#god i wrote some true shit for them

[xanderscollection]

"Growing up is realising a (random ship) you loved is actually weird and bad"

Yeah? Is it? Great, I love it even more. The worse it is the Better.

[likeumeanit9497]

wanna see? | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

summary: during a night of heavy drinking, y/n tells chris that her roommate, who had slept with him weeks prior, had been less than impressed by his skills in the bedroom. chris asks if y/n believes her roommate, and when she says she does, he decides to prove her wrong.

warnings: SMUTTTTT; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); p in v; DIRTY TALK; unprotected sex; drinking; spanking; ROUGH; 18+

notes: not to gas myself up but...this smut...is insane. i literally wrote all of this in like three hours idk what happened i think my body was taken over by my hormone monster or some shit. but anyways i hope u chris girlies enjoy <333

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“Y/n! Our Uber is two minutes away, are you ready?” My roommate Bree called from the other side of my bedroom door just as I finished applying my lip gloss. “Yep! I’ll be out in a second.” I replied, taking one final look at myself in the full length mirror and adjusting my pleated mini skirt. Satisfied with my appearance, I finally exited my room and found Bree struggling to tie her corset top up herself. “Oh god, let me help.” I sighed, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around so that I could lace her up. “Thanks babe. Oh my god, you look unreal!” She exclaimed, facing me once I was finished, and I smiled sheepishly. “You don’t think it’s too much?” I looked down at my tiny skirt, low cut top, and chunky boots self consciously. “Absolutely fucking not. As a matter of fact I think you should wear that outfit every day for the rest of your life.” She replied before poking my cleavage playfully. I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Oh shut up, let’s go.” I shoved her shoulder jokingly and we both headed for the front door of our apartment.

“So,” I began once we got on the elevator, “Who’s all gonna be there tonight?” Bree’s fingers were flying across the keyboard on her phone, frantically texting someone. “Um…the usual group I think, probably gonna be a few other random people we don’t know yet, but Nick told me they’re keeping it pretty small this year.” She replied as we got into our Uber and I nodded in acknowledgment.

We were heading to the triplets’ house to celebrate their 21st birthday. Bree and I had met Nick Matt and Chris about a year ago, and the five of us had grown extremely close since then. It was a short drive from our place to theirs, but still I pulled out two mini bottles of tequila and handed one to Bree. She raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “We didn’t have time for a pre game.” I said simply before raising my bottle to cheers her. She laughed before doing the same, and we both took our shot. “Fucking ew,” She said, shuddering, “I hate tequila.” It was my turn to laugh. “The first shot is always the worst, remember?” She nodded hesitantly. “True enough.”

“So…you think things are gonna be weird with you and Chris? This is the first time you’ve seen him since-” Bree cut me off by waving her hand nonchalantly. “Nah, it’ll be fine. For him it meant nothing, and you already know what it was for me.” I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.

A few weeks ago, I was awoken from my sleep at 3 a.m. by Bree barging into my room to tell me that she had just slept with Chris. This news shocked me, since I knew that she had been pining after Matt since we first met them. When I asked her to explain how the fuck that happened, her only explanation was that she was drunk enough to pretend that Chris was Matt. Initially, I had been concerned that their intimacy would make things weird in our group, but both of them seemed to be completely unbothered by it.

“Alright well, let’s just enjoy the night.” I said as our Uber pulled up to the house. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky with the right triplet tonight.” I joked before walking up to the front door, side by side with Bree. She sighed. “Probably not. Pretty sure all hope of that disappeared once I opened my legs for his brother.”

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Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I realized that I was drunk. Bree and I had arrived at the house about an hour ago, and we both immediately took three tequila shots back to back in honour of the triplets’ birthday. Thirty minutes later, we took another trio of shots, and that was more than enough to get me absolutely wasted. I haphazardly reapplied my lipgloss before exiting the washroom and heading back over to the kitchen to grab something else to drink.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Shouted Nick over the loud music before rushing from the cluster of people he was with and grabbing the bottle of tequila from my hand. “Pretty sure you don’t need any more of that right now. How about some water?” He phrased it like a question, but didn’t wait for me to respond before grabbing a solo cup and filling it with water. I made a weak attempt at protesting, but deep down I knew that he was right; I was so far gone and the night was still young. “Thanks Nicky.” I said once he brought me the cup of water, and he rolled his eyes. “Ew. Don’t call me that. Now come over here and hang out with us.” He led me to the kitchen table, where him, Chris, Matt, Nate, and a few of their other friends were chatting.

“Hey Y/n, you want a shot?” Nate asked, a bottle of vodka gleaming in his hand. Just as I was about to respond, Nick cut me off with an aggressive “No!”, causing me to pout. “Oh yeah, you’re wasted kid.” Chris said with a shot glass in his hand. I looked at him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and blood shot eyes. “Yeah well so are you.” I retorted weakly, and he chuckled. “It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He said before immediately lifting his glass to cheers with the rest of the group.

I stood there sipping my water slowly as they all took their shots, my eyes focused on Chris’ sharp jaw as he grimaced from the taste of the alcohol. I continued to watch his mouth as he spoke to the person to his right, caught in a drunk trance and intrigued by the rosy colour of his lips.

If I was being honest, I had felt a certain attraction towards Chris since I met him. It wasn’t exactly a crush, and I certainly didn’t have any sort of serious feelings for him, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t ever been tempted to go there with him before. There was a time, early on in our friendship, where we almost crossed that line.

I had been helping him hang posters on the wall above his bed, when he suddenly tackled me onto the mattress. It started off playful, but after a few moments of us play fighting, he ended up on top of me and the mood in the room completely changed. The smiles on our faces disappeared, and I felt my heart begin to race as his lips moved closer and closer to mine. Just as our lips brushed, the sound of Matt’s footsteps coming down the basement stairs caused us to jump apart, and we never spoke of that moment again.

Outside of that time, him and I had only ever acted as very good friends. As a matter of fact, out of all of the triplets I definitely got along with Chris the best. We both had similar personalities, and could joke around without worrying about hurting each other’s feelings.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by Nick’s voice to my left. “Y/n, did I tell you how unbelievably hot you look tonight?” I giggled, noticing that his voice was beginning to sound slurred even to me, so he was clearly drunk. “You did, but thank you Nick.” I replied, smoothing down my skirt and batting my eyelashes jokingly in his direction. I thoughtlessly glanced at Chris, and found his glossy eyes trailing slowly down my figure; clearly admiring my outfit.

“Hey Y/n, have you seen Bree?” Asked Nate, and I looked around the room quickly, realizing that I hadn’t seen her since I used the washroom. “I saw her go outside a little while ago, probably went to smoke.” Replied Matt, and I smiled to myself knowing that Bree will love the fact that he has been secretly keeping tabs on her whereabouts. “Speaking of Bree,” Chris started, turning back to look at me, “Did she tell you about what happened two weeks ago?”

The group grew silent for a moment as they waited for me to respond. I took a sip from my water and nodded. “She sure did.” Chris smirked. “I’m surprised she even had to tell you. You must have been out cold if you slept through all that noise she was making.” The entire group groaned, clearly disturbed by Chris’ lack of filter. “Oh my god! Goodbye.” Nick threw his hands in the air before storming off to join Madi on the couch in the living room.

I scoffed, grabbing the bottle of vodka from Nate and taking a swig. “Bullshit.” I replied simply, wincing from the burn as the vodka travelled to my stomach. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?” Even in my drunken state I was very aware of the amount of eyes on me awaiting a response. “Well, I asked her to rate the sex on a scale from one to ten. She said six.” The group broke into laughter, and Chris’ jaw clenched as he smirked. “Hmm, funny.” He replied.

“You asked for the wrong number,” Said Nate through his laughter, “You should have asked her for the inches.” Chris grabbed the bottle of vodka from me before bringing it to his lips. “Oh I did,” I smiled, leaning towards Chris’ ear before continuing in a whisper so that only he could hear, “I believe her exact words were, ‘nothing special’.” Chris smirked, swiping his tongue across his front teeth. “Oh really? And you believe that?” He responded, and I nodded, crossing my arms across my chest. “I have no reason to not believe her.” We stood there for a moment, both of us just staring at the other tauntingly as the rest of the group just watched in silence, clearly feeling left out of the conversation all of a sudden. Finally, after letting his eyes travel down my body slowly again, Chris spoke.

“You wanna see for yourself?”

It took every fibre of my being to keep my jaw from physically dropping at his words. “Uh, what the fuck are we talking about here?” Nate said, his voice tentative. I kept my gaze on Chris, hoping that my eyes weren’t giving away how shocked I was. I watched him watch me; his bright blue eyes drilling into mine, his lips upturned in a confident smirk. Realizing I had been silent for too long, I blinked repeatedly and cleared my throat to regain my nonchalant composure before shrugging. “Sure.” I heard Matt groan beside me as I grabbed the vodka from Chris, taking a sip as I followed him towards the stairs to his bedroom. “I’m gonna be sick.” Matt’s distant voice shouted as Chris and I descended the stairs and walked into his dark bedroom.

Once Chris shut and locked his bedroom door, I felt a pit in my stomach begin to grow. I suddenly broke into a fit of laughter from the ridiculousness of this situation. “What are you laughing at kid?” Asked Chris, beginning to chuckle himself. I took a moment to catch my breath before responding. “You’re not actually gonna let me see your dick, are you?” I clutched my stomach as I tried to control my laughter, and he shrugged. “I will if you want to see it.” I bit my lip in contemplation, trying desperately to think properly through my drunk fog. Failing miserably, I nod my head.

Chris smirked. “Come here then.” I put the bottle of vodka down on his desk and walked over to where he was standing in the middle of his room. I stopped about a foot away from him, but he gently pulled me closer. Looking at my face, he finally pulled me up against him; rubbing an uncertain thumb against the small of my back. “Wait, I’m not hard right now.” He chuckled, seeming to have his own moment of consciousness. I smiled up at him and tilted my head, placing a hand on his stomach. “Well I need to see it in its full glory. How else am I gonna know if you’re telling the truth?” His thumb stopped its movement on my back, and a glimmer of something flashed in his eyes.

“Okay, then make me feel good baby.”

