with them. Drinking shots and paying round after round on you. You dancing and singing at the top of your lungs in a top that showed almost everything that was to show and pants that were put low enough, displaying straps of your thongs. Of course in the comments people were sharing the exact address of club where the party was hosted, saying how you confidently agreed to stay until closing time.

“Shit.” He sighed. Not a chance. He checked the hour and there is no way of you staying there any minute longer. “Fuck, no.” His fingers deepen in his hair, gripping them tightly.

Thank god that he hasn’t had any drink tonight.

‘I’m on it.’ A quick text to Ryan, as a way of thanking his friend for his effort.

When he got there, the music was rumbling even outside of the club.

“I’m too old for this shit..”

At first crowd of people standing in line tried to protest, but as soon as they’ve realized who is it, the flashes of their phones were on his face. Fortunately enough for you the bouncers didn’t let paparazzi in, probably due to the club policy. Some guard at the entrance stopped him, but having a recognizable face had its advantages and now Hugh wasn’t in any position to not use them now.

As soon as he entered the lights and heat hit him. The place crumped to the brim, drunk people trying to ask for autographs or photos.

“Not now, guys, please back off.” He really tried to be polite but after a minute he realized there is no point. When another guy pushed a camera into his face, he got enough. “Not now!”

Pushing through the crowd wasn’t an easy task, but he had to do so, knowing you are having your time on the stage. The Dj at that point was your personal service, playing whatever you asked for. All fans with their hands up and phones out recording the footage that’ll be definitely a one big headache foe your agent. 

“Come on, guys! A-B-C-D-E, F-U! And your mom! And your sister! And your job! And your broke-ass car! And that shit you call art! Fuck you and your friends that I'll never see again! Everybody but your dog, you can all fuck off!” You yelled out, cheered by crowd, zeroing your drink that you honestly couldn’t remember the amount of you already had tonight. “Love you all! Fuck him!” Your drunk laugh was probably one of the most disappointing things Hugh has heard in his life.

He finally got in front of the crowd, when you’ve been dancing like your life depended on it to one of Ariana Grande’s song. And then when he was just a step ahead of you, you finally realized who it was.

“Hugh?!” You sounded surprised but not disappointed at all.

The next thing you did though.. it caught him off guard. How you tried to close your face together and only because of his reflex he had stopped you in the process, holding your wrist tightly. If this happened.. it would’ve ended up as a disaster.  A true nail in your coffin considering how many people were recording the whole situation.

“Party’s over, Y/n. I’m getting you out of here.” His tone stern.

“What?! No! I’m just starting!”

“You are not. It’s the opposite, you’re finished, princess.” His arm tried to pull you off the stage but instead he was the one brought up it which was met with cheers and screams. Just freaking perfect.  For a girl who probably couldn’t walk straight you were damn strong. Or maybe it was just him not wanting to hurt you by using full strength.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Hugh Jackman is joining the party!” A forced smile appeared on his lips, not wanting to give away how this all was out of control.

“Thank you for tonight, but unfortunately the party is over! We need to go but it was lovely to meet you all!” A quick damage control when he dragged you down and to the exit in accompaniment of flashes and yells.

“I didn’t finish my drink!” you tried to tell him but he had none of it, his grip on your wrist still tight.

“You had more than enough, Y/n.” In attempt to shield you from all the paparazzi outside, he covered you with his body, walking you like this until you both reached his car. “Get in.”

The drive was rather silent, him focusing on getting you to his place safely while you’ve been trying to stop your head from spinning so much.

“I can go back by myself..” When you got no reaction out of him, you continued. “My place is the other way..”

He sighed, knowing that arguing with you when you're like this is pointless.

“I'm not taking you to yours. You're coming to mine where I can keep an eye on you and ensure you're safe."

Once you two arrived, him helping you out of car, ensuring you won’t stumble over. Steadying you, hand on your waist while gently making you sit on the couch. The way your head fall backwards and your eyes are squeezed tightly, he could tell you probably gonna puke. It was a miracle you haven’t done it in car.

"Are you feeling nauseous at all?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.

But the sound you were making were enough answer. How you tried hard not to do it there.

“I-“

Seeing the signs, Hugh quickly hand you a nearby trashcan, gently guiding it towards your face.

"Go ahead, let it out. You’ll feel better afterward."

He rub your back soothingly, trying to comfort you as you deal with the unpleasant sensation.

“I don’t want to..” But the alco in your stomach is trying to get out more frequently. You won’t be able to hold it longer, no matter how hard you’d have tried to.

“Princess, you have to let it out. Holding it in will only make the nausea worse. It's okay, just let your body do what it needs to do."

And with that you started to puke your guts out, one oh his hands holding your hair, the other gently soothing over you back, trying to give you any comfort and reassurance that it’s alright. Tears rolled down your cheeks, your mascara all over your eyes now.

Once you finish puking, he offered you some water and a tissue to wipe your face.

"Feeling any better? Take your time."

Instead of answering you lay your head on the back of the couch, crying in embarrassment, trying to catch your breath, all events of the night slowly forcing themselves through your cloudy mind.

Your tears streaming down your face made his heart clench, all anger gone by this point. He gently place a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"It's okay, princess. Let it out. Cry if you need to. You're safe here and I'm not going anywhere."

He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around you, trying to provide a sense of warmth and security.

“It’s so embarrassing. I’m so pathetic. I’m sorry.” You stammered out.

He shook his head, voice gentle but firm. "No. It’s not embarrassing, and you’re not pathetic. You made a mistake tonight, yes, but that doesn’t define you. We all make mistakes, it’s part of being human. What matters is that you learn from it and take care of yourself. You should’ve called me  but you’re not alone anymore, okay? I’m here for you, and I’ll support you through this.”

“My head is spinning..” You close your eyes again, trying to focus but without much success. “I’m sorry, Hugh.. I shouldn’t have made you do this for me, shouldn’t have to be your problem.” You recall all the night, or bunch of information that stayed in your mind and you started sobbing even more. “Fuck, so many people had seen me..” it’s clear for him how you’ve started to overthink everything. A light panic attack is on the way from your organism being overwhelmed.

“It’s nothing we can’t deal with later, princess. Now I need you to calm down and breath, in and out, alright?”

He didn’t leave your side even for a second, you swinging back and forth in attempt to get in control again. After you sobered a bit and calmed, your breath steady you tried to talk with him again.

“Sorry for the bother, Hugh..  I’ll pay you back for gas..”

“I don’t fucking care about the gas.” He couldn’t believe that it was your biggest concern now. He  gave your shoulder another gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure you. "Just focus on resting and recovering. We’ll talk more in the morning when you’re feeling better, alright?" He stood up, offering his hand to help you up. "Come on, let’s get you into bed so you can sleep this off."

“W-what? No. I-I should get home, I can call a cab..”

“There is no way I’m letting you walk out of here tonight, let’s make it clear.” The paparazzi had enough of content for one night. “You’re not in any condition to go anywhere right now. You’re tipsy and you need rest. Let me take care of you for tonight, alright? I have a guest room where you can sleep and recover. In the morning, we’ll see how you’re feeling and figure out the next steps."

“Hugh..” The shame which build up inside of you showing up. Especially remembering what you’ve almost done. Kissing him would’ve not only effecting you, but probably ended u being a big mark on his career too.. fuck you were so freaking dumb.. “Why are you even helping me?” Yes, sure he was your long time friend, but picking you completely shit faced from club in the middle of night, getting caught on many records… you definitely weren’t worth the price he’ll pay for it later.  “What have I done to deserve it?” His kindness and care..

Considering all what happened it made him chuckle softly, touched by your question.

