#fucking in public is fine as long as you move as far away from people/to as private a place as you would go to smoke a cigarette

[2009isitanyways]

imma be honest celibate sasquatch you gotta lighten the fuck up

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

-

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

-

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

-

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

[theunaveragepsychoticbitch]

KINKTOBER DAY 2: SEMI PUBLIC

Yall why tf I forgot to schedule this post. I just woke up and was like wtf. Anyways a year later yall gettin the finished version of this.

The waitress, innocent in her unawareness, made her way over far quicker than Barbatos wished.

Your fingers didn't stutter once in their rhythm as she approached. When she spoke, "Yes? How may I help you?", you felt his cunt squeeze around you, arousal drizzling down the thoroughly-soaked digits.

From where the waitress stood, all she saw was your hand in your boyfriend's lap. He was tomato red, a strange glazed look in his eyes that suggested illness of some sort. Oh dear, was there a problem with the tea?

"Ah, was the tea not to your liking? Our deepest apologies–"

You slide your thumb across his clit, making him jump. Cold tea sloshed over the side onto the table.

You and the waitress both gasp, hers coming out significantly more genuine.

"Please, let me clean that for you!"

In the second it takes to retrieve a towel from her uniform pocket, your thumb moves to his clit in true, rubbing mind numbingly slow circles as your fingers sped up.

Barbatos wasn't sure he could breathe. The woman was bent over the table, dutifully cleaning up his mess, occasional glancing up in confusion at the forced stoicism on his face. She was so close. Close enough that if she looked down right now, she'd see you. Close enough that if she listened in, the bustle of the busy Cafe would fade to the wet gush of arousal leaking into his (thankfully dark) pants, forced from his cunt by your skilled fingers.

God, why was it taking so long to clean such a small spill?

"Once again, um, our apologies sir. May we help you with anything else? A refill, perhaps?"

He hoped he didn't sound too breathy. "It’s f-f…" he closes his eyes against beading tears as you switch your pace again, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms as his hands fisted in his lap. "Fine. May I… hah, may I please have a refill?" He shoves the words out, fighting the urge to fuck himself on your fingers the whole time.

Wearing a slightly befuddled expression, she nods, absentmindedly scribbling on her little notepad and backing away.

Barbatos pants, relaxing onto your fingers and allowing them just a little farther inside. The squelch of his own arousal meets his ears and manages to further warm his face.

"You're amazing," You lean in, whispering into his ear and basking in the shiver that ran through him. The sun was going down, and it's rays were hitting him perfectly, making his hair and eyes glow with a special sorta brilliance that drove you insane. His lips, bitten raw by this point, were red and puffy, begging to be kissed. Hot, flushed skin looked soft to the touch, was soft to the touch, begging to be caressed and cared for.

You smile, your own lust like a beast that'd caught its prey in your eyes. Barbatos was quick to catch the change in mood; quick to realize he was extremely fucked.

To outsiders, you look like a couple on a rather awkward first date, or perhaps like one on their umpteenth. A teasing lover and a shy one.

Oh, how Barbatos wishes it was that simple.

"Do you wanna cum?" There was a barely leashed excitement in your voice. Never had a whispering seemed so loud, loud enough to drown out everything else all at once.

There was only one answer, really.

"Yes."

Your smirk was devilish. "Then beg the waitress for it."

...

....

.....

What?

Pretty green eyes filled with tears as they widened to saucers. Beg... the waitress?

The last woman he wanted to see at the moment appeared behind the counter, chatting it up with a coworker as his drink cooled on its platter. He had a few minutes at most.

"What do you mean? How can I... what would I say?"

Your smile gets no less evil, a dark chuckle leaving you as your fingers stopped all movement. He whines automatically at the loss, just managing to stop his hips from grinding down when he catches your look.

"You of all people are acting like you don't know how to beg?" How he managed to blush even more, only the devil knows.

You roll your eyes at the helplessness on his face. "Figure out, and quickly, she's coming back."

In one fluid movement you retrieve your hand, earning a gasp as you wrap your arm around his waist, slide back into his pants and pose your middle finger right over his clit.

"Anything else?" The lady says, setting down the tray and dutifully moving the cup and it's little plate infront of Barbatos.

You smiled, nodding your head to Barbatos. He inhaled, hoping his expression was polite and simple, despite the watery eyes and rosey cheeks.

"Yes, please..." You tap his clit, making his eyes flutter. "Please, may I– fuck– I mean, please can," Steady breathes began to break as your tantalizingly slow circles broke his focus. He was almost there, so sensitive, so close. Please, please, please...

She smiled, but it was... different, this time. She leaned down, hugging her notepad and pen to her chest.

"Go ahead and cum, pretty boy."

And he did. He came hard as you pinched his clit, jaw dropping open as nothing but a shocked exhale left him, a single, thankful tear falling down his cheek as his orgasm shook him to his soul.

When it was over, two sets of hands were upon him. One was yours, the other was the waitress'. You both smirk at him, twin whispers of "Good Boy," meeting his ears.

[baxteravenue]

HOW TO FAKE IT

pt ii.

summary: when jack and yours management team come together to create a perfect pr relationship you and jack must do your best to keep it as professional as possible... but when you have to spend a year together the lines between real and fake can become a little blurry.

STAGE ONE: Planting The Seed

You could feel the goosebumps rise against your skin as you sat in the cold conference room watching as your manager spoke with a shorter woman, before pointing back at you. You looked away scrolling back on your phone. You knew why you were here, you didn’t really agree to it but he was on a roll in his career right now and he didn’t need anything stopping it soon which is where you came in. 

You were an up and coming singer, you were happy with your fans. You weren't the biggest but you had no complaints. You understood why they wanted this for you, why your label was going out of its way to make you the next Taylor Swift or Ariana Grande. You just didn’t understand why it had to be this way.

“Y/N…” Your manager taps at you making you lift up your head, next to her stands Jack Harlow. “This is Jack, I’m gonna leave you two here to get to know each other and stuff while me and Neelam discuss some stuff.”

You nod, giving her a small smile as she walks out. The room feels warm now, and you can sense the sweat building at the bottom of your back.

“Hi.” Jack says from across the table, he decides to make the first move. 

“Hi.” You respond.

It doesn’t last long because it’s quiet again and awkward, very awkward. 

“Look, I think we should talk and like discuss some things… we are gonna be dating I guess.” Jack rubs at the back of his neck and for the first time you can tell that he is nervous as well. 

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” You ask.

He leans over, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well first of all are you okay with all of this? I don’t want to do this if you’re not okay with it.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “This was your idea?”

“What? No.” He shakes his head, “But I’m not against it. I want a Grammy Y/N and there's… Look, let's just say that some people don’t want me to have one. I’m sure you want one too.” 

You did. It was one of your biggest dreams but in order for that to happen you had to do something about it, and the industry was cut throat. 

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Jack smiled.

“Yes, fine.”

He nodded, “I like your music by the way.”

You laughed. “Yours isn't too bad either.”

Your manager came back into the room as the two of you were in conversation, coming up with things you wanted to do and didn’t.

“Ready to do this?”

You and Jack looked at each other, before nodding. 

Within the next week the four of you had multiple upon multiple meetings coming up with terms and conditions that both you and Jack would be fine with. 

“And one last thing, no one can know. Only the four of us,” Your manager starts looking over at Neelam who continues.

“Not even Urban Jack, no one. To everyone else outside this room the two of you are a real couple and you must act that way.” 

You and Jack sign for a year, enough time to get some exposure on his new album that revolves around love rather than his usual fuck boy persona, and so that the audience can put a face to the alluded person and so that you can kickstart a long and accomplishing career. 

You spend the first few weeks slowly getting used to each other. He follows you on Instagram and you follow back maybe two people notice but you don’t get a huge reaction besides a random account getting excited that two of her favorite artists follow each other.

The two of you are steady with texting about random things, wanting to at least become friends before things get more serious for the public eye. Within a month you’re flying out to Louisville to stay with him for a bit. 

“How do you like it so far?” Jack asks as the two of you eat ice cream in his apartment. 

You take the spoon that was full of chocolate ice cream out of your mouth, “Louisville or this situation?” You blubber through the coldness.

“Both.”

“I don’t think we’ve gotten far enough for me to really feel a certain way, but I haven’t been called any degrading names on the internet so I think it’s fine?” You shrug, “And I haven’t seen much of Atlanta besides your guest room and the Whole Foods down the block.” 

“Let’s do something then?” Jack looked over at you.

“Can we?”

“I don’t see why not? It’s already been a month, a little sighting wouldn’t be too bad.” Jack sits up, “Plus there's a place I really want to show you.”

The place Jack wanted to show you was only just a five minute walk around his apartment complex. A park right under a highway that overlooked a river. The moon twinkled over the water, it was really pretty. 

You looked up at Jack, “Do you come here a lot?”

Jack adjusted his hoodie, shrugging. “Not really. Not these days at least.”

“It’s pretty, and close. I think I'd be here a lot.”

Jack looked at you, “I’m headlining a festival they have here in a few months.”

“Really? That’s so fucking cool!” You smile at him.

“It’s pretty nuts, I remember sneaking into it and then when I first got my slot to perform at the smallest stage with a small crowd of mostly people that knew me from high school– Feels unreal still.”

You nod, “I can’t wait to experience that… Don’t get me wrong I love my little fan base so much and I love playing intimate shows where I can really connect with my audience but I also want to experience a crowd so big I can’t even see where it ends.” You nod.

Jack puts his arm around you, bringing you in closer to him and your heart jumps a little surprisingly, “If this goes as planned I'm sure you will.” 

“Oh my god, Jack Harlow!”

And suddenly him wrapping his arm around you makes sense.