My stomach did a somersault at his words, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his before grabbing his bottom lip with my teeth and pulling slightly; watching as it snapped back into place. My right hand slowly traveled down his stomach towards his waistband, where I let it linger for a moment before moving down to his crotch. There, I had to keep myself from audibly gasping; as even through his pants, his fast growing bulge was in fact huge.

Chris smiled lazily as my hand continued to palm his clothed dick. “Impressed yet?” My eyes snapped to his, and I decided to maintain my unimpressed persona. I hummed, my lips touching his but not quite kissing them. “Is this all you got Chris?” I bit his lip once more just before it turned up in a smirk. “Not quite.”

I gasped in shock as Chris spun me around and slammed me against the door, attacking my lips with his own. His kiss was full of a sort of animalistic hunger, and I was consumed by the taste of peppermint and vodka. He pressed me even harder against the wall as he rolled his hips against me, and I fought the urge to whimper at the feeling of his restrained cock against my needy core. He brought both of his hands up and pulled my low-cut top down to free my tits before grabbing one in each hand. Detaching his lips from mine, he took a moment to look at my chest before attaching his mouth to my left nipple; swirling his tongue around its sensitive nerves before moving onto the right.

Pulling away from my tits and once again coming face-to-face with me, he spoke. “Get on your knees.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and began guiding me down to the ground. Now at the same height as his bulging member, I watched as he wasted no time in removing his jeans. Now only concealed by his thin boxers, the true size of his cock was much easier to see. I stared in silence for a moment, taking in the fact that his boxers just barely covered its entire length. “Now do you believe me?” He asked from above me. I struggled to find my words, but I didn’t want to end this crazy game that we were playing, so I shook my head. “I’ve seen bigger.” I replied, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Chris rolled his eyes before pulling his boxers down to his knees. Now fully exposed, his cock smacked my face as it sprung free from its restraint. I couldn’t help but stare at it in awe — it had to be at least eight inches — as the faint light in the room reflected on its beautiful veins. “Open your mouth.” Chris’ commanding voice pulled me from my trance, and I looked up at him in shock. “What?” He tilted his head, “You said you’ve seen bigger, so you should have no problem swallowing this cock. So open your mouth.” His dirty words went right to my heat, and I felt my panties begin to flood with arousal.

Chris used both hands to collect all of my hair and held it out of my face as I wrapped my lips around the first few inches of his cock. Starting slow, I swirled my tongue around his sensitive tip before bobbing my head; taking a bit more of his length with each pump. I released his cock from my mouth for a second to catch my breath, before quickly leaning back in and deep throating his entire length. I heard a hiss escape his lips as my nose brushed against the sprinkle of hair against his lower stomach, and I began moving my head up and down his entire length; making sure to get every inch of him in my mouth.

“F-fuck, Y/n, that’s good. Keep going.” Chris rasped, and he began thrusting his hips at the same pace I was moving at. I moaned around his cock as his grip on my hair tightened; halting my movements entirely as he began face fucking me. Tears welled in my eyes as his cock repeatedly slammed into my throat, and I watched his face as his jaw went slack in both concentration and arousal.

Suddenly, all his movements stopped and he pulled me up to my feet. With his lips on mine and his hands tightly grasping my ass, he walked me backwards towards his bed. Once my heels reached the edge of the bed, Chris reached under my skirt and slid my panties down my legs. Feeling myself lose all sense of control, I didn’t hesitate when he ordered me to lay on my stomach with my ass in the air. I began trying to remove my skirt, but was stopped short by a sharp slap to my ass. “No, leave it on. You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” My back arched subconsciously from his words, and I began to tremble in anticipation.

I felt the bed shift as Chris climbed on, and I shuddered from the heat of his breath against my core as he spoke. “You want to talk shit about how you don’t think I can make girls scream, then you better stay fucking silent.” He gave me barely any time to register his words before his mouth connected to my core. Working his tongue relentlessly against my clit, I buried my face in his duvet to keep from making any noise. Using both hands to massage my ass as he continued to devour my cunt, he very quickly proved to me that he did in fact know how to eat pussy.

His mouth moved from my clit to my opening, and I couldn’t stop the guttural moan from passing my lips as his tongue began to plunge into me. Immediately, he stopped his movements and slapped my ass hard. “What did I say?” He asked, his gravelly voice filled with a sinister edge. “S-sorry.” I replied, pushing my core back in an attempt at reconnecting with his talented mouth. “That’s my good girl.” He replied before finally re-attaching his mouth to my hole. I bit down on my lip — so hard that it began to bleed — in order to keep myself from making another noise as I felt an orgasm approach. Chris continued using his tongue to fuck me as my legs began to shake and my brain grew fuzzy.

Like a tidal wave, my orgasm overtook my body and I began to convulse uncontrollably. I was somehow able to stifle my sounds of pleasure, even when Chris moaned into my pussy as I felt myself squirt all over his face. Without even giving me a moment to recover, Chris straightened his body up onto his knees, grabbed onto my hips, and plunged every substantial inch of his cock into me. At this, I couldn’t help but scream out in shock, and Chris promptly pulled out of me; leaving my dripping core feeling empty. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Do you want me to stop?” He tapped my pussy with his cock as he waited for me to respond. Scared to say anything, I simply shook my head. “Are you ready to admit that Bree was lying?” I turned my head so that I could see him behind me.

“Size doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know how to use it. So go ahead and prove yourself right.” At my words, Chris shook his head as his lips turned up in a smirk. Immediately, his dick slid back into me slowly, and I felt my hole stretch more and more as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, before pulling his hips back so far that his tip was barely resting inside of me; and then slammed all of himself back into my cervix. He continued at this agonizingly slow and deep pace for a while, and used his words to taunt me the entire time.

“You’re such a good girl, taking all my cock like this.”

“I bet you feel so good right now baby.”

“Oh fuck, keep creaming all over this big dick.”

Suddenly, Chris pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. Wasting no time, he hooked my legs around his neck and pushed his inches back into me. I stared at him, mouth open, as he watched my pussy swallow his cock with each quick thrust. Using one arm to support his weight, he placed his free hand on my stomach and pressed down. “You feel that?” He began, finding the spot where my stomach was bulging, “Feel how deep in your guts my cock can get?” My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit on my own arm to stifle the noises that were dying to escape it as I felt my second orgasm approaching.

Chris seemed to notice my impending climax, as he leaned forward to reach even deeper into me. “You want to cum, hmm?” He cooed, bringing a hand to my cheek. With my face contorted in the confusing combination of pleasure and frustration, I nodded my head. He moved my arm away from my mouth and planted a deep kiss there. “You can cum as hard as you want, just as soon as you tell me how good my cock makes you feel.” I whined silently, my overstimulated nerves causing my body to fill with a sudden desperation. “Come on, Y/n,” Chris brought his thumb down between our bodies and began rubbing my clit, “I want you to cum for me.”

I was panting now, feeling as though I might explode from the overwhelming pressure within my body. I was quickly realizing that I was losing this battle, and it was time to throw in the towel.

“Fuck Chris you’re so big.” I nearly screamed out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at keeping my composure. “Feels so good, please let me cum.” I begged, and watched his face as his pupils dilated from my words. “That’s my girl. Now let go.” His hips continued pounding into me as I finally gave into my orgasm, and I lost all control of my mind as I spewed a plethora of moan-filled profanities into the room. My walls contracted uncontrollably around his girth as my orgasm tore through my body, and I felt my nails dig into the skin on his shoulders.

“Oh fuck Y/n, gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” His words came out shaky, and I didn’t hesitate before responding, “In me, please baby.” I begged, wanting to feel his warm seed spill into my worn out core. “Shiiit.” He hissed, his body slowing to a near-halt as he rode out his own orgasm. With slow, lazy thrusts, he pushed his cum deep into me as his cock twitched repeatedly.

Eventually, his movements stopped completely, and he slowly pulled out of me and walked towards his bathroom. When he returned, he came back with a towel and used it to help clean me up in silence while I caught my breath.

“I might be drunk,” He started, “But that was hot as fuck.” I laughed, holding my spinning head before sitting up. “We are never to speak of this again.” I said as I got to my feet to retrieve my underwear. “Sure sure…until the next time we do it right?” I rolled my eyes at his response and nudged his shoulder playfully. “Shut up. I need a shot, let’s go.” I headed for the door once he was fully clothed and together we began to climb the stairs. “How likely is it that everyone up here knows what we did?” I whispered to him as we neared the top. “Oh very likely, but who cares? It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He winked at me as we made it to the kitchen, where everyone’s eyes immediately landed on us.

“Oh god.” I muttered under my breath as I hurried over to Bree, who was smiling knowingly at me as she began pouring out two shots of tequila. “Please tell me one of these are mine.” I whispered to her, and she laughed. “It sure is. You have a good time down there?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she handed me a slice of lime. “If you really meant it when you said his dick was ‘nothing special’, then I’m gonna need the names and numbers of the guys you were ranking him against.” She tilted her head back and exploded into laughter before lifting her shot glass in the air and urging me to do the same. “You got it, babe. Just as soon as I get Matt to fall in love with me.” I laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before raising my own glass. “Cheers!”

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[asbealthgn]

wrote this goofy thing as an expansion of this post

It’s very surprising when the door to Eddie’s trailer opens and Eddie is standing there with flowers.

It’s even more surprising when he says, “Happy one month!” with a big grin.

Steve looks back and forth between Eddie and the flowers—wildflowers by the look of them, probably picked around the edges of the trailer park. “Uh, one month of what?”

Eddie gives him an uncertain smile like he’s not sure if Steve’s being serious or not. “Of our relationship,” he says, the last syllable tilting up almost like a question.

Huh. Kind of weird, but at the start of summer Steve and Robin had an ice cream party to celebrate the year anniversary of when they started at Scoops together. So it’s not like this is completely unheard of. Except—

“You and I have been friends for longer than a month,” Steve says, “It’s been like—” he tries to count the months since spring break in his head “—at least four? Unless you don’t count when you were unconscious in the hospital, but that was only a couple weeks, so—”

“I mean one month of our relationship,” Eddie says, putting emphasis on the word. And now his eyebrows are drawn together. Face concerned. And Steve is clearly missing something here.