“You don’t need to do anything to deserve a friend like me, N/n. That’s not how true friendship works. I’m here for you because I care about you and want to help you, plain and simple. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, right now you need someone to care for you, and I’m honored to be that person." He gave you a gentle smile, hoping to lift your spirits. “Now, come on. Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“I’m serious Hugh.” Your voice most sober now than the full night. “Why me?”

"You have so many qualities that make you a wonderful person. You’re talented, passionate, and kind. You have a great sense of humor and you always know how to make things fun. But most importantly, you’re loyal and genuine, and those are qualities that I greatly cherish in a friend." He paused, studying your expression. "And that’s why I’m here for you now, Y/n. Because I know that you’d be here for me too, if the situation was reversed."

But deep down he knew it wasn’t the full truth. The feelings he had towards you.. obviously he was worried when he found out about your breakup, but some part of him was happy about it. As selfish as he could sound, it gave him a chance. Chance that he has been waiting for so long now. Maybe if you weren’t drunk and fans weren’t recording everything that happened.. he would be more than okay with what you’ve tried to do in the club.

“I won’t change your mind on me staying the night?”

Hugh only chuckled on that, shaking his head. He lead you to the guest room and after giving you one of his shirts and making sure you had everything you needed, he left to finally have some sleep himself.

The next morning you woke up before him. As a form of apology you’ve prepared him a breakfast and fresh coffee, just so he could go through the day after lack of sleep you were responsible for.

"Morning." His voice still groggy but a smile formed on his face, showing the wrinkles that so many fans were crazy for. "You didn’t have to do this, you know."

“Yeah, I wanted to make it up for you.”

He took a seat at the kitchen table, watching you finish up the eggs. "Well, it’s certainly appreciated. Thank you,". A quick study you for a moment, noticing the dark circles under your eyes and the lingering signs of the previous night. "How’re you feeling this morning?"

“Like shit.” You didn’t see a point of lying to him since he had seen you in worse condition. “Been throwing up all night, honestly I’m surprised my guts are still in tact.” A deep sigh left you, while serving the food. “But other than that I’m fine. Bit hangover.” A glass of water and a package of paracetamol being a clear evidence of it. “Gonna be out of you head soon. Used enough of your hospitality.”

“Don’t say that-“

“Seen the posts of my party and you dragging me outside went viral all over the internet.” You bit your lip, knowing how  you’ll have to fall on your knees in attempt to apologize to your manger. Since he hasn’t called you yet, you assumed that before going to bed, Hugh made a few calls here and there.. another thing to be thankful for.

“You’re young, Y/n. You’re allowed to make mistakes-“

“Yes, but not everyone’s fuckups are getting caught by paparazzi.”

“Called Derek.” Here it comes. “He will try to get rid off most of the footage.”

“You know better than me that things like this just don’t magically vanish.”

“People gonna get bored. Follow the next big affair and forget about it in a week.”

You only nodded, not being in any position nor feeling like arguing with the man who literally saved you ass last night.

“As soon as I will do the laundry I’m gonna give it back to you.” Your gaze dropped to the too big tshirt you’re wearing.

“Don’t worry, you can keep it.”

The silence echoed the room, him eating the only sound around. You knew hot you have to apologize for one more thing.

“Listen, Hugh, there is no explanation for what I’ve tried to do, it was inappropriate and-“

“I don’t mind it either.”

What.

“What?”

“I said, I don’t mind.” He looked up from his plate, looking in your eyes.

“But I-“

“Yes, I know what almost happened. Believe me, if we were alone and you weren’t intoxicated.. let’s say, it could’ve ended up other way.” It made you stunned, eyes wide open, your brain not sure if it’s still some drunk daydreaming or the reality. “When you’ve said you two broke up.. I admit I wasn’t as concerned as a good friend should’ve been.”

“I-I don’t think I’m following..”

A low laugh got to your ears and the next thing you knew he was standing next to you, his big posture towering compared to your small body.

“Okay, what if I told you I don’t want to be just friends? That I never wanted? That every time I’ve seen you miserable around him I had to stop myself form kicking his balls and stealing you so his nasty hand couldn’t reach you ever again?”

“Hugh I-“

“And what if I want to finish what you started last night?” His finger cupped your jaw, leaving your lips a bit open. Shit, you looked so fucking good like this. In his clothes, in his home, in his hands. “Would you like that?”

“Fuck, please, yes.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Your lips met in a desperate kiss that was postponed too long for his liking. When you two finally get apart he smirked teasingly. “Knew it would be perfect. No screen kiss ever compares to a real one. So.. Date? Tonight?”

“I-I should talk with Derek..”

“I’ll handle him. Besides we got rid off one issue.. In the end I’m allowed to pick up my girl from the club, ain’t I?”

[swifty-fox]

Ok it’s too tempting to resist! 1. for either cicada season or i followed fires. I’m obsessed with both

sorry i wrote 1.4k of the hand burn scene in cicada season

John always found it funny, the way he still felt pain. Or perhaps less so that he felt it, but more that it didn’t hurt less. He’s already felt pain enough to kill him, and came out the other side marginally intact. Pain after that should be inconsequential, ignorable, and easily managed. 

He’d found, through stubbed toes and hammers accidentally striking thumbs, and a stupid lapse of judgment with a hot pipe, that this was far from the case.

Never had he been treated in a room that smelled like mulch and pond water. Or had a nurse with quite so horrible of a bedside manner, even if some of the nurses in the hospital in Germany would have been better off as drill instructors than health care providers. 

“Here,” Gale says, holding out one hand, fine-boned all the way down, from prominent knuckles to carefully angled tips. His face is pinched, hair gathered low at the back of his head. Spoke like a commander, or maybe just like he thought he was fuckin’ better than John. Even when he was trying to be helpful.

His touch is gentle, careful around John’s wrist even though it’s well away from any damaged skin.

Far more gentle than John had been expecting, slow with how he pulls them both under the chill water. 

Pain, regardless of how it pales in comparison to previous injuries, has John biting back a noise. Has him leaning forward into the pain, forehead brushing against the worn fabric of Gale’s sweatshirt. It smells like fabric softener, and faint wispy cologne. Like he’d worn the scent the day before, and put the hoodie on without showering. Gale doesn’t seem to notice, turning John’s hand this way and that to examine it.

“If it blisters you might want to go to the hospital,” Gale tells him, tone oddly placid. 

John bares his teeth in a grimace, eyeing the pink, angry surface of his hand. Doesn’t scoff, but it’s a near thing, “And sit for hours in a VA lobby for them to tell me to ice and wrap it? Pass.” 

“We could go to a regular hospital.”

Now John does scoff, slipping his hand not currently accosted into his ass pocket and flipping out his heavy wallet. Watches Gale try not to look, and then look fully with shrewd eyes. He’s a fast reader, John can tell by the dart of his eyes. John figures he’s had plenty of practice under his belt to get to that point. Still, John figures further explanation was needed. And really, he doesn’t like looking at the man in the photo on his VA card. It made him angry, sometimes. 

John was trying not to be angry at him, anymore. 

“I could show it at a regular one,” John explains, “but then it’s all bureaucratic tape and hoops to jump through.”

“Major, huh?” 

It stings, the label of a rank not earned, served on a platter of charity, and flavored with unspoken words like ‘consolation prize’. 

“Retired.” 

Medically. Forcefully. Not that there had ever been a discussion worth having. John could no longer fly, and he’d never stomach being a desk jockey. 

Gale twines their fingers, just slightly at the tips, giving him a faint squeeze in all the places it wouldn’t hurt. John catches his breath, eyeing the barest hint of profile he can see on the other man. Jaw, strong brow, arching cheekbone and just a tease of pale lashes. Lips, when he talked, but hardly more than a shift of jaw muscle than anything visual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shocking John for a second, knock-out punch. All of him seems softer here, in the evening, in the soft embrace of this homemade zoo. “For–well, the other week at the mall. And just about every other miserable interaction you’ve had with me.” 