JACKHARLOWUPDATES: Jack is currently back home in Louisville!

|

JACKHARLOWFAN: he looks so cutie in that picture

|

STACYGREENE5: hey! that’s me, he was so sweet even if i was acting a bit crazy lol!

|

GAZEBOSTAN: why was he by himself at the waterfront?!

|

STACYGREENE5: he wasn’t! he was with a girl… i’m pretty sure they’re dating bc he had his arm around her!

JACKHARLOWUPDATED: Jack and Y/N in Louisville tonight!

|

USERNAME: wtf 

|

USERNAME1: This is so random

JACKMANTWTAS: Y/N is credited as a writer on multiple albums, including Mac Miller, so I’m sure they’re working on something together.

|

USERNAME: if it’s true, i’m sure this will be his best album bc she helped mac with swimming when she was only 17

[httpdabi]

Ecstasy

Genre: Smut, best friends (of course lol)

Summary: Your best friend is local bend‘s guitarists, subtly showing you on the stage that the two of you should fuck.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+ ( minors DNI!!!!!!), creampie, unprotected, praising, little bit choking, MASK KINK!!!, semi public. Dom!Dabi

Saw a video of a Ghost member doing crazy shit on the stage and had to write this 🥲

,, Yeah, I know, I didn’t forget to pick it up mom‘‘ you muttered, nodding your head like your mother could see you. Placing the phone a bit away from your ear, you hoped that she‘ll be done with the nagging soon, so you could finally move on with your day. Doesn’t matter how many times you already told her that you didn‘t forget about the package she sent, she still had something to say.

,, You know, next time just pay a bit more so you can follow the location of the package. You and your trust issues, I swear‘‘ You sighed, before the convo was done.

Thankfully.

Putting your phone inside your pocket, you slowly made your way home, dragging your feet lazily across the wett sidewalk. After the overheated days that hit your city, you found yourself missing the rain. Since you were already out, you decided to go buy some grocery’s, since you didn’t have much time to buy anything these days.

After all, you needed some snacks too for the movie you were planing to watch. Cheetos, nachos and so on. Anything is fine.

Once the sun was completely gone, you made yourself a hot cocoa, and cuddled yourself in your favourite blanket before you found the new Orphan movie.

The first part was one of your favourite movies, so you were really hoping that the new one won‘t disappoint you, and so far it was good in your opinion. You were more then curious about stuff that was going on. Snacking on the chips as you waited excitedly for the next thing to happen.

Just when you found out about the plot twist, a loud sound of the doorbell echoed in your apartment. Pausing the movie, you made your way toward the door. There was no need for you to ask who it was, since only one person would pay you a visit without any announcements.

,, Hi doll‘‘your best friend greeted you, hood covering his white hair. Only a smirk formed on his face visible to you. Inviting himself in, Touya took your place on the couch. Placing his hands above his head, he raised his brow at the paused scene on your Television.

,, Of course you’re watching this shit alone‘‘ he chuckled, making some space on the couch for you as he invited you into his embrace.

There was nothing that you loved more than spending time with your best friend. Watching movies with him or just simply being with him. Times like that made you calm, and simply happy.

,, Want me to start from the beginning ?‘‘ You asked, making yourself comfortable.

,, Nah, I‘ll catch up‘‘ he answered, caressing the back of your neck slowly.

The focus you once had was long gone, since he was caressing you the whole time. Not that you were complaining, you loved it and Touya is the only person willing to do it.

,, You asleep doll?‘‘ Touya asked, as he turned the Television off. Shaking your head slowly, you hummed a small no.

,, Are you coming tomorrow to the Tamaris? We‘ll be playing some new covers‘‘ Touya said quietly, like he was scared to wake you up, even tho you were already awake.

,, Which covers ?‘‘ you asked back, burying your face into his chest as he played with your hair.

,, Tek it, Cigarette Daydreams, Sex drugs etc, and so on‘‘ he said quietly, not stopping his movements. Sometimes you asked yourself how the fuck doesn’t he get tired.

,, Of course I‘m coming‘‘ you whispered, closing your eyes as you inhaled the scent of his perfume. ,, Wouldn‘t miss it for anything‘‘ you added.

,, That’s my good girl‘‘ Touya said, smile forming on his lips.

In short time your eyes started to feel heavy, giving you a sign it was time to drift into the sleep. Even tho your bed didn’t have much space for two people, the two of you fit in perfectly fine, and having him so close to you, you knew that you‘ll sleep just fine.

,, What are you going to wear tonight ?‘‘ Nejire asked, playing with the ice inside the glass., before she took the sip of her coffee.

,, I have no idea, gotta see what’s hiding inside my closet‘‘ you answered, rubbing your eyes slowly. You loved how Nejire gets so excited every time Ecstasy is performing. Actually, lots of people were like that.

You understand why, it was something interesting happening for once in a while. Most of the people, or better to say girls, were coming to see the masked band, curious who‘s hiding behind the almost spooky masks. You didn‘t blame them at all tho, you would feel the same probably, but you already knew who the lead guitarist is.

How couldn‘t you know ? That guitarists shares with you all the songs they prepare. Touya didn‘t and couldn‘t hide that from you even if he wanted. Well what else could he even tell you once you found various Ghostface masks inside his room. Original one, silver one, red one with horns and what not.

,, I can‘t wait to see Myers one beating those drums‘‘ Nejire smiled. You were thinking about asking Touya who that is, but how could you explain to her how you found out ? The band was extremely popular in the city, and you were sure, if Nejire found out, everyone else will.

You love her, you really do, but she loves to talk.

Looking at the mirror, you heard Nejire humming some melody in your living room as you did your makeup. You weren’t sure if you got nervous because you‘ll see Touya on the stage, or because of the fact that rest of the club will probably simp for your best friend.

It took you some time to find something to wear. Unsure, you took the white oversized button up shirt, which was big enough to make it look like a dress on you. You put your golden earrings, before you wore your dr martens boots.

The fit was really simple, but you felt good in it, and Nejire‘s compliments helped you boost up your confidence. She also looked good, as always. Her hair was up, showing her pretty face perfectly.

Since the club was near your apartment, the two of you decided to take a walk instead of driving. That way both of you could drink a bit if you decide to.

,, Oh my god, look at Yui there.‘‘ Nejire mumbled, hitting you with her elbow lightly. Your eyes widened once you saw what that girl wore.

Both you and Nejire weren‘t really the type to put someone down or even laug, but Yui was the only exception since she did much worse things to Nejire in the past.

,, She looks awful‘‘ Nejire commented.

,, Yeah, worse then usual‘‘ You tried not to make a face, as the two of you made your way inside the club ignoring Yui and some other guy kissing.

,, Is he trying to swallow her ?‘‘ you whispered to Nejire, making her laugh.

It took you few minutes to find Keigo and Mirio. Of course they got the table super near the stage, Keigo would never settle for less.

The 4 of you started drinking before the rest of your friends arrived. It wasn‘t a plan to drink so much, but Malibu with cherry juice was your weakness. The taste was perfect in your opinion, and it was hard to stop once you start with it.

Keigo was telling you something, which was hard to hear since the music was loud, but you just kept nodding your head as you completely understood him. Deciding to ignore him for a bit, since you felt your phone buzz inside your pocket.

From D4B1: having fun ?

You were about to answer the short message, but another one popped up. A photo of him, wearing all black and his Ghostface mask.

To D4B1: you‘re looking way too hot

You texted fast, not thinking twice.

To D4B1: don‘t make me too jealous, yeah?

Once again Keigo was yelling about something, forcing you to put the phone away and enjoy the night with them. And you did exactly what he wanted since Ecstasy appeared on the stage anyway.

Four of them, Myers on the drums, Jason holding the mic, Ghostface nodding his head as his friend was greeting everyone and Leatherface preparing his guitar.

It didn‘t take them too long to start with the music, and the moment they did , everyone started going crazy. It felt like they had a literal fanbase in the club.

Song after song, and drink after drink you decided to sit and rest from all the dancing. Taking your time to pay attention to your best friend.

You couldn‘t help but smile as you saw him interact with the public in his own way, making the girls scream and put their hands up in hope they‘ll be the one to get his plectrum. Not even realising, the smile you had on your face was long gone.

he never gave it to anyone, yet just the thought of it upset you.

Shaking your head a bit, you noticed that he was facing you. Waving his hand a little at you.

You weren‘t sure how to react. Wave back? Nod your head ? Taking your drink, you gave him a small nod before you took a sip, eyes still on him.

Touya pointed at himself, giving you the same nod. Tilting your head, you almost got confused for a second. Pointing his finger at you, he nodded again. Slowly tilting his head to the left, he pointed at you again, as he relaxed his hand a bit, before he pushed his middle finger up. Moving up and down repeatedly, copying the literal act of fingering someone.

Blush was spreading across your face, as you looked around to see if some of your friends noticed that the Ghostface was paying you little too much attention. You could feel his eyes burning on your skin through that mask, making you look at him again. And without stopping his dirty movement, he just nodded his head again, before he started playing the instrument again.

What the actual fuck.

Billion small questions were inside your mind.

You always had those small feelings for Touya, but yet you always suppressed them for the shake of your friendship.

Well at that moment, all those feelings were exploding like a fireworks inside of you.

Since Keigo ordered you a new drink, you decided to finish the one in your hand. You could feel Keigo‘s arm around your shoulder, but your eyes couldn‘t leave Touya.

The way he was moving there, everything about him was suddenly unbearably attractive. Like he could sense your eyes on him, Touya made his way toward the part where your table was.

Banding down a little, his mask was facing you once again. Not giving a shit that your friends were around, hyping him up. Nodding again, he placed his left arm behind his back. His right hand was on the strings, moving his hand as he was playing it. You weren‘t sure if your friends were too drunk to notice, but he was moving his hand extremely fast, only his middle finger touching the strings of his guitar.