Did something significant happen a month ago? Some moment where they moved from friends to best friends or something? It was probably about a month or so ago the first time Steve spent the night at Eddie’s trailer, but that wasn’t a huge deal. Steve has spent the night at the Byers’ house before and it’s not like he and Jonathan are breaking out the balloons to commemorate it. 

Steve feels guilty, because clearly there’s something that Eddie thinks he should know that he doesn’t. He doesn’t like this nervous look on Eddie’s face. Steve tries to think like Nancy, tries to put the clues together. But he’s not Nancy. So he’s lost. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Steve says, “I don’t get what you mean.”

Eddie deflates.

“I know we haven’t necessarily defined it.” His voice is wavering, eyes getting watery. Shit shit shit, what did Steve do? This is so completely out of nowhere and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it. “But I didn’t realize it was actually that insignificant to you.”

Steve shoots his arm out to stop Eddie from closing the door on him. He needs to figure out what’s going on so he can make it right, and that’s not gonna happen if Eddie shuts him out. “Eds, seriously, you’re gonna have to fill me in,” he says, “‘Cause I honestly don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?” Eddie asks, anger over taking the sadness in his voice, “You’re gonna act like you don’t know?”

“I don’t!” Steve nearly shouts, desperate. “Please, man, I’m not trying to piss you off here. Whatever it is, I wanna make it right. You just have to tell me what you mean.”

“You and I,” Eddie says. Looking at him like it should be obvious. When it’s so, so not. It makes Steve want to scream. “We’re—I thought we were together.”

“Together? Like…together how?”

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie look this pissed off. “Use your goddamned brain, Harrington,” he spits, “Like together.”

Oh. Okay. That’s…something. It’s not that Steve would necessarily be opposed, or even that he hasn’t thought of it. It’s just not true. They’re not together. And he’s not sure why Eddie thinks they are. Yeah, they’re close, but it’s not like they’re closer than Steve and Robin. It’s not like they’re closer than Steve was to Tommy back in the day. He and Eddie haven’t done anything that feels outside the realm of friendship to him. And he definitely didn’t realize that Eddie saw it any differently.

“Um,” Steve says, aware that he’s standing like an idiot on Eddie’s doorstep and needs to answer. “Why?”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, making as if to close the door again. Steve barely catches it in time. It makes Eddie glare at him. “There’s no way you’re being serious,” he says.

Keeping one hand on the door, Steve throws up the other one in a gesture he stole from Robin. “I really am,” he says, “You know what the kids say. I’m an idiot. You really have to lay things out for me.”

That at least makes Eddie soften a few degrees. “You’re not an idiot, Steve,” he says, “You’re just—oblivious, apparently.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Eddie sighs. “Just come in. We can talk about it.” He steps back and lets Steve come inside. The flowers are still clutched in Eddie’s hand, starting to wilt. Eddie sets them on the table before joining Steve on the couch. 

“A month ago is when you stayed over for the first time,” Eddie says. Steve nods. “And you kissed me.” Steve nods again. Eddie lifts his eyebrows significantly. “You’re not seeing the connection?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, I guess there’s other ways you could construe that,” he says, “But I thought it was, like, a friend kiss. A goodnight kiss.”

“A friend kiss,” Eddie says flatly. “You kiss a lot of your friends?”

“Sure,” Steve says, “Well, Robin prefers forehead kisses and Jonathan’s more of a hug guy, but I used to kiss Tommy and Carol all the time.”

Disbelief is the main emotion on Eddie’s face. And a whole lot of other ones that Steve can’t quite parse out. “So—everything we’ve done,” Eddie says, slowly, like he’s trying to come to terms with it. “It’s all just…been normal friend shit to you?”

Steve thinks back over the last month, trying to think if anything stands out in his head as non-platonic. Maybe there’s been a time or two when he was kissing Eddie or cuddling up to him in bed or sitting on his lap during D&D where Steve’s felt a sort of stirring deep in his belly. But he figured that was one-sided. His body’s reaction to whatever was happening and not a manifestation of, like, feelings or something. After all, the same thing used to happen with Tommy when they’d do similar stuff. And clearly they were just friends.

After a full twenty seconds of Steve not answering, Eddie drops his head in his hands. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he lifts his head. “This—you—the other day. You slept over. We made out. You—you took my fucking shirt off, Steve.”

Yeah, that did happen. And Steve doesn’t have a great explanation for it. “I don’t know,” he says, “It was the heat of the moment or whatever.”

“The heat of the moment,” Eddie repeats, and Steve can’t tell if he’s on the verge of tears or the verge of laughing. Eddie puts his arm on the back of the couch and leans toward Steve. “Can you honestly say that you’re not attracted to me at all?”

Annoyingly, Steve can feel his face start to heat. “I never said that,” he mutters.

For the first time, Eddie looks triumphant. “So you are attracted to me?”

“Yeah, man,” Steve says, squirming uncomfortably. Of course he’s attracted to Eddie. What’s not to be attracted to? He’s smart, funny, hot, good with the kids, good on the guitar, good at kissing. Helped save the world. “You’re, like, it for me. I definitely think about you that way. I just didn’t think you thought about me that way.”

Eddie laughs, the sound containing more disbelief than humor, but still overall a good thing. “I can’t believe the guy who’s been sharing my bed for the past month didn’t think I was into him.”

“Hey, you’re not the only person whose bed I’ve shared.” Shit, that was a bad way to put it. “Platonically.”

Shaking his head, Eddie laughs again. “Clearly, your idea of platonic does not line up with mine,” he says. “But you mean it? You’re into me?”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says, “I’m into you.”

“So, does that mean you’d want to be my boyfriend?”

“Apparently I already have been for the past month,” Steve says, grinning.

Eddie grins back. “Doesn’t count if you didn’t know.”

“Then we can count from today,” Steve says, “Starting now, I’m your boyfriend.”

He hasn’t finished saying the last word before Eddie is surging forward and taking Steve’s face in his hands. He shifts onto Steve’s lap, kissing him deeply. 

And it doesn’t feel platonic at all.

[carolmunson]

18+ stoned!reader x stoned!eddie, some semi smut found this in my drafts from a couple days ago that i wrote when i was...also stoned. utter nonesense, most of it.

“Shh—hehe-shh, no, no, we have to be — hahaha — sh, sh, quiet,” he whisper yells, stumbling over himself while he nearly knocks a lamp off of a side table in Steve Harrington’s living room. The rest of the gang filled the guest bedrooms, leaving you both on the pull out couch.

His sweaty hand clasps yours as you finally make it to the kitchen, squinting in the light against the white tiles.

“Ugh, put the dimmer on,” you whine into another peal of ‘quiet’ giggles.

“Okay, okay,” he nods, leaning against the wall while he twists the light switch knob, the lights going to a low yellow.

“That’s better — shit,” he huffs, grinning.

“What?” you grin back,

“M’stoned as shit, babe,” he laughs, rubbing his swollen red eyes.

“Me—haha, me too,” you laugh back. You both make your way to the abandoned s’mores ingredients on the counter, the reason for the adventure to the kitchen.

“I don’t really get marshmallows,” he says, popping one into his mouth, “Li’ I get them, buh I don’ really get them.”

“True, true,” you nod, breaking a graham cracker in half, staring at the crumbs on the marble, “They’re like — oh my god — holy shit, they’re a fake food.”

“Babe, fuck — you’re so right,” he nods, “Like what’re they even made of?”

“Like…plastic, babe. I think they’re plastic,” you nod back, eyes as wide as they can go — and it’s not wide at all, “Like from space. They’re space plastic.”

“They’re totally space plastic,” he agrees, putting another one in his mouth, “Tasthy, shug-ry, spacthe, plasdic.”

“M’so thirsty,” you complain, turning the sink on with little grace, leaning forward to drink from the faucet.

“Aw, shit, me too — move,” Eddie grumbles, holding his hair back and hip bumping you out of the way.

“Hey!” you whine, hip bumping him back, knocking your forehead against his to get back to the water.

“You hey!” he laughs back, face half reproachful and half mischievous, “I’ll count to five and then hahaha, then it’s my turn.”

You drink quick while he counts down, taking turns in intervals of five until you both think you’ve been drinking water for hours.

“3, 4…”

“Okay enough, you’re waterboarding me,” you gasp after a gulp, turning the sink off.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“No Ed, you don’t even know what that means.”

“No you,” he tuts, leaning in for a kiss.

“No you,” you tut back, letting him kiss you softly. Unsurprisingly, you both let out simultaneous groans, knowing you’re both on shaky ground if you keep at it. It takes little effort for him to convince you to sit up on the island counter so his hips can line up against yours, ringed and tattooed hands gripping your thighs without thought or care behind it, just need. Just bare need from the roots. He pushes forward, the hard on tenting his boxers pressing up flat against you. Two more breathy groans coming from between your kisses while he rocks against your panties.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he whispers against your lips.

“Sss…hmmm, it’s okay,” you mumble out, swollen eyes now shut while your body tingles through with pleasure, “S’feelin’reallygood babe.”

“You all extra sensitive?” he asks, the giggles gone, just eyes that want you — brain focused now on chasing the pleasure in his groin.

“Yeah,” you whimper, his chest pressing up against yours when he brings his mouth to your neck. To your spot. The whine you let out is a little too loud and you both know it — enough that he covers your mouth while he keeps going, hips still grinding in a steady rhythm against you. He tugs you down back to the floor by your hips, turning you around without a second thought, oversized t-shirt rucked up to your waist.

“You want me?” he asks, pulling your panties to the side. You nod hurriedly.

“Please,” you whisper, hips wiggling — which makes him laugh, which makes you laugh, and then you look at the marshmallows on the counter and it’s space plastic all over again. Giggles and kisses while he gets ready to ease into you and put you both to bed exhausted.

“I hope the aliens don’t come,” you murmur between sloppy pecks, “For the space plastic.”

The light in the kitchen gets bright, bright, bright, “We’re getting abducted babe.”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve’s annoyed voice echos from the other end of the room, “You guys are being so loud.”