Gale. Gale. John repeats it in his head just to make sure it’s stuck on the clothesline, so it doesn’t slip through the wide-hole net of his memory. Thinks maybe he should learn by now, that just cause there’s a pigtail dangling in front of him, doesn’t mean he’s gotta yank. 

He sighs, “Nah, I haven’t been entirely fair to you either.”

Gale makes an aborted noise, taken aback in the same manner as John himself. Their hands are still clasped under the chill water, and John feels the faint reflex of his hand, squeezing tight with his surprise. 

It’s not so much that John’s ashamed of his condition. More so that he doesn’t want his life to be blamed on it. Sure, it wasn’t the path he expected to be on. But it was a good one, even if it’s got a few hang-ups and support beams. 

“It was really me not remembering,” he confesses, “at first. And then it was just easier to pretend it was a bit.”

Gale freezes, brilliant brain working a million miles a minute already, John can all but hear it go. 

“It’s my shit, you know,” he defends, gesturing to the face he still was shocked to see sometimes. Shocked to see it whole, shocked to see it different, “But, I crashed my helo on a med-evac mission. Things got, ah, pretty hot. Knocked my head open like a fuckin’ melon and now I have a hard time with names, numbers. Sometimes coordination, if it’s a bad day.”

There’s a color leeching up the back of Gale’s neck, peachy-pink and intriguing. 

“Mostly I manage pretty well I think,” John adds, hoping it comes off less tentative than it sounds to his own ears. 

“Jesus, I’m–”

John refuses to let him pretend to be anything different than what he was. “No, you’re not. You’re not sorry, you’re uncomfortable. That’s alright.”

Gale looks over his shoulder at John, matches his grin to more restrained degree, the lines around his eyes easing slightly. Gives him a nod, face lapsing back into seriousness, like he was taking John’s words to heart, reading between the lines.

Not given’ you any pity, don’t you give me none.

“Maybe,” Gale admits, stubborn, “yeah. But I am sorry. Ain’t any excuse for me acting like a full-blown lunatic.”

He’s still stroking his thumb over John’s wrist, a soft soothing drag that John suspects he’s not even aware that he’s doing. John has to take his hand away, before he does something ridiculous like touch him right back. Examining his hand, instead of examining Gale himself, John thinks probably he should leave. He thinks Gale is far more fragile than he’d like anyone to know, and John is far too curious for either of their own good. And much too willing to forgive, over a few kind words and a pretty face. 

“I started therapy,” Gale offers, awkward and uncomfortable and John wonders if he’s told anyone besides the necessary parties, for how painful the words seem to come.

John wonders if Gale is lonely. 

“It’s…good,” Gale continues haltingly. John has the sudden urge to accept the apology, protect Gale from having to show any more of his tender insides. But Gale’s got a look on his face, like it was a concentrated effort, like it was a relief, to tell someone and make amends. “But it’s hard. And I think it’s makin’ everything else a little harder too. Like I’m always on a hair-trigger. And I’m not used to it.”

John watches his fine throat bob on a swallow, Adam's apple somehow managing to be elegant, for so clumsy of an organ. 

“Not any sort of excuse but I’m working on not– not being such a–”

John thinks Gale needs saving, a little bit now. “An uptight nightmare?”

Gale glares at him. It sends just a faint rush of blood to John’s cock. Wakes him up a bit, same as it did right before a mission. Half-chub from excitement, trepidation, anticipation. Either Gale would get the humor, or they’d be right back to having their teeth at each other’s throats.

“Fine,” Gale bites out grudgingly. “Yeah. That.” 

John gives him a wink, casual enough to cover the beating of his heart, then looks down at his hand and uses the pain of prodding the skin to keep him from saying something further, something stupider. 

It hurts.

It fucking hurts.

“I think I can skip the hospital trip. No blisters.”

Gale’s face does a funny thing, then. A strange twitch to it. “At least let me wrap you up, I have some gauze in my bathroom.”

Leave, and take care of himself with the first aid kit he was mostly sure he had tucked away somewhere in the mess of his truck. Curse and fumble his way through neosporin and gauze and medical tape. Or get Gale’s hands back on him, just for a little bit. 

Curt and Lil would be giving him an earful, maybe at the same time, one on either side.Telling him off for flirting with a client, letting a client flirt with him. For sticking his fingers in a pond with as big a warning sign as the one Gale Cleven invisibly wore. 

John takes a step back, gesturing back to the open doorway for Gale to lead the way.

[hoffmans-trap]

Mark could feel it, the tension in the air thick and almost suffocating. Every breath Peter took seemed heavy, labored, and every movement of his hands, his leg bouncing, told Mark something was wrong. The words caught in the air, stuck between them like a wall, and Mark was starting to feel like he was trapped on the other side of it.

Peter’s voice cracked, and Mark’s heart skipped. He saw it. The way Peter’s hands shook, the way his leg tapped frantically, the slight gloss in his eyes that Peter tried so hard to hide. Peter was on the edge of breaking down, but he was doing everything in his power to keep it together, to keep his walls up. Mark knew that feeling. He recognized it. It was the same one he wore every damn day.

When Peter spoke, his words were harsh, almost defensive, but Mark could hear the cracks underneath. "I'm not running. I'm not scared of anything." But Mark saw it. That wasn’t the truth. The shaking, the trembling lip, the way Peter’s eyes kept avoiding him. The truth was slipping through the cracks in his defenses.

Peter said he wasn’t scared, but Mark could hear it in his voice, see it in the way his body tensed up. He could almost smell it—fear. Fear of something bigger than either of them could handle.

“I’m not hiding from you,” Peter said, and the words didn’t even make it out like they were supposed to. Mark could hear the hesitation. The vulnerability. Peter was lying to himself. But Mark wasn’t about to call him out on it—not yet, anyway. He’d been there before, too. He understood what it was like to keep those walls up, to lock everything inside until it made you want to suffocate.

But then Peter spoke again. His words cut through the thick air like a knife, too sharp to ignore. "And I shut down when we're close because I don't like you, Hoffman. You do nothing but-"

Peter stopped himself, and Mark felt the weight of the words that hadn't been finished. The ones that lingered like a shadow, threatening to reveal something deeper than just anger or confusion. Something that could change everything.

Mark’s pulse raced. He wanted to push him further, demand to know what Peter had really meant, but he knew better than to rush it. It wasn’t the time for that. Still, the words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating. You do nothing but... what?

Mark’s eyes softened just slightly as he watched Peter's lip, the blood starting to drip again. Peter didn’t wipe it away, didn’t even move his hand. It was like he wanted to bleed, wanted to feel it. Wanted to show Mark that he wasn’t as cold as he kept pretending to be.

Mark knew the feeling too well. It was a strange sort of comfort to know that Peter was hurting, too. As fucked up as it sounded, it was a relief to know Peter wasn’t the stone wall he tried so hard to be. And maybe, just maybe, Mark could find a way in. Even if it scared the hell out of him.

“Peter…” Mark’s voice was softer now, almost hesitant, as if he was treading carefully through the words. He didn’t want to break Peter any more than he already was, but he couldn’t stand watching him fight this on his own.

Mark reached out by putting his arm on the centre console, just slightly, his fingers brushing the air near Peter’s hand, though he didn’t touch him. He wasn’t sure if Peter would pull away or not. He wasn’t sure if Peter even wanted him near.

But the words that followed from Peter hit Mark like a punch to the gut. “I don’t like you.” And it stung more than anything Mark could have expected. He knew Peter wasn’t ready for anything else, but that hurt. Hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Mark leaned back in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t let Peter see the effect those words had on him, but it felt like a thousand knives had pierced through his chest all at once.