Once you realised that once again he had something else in his mind, imitating the way of rubbing a clit, your eyes widened. And once he was sure you understood him, he nodded his head again, not stopping his movement at all.

The blush spread over your face faster than ever, and you found yourself thankful for the decision to drink, since your friends won’t question the redness covering your face.

After that interaction with Touya, your friends simply continued with the night and the crazy party, yet you were stuck in the moment, not being able to push the image of masked Touya and what he did at the stage.

It took you at least an hour to come to yourself, you drank few more drinks as you enjoyed the night with your friends. Of course that didn’t mean that Touya was done there. Nope, he was coming back every now and then, interacting with you in any way he could.

and once they were done, at your surprise he came to you and gave you his plectrum. A huge smile formed on your face when you took it from his gloved hand.

Nejire started jumping around excitedly before she gave you another drink. You could feel the stares of all the jealous girls, yet you didn’t mind it at all.

Even tho the band left the stage, the club was still full. The night just started and the atmosphere was too good just to leave.

The moment you felt your phone buzzing, you grabbed it immediately, knowing very well that its Touya who’s texting you.

From D4B1: ,, Got a cigarette for me doll ?‘‘

To D4B1: ,, Of course, but I‘m not sure how to give it to you tho ?‘‘

From D4B1: ,, Come to the stars in the hallway, near the toilets. I’ll wait for you upstairs.‘‘

After that message, you told Nejire how you‘ll go smoke one, hoping none of your friends will try to tag along. Being a good friend, she asked if she should come with you, but she didn’t push it once you said you’ll be fine and how you’ll come back fast.

You weren’t sure how to act, maybe it was because of all the alcohol in your system, but you felt like you were so suspicious to everyone. Looking around, you made your way upstairs.

Once you reached the middle, you jumped a bit once you saw Touya standing there with his mask on, laughing slightly at your reaction. Grabbing your wrist, he pushed you closer to him, placing his arms around your hips.

Not thinking twice, you placed your hands around his neck, smiling like you were high.

,, It was so gooooood‘‘ you said, almost screaming, hoping he can hear since the music was super loud.

,, Did you like it ?‘‘ Touya asked, rubbing your hips slowly. The moment he asked u that, you had a flashbacks of him abusing his guitar.

,, Yes, the atmosphere was really nice‘‘ you said acting dumb, not realising that the blush on your cheeks was selling you off.

,, So my girl liked the performance ?‘‘ he asked again, moving his hands to your butt slowly. His face was too close to yours, only mask being between the two of you. And even tho he still had a mask on, you could smell his breath, mix of cigarettes, alcohol and a mint gum.

Not being able to answer, you slowly nodded your head. Instead of saying anything, Touya took your hand, leading you upstairs towards the balcony, which you assumed was private one since no one was there.

In fact, the whole first floor was empty.

The moment he stepped inside some room, he took his mask off and threw it on the bed, before he opened the balcony. Stepping outside and sitting down on the bench as he took a deep breath of fresh air. Tilting his head toward your direction, he smiled when you gave him a cigarette.

The two of you enjoyed each other’s company. Listening to the loud music and screams, you finished smoking there.

,, Come here‘‘ Touya commanded, tapping on his lap. It wasn‘t a first time you sat on his lap, so without thinking much about it you did as he told you.

,, So, did you like it ?‘‘ Touya asked again, face way too close to your own.

,, I told you, it was amazing‘‘ you said fast, hoping he will buy your shit.

,, Don‘t act all dumb doll‘‘ he smirked, rubbing small circles under your dress. It was almost funny to you how a simple touch and few words could make you so lost. Almost hilarious how you’re the person who can always speak up their mind, yet sitting on your best friends lap, his hands holding your waist as he is looking down on you made you the most quiet person ever.

It took him all of his power to control himself. You were simply too cute, sitting there all lost, not expecting him to mention the silly act he did back on the stage. Instead of giving you some time to answer him, he placed his hands on your face, pulling you closer a bit.

He did give you a second there to pull back, smile forming on his face as you closed your eyes, waiting for him to make a move. And that was really enough for him, pulling your face foreword and connecting your lips together.

Two pecks were all that happened, before the kiss turned into a french one.

Touya grabbed your waist, standing up with you in his hands. The kiss was hella messy, yet it was so beautiful. His hands sink on your ass, squeezing it sharply as he made his way back to the room that was connected with the balcony.

,, Doll, I hope you want this as much as i do‘‘ Touya breathe out, managing to say it in between the kisses.

,, I want it more than you do‘‘ You half said half whispered. That was all he wanted to hear, even more. Sitting down on the bed, his hands squeezed your ass again, the left hand rising slightly to slap down. To say it didn‘t hurt would be a lie, but it was more as an unexpected pain.

There was something so inherently erotic about the way he held you and looked at you, about the way his fingers soothed circles into the same skin he slapped few seconds ago.

Hiding your face into his neck, you had the sudden urge to kiss him just below his earlobe, to swipe his white ear to the side and place your lips against his throat. And you do so, licking his soft skin temptingly. Groaning loudly, Touya switched the position, forcing you to lay down on the bed.

His eyes were scanning your face, lids half lowered as he admired how you look underneath him.

Touya took his time playing with you, rolling his tongue over your hips, snapping his teeth against your skin, biting all over again. He was working his way down exactly where you wanted him to be. One hand holding your hips, and other one playing with your underwear.

Your flesh was on fire, pulse racing so fast you were sure he could feel it through your skin. A loud moan escaped your lips as his tongue rolled against your clit. He didn‘t waste his time at all, he had to taste you.

Since you were moving too much, he wrapped his hands around your hips, working to constrict your movements, limiting your motion. You could feel his lips curling into a grin as you gave into his touch.

You were lost in his mouth, whining loudly not thinking about the fact that you were in a unfamiliar place and god knows if the door was even locked.

But how could you even think of that when your best friends tongue was doing wonders on you ?

You were too lost in the ecstasy to realise that one hand left your hips, too lost to figure out where it was going. Soon finding out when one finger slowly touches your clit, before slipping inside of you.

,, Fuck..‘‘ You moan, body jolting in surprise, jumping a bit when he thrusts yet another finger inside. Touya doesn‘t respond, too busy eating you out. The length of his fingers was like a bonus to you, flexing around your curve to hit your g spot. It didn‘t take you long until you started feeling the pulse of your orgasm growing inside you.

,, You taste so good doll‘‘ Touya‘s mouth breaks contact to tell you that, fingers still fucking against you way too fast. Your walls squeeze over his fingers, closing your eyes you placed one hand over your mouth trying to quiet yourself down as you came all over his fingers.

,, Good girl‘‘ Touya said, pulling his fingers out of you, as he played with your juices.

A small idea got inside his mind, nothing huge, but simply fun in his opinion. Watching you all breathless on the bed, he couldn’t help but smirk as he took his mask from the edge of the bed.

You were never sure what your kinks are, you never really experimented. And you never even thought about mask kink ? Just watching your best friend putting his Ghostface mask on and unzipping his pants made you twice as wet as you already were.

Touya‘s hand traced unter your dress, not bothering to get you out of it, leaving every piece of skin he touched on fire. He was touching your lips with his fingers, and without thinking much you simply opened your mouth, welcoming his fingers and sucking on them.

,, Is this what you want ?‘‘ Touya asked, giving you a chance to refuse him and go back to being friends. But who on the earth would refuse him ? Just hearing his voice, muffed because of the mask made you shiver.

You didn‘t even let him finish the question, nodding with your head almost aggressively, since you couldn‘t answer him with his fingers stuffing your mouth, almost fucking it.

,, My doll‘‘ he sighs, hidden behind the mask, while he lines himself up and finally pushes inside of you slowly. Agonisingly slowly. Hearing his muffed heavy breathing was driving you crazy, closing your eyes you enjoyed the feeling of his cock stretching you out, and simply listening to him. He didn‘t want to hurt you, pushing slowly. Not knowing that the slow pace already hurt enough, since it felt like he was stretching you out forever.

Not like you didnt like it. Somehow, it felt good. And then, you’re filled with him, cunt squeezing around his length.

Touya stays like that, masked face buried in your throat, cock twitching inside of you.

,, Touya‘‘ you moan quietly, touching the skin on his neck, one that the mask didn’t reach.

,, Jeez doll, you’re so tight‘‘ He mutters, easing himself out of you slowly, teasing. Until just the head of his cock is inside you. Once you moan, instead of saying anything, he snaps his hips, pushing back inside roughly.

Grabbing your hips, he pulls his body up, giving you a nice view of him. And there you have it. You didn‘t have a mask kink, but now you do.

Holding you still while he thrusts so hard, moving the whole bed. It was too much for you. His moans, that sounded even better under the mask, heavier. His firm hold, his hard thrusts. And just the fact that you were doing it with your best friend, it gave you the feeling like you were doing something forbidden.

It felt way too good.

Your fingernails scrabble against the wood of the bed, trying to grab onto anything to hold yourself. Even tho Touya was holding your hips, keeping you still.

,, Such a good girl‘‘ Touya pants, leaning over you until he is hitting you there deep inside.

You couldn‘t hold your moans, way too loud, not giving a fuck if anyone could hear. You clench around him again, whole body trembling while your pleasure builds.

,, Touya‘‘ you moan his name again, grabbing the mask, as give your best to remove it. And once it‘s gone, you‘re grabbing his face and pulling him to you, connecting his lips with your own.

As much as you liked the mask, it had to be gone. You had to see his face.

Your legs tremble as you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he moves his hips at one reckless speed. Smirk forming on his lips, as he moves his hand from your hip to your neck, giving you a perfect heckles.

The moment you felt the pressure around your throat, combined with his hard moves <our body accrues up and you can feel the second your body breaks beneath him, orgasm hitting you so hard you can see the whole Universum behind your eyelids.