You and Eddie separate like embarrassed high schoolers who got caught kissing behind the bleachers. Like dad walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

“Sorry, Harrington,” Eddie smirks, “We were just—”

“Getting water!” you interrupt.

“Yeah I see that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s all over the floor.”

He’s not wrong, it is, the two of you looking at the tile like kids who are definitely in trouble.

“We’ll clean it up Steve, sorry,” Eddie assures, much more apologetic now.

“Just — go to bed guys,” he sighs, “Or I’m making you sleep in separate rooms next time.”

When he leaves you both toss each other a look, mocking Steve’s exasperated face with another silent outbreak of breathy giggles. After wiping up the water, you put away the snacks together and click the light off, settling back down in the pull out couch under the covers. The high now holding you down in a cozy grip, making your eyes lull and your breaths slow.

“M’sleepy,” you whisper under the crisp sheets.

“Me too,” he nods, intertwining his limbs with yours like he does every night. Curly hair creeping onto your face while he settles his head in the crook of your neck, “But babe?”

“Yeah?” you ask into the quiet of the room, eyes closed, sleep pulling you further and further away.

“M’gonna rail you when we get home tomorrow,” he mutters, half asleep.

“M’kay,” you nod, “Thass—that sounds good. I like that. I’ll get us a ticket.”

“Hm?”

“For the rail…for the railroad.”

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road,” he sings quietly.

“All the live long day…” you both harmonize, more giggles, sleepy giggles.

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road, just to pass the time away…”

“Guys,” Steve’s sharp whisper calls from the stairs, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steve,” you mumble in unison, singing the song in quiet whispers — falling asleep before you even make it to the end.

[lumi-waxes-poetic]

re: the Neil Gaiman shit

In light of recent revelations, it is very likely you or someone in your circle is seriously rethinking their relationship to Neil Gaiman's books.

That's perfectly natural. But if I might offer a word of advice (which of course you may do what you like with, I'm not god)?

If his books ever meant something to you growing up, and some part of you, no matter how small, refuses to let them go? That's okay. Don't devalue or burn cherished things just because the Author is a Horrible Person.

God only knows that if that were the requirement, we'd have little left to enjoy in the world.

If you feel the need to have a reckoning with your bookshelf, do not let my words stop you. Keep or discard his books at your own recognizance. Just remember that he is merely the author of these books: he is not the books themselves. If ever his books communicated something Good and True to you, do not feel pressured to throw that Good and True thing away just because the source was less good than you thought it was.

Despite his(overwhelmingly probable) guilt, Neil is ALSO one of the genuinely best writers we've had in DECADES. This will understandably complicate his legacy. As much as we like things to be simple, people are often multiple things simultaneously, and we often will dislike or even hate some of those things.

Was Neil being a hypocrite when he supported feminist and LGBTQIA+ causes while also being a huge... <gestures to all the allegations>? Very definitely. But I don't want to see the genuine strides his support helped make possible fall away just because his hypocrisy was revealed. I don't want to see people ignore or undermine the frankly EXCELLENT MESSAGES in a lot of his books just because the author didn't live up to the standards he wrote about.

This isn't about absolving Neil in the slightest. I hope he gets whatever justice he's due. But don't punish yourself arbitrarily for it. If you have decided that now is the time to move on from his books forever, I don't blame you. If you decide to keep reading his books and they inspire you to be a better person than him, that's just as awesome. Spite that sunnuvabitch with his own works.

It is my hope that people can and will continue to enjoy his stories, and take home from them some excellent messages, long after he faces justice for his actions as a person. He wouldn't be the first author whose works were forgiven long after his personal harms were done; literary history is replete with such individuals -- Lord Byron, Virginia Woolfe, Robert E. Howard, Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Vladimir Nabokov, etc. The list goes on and on for as long as one wishes to peruse it. Their problematic acts as people cannot and should not be ignored, but neither can nor should their works. Perhaps Neil Gaiman is in good company, then, as we add his name to that list. A brilliant author, with brilliant works to his name, but a far less than brilliant man.

Only you can decide how your relationship with the books you have read will work out. You alone have the power to determine what authors you read and whose works shall adorn your bookshelves.

Don't let the crowd tell you what you're allowed to read, but perhaps don't discount the crowd's opinion out of hand on this one either. They do, after all, have a point.

[ayselluna]

Ascendant Astarion Recommendations!

I'm a fan of both Spawn and Ascendant Astarion so I do enjoy reading both. But if you want to explore and read some good shit~ Ascendant fics well here you go~

I've read a lot so bear with me, These are my TOPS~

I LOVE ALL OF THESE:

A Gift, A Curse by @elemit - This updates daily most of the time, the author is getting busy IRL but it should be back on a daily update again soon I think. This is one of the darker theme of Ascendant Astarion "50 shades of 'FCKNG LITTLE TWAT' Ancunin" as one of the comment says haha some scenes are "traumatic" but the rollercoaster ride of emotions you'll get on this story is one for the books! ONGOING!

Fangs and Fractured Hearts - by @fangsandfracturedhearts - This one's one of the softer sides of the Ascendant, the dynamic of Tav and Astarion here is exquisite! The cliffhanger on this one just uggghhhhh. i love it!! ONGOING!

Hellish Rebuke by @bludazey this one's a classic! the details on this story is so genius I swear. Also I think a lot of Astarion fanfic writers got inspired with the Devil's dealing here. Also Tav here is effing smart and just chef's kiss! such a great heroine! ONGOING!

His Star - His Queen [Originally titled Across Stars and Time] by ARandomIntrovert - Now this a bit different, What if multiverse exists? Now there's two Astarions fighting over you, Spawn VS Ascendant, where do you think this would go? :)) Story's definitely amazing and unique! I easily got invested. haha ONGOING!

In Another Life by @locallegume - Definitely a softer side of the Ascendant but Tav and Astarion's dynamic here is one of my fave! <3 Tav here is not the overly good role model we usually read, she's troubled too and definitely has effed up issues. but sometimes you just need to find your own freak and be together forever. ONGOING!

Pieces Still Stuck In Your Teeth - by @howlsmovinglibrary / @wetcatspellcaster - The amount of Banter and D&D Lore on this one is superb! you have to watch out for the writer's notes! I love how I get to learn more D&D stuff and godssss how many times I almost got so swayed by the Ascendant here! good thing Tav's so good at bantering haha ONGOING!

Remember ye not the former things by @brabblesblog - THE SEQUEL!! It focuses more on the aftermath and them working out their relationship, a lot more TAV bg story but gods, Astarion here , I just want to smother him with cuddles and kisses, TAKE MEEEEE ONGOING!

Whither is thy beloved gone? by @brabblesblog -

It has a sequel!!! - that's how good it is! <3 also The Ascendant here is my favorite! The confrontations are just so real and so true I caaaaan't. He wrote the Ascendant so good I actually sided with him more than Tav! A lot of smut ngl but I got into the characters more that I should have. you're missing out if you haven't read this. COMPLETED!

Most of these are still ongoing but I am updated w/ each, along with other Spawn Astarion fics :)) They are all good! some more soft than the others, some darker and evil :))

Let me know if you guys want to get some Spawn Astarion fics recommendations!

[evilminji]

You know what would be HILARIOUS?

For everyone NOT involved in the situation?

If the Uzumaki, mad lads that they were, seal master's who routinely moon the Shinigami for funsies that they are, got SUUUUUPER drunk? And were like?

"F-! *hic!* FUCK your fancy ass Summons contract Himiko! I got one TOO, you know. A..An' it's TOTALLY better then yours! It's got BLACKJACK! And hookers!" *falls on their face unconscious*

Needless to say? Not their proudest moment. Actually, their kinda deeply embarrassed. But like FUCK ARE THE BACKING DOWN! Their mouths wrote a check their ass can't currently cash... so the only REASONABLE solution? Apologize and tell the truth? Psh! NO.

Break Reality Until It's TRUE.

THEN they weren't technically lying!

They're a GENIUS~☆! :D

And yes, yes this IS normal behavior for them. It's both cultural AND genetic. There was a REASON people were terrified of those insane mother fuckers.

Because? They just? MADE UP a A Summons Contract. With Who? Dunno! We're gonna find out! But it looks right Seals wise! *signs name before anyone with sense can stop them, does the signs, draws blood aaaand?*

POOF!

Nani THE FUCK!? Says local dead Japanese 16th century fisherman who was flying by to visit the Lair of his buddy the 14th century monk. Behold! A FUCKING ZONE GHOST! He is unsummoned before he can react.

The Uzumaki have A Ghost Contract™.

.........th....they may have fucked up.

YOU THINK?

Roars basicly the ENTIRE Elders council. Who FUCKING FELT THAT. Because EVERYONE Felt that. They're SENSOR. That was a HOLE in REALITY that somehow GLOWED like a BEACON of both absolute Nothingness and Death! You TRAUMATIZED THE KIDS, YOU ASSHOLE!

Still....they ARE ninja. And Curious mother fuckers to the last.

So basically EVERYONE and their dog signs it. They somehow get WEIRDER. Bigger Chakra reserves. Obsessive tendencies. Meh, you win some, you lose some.

But? Then they fuckin DIE. (And their WHOLE ASS VILLAGE SHOWS UP IN THE ZONE. OH GOD, WHAT-!?)

And some grave robbing fuck tries to use the Contract. SUPRISE MOTHERFUCKER!

Ghost Uzumaki!

Your literal worst nightmare!

They DO NOT try using it again. It gets sealed DEEP. Until the Hokage gets wind of it. And, of course, Danzo. The Hokage sends Hound. And Team Kakashi on a completely unrelated but nearby "help a farmer" mission. Danzo sends assassins. Because he's fucking awful.

Kakashi gets the scroll.

Yep. Creepy rambling and shit handwriting, def Uzumaki. Time to go.

He gets attacked on the way back to camp. GDI Root. Well, its you or me. Sucks for you, I guess. They fight. They get a lucky shot. He bleeds on the scroll, doesn't notice. But SURELY... SURELY it isn't CROWDED enough with names that the Uzumaki just added a "and anyone who bleeds on THIS part at the bottom _______ plus does the handsigns" towards the end.... RIGHT??

RIGHT?! Look him in the EYES Uzumaki Clan, RIGHT??!