“Right.” Mark’s voice was tight, holding back something deep inside. No, Peter. You don’t just shut down and say you don’t like me and expect me to walk away.

But Mark didn’t say that. He didn’t push. He couldn’t. Not yet. The words Peter had left unfinished were eating away at him, though. The silence was deafening.

And in that silence, Mark could feel it—the shift, the crack in Peter’s armor. Peter might not have been ready to admit anything, but Mark could see it now. He could see the truth bleeding through, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Not yet.

They drove in silence for a few more moments, the tension between them almost unbearable. Then, finally, they pulled into the parking lot of the station. The headlights cut through the night, casting long shadows across the concrete. The sound of the engine slowing to a stop filled the car, but neither of them made a move to get out immediately.

Mark just sat there for a second, his eyes still on Peter. He could feel the weight of the moment hanging between them, almost like it was going to shatter if either of them spoke again.

After what felt like an eternity, Mark exhaled quietly and opened the door. "We’re here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to fix what had been broken, or if it could even be fixed at all. All he knew was that he wasn’t leaving yet.

Peter walked into the station holding a laptop bag and a big silver cup of coffee. It was very obvious he didn't get much sleep, like usual.

[ - @detstrahm ]

[ ooc text : i've never done an rp on tumblr so sorry if this starter sucks !!! ]

Mark Hoffman stands near his desk, eyes narrowing as Strahm enters the room. He takes in the sight of the tired detective, the coffee in his hand, and the laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Hoffman straightens slightly, his face betraying no emotion as he watches Strahm move to his desk.

"You look like you haven't slept in days, Strahm. Tiredness isn't a badge of honor. It’s a weakness."

He leans back in his chair, his arms folding across his chest, his gaze unwavering as he watches Strahm’s every move.

"If you’re planning to continue running on fumes, it’s only a matter of time before it catches up to you. You should know better than anyone what happens when you lose focus."

His tone is harsh, but there's an edge to it, as if he's quietly daring Strahm to respond, or perhaps waiting for a crack in the other man's usually composed demeanor.

[NO I LOVE IT!! LMK IF THIS IS TOO MUCH HEJEEJEJEJ]

[criminallyvenomous]

Anytime, Always - Spencer Reid X Reader (part four)

part three story masterlist

•Plot - When Dr. Reid came to speak at your University, you were thrilled. A big-time F.B.I. agent at your own school, how could you resist? Soon, that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t resist. Random meet ups and nights together were fun at first, but when he started guest lecturing on a regular? That was a whole new experience.

•Ship - Spencer Reid X Reader

•Fandom - Criminal Minds

•Warnings - Age gap (legal consenting adults), Alcohol, Fluff, Eventual smut, Pining, and of course a warning you might fall for Spence even harder post reading)

•Word Count - 569

•A/N - ik its short im sorry!!! it was hard to find a stopping point. still working on the longer next chapter but second session classes started this week at my uni and im still catching up on midterms so im swamped lmao. its also hard bc im debating smut or not in that chapter. six will be the start of prof! spence tho..

~

This was all new to Spencer. He hadn’t ever done something so ‘casual’. He hadn’t even ever had sex with someone who he didn’t really care for, not that he wasn’t starting to care for you. It’s just that drinking and sleeping together was more of a Derek Morgan thing, not a Spencer Reid thing. He’s beginning to think he’s in over his head. Maybe he should just call up the ‘ladykiller’ while you’re getting the Chinese.

“What’s up, playa?”

“Hey, Morgan. I think I’m a little out of my depth here.” Spencer admitted.

“What do you mean? You’re just visiting a ‘friend’, aren’t you?” He teased.

“I, um, may have-“

“I know, kid. What’s the problem?” Derek interrupted.

“I’ve never done something like this before.” Spencer confessed.

“Oh come on, you’ve had sex before, Spence.”

“I meant doing something so ‘relax’, something so casual.”

“Well, how did it happen the first time?”

“A good amount of alcohol.” Spencer said, making Derek chuckle.

“That’s called liquid courage, my friend. Well, do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s great. It’s just that she’s young and we’re not like a couple or anything.” All Derek heard was the age comment.

“How young?” Derek pry-ed, Spencer could basically see his face right now.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna go.” Spencer was defeated, unsure of what to do.

“Hey, don’t put so much pressure on it. Just feel it out and do what feels right.”

“I have no idea how to do that.” Spencer chuckled and Derek did too.

“I know, kid. Just try. I mean, the date’s been going well, right?”

“Yeah, it’s been great.”

“Then don’t change anything. You’re great as you are, Reid.”

With the boost of confidence from his much more experienced friend, Spencer tried to swallow his pride. Plus, he was definitely going to seriously consider the ‘liquid courage’ that helped him out last time.

“Garlic tofu with rice for two and as many spring rolls we could get.” You did a little ‘ta-da’ motion as you approached the doctor.

“It smells amazing, it’s interesting though. This restaurant is supposed to be Chinese but has Vietnamese and Japanese options on the menu, like Pho and Ramen.” Spencer analyzed.

“You’re right. I guess most Americans don’t really notice the difference.”

~

“Awh, is this for me?” You asked as you took off your shoes along with Spencer.

The two of you went up to his hotel room on the third floor, upon entering you saw two stemmed glasses and a nice bottle of white wine on the nightstand.

“I asked room service for it. I figured it would be a step-up from the mini-fridge screw top.” He stated, walking up to pour the wine. You put your hand on his back.

“You’re the best, Spence.” You smiled, then realized. “Sorry, I meant Spencer. It just slipped out.”

“Don’t apologize. My friends call me that, too. Have to say, though, it sounds better coming from you.” He turned to hand you your glass.

God, he was sweet, funny, smart, and downright gorgeous. You didn’t care if you’d be stuck with meeting up every few months for a day or night together, it’d be worth it. You took a drink from your glass and looked over to Spencer.

“That’s so much better.” You both laughed and set the glass down on the nightstand closest to you.

[ladykailitha]

Yellow Daisies Epilogue Part 2

This is the end, two weeks after Valentine's Day. Oof. And this is the longest chapter I've every put out because I refuse to cut it up and prolong the ending longer than I have to.

We have the next five anniversaries (and a little bit of their lives as they age). Also minor angst in seven and eight.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue Pt 1

~

~ 6. Iron Jasmine- Unconditional Love

Their sixth anniversary was in London. Like actual fucking London. Steve couldn’t believe it. He had traveled with his parents, because they couldn’t leave him behind until he was old enough to fend for himself, so of course he had been to places like LA, Chicago, New York and even sunny sojourns in places like the Bahamas and the Caribbean. But his dad didn’t like foreigners, mostly in general, but he really hated Europe.

It wasn’t until he got older that he realized it was because of how they treated the working class, Thatcher not withstanding. He liked her the way he liked Reagan.

So Steve seeing London for the first time was incredible. Eddie and Steve did all the tourist-y things like see the Tower of London and the London Museum of Natural History. But they also did things like visiting old graveyards and taking in a play at the Prince Albert Royal Theatre. They saw ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.

Steve would have called it a mistake with the way that Eddie played up the Phantom role, going so far as even buying a cape and mask, but for one key thing.

That silliness was exactly why he loved his partner with all his heart. He even almost managed to walk off with one of the Tower ravens if the bird hadn't escaped.

After a nice dinner at the Savoy they went for a romantic walk along the Thames.

“Your flowers are back at the hotel,” Eddie murmured. “But I didn’t want to give them to you at dinner, new places make me itch between my shoulder blades.”

Steve nodded. He knew. They couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that a place wasn’t homophobic and just preferred to keep that between the two of them.