Not sure if it was from the choking or the orgasm, but it felt good either way.

,, Good girl, you‘re taking it so well‘‘ Touya is saying when your ears stop ringing, and you‘re finally catching your breath again.

His thrusts have slowed, working you through your orgasm, waiting until the pulsing is gone. and then once again, he‘s slamming his hips against you, reaching his own high and painting your walls white.

The two of you stayed in bed just like that, in your own world as always, far away from everyone else.

The two of you made your way back to others, once Touya was done cleaning you all up, before he was stating how you should actually go back there with his cum still inside you, since everyone should know that you‘re already taken.

His property

And no one else‘s.

[cmtcahrule]

No Words. Part 2.

For those who can't or won't watch.

26. After our wedding I had purchased all of these lanterns. I had this storage unit of all of these lanterns because they really went with the vibe. I had him and his friends drive them in a U-Haul to Texas which was really helpful until they got stopped at the border with weed and went to jail. So they helped when they could.

27. So when things really blew up for him, which I knew took some years, and you were in the spotlight at red carpets, and you were at big movie premiers, and more eyes were on you, how did that feel? Like you had the taste of fame from the hosting, but did you like being in that spotlight of Hollywood? It felt really weird. Like I should be asking questions. I felt like I still wanted to be the person asking questions. There’s always a fine line. You want to be a supportive wife. But you don’t want to lose your identity. Your husband’s career is going one direction but I have always found it tricky to be a supportive wife and maintain everything else that I want. How can I maintain my young, bitch self and be who I am?

28. I wondered how you felt when he was doing really well and you had to come along for the ride? Everything goes back to relationships. We were best friends. We went everywhere together. We didn’t have kids for 5 years. We were together on every set and every experience. I have so many of my friends from his movie sets like Social Network.

29. Where were you when your marriage was ending? Were you ready? I don’t think anyone is ready. I am such a family person. My family is everything. I would literally do anything to take any pain away from my kid. There is literally nothing I would not do.

30. I am a very Christmas card, basic bitch girl who believes family is more important than life or work. I would honestly do anything to keep my family together.

31. During COVID ahead of the divorce announcement: He was having struggles with his dad. He said mentally I am not OK. Like for me, if anyone said I am not OK, you don’t argue with that.

32. Long story short, he left. I saw some text messages that were not supposed to be sent to me.

33. You know what, we have worked so hard and come so far, you just don’t leave your family during a global pandemic. Especially with everything that we have been through.

34.Yes, family is important, but some people are OK with infidelity, but some people can move on, some people can turn a blind eye, but I fucking deserve the world and I am not the girl.

35. I think people make mistakes but I was never going to stay in a relationship where I was disrespected.

36. I remember screaming and crying and not understanding how and why that this could even be happening after we had so many plans. We wanted more kids. We wanted to be in this neighborhood.

37. It was the most horrible time of my life. I am strong. Yes, you are strong as fuck. From the sidelines, watching you…the way you handled it should be written about.

38. Did he try to fight for the marriage when you wanted to end it? He was not in a great place at the time. I won’t speak on his behalf in terms of treatment but all I wanted for him was for him to get help.

39. I drove him to the airport.

40. A good place to heal is where there is no paparazzi or tabloids. I honestly think that one more year might be our “safe zone” here. It is not like we are hiding but I just want to protect them until they can understand that we are both in really healthy places now.

41. I told my daughter I will buy half of your car if you wait until you are 16 to have a phone.

42. I don’t want to overstep but this came out in the media that Armie is paying $1,500 per month in child support and for some reason that became public. I have built a really successful company and I have 3 shows right now in production. I am so grateful for the success of my company and my team. I can sit here and literally spend however many dollars on another year of arguing back and forth with him about how much money and it is such a waste. I will provide for our kids. They are with me all the time.

43. We were in LA and we were staying at my friend’s house and together putting the kids to sleep and reading a book together. That is what kids want and that is what makes them happy. If that is the one thing I can give them I will. There is nothing I won’t do for them. They didn’t ask for any of this.

44. Are you still dating your hot boyfriend? Yes. He is amazing. He is from Lithuania. Born and raised in a small village. He is a physical therapist. I am in love and I love him.

45. So if you move to LA is he going to come? I don’t know. Everyone says the city will ruin him. He is very traditional. He is only 26.

46. The kids love him so much. He is so present and great with them. He is never on his phone.

47. Our family of four, including Armie, is really important to them. That is their identity now.

48. Regarding work: I am excited for the one on Discovery. It is basically a Dateline but with modern terms. Toxic relationships. I am manifesting 300 seasons of it.

49. We have also done a show on Hulu about opening the location here in Cayman which I am hosting and producing. A couple of other ones that just sold.

50. In the end, everything comes down to trauma. Maybe you are filling a void you did not have when you were younger. We are all products of our upbringing. And that really manifests itself in romantic relationships.

[drdemonprince]

I feel like you've answered a question on this before, so sorry if my search skillz failed me. how do you keep a playful attitude when trying new things? I started a book on wu-wei/'trying not to try' that has made me feel a bit hopeless so far, as I know that approaching things more casually/playfully will help it feel less painful (social situations, job search, dating, etc), but apparently you can't consciously try to be playful?!

Hmmmm this is a tricky question to answer, because it is far easier to describe what the end state feels like than to explain how I got there. But I will try!

I think if you're someone who tends to be quite skeptical and cynical about things, your first instinct during difficult situations might be to turn that skepticism toward yourself. You watch yourself trying to complete the new activity, or talk to the unfamiliar person, and all you can see is the flaws, and you tell yourself, "yeah, nice try bozo, you're never going to be good enough at this / it's never going to be worth it" and what do you know, you are crestfallen and unmotivated. And now that you're judging yourself and feeling shitty, it's even more difficult to complete the task.

but, in my experience in graduate school, developing as a creative writer, and just fumbling my way through social mores, there comes a time when you stop turning that skepticism on yourself all the time, and instead direct it outward, and begin to notice just how fucking confused and fucked up everybody else's attempts are. and if you're lucky, you might even notice other people's foibles and missteps with a sense of affection, rather than cruelty.

the more you step outside of yourself and observe others, the more you notice all the awkward things people say, the strange moments of crossed wires and missed signals, the jokes that fall flat, and just how much people really do not care about all of that so long as you keep engaged and keep your energy open and keep trying.

i have never seen a neurotypical socialize flawlessly. they say rude weird ass things and bump into other people all the fucking time! but they just keep going. often they don't even realize they've done anything wrong. and maybe they haven't even done anything wrong really. perfection isn't really what is expected. the energy is what matters more than the execution, and so if they move around with an open, receptive quality to themselves, and keep learning, they can get by being a little awkward or confused just fine.

and once you recognize how much people are fucking up all the time and that it doesnt really matter, and nobody really cares, for me it gets a lot easier to saunter around being my own level of messy and loose too. i used to judge how inept and oblivious everybody was -- at work, in school, during the hangout, on the train. and at some point i realized it was actually beautiful and something i could feel affectionate about.

it turns out you do not need to worry about everyone behind you in line at the grocery store hating you for taking too long putting your change away. AND you dont have to be mad at the guy in front of you who takes five minutes to put his change away either. because YOU are HIM and HE is YOU and we all suck and that's great.

it's fucking funny how silly and sloppy and dazed a lot of people really are. everybody fucks up constantly and is fucking weird. so who cares! i dont need to evacuate the space because i forgot myself and started picking my nose in public for a second. i can just rub my hand on my pant leg and move on. i dont need to give up going to the comic book club because me and one other guy there got into a small argument. i can come back the next month and make a joke about it with him. that's just normal messy human stuff.

the writer david cain talks about coping with social anxiety by imagining other human beings as kittens that have been dumped out from a basket into the room. they roam around, falling over themselves, exploring and sniffing and doing kitteny things, and none of them are a threat to you ever, and their actions dont mean all that much and certainly aren't all that menacing, they're just silly little animals fumbling around.

and i like to think of humans that way. we goof off, we devote an entire supposedly very serious work meeting to discussing something only tangentially relevant but far more emotionally compelling, we make up all kinds of games to play and weird rules for those games, and then we break the rules of those games and forget them. none of this shit is like, real. and the people who recognize what a goofy joke it is are often the most powerful.

not taking anything too seriously makes me feel powerful. im cynical and skeptical about everything that i get told is an airtight social or procedural rule, and i experiment around the boundaries of it, to see where it bends. but whereas i used to do that in a very bitter and entitled way, trying to find my way "out" of a system I had disdain for, now i can sometimes play with these boundaries and laugh at myself for tripping over them at times and just keep on moving, because that's what everybody does.

[guardkeywolf]

If Blitz was Romantically Involved with 141 members:

Soap

She would be so fucking soft with him

Loves to lay her chin in his mohawk

Snuggle him a lot with her fur and keep him warm

Loves to put him in her lap when Price is briefing them on a mission

Loves their height difference

Very Protective of him

Would sometimes speak Scottish to impress him

If on a mission together and it's out somewhere cold, she will make sure he stays warm the whole time

Would flirt with him over the comms

Calls him her "Suds Stud" as a nickname

Have touches and kisses in public, with his consent of course (we love consent)

Loves to just stare at him lovingly

Would say something lovingly in Scottish to make him blush

Would pick him up and walk to one of their bedrooms out of nowhere

Tops him in bed (and not with a strap)

❗️Before I continue I want to make one thing clear about the previous bullet.

Blitz, does indeed, have the ability to have a dick and she usually does. She is not transgender at all. It's just how she can manipulate her body in any way she wants to. She still identifies as female. I don't care if you find it weird.

If you have a problem with it, you can leave and move on from this. I do not care if it isn't accurate to real life. This is MY fictional character. Not yours.