They would prefer not to answer that. The Vibez here are getting REALLY aggressive, you know? >.> It made sense at THE TIME...

So... he goes to summon his Dogs.

And he SURE DOES GET UM.... plus One(1!!!).

Who the FUCK is this glowing green dog? A puppy? Kakashi seeing the dimwitted looking little thing about to get STABBED tries to rescue it. It takes one look look at him (worried for it), the other dogs (growling at his enemies, fighting) and... turns around, shifting as it does, to HUNDREDS of times it's previous size.

Like an Akimichi transformation.

A sudden, hulking, green WOLF with red glowing eyes and killing intent that would Rival a demon's. The howl is unearthly. It joins the fray like a meat thresher.

Then pops back to a floating, tongue lolling, dimwitted pup the second everything is done.

G...God boy?

Far be it for KAKASHI to fear a dog, no MATTER how dangerous. So he carries it back to camp. Where it seems to instant fall in LOVE with Naruto. They become the BEST of friends.

There's frolicking.

Looking down at the pocket with the scroll he reclaimed? Yeah. Yeah that tracks. According to Pakkun, the pup has a "weird, echo-y" accent and is incredibly scatter brained. Training to be a gaurd dog? WAS Training. IS currently... what.

Okay. IS currently the gaurd dog/pet of an Emperor. Because THATS not alarming. Did the Royal family all... wait... he examines the pup again. Transparent. Was it KILLING intent he felt... or a Deathy pressure? Didn't the Uzumaki have Forbidden soul and death seals? It would stand to REASON...

Oh god damn it.

Pakkun. Pakkun please tell me that pup is ALIVE.

(He can not.) (Hilariously? Dispite being TERRIFIED of Ghosts? Naruto is TOTALLY COOL with Zone Ghosts? Don't be MEAN, Sensei! They're just PEOPLE! It's not THEIR fault They're dead! Now GHOSTS? Spooky and EVIL! Totally different.)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay

[justauthoring]

Shoko Just Can't be Right [2]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if shoko's convinced and maybe she's just right?

a/n: finally wrote the second part.... hehe.

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

-

"There is no way."

"Uh, yes, there is."

Sending Shoko a blank look, you scoff.

But, as per her style, she doesn't relent.

"Y/N," she deadpans, reaching across the desk to take your hands in her own, squeezing them enough to pull your gaze on her's once again. "I say this with complete and utter confidence, they're in love with you."

"Shoko," you call back, mimicking her tone; "they're in love with each other."

"True," she offers with a light shrug. "But also you."

Your mind blanks with the utter disbelief and ridiculousness of it all. "Is that even... possible? I mean, to be in love with two people at once?"

You didn't think so.

"Probably," she shrugs, "I mean with love anything's possible, right?"

And you can tell with the shit-eating grin on her face, she's finding this all too funny. Honestly, if you were on her side of things, you'd probably get a kick out of the whole thing as well but alas, you weren't and it wasn't easy to ignore the crushing of your heart as the hope you're desperately trying to hold back tries to sliver it's way past.

Ugh. Hope. What an entirely stupid and ridiculous--

"They do say that."

Back straightening, every muscle in your body tightens at the sound of Gojo's voice. It was, honestly, the last person you wanted to hear right that second; by default just because it was, well, him, but also because with Gojo, Geto was usually trailing behind...

A glance over your shoulder tells you you're correct.

Just as you thought.

You catch Shoko perking up out of the corner of your eye, and instantly a sense of dread floods you; this cannot be good.

"What are you two talking about?" Geto asks, coming to a stop next to Gojo, hands shoved leasurely into his pocket, brow raised with curiosity.

"Well—"

"Nothing!" You cut in sharply before Shoko can finish, sending her a glare over your shoulder (to which she rolls her eyes), pushing yourself to your feet. "Actually, we should be going because we—"

"Awehhh!" A loud whine cuts you off, eyes flickering over to Gojo whose slumped over dramatically; "but I was hoping you'd wanna hang with us."

Hang with them?

Alone?

That sounds like both a blessing and absolute nightmare. Especially with the thoughts that Shoko has invested in your mind—you could barely look at them now without thinking about her words; they're in love with you. God, why did she have to go around telling you that?

Making you think—for even just a second—that that could ever be true.

Because it wasn't. Obviously.

Geto and Gojo loved each other. That was true. Yes, that had been true since the very first moment you'd laid eyes on the both of them. The last to join them in their first year. The two of them, including Shoko, had already gotten aquainted with one another (some more than others). The three of them had spent four whole months with just them and no one else and had been able to bond.

And then you came in.

Clueless about the jujutsu world and about what a jujutsu sorcerer even was. Your whole world had been turned upside down and you were far outside of your element.

And yet, despite all that, you'd walked into that classroom that day and amongst Gojo's rather cocky greeting, Geto's simple one and Shoko's enthusiastic one (she'd expressed her fondness quite plainly for no longer being the only girl), you'd seen how much Geto and Gojo loved each other.

They were pretty obvious about it, even if at the time neither of them had known about the other's feelings.

So, yes, Shoko couldn't be right. She knew she wasn't saying it all to be mean, she wasn't like that—clearly she'd seen or heard something that had lead her to this incorrect assumption.

Because that's all it was.

An assumption.

One you wouldn't let yourself be swayed by for one second.

"Y/N?"

Blinking, you're pulled from your thoughts with a snap, focusing in on Geto who's leaning down to meet your gaze, concerned, with a baffled Gojo slightly behind him, the both of them looking at you rather intensely.

And, when you turn your head to the right, Shoko's gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Where..." Your words trail, in disbelief.

"Oh," Geto mumbles, pulling back as he realizes where you're looking. "She left for a smoke, said that she didn't mind rescheduling your plans. I do believe she added to the end of it, 'anything to get Gojo to shut up'."

"Hey!"

That sneaky little—

You turn to face both boys, quite honestly dumbstruck.

But then Gojo is shoving his face in yours, grinning; "so? Let's go!"

You sputter; "wh-where?"

-

To a sweets cafe. That's where.

Gojo all but drags you there, ignoring your protest to at least let you change, simply calling over his shoulder that; 'you look adorable!' which absolutely was not true. You hadn't worn your uniform that day since it wasn't a school day, and you and Shoko had had plans to spend the day together campus which had lead you to wear a simple skirt with an oversized sweater over it. You weren't expecting to leave or go out or least of all be going out with both Geto and Gojo or else you would've probably dolled yourself up at least a little.

Which, yes, Gojo's words, albeit simple, did leave you even more flustered, cheeks flushed and stuttering for a response all whilst Geto chuckled lightly behind you, clearly amused to himself.

But both Geto and Gojo are dominating of your time and don't allow you even a second of an escape, chatting your ears off happily whilst Gojo goes to the counter to order an array of sweet, leaving you and Geto to find a table.

You have to admit that the cafe is quite cute and the sweets you'd managed to grab for yourself (with the help of Geto, who promptly slapped Gojo's hand away when he tried to steal one of them) were delicious. Geto had gone back to the counter to order you a drink and although you weren't always used to be with either of them alone, the two of them were chatty enough that you didn't feel awkward or tense with silence.

It wasn't that you didn't get along with them. You did. Despite your rocky first impression of Gojo, you got along with the both of the extremely well.

But that was at school. In class. Or, at the very least, with Shoko. You weren't used to having to fend off the both of them and although you cared for them both greatly, they were both intimidating in different ways.

In ways you weren't.

Shoko always said you were too quiet. Too easy. You said yes to anything someone asked you of and you didn't often argue even if it wasn't something you weren't comfortable with. It had taken Shoko months before you properly opened up to her, but Geto and Gojo were confident and skilled and people seemed to bend over backwards for them just because, well, they were them.

People treated them differently than they treated you because you were quiet where they were loud, nervous where they were confident, and soft where they were hard.

(Little did you know that Geto and Gojo absolutely adored this about you—despite how incredibly self-conscious you were about it yourself).

Still, the day goes on well. And you find yourself rather enjoying their company.

You've all been there for just over an hour when you excuse yourself to the washroom, slipping past Geto in a way that has your cheeks burning red and flustered as you make your way to the ladies room.

It's on your way back that things take a bit of a downward shift.

A firm hand wraps itself around your upper arm, halting you in your tracks and pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as your world is tilted on it's axis briefly.

Then, suddenly, there's a group of boys surrounding you.

"Hey," one of them smiles at you, though it's all cold and no warmth. "Do you go to school around here? Don't think we've seen you before."

"And I think we'd remember a face like yours." Another one pipes up, your head shifting to the right to find him towering over you.

The one on your left steps closer, smirking down at you. "Noticed it as soon as you walked in here," he grins, wide and menacing. His eyes drift across you, low in a way that makes your chest tighten uncomfortably, then back up to your eyes. "You new?"

They're too close.

"N-No," you force out, shaking your head as you try to push them away. "Sorry, my-my friends are—"

"Yeah, those two guys, right?"

A hand falls on your back, and you tense.

"We could show you a far better time, you know?"

"Yeah," a laugh, "why settle for them, when—"

Another hand falls on you. But it's different. Warmer. Familiar.

You're pulled away and tucked against a chest, glancing up to see Geto's familiar figure looming behind you, his gaze threatening but it instantly softens as he glances down at you.

Gojo steps in front of you, blocking you from their view.

"I do believe you're making Y/N uncomfortable," Gojo grounds out and his voice is so unlike anything you've ever heard. It's dark, cruel, all trace of his usual goofiness and teasing gone.

You can't see his face, but if it's anything like Geto's, you're sure the face matches his tone.

"I would fuck off now." Geto growls from behind you, low enough you feel his chest rumble in reaction. "Before we make you."

You don't see it. Geto doesn't let you. But none of the three boys even get a word out before they're scampering off with paled skin and pleading cries of mercy, racing out of the cafe and not sparing another glance back.

What—

Gojo spins to face you and he's grinning, wide and bright, stepping towards you. "Sorry about that darling," he calls out, ruffling your hair. "We got worried when you took a while to come back."

"Should've called for us," Geto mumbles, squeezing your shoulder in a soft, reassuring sort of way. "Let us know you were in trouble."