“That’s okay,” he said with a smile. “I understand. I get to have a piece of you that no one else does and yeah it’s scary now, but it won’t be always be this way.”

Eddie’s answering smile was a little fragile and that was okay with Steve. He would keep all of fragile moments so that no one could use them against him.

“So what’s the theme this year?” Steve asked with a grin and bumping their shoulders together.

Eddie snorted. “I’m surprised you don’t have the next thirty years memorized.”

Steve shrugged. “I like not knowing so that I can be amazed every time. Like I know it’s silver for twenty-five years and gold for fifty.” He shrugged again. “The rest though? I leave to you.”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“The next bunch are almost all different metals,” Eddie explained, talking happily. “All except year nine which is pottery, but I have an idea for that one. So since they’re metals, I thought I’d learn how to make flowers out of the different metals.”

“That’s awesome!” Steve enthused. And it was, too. There were a couple of years that Eddie couldn’t make them himself and Steve could tell that it bothered him a little. So that one skill would produce so many years really made Steve happy.

“This year is iron,” Eddie said smiling broadly. “Now, iron is a little hard to work with if you aren’t a blacksmith, so I fudged it a bit with steel. Which is technically eleven but there are a couple of years that double up, so I figured I’d change up the flower.”

“I can’t wait,” Steve breathed.

They got back to the hotel and laying on the bed were the steel flowers.

Steve gasped when he saw them. “They’re beautiful. What flower are they?”

“Jasmine.”

Steve thought for a moment. “Unconditional love?”

Eddie kissed him deeply. “Right in one, my clever boyfriend. Because that’s how it will always be, okay?”

“Okay.”

~ 7. Copper Carnations (they oxidize to green)- Gay Love

Steve couldn’t believe it had been seven years since he rocked up to Eddie’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and a hope. Now Eddie and he were world travelers, and all because Eddie made it big with his band.

They had been through it all, the highs and the lows. Steve had to stay out of the spotlight for the most part because there weren’t any metal stars who were gay and Eddie had been told to stay firmly in the closet.

So all he would say in interviews was that he was in a committed relationship and then ‘no comment’ after that. So sometimes tabloids and other entertainment media would pair Eddie off with one woman or another.

One week it would be an up and coming starlet, next it would be some popstar. Steve snorted over that one. As if Eddie would date someone who liked pop music. He would whine about it having no soul and that it was basic.

But with the press hounding him night and day, it was hard for him to break away enough to spend time with Steve. Those were the worst days in Steve’s opinion. Eddie’s too, if he was honest.

But Eddie had flown Steve out to a private beach in Hawaii for just the two of them. Eddie even hired an actor to play him going about New York to throw them off the scent.

It was nice.

Steve had gotten up early to sit on the shore and watch the sun come up over the Pacific ocean. He had put out a large beach towel and pulled his knees up to his chest as watched as the sky went from black to blue to red and orange and finally the sun came up and sky settled on a deep blue, so unlike the almost grey skies of LA or New York.

Just as the sun was about to fully come up over the horizon, Eddie came out with a picnic basket and sat down next to him.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, giving Steve a kiss on the cheek. “Wha’cha doing up so early for?”

Steve turned to him and smiled. “I just wanted to see the sun come up. It’s not often we get to do that anymore.”

Eddie looked over at the sun and then back to Steve. “No. I wish you had woken me up though. I would have joined you.”

“I know,” Steve said softly. “But you just looked so cute, sprawled out like a star fish, I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

Eddie huffed, but wisely said nothing about his starfish status, instead opting to get out all the things he prepared for breakfast. There was chopped fruit and yogurt, granola and orange juice and a little vodka if Steve felt a little daring.

About half way through their beach side breakfast Eddie pulled out of the flowers from the basket. Copper carnations.

Steve recognized the flower from all the carnations he had given to Claudia over the years. But why carnations?

“Are they meant to be yellow for copper?” he asked in confusion. Yellow carnations meant rejection and disdain. His lip started to wobble.

Eddie shook his head. “Do you know what copper’s most defining characteristic is?”

“No,” he said softly, his voice small as he took in the flowers in his hands.

“It turns green.”

Steve looked up at Eddie in surprise.

“Oh!”

“It takes awhile,” Eddie continued. “But I promise you, when those flowers turn green, I will come out and I will tell the world you are mine.”

“And how long does it take?” Steve asked breathless. “For them to turn green.”

“Usually about five years,” Eddie said with a half shrug. “It can take up to thirty though.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Then here’s to the next thirty years, babe.”

Eddie brought their lips together and kissed Steve tenderly. What he didn’t tell Steve was that there was a way to speed up the process and if they weren’t green by the flowers’ fifth year, he was going to dumping them in a solution of vinegar, ammonia, and salt. There was no way he was going to wait thirty years to come out.

~ 8. Bronze Tulips (orange)- Appreciation and Truest of Love

It was two days before their anniversary and things were not going well. Eddie had agreed to a European tour even though Steve had asked for them to be home for their anniversary this year. London and Hawaii had been nice, but they had a whole ass mansion they never used because they were gone all the time.

It resulted in the biggest blow up the two of them had ever had. There was even full on screaming. That was yesterday. It was Valentine’s day and he was alone in this big ass mansion he never wanted. Eddie was somewhere in Germany or Austria or something.

The Sunday tabloids had been filled with Eddie going out with this hot rocker in leather hotpants and ripped t-shirt. They had screamed about that too. Especially since Eddie refused to tell Steve who she was. Only the repeated phrase of ‘I’m not cheating on you.” But no other explanation.

He called Robin and Dustin and begged them during each of his calls with them to tell him that it was all in his head that Eddie was pulling away.

Dustin’s “Ehhh...” was not helpful and neither was Robin’s, “It only feels like he’s pulling away because he is far away.”

He sat there looking at all the flowers Eddie had got him over the years. He brought all the different vases to the long dinning table and just stared at each one, his hands shaking and his lower lip quivering as recount each flower and their meaning.

He picked up the yellow daisy. The one that had started it all. Attached was the original note: ‘I will love you until the last petal falls.’

Steve tugged at one of the silk petals, vaguely wondering if it could be plucked off.

The phone rang and Steve ignored it at first. But then on the seventh ring he got up. He picked it up on the eighth.

“Hello?” he said dully. He hoped it wasn’t someone selling something. He had gotten a lot of those kind of calls lately and he really didn’t need that right now.

“Ste-ie!” Eddie said.

“You’re breaking up,” Steve said with a frown.

“So-ry, I -st nee-d to he-r you- vo-ce.”

“Eddie,” Steve said a little louder. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I can’t –ay. Can’t –t – see y– aga–n. I– t– soon.”

Then the line went dead.

Steve looked at the phone for a moment or two and then let out a sob. Did he just get broken up with? On Valentine’s day no less?

He didn’t understand what Eddie was saying, but it didn’t sound good. He set the phone back on the cradle and slid the floor.

He looked up at all the flowers on the table, all the years of promised love and devotion to have it all ripped away from him.

He wanted to be angry. To yell, to tear, to destroy the flowers Eddie had given him. But he didn’t even feel sad in that moment. He felt numb.

~

Eddie bounded through the front door. He had tried to call Steve back several times but the call wouldn’t go through. So his manager did the smart thing and put him on a flight back to LA immediately. But thanks to horrible layover in London due to a storm in New York, he arrived just after midnight on the 16th.

He was surprised that none of the lights were on. But considering had badly they had been fighting lately, he knew he was being optimistic about that. Wayne had called him every synonym to idiot in the book when he took this tour instead being home with Steve.

But he had taken the tour for Steve. He was so close to being able to retire and the label wanted one more tour before they all went their separate ways for a while. The goal was two years, but it might be longer if the burnout stuck around for longer than they planned. But everyone was on board with doing the last tour so that they could actually rest.