That is all.

Ghost

Takes a liking to him the second she meets him

Easy makes the man flustered even when it feels gloomy somedays

Always tries to make him laugh or smile

Repeatedly says she loves him a lot with all her heart

Helps him out with doing mission reports

Loves kissing the top of his head through his mask

Doesn't ask him to show his face unless he wants to

Loves going on missions with him and watching him fight from afar

Definitely uses the binoculars to stare at his ass

Compliments it too all the time and loves grabbing it too (with consent too)

Loves hearing his jokes and laughs at them too

Calls him her "Spooky Stud"

Tells him how beautiful he looks when in his gear

Knows he can handle himself but won't regret taking bullets for him in battle

Sometimes tends to nearly scare him when she gets life-threatening injuries but he forgets she heals instantly

Super protective of the Lieutenant

Will give anyone a death stare if they say something bad about him

Loves pleasuring him in bed too and is a full-on Top (with consent)

Gaz

Snuggles the hell out him whenever she gets the chance

Loves hugging the hell out him when she gets back from a solo mission

Whispers many dirty things into his ears whenever she gets the chance

Loves how small he is in her paws (or hands)

Loves having long talks about random things with him too

Gladly lends him help when he's on a mission and is lucky if she gets a kiss from him too at the end of it or more

Loves helping him track down people, she has an excellent nose and senses

Tries to teach him other languages if he'd like

Also loves to give him a lot of insight on warfare tactics considering its been all Blitz has done her life

Super jealous when he goes on a mission with Price

Is annoyed she can't protect him when he's far away

Constantly checks in with him if it's a long mission too

Will by all means FLY, and yes she will, FLY to his location just to be completely sure he's fine

Calls him "K or G"

Will sometimes try to complete his mission herself just to make sure he returns to her safely without him knowing

Will go down on him (with consent) in the bedroom after a stressful mission

She really loves him

Price

Loves to snuggle with the man's beard a lot

Loves each one of his bucket hats too

Will tell him his waist looks nice in his tactical vest

Even try to sneak a touch in (with consent)

Tries to take quick glances at him if she can

Loves kissing him whenever or wherever

Helps him out with reports or meeting new soldiers

Tries to come with him on every mission he gets

Will still go despite orders saying otherwise

If he gets injured, she will end the person who did it

She will literally look after him and not go back to base until he finishes his mission or until something is said otherwise

Says his British accent is beautiful and makes him blush

Loves holding him in her arms or lifting him up easily to look at him with one arm

Calls him "Price Tag" as a nickname

Will do him anywhere (with consent)

[orangepanic]

Is it weird to write fanfiction of fanfiction? Maybe. But I was thinking about @kurocache's amazing No Strings Attached modern AU where, among A LOT of other things, Asami winds up living with Iroh after her breakup with Korra and Korra's subsequent reunion with Mako. As I eagerly await the ending of that fic it got me thinking about Asami's perspective and how hard it might be for her to let herself be loved again, even when it's staring her in the face. The following is in no way meant to be canon in Kuro's AU, and I hope they'll consider this little thought experiment as the compliment it was intended.

***

There weren’t any benches by the water. Standing in the cold wind Asami wasn’t sure now if there ever had been, or if she’d only imagined them. She’d done a lot of that over the years. Imagined people instead of seeing who they were—or who they weren’t. Imagined her future. Imagined love that would last a lifetime. But in the end neither people nor benches were there to support her. Asami found a seat on the edge of the concrete pier and hugged her knees up under her chin, shivering. Her t-shirt and leggings were hardly winter wear. In her hurry to leave she’d grabbed whatever was closest.

Asami tried to focus on the boats in the bay as they passed. Their colors and textures, and the little flags that showed where they were from. In spite of the chill it would probably be a nice day for sailing. But sailing inevitably brought her mind back to him, and to the conversation that had never quite stopped playing in an endless loop in the back of her mind. That, and the stricken look on his face. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Iroh. She did and always had, even before he’d taken her in after the breakup without so much as a question. Despite his tough exterior Iroh was one of the kindest people Asami had ever met. His quiet ways hid a keen mind and a depth of character that went far beyond his public pledges of honor and service. When people talked, Iroh listened to them, and he thought about what they said. He was well-read, worldly. A fantastic Pai Sho player. He made great omelets. And there was certainly an attraction there, too; not just because Iroh was a handsome man but something in the way he moved his body, and how he looked at her. Asami had kissed him first. They’d started sleeping together. He’d been good. Better than good, spirits, it had felt like Iroh wanted nothing but to please her. All she’d wanted to do was forget.

Asami dug her fists into her eyes and blew out a breath. She wasn’t going to cry. Between her father and Korra and fucking slimeball Varrick she was out of tears for this year. 

Footsteps sounded against the pier. When they stopped behind her Asami didn’t react. Go away, she thought. Alone was where she belonged. Alone and unwanted and unhurt.

The visitor softly cleared their throat. “You forgot your coat.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s cold out.” 

Asami laughed into her closed hands in a way that sounded too much like a sob. Boots shuffled behind her and then heavy fabric draped around her shoulders, cutting off the wind. A moment later something metal clanged gently on the concrete. When Asami cast a glance sideways a large red thermos with the golden United Forces logo sat by her side. 

“Just tea,” said Iroh. “Black with lemon.” The way she liked it, not him. “You can keep the thermos. I have two.”

“What are you doing here?” she choked out. 

“You left without your coat.”

“I can handle myself.” 

“I know,” said Iroh. “And I’m not here to ask anything of you, or to ask… anything again. But you can’t be out in this weather without a coat. Not because of me.”

Of all the ridiculous things. She’d kicked his heart to the floor and here he was out of chivalry. Asami dropped her hands to pull her coat tighter around her. She already felt warmer and hated it. Why did he have to be like this?

“Did you wanna sit?” she asked. 

Iroh hesitated, then folded himself down next to her without comment. His long legs dangled over the edge. Unsure what to say Asami unclasped her arms and took up the thermos. Warmth bloomed in her chest at the first sip, the fragrant steam caressing her face like a lover. She’d always be a coffee girl but Iroh’s tea was as good as his omelets.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” When Asami handed Iroh the thermos he took it, wrinkling his nose at the taste. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be studying the open mouth of the thermos. 

“Iroh?”

Iroh took another swig of tea before handing it over again. He braced his powerful arms against the pier, leaning back, not looking at her. “No. But I will be.” Frost curled from his lips as he exhaled. “These things happen. You don’t owe me a reason, Asami.” The implication being that she hadn’t given him one. Which she hadn’t. When Iroh had run his thumb across her lips and asked with shy smile and soft eyes if she’d ever consider more than just sex she’d practically rocketed out of his bed and through the front door with a string of apologies trailing behind her like tin cans on a stray dog. Not because she didn’t want him but because she couldn’t go through it again. Asami had already been left or betrayed by everyone she’d ever loved and she wasn’t going to add any more names to that list. She couldn’t love Iroh, not now, not when she was only barely back on her feet. She couldn’t survive loving him, too. Even if deep in her heart she knew it was already too late. But better to lose him now than to be shattered in a year or two when one more time she found out the hard way that she wasn’t enough. 

“I’m sorry,” she said into the thermos. 

“Don’t be.” 

“But I want to.”

“You want to be sorry?” Iroh ventured a glance in her direction. “Can I ask you something?” he said. “A different something.”

Asami tensed. “Okay.”

“Can you promise it’s me?”

“Huh?” She turned to him. “What’s you?”

Iroh stared out at the bay again, white-lipped and grim. “Promise it’s me,” he repeated, “and that when the time comes you’ll let somebody love you. Somebody else.”

Asami dropped her eyes as a knife twisted in her gut. There was a reason Iroh was so good at Pai Sho. He’d cornered her in two moves, leaving her with the terrible choice of lying to his face or saying out loud what she desperately didn’t want to say because she knew him, and he’d come all this way to bring her her fucking coat not because he wanted a second chance but because she was cold and he couldn’t stand the thought of it. Iroh would never accept that she was unlovable and better off shielded from that hurt. He was too kind, and too full of love himself. It was easy to miss but he was. Nothing inside him but marshmallow fluff. Asami snorted at the image of poking his stomach like a warm cream bun. 

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Funny?”

“You’re such a sap.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone. I have an image to maintain.”

“I won’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Iroh…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say it.” He flashed up a hand, then picked up the cap leaned over to screw it back on the tea thermos. “It’ll get cold if you leave it open,” he added, his voice rough. Asami knew what he’d assumed in her silence. She stared at his big hands wrapped around the thermos and felt her lip begin to tremble. Her vision blurred. 

“Wait,” she sniffed.

Iroh’s head snapped up. “Asami?”

“It’s not you,” she blurted, keeping her eyes on his square chin as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “Iroh, it’s not you, never. Please don’t think that, you’re wonderful, it’s me and I couldn’t take it if you left me too, I’d—” and that’s as far as she got before he folded her into his arms and she broke down completely. Asami sobbed against his chest, his familiar scent wrapping around her like a blanket as he hugged her tight. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” he murmured into her hair. 

Asami cried and cried until there was nothing left in her but hiccups. Iroh adjusted her coat around her and stroked her hair. He said very little, just occasional soothing sounds, low and indistinct, as if she were a child with a fever. Only when she’d quieted did he pull back to face her. His features were drawn, his golden eyes full of exasperated concern.

“May I take you home?” he asked.

Asami wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“I’ll wash it.”

“Iroh—”

“Later,” he said with a sharp shake of his head. He reached up and wiped the wetness from her cheek with his thumb, then leaned down and kissed her forehead just below her hairline. “Come on. There’s dumplings for dinner if you’re patient. We can talk after if you want. Grab the thermos, will you?”

Iroh got to his feet, then held out a hand to pull her up. When they started to walk Asami didn’t let it go.