Gojo's hand falls on your cheek, cupping it, face suddenly serious but not in the same menacing way as before but concerned. "We'll always come when you're in trouble."

Geto nods; "so, don't feel afraid to rely on us."

They're in love with you.

Shoko's word taunt you in the back of your mind, completely stunned by Geto and Gojo as they move to walk, neither of them letting go of you, Geto's hand on your back and Gojo's hand wrapped around yours, leading out of the cafe.

They're close. They still close. Refusing to slip away.

I mean with love anything's possible, right?

Shoko just couldn't be right. She just couldn't...

Could she?

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[txttletale]

could you elaborate on your thoughts on boom and 73 yards ( i agree with you i am just struggling to put into words why.)

boom was whatever. the initial conceit of the doctor being trapped and having to stay calm was really cool! i really like that. the ambulances that euthanize you if you're not deemed worthy of medical care and the tacky chatgpt hologram ghosts were both really cool ideas. it just doesn't stick the landing for me, the twists are contrived and fall apart given any thought whatsoever. like what the fuck were any of the soldiers Doing if there just straight up weren't any enemies. it's a twist that sounds cool to say more than it has any meaningful impact on the story or the stakes. i guess 'the arms manuifacturer created a fake conflict' is the intended emtional stakes there but that would hit like a hundred times harder if it was an actual conflict between two factions and people were dying, right? like if anything sending a christian militia to blow themselves up tae fuck on a nowhere planet instead of presumably killing actual living people is an improvement, surely?

also the resolution was dumb as fuck lol i am a huge hater of power of love saves the day shit not because i'm a cynical misanthrope but because it never fails to make me say 'oh so i guess nobody ever loved anybody before lol' and this is no exception like if one chatbot can shut down the whole operation beacuse he loves his daughter are we meant to believe that no other parents or hell nobody who loved anybody else for any reason died in this fake war before? it's cheap and schmaltzy and unearned. anyway the first twentyish minutes of this are all-time great doctor who and gatwa/gibson were incredible in it but it absolutely falls apart into a confused pileo f some of the worst Moffatisms at the end

73 yards on the other hand was incredible! obviously like it requires you to approach it with a different mindset to most of doctor who, right, doctor who usually furnishes you with the big explanation scnee where the doctor says 'well the ghosts were actually particle wave vectorforms created with the necros radiation from the god-king's techsceptre' or whatever--this is the usual narrative mode of sci-fi--but 73 yards is fantasy, right, this is the twilight zone, this is 'wouldn't that be fucked up?'. i interrogate the technical and logical specifics of boom so much when i think about it because that's the language boom is speaking, boom is framing itself within this logical, a-to-b worldview, the satisfying click-together puzzlebox. but 73 yards is a nightmare or a folk tale, right? kate stewart¹ says it herself, 'when faced with the inexplicable, we make up rules and apply them to it'.

so yknow reading it that way it all clicks together beautifully, right, (apart from russel t davies' embarassing swing and miss at Political Commentary in the middle. we get it davies you wrote years and years. we know. trust me we know). the doctor and ruby disrupt the binding circle, free mad jack, and are punished -- the doctor, as perpetrator, with being banished (perhaps in jack's place) and ruby with her worst fear coming true constantly, until ruby defeats mad jack, re-sealing him and fixing what she broke, at which point the circle rewards her by reversing the punishments. and the core horror i think is very effective and unsettling! the idea that there is something that someone could say to turn everyone against you, the closest people to you in your life, your own family, the institutions that are meant to deal with the exact problem you're having--that's fucking terrifying! and yknow i think especially as an autistic trans lesbian something that speaks to me a lot

so yeah. i think that boom establishes its logics and framework and then trips and falls onto its face while 73 yards does the same and then makes perfect use of them. that said i think in 20 years people who are autistic about doctor who will be like 'did you know in the 2020s there were two episodes in a row where the doctor caused the entire plot to happen by stepping on something' and thjatll be the main thing they're remembered for

[devotion-disorder]

What was your yandere ocs first look? Their first design?

Or did they come fully formed and ready in your head?

good question!!

after letting them marinate in my head for god knows how long, i did actually drew some quick tests to help me visualize them better!

it says "lil shit" beneath beta-Noel on the left, but if you squint it looks kinda looks like i wrote "lil slut", which is also true. he ended up with fluffier hair and yellow eyes bc i thought it would leave a (deceivingly) brighter impression. Beta-Kuuya looked too much like a touken ranbu character (yagen i think?) LMAO so his design was also changed a lil in the end

and then the bit at the bottom may or may not be other yandere ocs i have been conceptualising

bonus: my initial sketch layers lol

[piratefishmama]

Pt1

It continues, also with Robin. She leaves Steve on that floor, pathetically cycling through this random metalheads video game music repertoire, sending a silent apology for her fallen friend to the lady in the apartment below them, sure she got to hear Steve practicing his songs every now and then which was a blessing, but she also now had to deal with his pathetic puppy crush as well.

Sorry two (definitely not house-trained) poodle owning lady, Robin sent her condolences for her hearing. But only a little condolence, one of those dogs had left a steamer in the elevator and it was a tall-ass apartment block. Karma really, sweet sweet karma.

It continued because Robin had a mild gift for hunting people down on the internet, it was a skill she’d developed and honed purely to hunt down the assholes who occasionally popped up on Steve’s insta with threatening messages and dumb as shit behaviours that a best friend refused to abide by. Steve had never allowed her to do anything with the knowledge, but one day, one day, the dogs of war would be released, and she would rain fury down upon them for making him make the sad puppy eyes.

He was just a dude, sure he grew up with wealthy parents, sure he had connections since birth to help him get to where he wanted to be, but… that didn’t make him any less of a soft-ass with a genuine love of sports, and sweaters, and listening to audio books in reading nooks with mugs of coffee like some kind of pinterest mood board model.

That didn’t make him any less of an actual mother hen to several child actors and young musicians ensuring they got fair treatment, ensuring they were never taken advantage of by the industry or the people around them.

It continued because within an hour of sleuthing, Robin poked her head back around from Steve’s guest room (read: Robin’s second home), and proudly announced “Found him!” As loud as she could to get over the cover of the final boss battle from Banjo and Kazooie that Steve absolutely did not recognise but was clearly vibing to.

“Found who?”

“Your mystery hater! He’s a—”

“Robin!! You can’t dox people!!”

“I’m not doxing him, I’m telling you exactly where he is so you can go confront him.”

“That is exactly what doxing is. How did you even find him?!”

“Dumbass posted a pic of a newspaper article that his friend wrote, which, uhm, that’s pretty cool I guess, but it had her name on it! All I had to do was search LinkedIn for her and boom, I gottem.”

“…Okay so he’s basically asking to be found is what you’re saying right now.”

“EXACTLY, can we go? Can we? I wanna see him squirm like a little bitch baby when you turn up to confront him.”

“All you’ll see is my pathetic attempts to flirt with him because I don’t know how I’d be anything but pathetic around him I mean have you seen his hands? Do you remember the Hemsworth incident? Do you remember the Hemsworth incident, Robin?” The incident in question involving a low doorway and a concussion that left him delirious in the fantastic arms of the God of Thunder.

“Do I remember you acting like a drunk school girl with her first crush around a guy with biceps bigger than your head? Yes. Yes I do. It was hilarious and you gained a handsome Aussie as a life-long friend out of that pathetic display—"

“I was concussed.”

“Drunk school girl. That doesn’t mean you can’t manage to charm a little bitch from Indiana, we’re from Indiana, we have common ground, you can bond with him!”

“Oh, because being born within the same state makes for such a conversation starter… should we really go?” Would that be stupid? Would that be crossing a line? Would that be absolutely batshit insane?

“For true love—" and champagne in First-Class "I think we should.”

“…Fine.”

Part 3

[moongothic]

So a few weeks ago I ran into this, old, old Crocodile meta post from 2015, the OP of which hasn't been active on Tumbr (at least on that account) since 2018. And this post (along with some of the OP's other posts) has been living in my head rent free since then.

There was just something there about seeing these old meta posts, completely detached from the current state of the story, the fandom and the Crocodad Propaganda... It just made for a truly refreshing read, but they also had such great observations about Crocodile I hadn't even thought about or noticed*, and somewhat most importantly... validating my own feelings/observations about things I've been kind of afraid to vocalize myself lest I apper completely delulu. Like I dunno I do worry sometimes if I'm just reading into things too much just to make massive reaches to get The Reading of the character that happens to support the Crocodad theory specifically, instead of trying to get a more objective reading instead. So seeing someone else make either those exact same or similar observations nearly 10 years before I did is so validating, and really just made me want to discuss some of those things.

*(Like this whole post about how "DON!" is often used to add emphasis and show the true beliefs of characters, and how Crocodile doesn't really say things with a DON!, almost like his heart isn't in most of the things he does or says. I dunno it was such a good read)

Sidenote: I do want to quickly comment that I don't agree with the OP on some of their readings about stuff, and more importantly, due to the age of the both the original posts and the OP not being active anymore, I didn't want to, like... Treat them as if they just posted it recently and interact with the posts as such. (I dunno, when people go digging through my decade old main blog and start reblogging shit I posted in like 2014 it just. I dunno, it's just kind of uncomfortable. Like you're allowed to browse my past but I wished people let my ancient cringe stay in the past. But that's just me) Like for example I feel like OP has a fundamental misunderstanding what being "trans" really even means (thus I don't agree with their take on trans Croc), but again, OP's take is old and so I don't want to hold it against them. They could have grown since then and come to better understand what being trans means, and regardless of that they don't have to buy into the theory either. And I absolutely do not want anyone to start trying to pester them about it or anything (again, they posted these things nearly 10 years ago), regardless of if they're still active or not. But yeah, that's why this is a whole separate post rather than a reblog with commentary.