Eddie paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. There weren’t any lights on up there, either. He was about to check out the kitchen when he heard faint sobbing from the front room. It was then he noticed the flickering light of a TV screen.

His heart sank. He had suspected that Steve didn’t understand he was coming home for their anniversary, but now hearing the faint sobs, it was clear Steve’s mind had gone the absolute worst direction.

He set his suitcase on the floor and quietly dashed up to their bedroom. He dug around the back of their walk-in closet until he found it. Eight bronze tulips.

Eddie gathered them up and dashed back downstairs as quietly as he had come. He opened the door and sure enough, there was Steve curled up on their sofa, tissues strewn everywhere, bottles littered the floor, and piles of half eaten take-out were on the coffee table.

He set the flowers on the armchair and scooted the Ottoman over to the sofa. He gently lifted Steve’s head and whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m here now.”

It took Steve a moment to realize who it was before he launched himself into Eddie’s arms, his sobbing taking on a relieved quality.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his boy and held him tight whispering over and over that he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Finally when Steve was calm enough to talk, Eddie wrapped himself up in him and they cuddled on the couch.

“It sounded like you were breaking up with me,” Steve admitted shyly. “But I couldn’t reverse dial an international call.”

“I know, Stevie,” he muttered, kissing the top of his head. “I was saying that I needed to hear your voice after that big fight we had and that I was coming home as soon as I could.”

“The tour!” Steve cried and he bolted up right. “Are you going to get into trouble for that?”

“No,” Eddie said, taking his face in his hands. “Because we all needed a break. We were running on empty so badly that we were barely able to stand up straight, let alone play our instruments.”

“Oh.”

Eddie kissed him gently on the nose, each cheek, his forehead, and then finally his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for a really long time.”

“Do you mean it?”

Eddie nodded and then got up. He grabbed the flowers and handed them to Steve. “Eight, like with year four, one for every year we’ve been together.”

“Tulips?” Steve said, cocking his head to the side. “Is the metal what the color is?”

Eddie nodded. “Bronze for orange. No tricks this time, I promise.”

Steve didn’t have to say it. It was written all over his face. It was perfect for this year. Appreciation and the truest of love.

And as Steve showed his own appreciation by kissing the hell out of Eddie, Eddie knew that they would make it through any storm as long as they had each other.

~ 9. Pottery Vase (with a bird of paradise painted on the side)- Joyfulness

Eddie had spent almost every day in the first couple months after that fateful flight home in Steve’s pocket. And Steve ate up every moment. There wasn’t an interview he had to go to, or an award show Steve was forced to stay home for, or a studio session with long hours. Eddie was all Steve’s and they talked about it. With Wayne getting on age, they wanted to move closer to him so that they could be within easy distance if he needed anything, so they settled on moving to Chicago.

It was far enough away that they would have their own space but close enough that it would be a day drive or a quick flight and they would be there in a flash.

The house they bought wasn’t as big as their LA home or even Steve’s childhood home. But it had a heated pool, rooms for all their friends and comfortable space.

This was Steve’s dream home.

Even better they moved in the fall instead of the dead of winter, so by Christmas they were completely settled in and had all their friends over for New Years.

Eddie had gotten Steve into painting and himself into pottery as something they could do together but separate as the classes were at the same time.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays they would drive down to the rec center and go their respective classes.

It had been rough for Eddie the first couple of week because of the publicity. But once it settled down that Eddie was just a regular Joe, the class continued as normal.

By February Eddie could make the vase he wanted for their ninth anniversary. Then he got the brilliant plan to have Steve paint a flower on it before having it fired.

Steve thought long and hard about which flower to do. It was usually Eddie who picked the flower, but this time they were doing it together.

“It’s a ridiculous sounding name for a flower,” Steve hedged. “But I think its meaning fits this year a lot.”

Eddie smiled up at him. “Come on, baby. I live for the ridiculous.”

“It’s a called a bird of paradise and it means joyfulness.”

“It’s perfect, Stevie.”

So Steve painted the flower on the vase and then they pressed each of their hands on either side of the flower on the vase. Eddie’s left hand and Steve’s right.

Then when it was done baking and cooling, they took it home.

Steve took out one flower from each of the previous eight years and added the daisy. The rest of the flowers were still in their own vases around the house, but this one was the center piece at their table.

The proof of their love.

~ 10. Tin Daffodils- New Beginnings

Ten years. Steve couldn’t believe it. It had been a whole decade since he walked up to Eddie’s house and handed him the bouquet that would change both of their lives forever. And in those ten years their little family has grown.

Max and Lucas got married and had a sweet baby girl. Dustin and Erica got married, which was a surprise to everyone but Steve. He had been there for the their first adventure together and he hoped to be there for all them. Mike and El broke up for good and it took Will having a steady boyfriend to get his head out of his ass a realize who he wanted along was his best friend. El was still living with Hopper and had no plans to settle down in the near future.

Robin had moved around the country, first New York, then San Francisco, before finally growing roots in Seattle. There she met a nice woman named Emilia and they had moved in together just last year. Nancy and Jonathan also split up, but they remained friends. Jonathan had gone to NYU with Robin and learned a lot about himself before moving to California with Eden and Argyle. Steve was pretty sure they were in a ployamorous relationship, but he hadn’t wanted to pry.

Eddie’s bandmates had spread out over the world. Gareth had to Wales to learn about where his grandparents had come from. Jeff went to New York to write musicals. And Brian was writing music for Hollywood blockbusters. They still got together every couple of months to hangout and discuss the future of Corroded Coffin and each time it was unanimous that they not bring it back together. They still were struggling with the affects of burnout from being on the road.

Wayne had finally decided to move in with them in Chicago and was happy to putting around in their garden for the rest of their days.

For their anniversary Wayne was going back to Hawkins to visit friends so that Steve and Eddie would have the house to themselves.

Steve was making the dinner and Eddie was providing dessert. They way they moved through the kitchen was like dancers in sync. A perfect ballet of just knowing where the other is going to be after ten years of being together.

Steve was making manicotti and Eddie was making white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. When they were done, Eddie popped the cheesecake in the fridge and they sat down to eat. Just happily chatting and enjoying each other’s company like they had the last two years. It had been healing for them.

Then they settled in front of their TV and watched cheesy rom-coms until they laughed themselves sick.

Then Eddie brought out three things, his flowers, the cheesecake and a small envelope and set all three down on the coffee table in front of them.

Steve picked up the envelope. “What’s this, Eds?”

Eddie plucked that from his fingers. “Not yet! That’s for last.” He picked up the flowers first and handed them to him. “Tin is much easier to work with then the other metals, so I made daffodils.”

“New beginnings?” Steve questioned, cocking his head to the side. “What new beginnings are we gonna have, sunshine?”

“You remember my manager, Archie MacDonald, right?” Eddie asked chewing on his bottom lip.

Steve smiled. “Of course I remember. I might have had too many hits to the head, but I can remember someone who has been a major part of your life for almost as long as we have been a couple.”

“Well,” Eddie said nervously. “Archie used to be Angie and he got pregnant. He can’t get an abortion with back alley’ing it. So he asked around to see if anyone wanted the baby.”

Steve’s eyes immediately starting tearing up. “They’ll let us? They’ll let us have the baby?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, pressing their lips together. “They’ll let us have the baby. Everything has been taken care of, all you have to do is go in tomorrow and sign the papers. He’s already signed documents that he is relinquishing rights to the baby, so no matter what happens, it won’t be staying with Archie.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and pulled out a picture from the envelope. “Technically is not an it, the baby is a she.”

He handed the picture over to Steve and he took it gingerly. There in his hand was an ultrasound showing a healthy baby. A healthy baby girl.