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves…difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie’s general appearance.

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when I wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie’s energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

I'm posting a sneak at this one, because it was a surprisingly close call. I'm not sure when I'll be done, tbh. But here's the first 900 words!

As the night swallowed you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car while she drives you to the ER. While rough housing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you roll your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sat in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain at each one. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called to the back as you read the memes and watch with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick onto someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally in the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Somehow, he was just so enticing, everything about him drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage, wondering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and white tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

If you want to be tagged when the full fic is posted, just let me know in the replies. Again, I have no idea when that will happen, it's not done yet. Maybe this'll give me the motivation i need

[novankenn]

2am (Chp 4)

--== Table of Contents ==--

It had been nearly three years since that day. The day Jaune Arc walked out of her life. Her legal team had reviewed the documents, and quickly advised her to agree to the terms. They were fair, and had clauses that allowed for amendment of the agreements at later dates, if a need to do so arose. So she signed them as she cried. Memories of times that shouldn't have happened feeding her depression. It had signalled a very dark time in her life, and she spiralled out of control. Loosing herself to drink, risky missions, and other activities.

“What are you doing to yourself!” screamed her mother as Pyrrha nursed a bad hangover on the couch of her mother's house. “Pyrrha, what is going on?”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not fine! You are far from fine!” Athena Nikos was livid, embarrassed, and frustrated. “So you are going to tell me what is going on with you, and I mean now!”

“Nothing is going on!” Pyrrha shouted back.

“Really? REALLY?” Athena grabbed a bunch of printed off tabloid articles, and threw them down on the coffee table before her daughter, “He IS a married man, Pyrrha! A married man!”

“His wife's a bitch.”

“And what about that video of you and that girl?” Athena was about to totally lose it. “Are you intentionally trying to destroy yourself? You are better than this! You have a daughter to look out for!”

“I don't have a daughter! She's gone! He took her away!”

“And I wonder why he felt the need to do that? I wonder?”

“Fuck you!”

“No, this is done. Get out of my house! You want to make yourself into a laughingstock then go, go whore yourself out like you have been. Go live in the bottom of a bottle, but you sure as fuck won't be getting any more support from me!” Athena moved to the table, and grabbed another handful of papers, throwing them into her daughter's face, “And here, these are all the contract cancellation notices.”

“What the fuck. They can't...” Pyrrha grabbed a couple of the papers and tried to focus on the fine print of the scattered documents.

“They can and did!” Athena was past livid now. She loved her daughter, and it tore her apart seeing her crumble from stress into addiction. But she was at her wits end at what to do. So finally, much like the father of her granddaughter did, she had to just distance herself. “Out!”

/=/

Jaune and Azalea had moved to Argus not long after Pyrrha had signed the custody and support agreements. He did it for a few reasons. To get away from the memories of his failed attempt at a life with Pyrrha in Vale. To be closer to his eldest sister, her wife and Az's only current cousin; and to be able to at least give Az a chance to know her mother's side of the family with twice weekly over night stays with her grandmother.

He knew Pyr was floundering. Years of constantly being in the public eye finally cracking all her will, and forcing to succumb to the stress, in less than healthy ways. Yet, he had to focus his concerns on Azalea. It was underhanded, he knew, but with tips offs from Az's grandmother, he avoided ever being around the house when Pyrrha was crashing there. He isolated his daughter from the train wreck her mother had become. Jaune didn't want to keep the two most important people in his life apart, but Azalea didn't deserve to see what her mother was becoming. She deserved to only have happy memories of her mother.

On good days, he was more than happy to drop Azalea off at her grandmother's, to spend much needed time with her mother, but those times quickly became less and less. Pyrrha was spiralling, and Jaune instinctively knew he had to protect Az from the disaster that was approaching. He wanted to reach out to Pyrrha, to wrap his arms around her, and make her struggles go away... but right now with what she was doing, it wasn't possible.

The support payments had made his life taking care of his growing girl easier, and allowed him a bit more freedom to pursue his new passion. He had long given up on the huntsman myth. He saw what that life was doing to his friends, and even though he started out wanting to be a hero, after Azalea's birth he understood something more. Heroes didn't have to be warriors fighting darkness, they could be someone offering warm hugs, and soft cheek kisses. He was Azalea's hero, and that was to him the greatest achievement he could have ever accomplished.

It was in the second year after his move to Argus, that Athena made a request of him. He had always been taught to give the courtesy of listening when someone wanted to speak with you, so he did. Without hesitation, agreed, to her request.

[sauntervaguelydown]

So the thing about watching the Naruto anime when you’re compromised 90% by over investment in Kakashi is that it both gives you so much MORE to dig into, and also makes everything so much more confusing

I’m not just talking about the math. I’m talking about the characterization. I’m talking about the arc. Kishimono’s manga skips over almost everything in his life between killing Rin and taking over as a teacher for the mains. I think the two panel reference to Guy haranguing him for challenges age 14 might be the only material. And that makes it way easier to combine what does exist on either side.

Bear with me here. You meet Kakashi and he’s basically a well adjusted dude as far as we ever see. He’s silly, sometimes, he fucks with people a little bit to amuse himself but always in ultimately benign ways. He reads porn in public. He goosed a student in his intro episode?? He hangs out with work friends in the lounge and talks shop. He’s risk averse in the field, his go-to jutsu swaps his body with objects and prevents him from taking any damage. Humble in a weird way. When things go off the rails on their Wave Country mission, he gets very intense, but he’s also practical and focused and emotionally controlled. We do see he’s got a lot of reserved grief, in the way he is revealed to spend a lot of time in graveyards.

Okay.

So then you go back to the Gaiden mini-arc, where he gets the sharingan eye. And you see he’s super serious, rules-focused, cold, not a team player. Harsh and a bit rude. Even arrogant.

Clear character arc happening here. Big lesson learned at high cost. Arrogant > humble; rules driven > flexible. Huge formative moment accomplished, story told.

Now he gets double whammied when he kills his own teammate less than a year later, which makes this complicated. And then the, uh, massive trauma event that is the Monster Fox attack in which he loses his last remaining father figure too. Yeesh can’t catch a break this guy.

The anime takes this event and grapples with it in a way the Manga just doesn’t. Flashbacks, nightmares, falling apart on the job. I really like this stuff. The weird thing is that in someways this is actually a pretty realistic depiction of compound PTSD, I think? The way he starts to be okay and then gets knocked down again, and doesn’t have a linear improvement arc. But what it fails to do is thread the needle.

I often find that the filler writers had surprisingly good character beats in mind, and then fumbled badly on lining them up in a way that is narratively satisfying.  in this case, they stretch out the cycle of dysfunctional grief for somewhere between 7 and 10 years. During this period he doesn’t have any fun, he doesn’t see his friends, he doesn’t seem to have a life outside of work. We’re told that he acts cold. Pushes away people who reach out. We’re told that it looks like he’s in a hurry to die. For maybe ten years?? Well. That’s long enough that you’d be building a personality from scratch once you got on the other side, but we don’t get to see any of that happening. Even during the 1 to 3 years between him leaving the black ops program that was destroying his soul and him entering canon fully formed, the only time we get to see him is when his friends are commenting that it is “like he never left ANBU at all”. there’s like a week between them saying this and him entering canon. He just shows up fully formed.

But it really starts to make you wonder: when did he start being silly again? When did he start having fun again? When did he start being able to do stupid things like play a prank on a student?  how long has he been able to hang out with his work friends in the lounge? 

did he really solve all this in such a short time? So well that when he goes on this mission with his kids, and everything goes sideways, and people that he cares about are put in danger, and he has to re-create the exact same move that killed his teammate, he’s totally cool and fine afterwards and stays on track for the whole fight? He’s just good? I mean granted, you can headcanon that he falls apart once he gets back home and there are no perspective characters to see it.  what that means is that I am basically doing work on behalf of the retcon, out of the goodness of my heart.

I think we could’ve made this work if we had just compacted it a little bit more. Maybe he’s in the black ops program for a chunk of his teenage years, gets out, and spends his twenties adjusting. No problem!

Or alternatively, if we had interspersed the periods of coldness with periods of warmth visibly on screen.  if we had actually seen him having a pretty OK time and hanging out with his friends and then getting knocked back down reverting to the coldness, I wouldn’t feel all that out of sorts with it at all. He has relapses, but maybe they’re less often as time goes by. I would just think that once he gets out of the black ops program that is slowly killing him, he swings back up to his better resting state and is able to build on it for a few years and develop some resilience.

All I’m saying is that when you don’t see any material between the two endpoints, it’s very easy to mentally adjust to whatever you think is the most likely story. Maybe the PTSD wasn’t all that bad, maybe it was very bad and then he got used to living with it. Maybe he grew and developed an adult personality the way that real people do, in a sort of clumsy nebulous process that doesn’t look very good on paper. But when you do see all the stuff, you get this conflicting impression of someone who is basically all right by the standards of the world he lives in …and someone who was extremely totally fucked up for a really long time, and then just became chill kind of overnight. 

Accord part of the problem is that, of course, this character was conceived of in his adult final form, and a bunch of plot developed around him, and you’re left with a complicated feeling that there should’ve been some impact on him due to the proximity of these events, but those events were not designed with him in mind, so he just sort of floats through them

I suspect based on the tone of the two panel reference in the manga, that Kishimono probably intended for kakashi to have largely been acting like himself the whole time he was a teenager, going out in public, and having relationships very similar ones he has an adult. He’s hanging out with his rival and they’re on their way to an event and he’s being lazy about not wanting to do challenges which is exactly what he like as an adult. 

So. Conundrum. I see exactly why the anime writers were compelled to try and embellish this, but I also cannot take their embellishments seriously without doing a lot of work in my own mind to tailor the material. 