So OP in their post speculated how in this moment (chap 206), based on the face he makes and the serious look he gives to Luffy, Crocodile seems to find the idea of someone being willing to die for someone else's sake absolutely incomprehensible, as if he's trying to wrap his head around the mere concept. That, or he used to know what it was like to hold someone/something that dear to you, but has long forgotten what it was like

Rereading this arc a while back I couldn't help but to take notice of this panel too and that unusual, somber(?) look on Crocodile's face. But because I'm a Crocodad Truther, of course I couldn't help but to feel that this was a face of recognition, of Crocodile understanding Luffy exactly in this moment, that willingness to do anything for a loved one. Especially because I have been speculating Crocodile might've been doing all of this with the goal of nuking the World Government out of orbit to protect his long lost baby boy (it's just that he simply finds Luffy's insistence on protecting this random ass princess from a random ass country he has zero ties to ridiculous, as opposed to like, doing all of this to protect immidiate, close family)

So again, despite the different reading it is validating as hell to see someone else think this panel in particular was odd. But the more I thought about it, I did kind of start leaning towards OP's reading. Now this one was originally pointed out by opbackgrounds, how in this scene (chapter 196) while Crocodile is meant to be laughing and mocking the royal guard for "throwing their lives away" to protect Cobra, he isn't actually smiling. We don't even get to see his full face with his eyes blacked out, so we don't get to see Crocodile's true feelings in this scene

And that does kind of reframe what he says in the second panel. For a long time I wondered if the implication was that Crocodile does actually value people's lives more than he lets on (especially with his seeming willingness to blow up a million people in a violent, orchestraded coup), just having a "small sacrifice for the greater good" kinda outlook (as we know, casualties can't be avoided in war, Croco and Luffy both agree on that) (where as I would IMAGINE Dragon having a more "no sacrifices, we have to save as many people as possible" kinda principle)

But now, looking at these two moments together, and knowing Crocodile has trust issues for unknown reasons, there is also that option that, perhaps... No one has ever shown that kind of loyalty towards him, a willingness to follow him to the grave or support him, to stay by his side? And if so, maybe, in these two scenes, Crocodile does recognize that kind of deep loyalty and trust and love, and has to cope with the fact that he has and may never experience it himself, that he's doomed to be alone, surrounded only by people who "respect him" out of fear (something that could be extra painful while knowing someone had just recently betrayed him by leaking his info to ruin his plans/after figuring out it was Robin, his very literal partner in crime. Like talk about rubbing salt into a wound).

And y'know, that is an extremely sad reading and I feel so bad for my poor little meow meow (that man needs a hug so bad), but also that doesn't really add to pushing The Crocodad Agenda, which is very unfortunate. Especially because I feel like between the two readings, Crocodile recognizing loyalty no one will ever show him (and being hurt by the fact) feels like a more comprehensive and simple reading, than if one is about him showing he doesn't fully believe in what he's doing is right and the other about him relating to Luffy on a deeper level.

But then, as OP pointed out in their post, for the entirety of page 2 of Chapter 207 while Luffy is keeling over from the poison finally kicking in, Crocodile looks like he's fully letting down his walls to express genuine relief, as if the those beliefs Croc had carried and convinced himself were true were just confirmed

What're his beliefs again? That trust in others is worthless, and you can not afford to have ideals if you're weak, great strenght being the only thing that allows you, if not straight up justifies you, in doing whatever you please? Now, maybe it's just me, but if Crocodile was showing relief here over his belief that trusting others is worthless after being reminded time and time again of the love and loyalty the Strawhats have for each other and the Alabastan kingdom has for everyone in it (etc)... I dunno, I feel like that would be kind of weak, if that's where Crocodile's internalized beliefs were wavering. But if Crocodile's whole Utopia-plan had been about destroying the WG to protect his baby boy (and release the whole world from the WG's oppressive rule while he's at it) at whatever cost, while he deep inside knew what he was doing was fucked up beyond belief... Yeah, Crocodile trying to convince himself what he was doing was "justified" would make sense. Him having his beliefs potentially even waver a little bit through out this whole ordeal would make sense. Crocodile in this moment experiencing relief that what he had told himself was the righteous would make sense.

Everybody remember's Doflamingo's speech from Marineford, about how history is written by the victors and its them who decide what is right and what is wrong- the winner becomes "justice" itself. Vegapunk kind of called back to this concept during his broadcast too, and yeah, Crocodile did kind of introduce us to it back in Alabasta. If he had won, he would have been "justified" in what he had done, because it'd be him who'd be deciding what's right and what's wrong.

Now I don't really have anything else to add to that post in particular (though I absolutely love the reading on the Crocodile vs Robin part and now that I've read it I can't unsee nor disagree with it), but OP did make a separate post speculating about some of design decisions Oda made regarding Crocodile, starting with discussing the logo for Baroque Works. And they pointed this out

Bro wrote this in 2015, they have no idea, oh my god, dude had no clue whatsoever

So quickly looking that one up and yeah, wings have sometimes been used to represent the sun (most commonly with the sun, as a winged sun?) and yeah, that actually has a lot of meaning in the current state of the series re: God of Liberation the Sun God Nika. But what's more is that this is actually the SECOND time we're actually finding a way to link Crocodile to sun-symbolism, the other being Crocodile being a reference to the Egyptian god Sobek (protector god, god of military, go to Wikipedia), who has an alternative form (/fusion with Ra) called Sobek-Ra, where he is a sun god. And what was Crocodile trying to do in Alabasta if not falsely "liberate" the country from its original rule. Also worth noting is that seemingly the winged sun was most commonly used in Egyptian iconography, so if Oda ever did research Egyptian mythology for inspiration in Alabasta (which, considdering the sheer amount of Stuff in the story as a whole is more than likely), then it is very possible he could have read about the winged sun and used it intentionally.

But what I do find interesting is that, yeah, wings kinda are a symbol one would considder "heroic" or related to "freedom". And, as I have been going on and on about, if Crocodile's ultimate goal in creating his funny little "utopia" was to overthrow the World Government and "free" the whole world of their rule. Like. That really lines up with the whole symbolism with the sun and the liberation and the freedom and shit, like. Why does it line up so neatly good dear god

I dunno how to end this post, these were just a few little things that I had been thinking about after coming across OP's blog and, yeah, just wanted to discuss them.

Again, OP hasn't been active for years, but if they did suddenly come back please don't bother them or god forbid harrass them/try to get them to change their mind about trans Croco. Just don't start shit, please.

End of post byeeeeeeee

[willowedhepatica]

Here's my humble offer to @lovelooksgudonu for the comic she drew about dark!ava. Of course the credit goes to her (and simplykorra) for parts of the dialogue she wrote, (I wanted to stay true to the source material)

Her art is absolutely amazing, go check it out if you haven't! (I hope this is okay, I got inspired)

—

The first thing that hits her when she wakes up is the stinging smell of sulfur. The distant remains of the fight that carried through in ash and dust, leaving her dazed and bewildered.

Ava had struck her in the back.

She hadn't even hesitated.

A chuckle comes from somewhere behind her and Beatrice shifts, the movement sending a sharp pain through her wrist and left arm. The rope is tied harshly, digging into her skin and keeping her there.

"That hit really did a number on you, huh Bea?"

Ava walks in front of her, brown eyes piercing. There's an easy smile on her lips, almost teasing, as if she found this situation amusing.

Beatrice leans forward, her voice hoarse. "Ava-"

"No. Don't give me that look." She cuts off, a sudden shift by the downturn of her mouth. She walks closer, leaning down to look at her properly, tied to the chair and bruised. "I've been merciful towards you, after all. Haven't I?"

Her hand comes up and takes a hold of her jaw. "You should be grateful."

The touch turns on several signals in her body at once. She sucks in a breath, the alarm battling with the craving of wanting more.

She hadn't felt her touch in so long. God, she'd missed it. Yearned for it.

But this wasn't her. This wasn't Ava.

"Snap out of it."

Her hold shifts, forefinger etching into her skin. "What was that?"

Her hands shake. They curl into fists as she looks up at her, meeting her eyes. "Snap out of it!"

Ava hums and for the first time Beatrice finds that she can't read her expression. Can't find any trace of the woman who showed emotions like the glow of a sun, drawing everyone in by her mere presence. She only shifts her hand, cupping her cheek as her thumb goes over her lip.

Beatrice can't suppress the shiver.

"Would you betray them for me?" Ava mumbles, face so close, breath skimming over her cheek, nail digging down into the flesh of her lip. It splits open with a sting of pain that slowly makes the blood spill out and drip across her jaw.

"Ah." Her voice cuts out and Ava's smile grows.

She leans even closer, teasingly drawing her nails over the part where her throat meets her jaw. "Yes?" It's a whisper. It's a lure. Her lips tickle against her own and she forces her to meet her eyes as Ava sinks down fully in her lap, keeping her jaw in a tight grip.

"You never were very talkative." She mumbles, her other hand trailing down her collarbone, her chest.

Beatrice tries to prevent the swelling in her chest, the pleasant tingling in her body over finally being touched.

"Let me make it easier for you." Ava continues, "if you say yes, I'll reward you. Shit, I'll even give you a little treat. If you say no however..." Her hand stops at her shoulder, eyes distant. She looks up at her. "What will it be?"

Beatrice thinks back to Camila, who had stayed up several nights in order to figure out Ava's position. She thinks about how much she's grown, how much she's overcome, how much they've gone through together.

She thinks about Mary and how she would scowl at the situation, telling her to not even dare make that decision.

She thinks about the OCS, the order she practically grew up in. It shaped her to who she was today. It took her through some of the worst periods of her life.

There had been so many sisters before her that had laid their life for the cause. For them. For her. She can't toss all of that away.

"I can't..."

Ava's jaw tightened. "Right. How could the perfect sister Beatrice ever do such a thing?"

"That's not-"

"Quiet."

Beatrice shuts her mouth. It's automatic.

The sharpness in her tone keeps her on edge.

"Maybe you'll come to better thoughts if I alleviate your pain a little." Her eyes fall down to her wrists where Beatrice is tugging against the restraint. "You'll never get anywhere like that."

"I'm fine." Beatrice bites out.

Ava tsk. "You're being stubborn." She brings something out from her pocket and her weight shifts in her lap by the movement. "I know you hurt your wrist in our fight, this will help."

She brings the pill up for her to see.

"I won't..."

Before she can finish Ava presses her thumb against her lips. This time they part open by the force and she continues by dragging it against the ridge of her mouth, scraping across the clench of her teeth. "We may not be on the same side yet, Bea, but that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt, baby."