“Is this real?” he asked, his voice quaking. He didn’t mean the picture exactly, but all of it.

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie said pulling Steve in for a hug. “It’s all real. It’s not the six you wanted, but it’s a start. The baby is due in June.”

Steve let the tears of happiness fall. At the age of twenty-nine he was going to be a father. He looked up at Eddie with such adoration, Eddie just had to kiss him.

“To new beginnings, honey,” Eddie murmured. “You got any ideas on what you’ll want to name her?”

Steve thought about it for a moment. “Heather Amelia Munson.”

“Why Heather?” Eddie asked, not because he didn’t like the name, but because he had a feeling it meant something to Steve.

“White heather means protection,” Steve explained, “and wishes come true. Protections so she gets all the help from the universe she can from being our kid and wishes come true, because she absolute is.”

Eddie chuckled. “Fair enough. And why Amelia?”

Steve just shrugged. “It just seemed like a fairy tale name and I wanted something connected to you, too.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Little Heather would be born to a world that still didn’t know Eddie was gay and living with his life partner. But just eleven days before their eleventh anniversary, Rob Halford of Judas Priest came out as gay. Eddie had a brief meeting with him and then on their anniversary announced it to the world with green carnations, lavender, and pink hydrangeas.

The meaning was there for all those that knew where to look. And as with Halford, Eddie and Corroded Coffin’s fans rushed out to support them.

Then on their thirty-eighth anniversary they were legal wed. Wayne had lived to see it, but passed not long after. At their wedding all their friends and their families were there. And all three of Eddie and Steve’s kids. Heather, Valerian, and Daphne. Val as his friends called him was their first test tube baby. He was used using Steve’s sperm and his name meant readiness. Daphne was their last and used Eddie’s sperm, her name meant sweets to the sweet. Little Daphne was only ten, while Valerian was thirteen and Heather, sixteen.

They lived happily ever after.

~

Tag List: COMPLETE

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @xxbottlecapx @chaotic-waffle @im-sam-fucking-winchester @stedestielfrattficlover @me-and-my-sloth

10- @drips-and-drabbles15

[javierduffy]

“uh … it’s a bit girly … no?” javier examines himself in the reflection of his knife’s blade, looking this-a way and that, the dark blue of a large silken bow now peeking sheepishly around his neck as it sits gently in his hair. next to him, kieran clams up a smidge, hands still held close to his chest nearby his completed ribbon project on javier’s head. he finds it in himself to wring his hands a time or two rather than immediately undo his work as javier seems to continue to formulate his final opinion. “you … think so? look at me?” kieran asks, politely as a mouse. javier easily complies, turns at his hips and looks behind, up at kieran where he sits on the stump above him.

kieran, as he peers over, can’t help the meadow of flush that blooms over his neck, then his ears, then his nose and his cheeks. he can tell javier is deep in thought by the look on his face, mouth twisted just a might sideways, cocking his mustache awry, and the deep wrinkle sat between his brows. the ribbon he used matches javier’s vest perfectly, and the shine of the silk warms bright in the sun, just like every piece of jewelry and metal javier has adorned himself with. with this ribbon, javier’s hair sits lower on his head, ponytail draped down his nape and more hair framing his face in his bangs. kieran resists an urge to tuck one side back behind his ear.

kieran thinks that he looks like a painting, a muse, a love letter so heartbreakingly full of adoration that the only language it could be written in is bright swipes of pigment on a canvas. as he makes eye contact with the silk squinting around the red of a necktie, he thinks that javier may be right, if ‘girly’ could sum up ’poetry written in effeminate reverence’.

kieran always did think women made better art, wrote better books- found a better way to love. softer. warmer. prettier. like javier.

the world sounds like it’s underwater.

“i think … it’s very pretty. it suits you real well.”

earnest to a fault, the look in kieran’s eye dances gingerly with javier’s internal voice. it dips and sways him, and javier, despite his instinct, finds himself charmed by its rhythm.

“-b-but! i could take it out! if you don’t-“ javier looks down at himself in his knife again, the sunlight filtered through the leaves glinting a yellow green around his dark features, and kieran hands him patience on a silver platter. a rich blue makes friends with bright green quite easy, javier thinks. this is how he must look through kieran’s mossy lens.

“pretty … yes. you know, i think you may be right. i’ll keep it. gracias.”

[loderlied]

sharing some thoughts about deactivating here because it’s been difficult pondering idk.

[alagaisia]

I’m reminded of that post about how goths and people who wear only lots of pink are actually the same because “wearing only one color” is a specific choice in opposition to just looking Normal

I’m flying to a friend’s wedding today, and I recently acquired from my neighborhood free page a very pretty vintage suitcase in like a brocade upholstery texture in all of my good colors, so of course I needed a coordinated airport outfit à la Midge Maisel. You guys don’t know me, but I usually dress very put together, in what my sister calls Outfits, with a capital O to distinguish it from just wearing clothes. And since getting a full time job I’ve been slowly adding to my collection of vintage and 50’s-vibes clothes, because I just really like that aesthetic (my bridesmaid dress for the wedding is a vintage tea dress I got from Etsy. The fabric is in great condition but I had to reinforce pretty much every seam with my sewing machine, because the structural integrity of the original thread was breaking down, so that was an interesting learning experience).

All of which is to say that I Dressed Up for the airport in a vintage-y outfit that coordinates perfectly with some of the colors of my suitcase, and my hair is curled, and I have a vintage leather purse that my grandma gave me that matches her watch that I’m wearing and the shoes she bought me last summer at the same vintage store that my skirt came from, and a teenage-ish girl with whatever you call the 2023 teenage equivalent of emo/punk vibes, like the dark maroon mullet and not a lot of makeup and dark comfy clothes but like, very on purpose, told me I look cool when I walked past on the way to security

And like, she Gets It! We have different fashion goals but I think we put a similar degree of intention into the way we look compared to just wearing regular clothes. Which is cool! It’s validating. Not that I really need validation, but it’s always nice to get compliments, of course. And the way I dress is really not terribly distinctive most of the time, other than being Outfits and a little dressier than maybe the norm is, like I think most people who see me one time in passing would see that I look Nice but not necessarily see it as a cultivated Look. But punk mullet girl gets it.

[tovarishch-dyke]

One thing adulthood has taught is that you hold your tongue even if you really REALLY are about to lose it on someone

[yameoto]

caitvi sandwich

wives returning from war

tw; dom!caitlyn, dom!vi, f!reader, double penetration, voyeurism, masturbation, pussyfucking, pussyeating, blowjobs, overstimulation, 3some, sex if it was a competitive sport. wc; 1.8k

you are all they can think about. all fucking day. it’s a wonder they could've waited this long, really, to get home and fuck their sweet, sweet darling. by the time the door opens, they’re ready to jump your skin.

“baby,” vi gasps, bulging arms winding tight around your waist and seizing you—lifting you into the air like you weigh nothing more than a china doll. she kisses you, hard. then kisses you again, and again, and again; peppering down your jaw to your neck to your collar. they’re sloppy in their haste, nuzzling into your throat with a hefty amount of neediness.

seriously. you haven’t even put down your tea, yet.

“stop hogging her.” caitlyn complains, as she collapses back onto the couch. she angles her head upwards, and caitlyn kiramman does not pout—but the gleam of her doe-eyes is uncharacteristically sulky.

vi spins you around, much to your disgruntled (though, secretly pleased), “hey!” before she delightedly turns to caitlyn, smirking. “don’t tell me you’re jealous, little ms. dignitary.”

caitlyn scowls.