[hymnoire]

♣ + ( can I send one in for ga-ram & mara?? If you’re still taking these of course!! )

A letter from Mara to Garam, from the Dongbu penitentiary in Seoul.

       To a friend who became so much more : "For a long time, I didn't feel like the world was made for someone like me. Someone who's a little too raw, a little too rough. I have spent too many years, blood, sweat and tears trying. I tried yes, the hardest I could. And I managed it for a while, to get power, to get status, to get reputation, and I thought : I did it right ? I belong now? And yet it was never enough. I realize now that I lost everything, that the only times I felt like I belong was with you. Stealing your beer and making chili in your crappy apartment, when the outside world just did not exist anymore. I know now, all I needed was to find you, someone who's a little too raw, a little too rough, just like me. I know we don't say these things to each other, I know it's not Us to be like that but, I miss you."

       Send me ♣ + a ship and i’ll tell you…

Who is the better dancer?

Secretly Mara but neither of them wishes to dance in public. They usually simply stand by the counter, by the bar just the two of them, sharing a drink. "Come on you two don't be such a buzz, come and dance!" Would tell them the host of the party before going back to the dancefloor. Garam stays silent and keeps on drinking, he does not move a hinch. "Can't wait to arrest this one for fraud. Look at them all, dancing like they're embezzlement free." Mara replies, sipping on her drink as well. "Yeah well, rich people." Garam comments, not so pleased to be here in the first place. "Shit. Remember that man I told you I would keep an eye on tonight, he's staring at us." Mara speaks as she starts moving. "Ok let's act normal, let's dance. And I don't know, Smile or something. Let's go follow my lead." She would say dragging him there by the arm even if he sighs and complains.

Who likes the outdoors more and who likes the indoors more?

Both are indoors persons. Garam hates crowded places as for Mara, she likes privacy in general : even when meeting with people for business or anything else truly, she avoids to spend too much time surrounded by too many people. So when it's just the two of them, they love to stay inside, it's cozy and silent and comfortable.

Who’s a cat person and who’s a dog person?

Both are dog persons. Mara loves the dogs they train for police duties and get attached to them; she however does not imagine having one at home due to her barely being at her place. She oftens tells Garam a dog would be good company to them, however.

Who’s more social?

None of them which is hilarioius. They avoid socializing and when both trapped in a social situation, they try to call each other for help in order to get out of here fast. The only time it didn't work was when they pushed the door of a pub Mara took Garam to and everyone inside screamed " Surprise!" It was their coworkers, a surprise party for Garam's birthday. Garam leans to Mara for a whisper between his teeth. "Just the two of us you said?", Mara replies "I knooow, they told me to drag you here, my god I hate it. Let's just smile, pretend we care about the present you get, spoiler alert it's a tie it's ugly as fuck - we drink as much as we can, in two hours we get out of here and i don't know.. sex in the car?" Garam thinks of the pros and cons before answering. "Ok fine. 1 hour." He says. "1 hour and a half and you can use the tie on me." Mara adds, sticking her hand out for a handshake to the side. "Ok, deal." He says, shaking her hand with a pinch of a smile before their eyes go back to the crowd of coworkers waiting for them to join the 'party.' "Ugh." He speaks again. "God I know." She adds.

Who makes the bed every morning?

Garam does. Mara is pretty messy in general but as his place is far away enough from the station she works at, she wakes up a little early to avoid traffic. "You're not staying for breakfast?" He questions. "Oh wow breakfast? It's time for The Talk. It was just a one time thing babygirl, I'm not interested in marrying you and carrying your loud babies." Speaks Mara, of course filled of sarcasm. "Shut up." He would say with a side smile on and she would laugh, slipping in her jeans and white t shirt and leather jacket. "Next time. I gotta go, crisis meeting with the higher ups today it's a big deal. Tomorrow night, beer and a movie?" She questions while tying her air up. "Yeah alright." He says. "Good, see you."

Who likes to keep the house cold and who likes to keep the house warm?

Mara likes the warm better, she usually overheats her own apartment so whenever Garam is over, it's too warm for him as he keeps his place cold. "I'm sweating in here." He says. "Oh come on it's the perfect temperature so I can walk in my underwear and look so so so so cuute and sexyy for you." She says with a tiny voice and a cute yet awful pose. "Jesus never say that ever again." He answers. "Ugh you're right that was disgusting-." She says immediatly cutting the act, with a disgusting facial expression. "No for real go take a shower, " He says. "I know I'm such dirty dirty little girl." She adds as she keeps on teasing this time striking another awful pause. This time he laughs. "Shut up and go."

Who takes longer getting ready?

None. Garam doesn't spend much time, first of all he so looks good the way he is, and he doesn't doll himself up nor spend hours choosing his clothes. Mara neither : it isn't that she's not feminine, her femininity comes from how natural she is, she does not wear make up, there is a natural elegance in her monochrome and classic simple fashion sense, it''s rather effortless hence why she does not spend hours getting ready neither.

Who likes scary movies and who likes funny ones?

Funny movies aren't their go to but they like these at least better than horror movies which they find extremely boring and well, unscary. They like movies that make they think, thrillers, psychological movies. Sometimes it's action movies when they look for a no brainer. They actually watch a lot of movies together, it feels peaceful on a saturday night after declining all the invites they received.

Who screams when they see a bug and who ends up killing it?

None of them scream.

Who is more technology challenged?

None.

Who would be more likely to burn something in the kitchen?

They are both comfortable with cooking like responsible adults can be, it's rare for them to burn anything. At first, they used to order food a lot to go with the beers. Mara loves the burgers from that one place in hongdae. One time they did try to order but it was a little too late for that - and so Mara grabbed a pan while Garam was in the shower. "You didn't join me?" He asks once he gets out - it's true she does that sometimes. "As much as I have a thing for water cascading down your abs... " Oh she does. "I thought I could fix us a little something with what was left in your fridge. Now stop distracting me, put some clothes." She jokes. He comes closer and tastes with his fingers. "Huh that's spicy? What is it? Is that Latin cuisine or something?" He questions. "Yeah... It's the only dish my dad could make, back in San Juan. It's simple but it's good, right." Mara answers. "San Juan. I had no idea. Lim Mara doesn't sound so latino." He comments. He never truly asks questions he's afraid she wouldn't be comfortable with. He respects her boundaries, she likes that. "It's Maritza, actually. Maritza Lim Guerrero- Mara is fine." She pauses. "Here, I added, some pepper, tell me how it is."

Who talks in their sleep?

Mara does. Again she is a little bit messy so whenever she sleeps, she speaks, she pulls the blankets, she pushes him. "Next time you're sleeping in your own bed jeez." He says.

Who leaves the cap off the toothpaste?

Mara does and it annoys Garam a lot since he told her 100 times Not to do that.

Who likes getting dressed up more?

They both aren't so interested in fashion and dressing up isn't their main concern. However it does happen for Mara to get herself into soirées and events as she wants to keep and eye on someone for her own agenda, her own investigations as a detective or when she is invited somewhere by the political spheres. She looks breathtaking in long black dresses. "So... How do I look?" She would question Garam as she enters the room. "Are you sure you don't wanna come? As my +1?"

Who’s better at tying ties?

Both. Mara also wear ties sometimes. They help each other tying it up when one of them has something important to get properly dressed up for.

Who recorded the answering machine message on the house phone?

Garam took care of it but when Mara listened to it she couldn't help but to smile to herself, recognizing his signature stoicism. It was close to two words : "Not here." - " You could at least say leave a message, is it too much words?" Mara asks him, to tease.

Who’s better at planning romantic things?

Mara is. Not necessarily wanting it to be romantic but it ends up being romantic. The day after his surprise birthday party with his coworkers, the one he hated, she waits for him at his place and she cooks a little something and lights a few candles lighted up. "What's happening..?" He questions as he sees her at his place, getting everything ready for a night together. "Well, I know you hated yesterday's party but it doesn't mean your birthday shouldn't be celebrated, yeah? I made some chilli. My grandmother's recipe. I found a nice movie we can watch and got you a stupid little hat to put on your head when you blow a candle." She smiles. "Just the two of us. No one else. For real this time."

Who takes up more space in the closet?

None of them. They only have the necessary amount of clothes.

Who has more of a sweet tooth?

For halloween, Mara bought candies. "Is that for the kids?" He questions. "Naa. I thought we could like open the door, tell the kids we don't have any candy and keep them all for ourselves." And so they did.

Who drinks more often?

Mara, as her secrets are becoming heavier and heavier, she tends to drink a lot. Too much. "You're drinking too much." Garam tells her. "I know, I fucking know." She replies, being a mess. "Come on, let's get you home." Garam says with the will of taking care of her in this situation. "I'm fucking pathetic, what the fuck is wrong with me huh." Mara then asks him. "Come on, let's get you to bed." He adds.

Garam also had his moments, after everything that went down with Yohan, his depression and the unwanted memories of it - the alcohol helps whenever his head is too filled. "Hey, just.. put your head down my thighs and close your eyes. Listen to me, let's empty your head." She whispers to him.

Who is most likely to laugh during a serious situation?

Mara. It actually doesn't take long for her to start laughing. Sometimes out of being a total cunt if she wants to point out the absurdity of a situatio, most of the time simply because she cannot remain serious for too long.