“you aren't the only person who’s missed her, you know.” she grouses, and vi just grins. “spread your legs, cupcake.”

there’s a beat in which caitlyn wearily glares, like, really? you’re ordering me around? though she concedes, legs unfolding from their elegant cross to fall open, wide and inviting.

vi promptly plops you into caitlyn’s lap.

caitlyn gasps, pupils darkening in an instant as her knees jerk upwards. she grunts, out loud, when your thighs shift—unintentionally—against her bulge. that’s all it takes, before silk is getting torn of your shoulders by pale hands, and vi is tugging the skin of your nape between her teeth, exhaling shakily against your ear. so. they were clearly on edge.

“been thinkin’ bout you all day, princess.”

“understatement.” caitlyn hisses, hips canting upwards to grind shamelessly up against your groin. oh, gods. she’s getting harder by the minute. “i seem to remember your descriptions on the ride home, vividly.”

“what can I say? it got you all hot and bothered.”

“with nowhere to take care of it.”

you swallow, cheeks hot. “do i get a say in this?”

“no. “no.” two voices resound at once, almost unintelligible with the way vi is biting into your shoulder and caitlyn has begun to ravish the expanse of your tits, like they both won’t be pleased until you leave, bruised and marked to oblivion.

hands seize your hips, flipping you easily—back onto the couch. you can’t tell whose. especially when your eyelids squeeze shut the moment a palm cups your quickly slickening cunt, rubbing over your panties.

“hah..”

“fuck. been dreamin’ bout this sweet pussy all day.” vi murmurs, hungrily, nose dragging up the insides of your thighs. she marks her way in furious nips, getting sloppier and sloppier; desperate to tongue her way to the prize.

“ha.” caitlyn’s voice is drill, yet amused. your eyes fly open when your legs are wrenched apart by large, veined hands, and vi grins up at you from between your legs.

your tea, is now unceremoniously spilled all over the floor, porclein in pieces. all in the name of seizing vi’s pink head of hair and smushing her up against your quickly soddening pussy, whining in need. she winks, the asshole, yanking silken underwear down in clumsy movements, and then her rough hands are clamping, spreading you wide open. she’s being beckoned by the heady scent of your cunt; tantalisingly all-consuming. her mouth is watering.

listen. vi wants to work you up—wants to take her time, relish each and every drop that coats your folds in that thickening glisten. it’s just—fuck, princess. d’you have to smell so goddamn good?

“can you not be patient?” caitlyn husks, and annoyance has never sounded so fucking sexy. “i’m trying to enjoy the view.” her legs have slid, to fit over your shoulders, and when your eyes flutter upwards; you’re greeted with the underside of her cock. it arcs above your head, obscuring most of your vision, and it’s enough to draw a needy little whine out of you, hips jerking upwards—right into vi’s waiting mouth.

that’s how it goes. her tongue drags, hot and flat against your swelling, puffy clit, before exhaling into your cunt like a little fucking tease before she dives in.

“who’s fuckin’ pussy is this?” vi growls, mouthing feverishly, one hand pre-occupied with jerking herself, furiously off, whilst the other slides two fingers, stretching you generously open.

“ah-ah—mm—yours.. ow—!

“ours.” caitlyn corrects, twisting your nipple sharply, in reprimand. it’s hard for her to be too mad, when you nose into the wedge of her thighs, apologetically, your hips shaking the couch—like a kitten nuzzling against an outstretched knuckle.

her gaze lowers, black and blue; and your lips part; glossy, plush, and absolutely begging for it. caitlyn can’t resist—her dick sliding its way into your open mouth.

you take her tip like a greedy thing, lips wrapping round and tongue slicking underneath, arching up for more.

“shit, darling.” caitlyn gasps, entire body shuddering, all around you. it takes everything in her not to throat-fuck you right then and there, nails digging into the fabric of the armrest, eyes rolling backwards as you nurse on her cock.

vi laughs, pleased and breathy. each tremor thrums straight to your core. her tongue swirls, panting; hot and heavy, as she pumps her fingers ever deeper, burrowing into your pussy like a woman starved. there are slurping noises, because she’s a messy fucking eater and there’s nothing she loves more than having you smeared all over her chin, her nose, her cheeks—as long as she’s salivating into your pussy. the searing coil in the pits of your stomach winds, tighter and hotter like a spring, overheating.

you can feel vi’s lips curling upwards with every clench of your thighs—hips spasming—bucking heedlessly into tongue. she fucks your head empty. in fact, all you can do is moan into caitlyn’s cock, and that sends shocks of pleasure trembling up caitlyn’s length to her spine; unable to resist pumping herself, deeper, into the warm, wet heat of your throat.

all of sudden, vi thrusts another finger inside, just as her tongue drags upwards and mouth sucks, hard on your clit. she curls, knuckles pulsing against your tight, tight walls. caitlyn seems to approve, because her slow, treacherously-shaky motions begin to stutter into frenetic jerks, breathing harsh. overwhelmed, you let out a mangled croon—back arching off the couch—pinned down two ways, by the cock in your throat and the tongue in your cunt—and promptly cum all over vi’s face.

vi licks it all up. glances upwards from between your legs, smug and pussydrunk, cum dripping from her lips. she makes a show of swiping it with her tongue, though you’re too spoiled by the warm aftershocks of pleasure wracking your body to do too much about it. caitlyn is still fucking you, trying her damndest to remain in control, but her restraint is slipping with every trickle of white that rolls down vi’s throat, and the way you tug her dick deeper into your mouth, like you were made for it.

all you can do, for the moment, is attempt to catch your breath—chest rising and falling in shallow pants as you suck on caitlyn’s cock, suctioning her in, weakly. her hips rock, and in the fuzzy whiteness that’s throbbing your brain you almost don’t realise vi is lifting up off the couch and fisting her own cock in her hands, until your pussy is being splayed open and—ah—fuck!

“hush, baby.” vi coos, almost in awe at the way your pussy gapes, loosened by her fingers and her tongue and wet, wet, wet with her saliva, your pleasure. it yawns open. takes the thick length of her girth so easily. she fucks back into you, smooth and languid, gently tracing fingers up your hips. you’re trembling in overstimulation, sensitive, sore. they always seem to find a way to leave you like that.

“look at you. takin’ me and cait so well.”

look at you, indeed. the outline of vi’s cock pumps in you, along with caitlyn’s own; one raised against your abdomen, the other down your throat. it has the two of them almost dizzy with arousal. vi buries herself inside you—fucking your aching walls in loose, hot drags; biceps tense in fighting the urge to not roughly slam you balls-deep and fuck you into the couch, like some wild animal—lest you choke on caitlyn’s dick. speaking of—

“oh, darling.” caitlyn shudders, as her balls tighten and her thighs clamp down, around you. “i think i’m—ah—“

at the last second, caitlyn jerks herself out from your mouth and aims. her load shoots out—a thick, white arc that splatters against vi’s tits and streams down her torso. there’s a viscous, glossy streak down the line of your body—like a bucket of paint knocked over.

caitlyn pants. vi ceases her motions, momentarily. glancing down at the mess, glistening down the ridges of her abdomen—and then back up at the woman, thighs locked around your head.

she smirks, chest heaving, hips still working. “wow.”

“oh, shut up.” caitlyn slurs, slumping against the armrest of the couch, temporarily satiated. her cock drizzles weakly, as she pumps it lazily in her hand, watching vi fuck you, gentle and slow—hand curling into your hair. her dick twitches.

“next time, you’re swallowing.”

a drop of leftover cum beads, down her length, and splashes on your lip. your tongue drags out, and it’s with a deliberate little arch, you lick it into your mouth. two, twinning inhales; sharp, and shaky. vi’s hips stutter. caitlyn’s eyes meet yours, dark.

oh, you’re not getting a wink of sleep, tonight.

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[ectoplasmer]

i miss my boyfriend (he’s in a completely different world than me)