[plvtosun]

32 and 36! 💖

i legit said oh no @ 36 bc i’m gonna expose her tsundere ass HAHA ty 4 sending an ask!<3

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

her go-to stories are related to ghosts and spooky encounters. her favorite one is the story of when she was 11 and was visiting her tía in mexico, where she and two of her cousins were still running around outside when the sun had just gone down. one of her cousins, the older one, was messing around with her too much and he picked her up and said he was going to toss her in the river a distance away from the house. she was flailing around and shrieking and freaking out. just as he started swinging her like he was going to throw her in, the both of them heard a low desperate wail that started to build up and fill the whole area. her cousin froze dead in his tracks and blanca looked over her shoulder with wide eyes.

there was a semi-transparent apparition of a woman with long black hair in a tattered colonial-style dress, looking at them, hunched over in the freezing water and surrounded by mist. the image of her face and the sound of her cry is something she’ll never forget. blanca’s cousin dropped her on the ground like a sack of flour and ran away shouting and screaming all the way back to the house, and blanca remembers backing away quickly, staring at the woman for a couple seconds. she thought she was kind of pretty, but she was still pretty goddamn scared. she scrambled up from the ground and ran back to the house too, but she didn’t scream.

36. Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? 

blanca doesn’t actively seek out romance, but she doesn’t necessarily expect it to fall into her lap either. she’s chill and detached in that aspect. if anything, she freaks out when that happens. well, really, she freaks out after she realizes it’s happened. it’s like everything’s perfectly fine and normal, nothing out of the ordinary, and then BAM! she has a crush on someone and she spends a day or two, sometimes up to a week trying to convince herself that no, no, no, she does NOT have a crush. “nope. nah. nuh uh. …oh fuck me i have a crush. god dammit no!” this happens mostly because she’s afraid of being used, hurt or otherwise disappointed. the other reason is that she is… painfully shy. she blushes easily and tries to hide physically, or she’ll play off her feelings with teasing (depending on how sensitive the person is). sometimes she goes too far with the teasing though and she’s hurt people with it before, so that’s where the fleeing and hiding comes in. if someone has a crush on her first, though, oh my god.

if she doesn’t like them back: avoid avoid avoid. nope. minimizes interactions with them as much as possible. no joking around, no unnecessary conversations, definitely no alone time with the person. it makes her uncomfortable to know someone she doesn’t like at all is attracted to her and she just hopes for it to pass eventually. if the person’s pushy, though, that’s when she gets more vocal. fuck you, fuck your face, fuck your dog, you ain’t shit, not even if you were the last person on earth and you were dying, spanish expletives.

if she likes them back: tries to play it cool but there’s a better chance of having snowcones with satan in hell than there is of blanca making the first move. public declarations of any kind will make her turn a shade of red that no one knew even existed, private ones make her melt and look for something to hide her face in. either way the confession happens, she’s not blanquita in that moment, she’s rosita!

[cheemken]

God imagine how traumatized she’d be from seeing someone be murdered in front of her. She’s already so emotionally vulnerable right now and it doesn’t help that the others are “comforting” her by saying how they’re in the right. This is sure to stir up paranoia for her

I’d imagine that this would turn into nightmares which would then turn into many sleepless nights. Many would think that the long hours of her job are making her tired but the people close to her, like Drayden, would know that she’s acting paranoid everyday and getting less and less sleep from nightmares, not her job. On maybe the 4th or 5th night of restless sleep Drayden finally convinces Iris to tell him what’s happening. What’s scaring her so much that she can’t go a full night without waking both of them up with her nightmares. And she’s just clinging to him and trying not to cry when she tells him what she saw, what happened, what they said, and who did it

She’s scared that they’ll do something to her if she tells anyone. That they’ll hurt her or even go as far as to kill her for telling others what they’ve been doing. But she’s tired, scared, and feeling like something is constantly watching her. So she lost the mental battle in her head and told him everything. But…she’s in Unova, away from all the other champions who terrify her. She’s safe from harm and far, far away from them. There’s no way they could know what she’s told him

Oh how wrong she was

Now imagine how defeated she’d feel when she comes home the very next day from work, thinking she’s safe now that Drayden has reported it. But when she walks inside their house she sees him on the floor, not moving. With some of the champions waiting around for her to show up. And now Diantha is standing in front of her, speaking to her like a disappointment mother. Telling her that she has no reason to be crying, because if you step out of line then there is always going to be consequences

Omfs cnsmcnmxnx

God the irony of Diantha being the one to say there's gonna be consequences while probably being the only champion who hasn't faced any consequences from her actions just makes me so fucking insane ncmdhxmd

But also yknow just jcmxndm Dia acting all motherly to Iris tho, crouching down to her level and hugging her, telling her that they had to do what they really had to do, they can't let anyone interfere with them. You should know better. And she's there, cupping her face, wiping away her tears, telling her to calm down, to stop crying, there's no use crying over someone who couldn't even defend himself while being called the Spartan Mayor of Opelucid. But Iris was still sobbing, Drayden was family, her only family, and even tho it's not by blood, she still loves him. And suddenly... Suddenly he's gone. His body unmoving as the other Champions approach her and Diantha.

Dia just pulls her close to her, going on how it'll all be fine, perhaps it was even Drayden that's holding her back on becoming a true Champion, but Diantha kept that thought within her for the meantime, if you want a child to believe you, tell them the things they want to hear.

And soon, Iris could feel Lance next to them, his arms around them too, pulling them close to him, and he's there telling Iris that she shouldn't worry too, that they're her family now too, and they were just looking out for her.

God Iris was just so so tired man, she's so fucking tired, she's physically and mentally drained, and she just melted in their touch, finally caving in, letting them comfort her. And god as twisted as it was, she somewhat felt a bit safe under their embrace.

But also imagine how the people of Opelucid and the Unova League would react tho ncmxnx like, that's their mayor, a gym leader too, and suddenly he's dead and Iris is mourning and the other champions are there to help her and such. But like, imagine if that'd stir up some rumours tho, especially given Lance and Leon's images towards the public now, that maybe they actually killed Drayden. Imagine a few people of Opelucid pulling Iris away from the champions a bit and telling them what they thought what happened, but Iris already knew, and if she had to be honest she doesn't wanna see anyone else dying, so she tells them that "no, grandpa was just.. struggling with health issues for a while now.. he was always so stubborn he didn't wanna go to the hospital.. maybe that's just it.."

And ofc, they believed her, no use insisting their theories and rumours are right, especially to the actual granddaughter of the person they're talking about, who they know is still mourning over the loss of her grandfather. So instead, they nodded and told her if there's anything they can do to help her and the rest of the League, she could just ask for their help.

But like, imagine Iris being so bitter abt that tho. Now they try to help her? It only took Drayden's death for them to help her? For them to see her as an actual person and not just some kid who kept insisting she's mature enough to be a champion? It actually made her laugh a bit, a pitiful chuckle really, and she drags herself back home, back where all the champions are waiting for her.

[eusuchia]

where would you move to if not toronto? i feel all my friends have toronto as the ideal living place (bonkers rent aside) but also we are literally all from small town northern ontario lol

I get why people move here! I mean I literally am here. it was fine. it is fine. it has all the amenities you want in a big city, like some semblance of public infrastructure, non white people, queer people, communists, certain health services, arts, food, weird niche scenes and stores and whatever. BUT,

now that I've been here for a decade, the rent that was astronomically expensive to me (coming from montreal 2014, where we had an old but comfy 2br for $750/mo total. $325/mo each) when I first got here now seems laughably cheap. it's miserable, yet competitive, and a lot of people get locked into shitty living situations out of fear of the nightmare of finding a new place to live. people often remark about the chill vibes montreal has (or had, depends who you ask), and ultimately a lot of it came down to: not having to hustle your ass off because you could have a beautiful walk-up in a nice medium-density neighbourhood for <$500, and being able to get good microbrews and wine at your corner store, lmao. QC tuition is also cheap for QC residents, and still cheaper than most places for out-of-province, so it really is/was The Place to be a student.

but back to hating toronto: the sprawl is sickening! you get a reprieve in certain neighbourhoods but it's just concrete on concrete on concrete mostly. I feel claustrophobic and trapped here. it takes over an hour IN A CAR to leave the city, or more like two hours if you get unlucky on the 401. if you don't drive? lmao. the commutes that people treat as 'normal' here are unbelievable and inhumane. if I want to be 'in nature' i have to make a whole trip out of it, like that's my entire day. and even then it involves shielding your eyes from the city and pretending it's not there while you look at the lake, or high park, or whatever. I never appreciated this enough about edmonton as a kid/teen but now when I think too hard about the river valley at home I get nauseatingly homesick. (ofc the sprawl in the prairies is horrific as well; I grew up in the small area of downtown edmonton well-serviced by public transport and by the river).

this is to say nothing of the big chunks of 'toronto proper' that I avoid entirely because they're full of the people toronto really wants to cater to, i.e. bay st business guys and lawyers who are the ones buying up all the new developments as investment properties. everything cool here gets torn down for these assholes and turned into luxury condos and people clap and cheer because it's 'more housing!' and you look over and doug ford is getting handed a big novelty check from the Corrupt Personal Friends of Ford Family and Property Developers Foundation.

ANYWAY. I don't know. I had my sights set on halifax for a long time, I love a smaller city and I LOVE the atlantic. it's marginally more affordable than here. it's very white but not as scary white as like, tbh, small town ontario/alberta, I think largely due to being a city and a big student population. but the more I think about it the more it seems kind of stupid to move myself so far away from all my friends, family, networks, etc... again. my fourth province? god. if I do it, I should do it earlier rather than later I guess? but the logistics are nightmarish.

hamilton is on my mind lately. it's more affordable, smaller, less insane as a move, would be close enough to family for my partner to be more comfortable and it's MUCH easier to 'go outside'. I have friends there so I wouldn't be starting completely over again, I even have clients who come to me from there so my work transition wouldn't be crazy. and I could still commute to toronto with bike + GO train. BUT THEN I WOULD STILL BE IN THIS FUCKING PROVINCE.

idk dude sorry for going on and on but this is literally all I've been thinking about for the last few months and I had a minor crisis about it all last week. godspeed getting out of small town ontario anyway. I guess my thesis is... if you speak french, consider montreal?