Beatrice doesn't answer. In a way, she can't. Ava is still keeping her in a vice grip, a glint in her eyes that tells her she's planning to do something Beatrice won't be able to stop.

At least that part was still familiar to her.

Ava plops the pill in her own mouth, voice husky as she slowly inches forward. "Don't worry, I think you'll enjoy this technique..."

Before she knows it Ava's lips press against her own, mouth hot and tongue nudging to get more access. Beatrice gives in with a slight whine, feeling the pill slip inside. She swallows it and everything else falls away as Ava answers by pushing forward, body rising and kiss deepening. It's electrifying in the worst possible way.

"Mmm, see, the way you respond tells me you're not as restrained as you pretend to be."

Beatrice whimpers.

She wants more. She needs more.

She can't.

Finally - far too soon - not soon enough, Ava pulls away, resting her forehead against her own. She exhales, open-mouthed and smiling and when she speaks she's grown considerably softer. "The medication won't kick in for a while, would you like me to distract you some more?"

“Ava… please…”

She traces a path down her cheek. “Look how red you are, don't tell me you don't like this?” Her fingers skim across her ear as she tucks away a strand of hair that had gone loose. “Don't tell me you haven't thought of this ever since our time in Switzerland.”

Beatrice looks away, teeth clenching.

“Hm? Not speaking?”

“That's okay, let me show you just what I've been thinking about during my time across the arc.” Her hand leave her cheek and nudges at the end of her shirt. “You remember that night when we got drunk at the bar?”

Beatrice watches as her hand slip under the fabric and graze across bare skin. Her stomach ripples by the touch.

One nail starts to press down ever so slightly.

“Bea, answer me.”

“Yes- yes I remember.”

She smiles, satisfied. “I remember it too. I've had a lot of time to replay that moment.” She leans closer, close enough that her lips skim over her ear. “A lot of time to let it derail too.”

Ava doesn't wait for her to answer before she continues, nails scraping lightly across her skin. Like a game. “I thought. What if Beatrice noticed me? What if she knew that when I looked at her all I wanted to do was to let her pin me against a wall and fuck me.” She glances down to their position. “Looks like things have taken a slight turn.”

“Ava.”

Ava tuts. "Not yet. It was my turn, remember?”

If Beatrice knows Camila correctly, she's searching for her. She will find her eventually. She just needed a little more time, a little more information…

She shifts. "What more?”

“Excuse me?”

“What more have you thought about doing?”

Her eyes glint with slight surprise and then approval. “I'm so glad you asked.”

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.15 bffs with the rookies+ "come pick me up I'm scared"

Okay, I was in my feels when I wrote this one, sooo- it's sad as shit 😭, this is a CW, I think?

| Masterlist |

"Well, I didn't ask," You responded to Logan, who kept you company as you walked from your dorm to your university in the UK, he had been struggling with jet lag as he was back home for the two-week break for the Vegas GP.

"Well, why didn't ya?" He called out, you told him to do jumping jacks to help go to sleep, you didn't know how it would help but the thought of him jumping around made you laugh.

"Mate, I've gotta call you back," you looked at the huge crowd of men and women with expensive cameras and microphones in front of her university's gates, "Bruv, there's gotta be a celebrity or someone dead."

"Okay," he said, panting, "I think it worked, imma go sleep," he cut the call.

"Scuse me, imma just pass through, to actually study here," you pushed through the crowd till someone grabbed your book bag and yelled, "IT'S HER- IT'S Y/N L/N."

And then, the chaos started.

The cameras began flashing till you couldn't see, mics shoved in your face making scarps and bruises as people pushed and pulled you, yelling questions in your face.

"How do you know the F1 drivers?" one yelled,

"Are you dating any of them?" came another,

"Is it true you're related to Fernando Alonso?" A woman asked, grabbing your hoodie.

The whirlwind went on for a few more minutes, you tried your best to get out of the storm without saying something that might negatively impact their reputations, but then came those questions.

"How's the cushy life since you've got baby Schumacher's pockets?" you heard someone yell.

You finally found an exit, that's it, just five more feet and you'd be free, you know you could outrun them, "Hey, y/n! Who fucks better?" Some guy called out from behind you.

"Your Mother," you yelled back, throwing a punch at the disgustingly proud-looking, fifty-something-year-old man. Shock rippled through the crowd where laughter had run at the question just a few seconds before.

You used the distraction to run back to your dorm room, only your phone in hand, your bag having been yanked off your back in the mess.

"What the fuck?" You panted as you saw your dormmates outside your room, cash in hand, you pushed them aside and ran in, only to find your laptop and iPad missing, along with the camera Lando had gifted to you, the signed 'inchident' from Max and Charles, the polaroid of you, oscar and Logan camping in when you were teenagers and the 'Build a bear' Arthur had gotten you with him saying an inside joke.

You felt your face warm as anger and tears pricked at you.

You turned around to find the unreadable faces of your dormmates, "Where the fuck is my stuff?" You asked, hoping it was all a joke like you hadn't just lost everything that gave you hope, that gave you happiness.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SHIT-" You yelled, slamming your hand on the room door, making your friends move back, one tried to speak, trying to make excuses, "DON'T CHAT TO ME, FUCK YOU-" you could hear your voice breaking, "fuck you," you did your best not to cry but it was becoming tough to not.

You ran out of the building, and despite their protests, you made your way through back alleys and corridors that only locals would know of, pulling up your hood in case anyone recognised you.

You thought of who you could call, Logan was in America, god you wished Logan was here with you, he wouldn't have let this happen in the first place, you laughed to yourself. Oscar and Arthur weren't around either. Max, Charles and Lando were all in Monaco, and you definitely not going to let Mick, someone you'd known barely for a month see you like this, and he wasn't in the UK.

You wiped your hands down your face, and dialled on your phone, "Alex..." your voice trembled against his cheerful greeting, making him worry, "Can you come pick me up please," you tried not to break down. How did it get to this?

"Yes, give me a few, are you okay? Y/n? Hey-" You cut the call, sending him your location. How were you asking for Alex's help? The same man who'd pat you awkwardly on your head every time he saw you. Someone who'd begun treating you like a little sister, along with Logan, bringing you food from the cafeteria, sneaking in Redbulls. Someone who you'd tease calling your older brother, making him cringe about 'I'm not that much older', so maybe he was the right one to go to.

You saw a car pull up and you knew it was Alex, seeing him through the driver's side window. You got into the car, only phone in hand and the clothes on your back. "Hey, what are-?" Came a protest from George, who was in the passenger seat, but stopped as soon as he saw you sitting in the seat, you really didn't want this to be your first impression.

The car didn't move, like he was waiting for some form of explanation, "You'll see," you whispered, making him sigh and drive.

As he passed the gates of your university, they saw what you had been running from, and both their eyes widened. Alex looked into the back-view mirror at your face and decided not to say anything. George on the other hand, began cursing the crowd, calling some people on his phone.

You couldn't make out what he was saying, too tired and too scared.

"Hey, y/n wake up," Alex moved your arm, startling you awake, you saw you were in a car park and got out the car, following mindlessly, behind George, who was typing his code in. If Alex noticed it, he kept it to himself, but you could tell he was concerned about something.

You followed as they led to the apartment, you sat on the couch, if it were a normal, visit you'd be off the walls about the beautiful place, with floor-to-ceiling windows and plants everywhere, terracotta furniture to match the gloomy blue-grey sky.

"Um, George's place was closer, hope that's okay," Alex spoke, softly like it would spook you. He was right.

"I'll make tea, then," George nodded and walked off.

"M-My phone's dead, I think," you sniffled out.

"Y/n, that's not really-" He began,

"Can I charge it please?" I asked, if I tried to pretend this disaster didn't happen, maybe it would be like it wouldn't have.

He took the phone out of your half-stretched hand, attaching it to a charging cord, a small 'ding' telling you that it was indeed charging.

"Y/n, what happened?" He asked sitting next to you on the sofa.

"They took everything," you began, making him frown, George too, was out of his depth, placing the tray with three mugs of tea, "M-My frie- roommates, sold my laptop and iPad, and all the things I'd gotten from you all." You began, but this time you couldn't hold in the tears that pricked at your eyes.

You cried into the sleeve of your hoodie, curling into yourself on the sofa.

All those memories were lost. You had photos all the way from your childhood on that laptop and now they were gone.

"Oh, um," He went in to hug you and patted your head, making you laugh.

''See! There we go!" He smiled wide, making you laugh more, "Here," he passed you a mug of tea, it had cooled off a little, so you could drink it.

"You punched someone?" Came George's voice, it was the only thing he'd said to you.

You looked sheepishly at your right fist, the knuckles of which had turned a nasty red.

"No worries, I'll go get a first-aid," He said, walking to get it, when he was back he sat you on your other side, "You know," he poured some anti-septic onto a cotton pad, "I think, you handled it quite well, they were some stupid questions," He said as he moved onto your face.

You hissed, "Wait, what?" You asked, "It's already on the net?" You felt another wave of anger and tears.

"Yup," Alex said, moving his phone to you, showing a reel on Instagram, where the man was asking you that question, edited with the 'your mom' sound and a 'thwack' when the punch landed, ending with an edit of you in cat ears and a high-pitched fast-paced song.

"What... the fuck?" You didn't know where to laugh or cry.

"Mate, why the edits?" George asked scoffing.

"Wait, check Twitter," You suggested suddenly seeing the hilarity of the situation, "ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME?" You yelled, gulping the last of your tea, "YOUR MOTHER IS TRENDING??" it wasn't on top of the trending list but it was there.

"Y/n... I think you're going to love this," George showed something on his phone, they'd turned your voice into an audio, and there were already hundreds of videos being made on it on TikTok.

"Fuck my life."

.xX A few hours later Xx.

George had given one of his flannels, noticing how dirty your hoodie had gotten.

The three of you ordered takeout and watched The Walking Dead all afternoon, he genuinely reminded you of a posh London Mother.

In the middle of season 2, George got a call, "Hello-" He began but was cut off almost immediately and you could hear the man on the phone's voice till out.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Another voice yelled, "IS SHE OKAY??" All the sudden noise made George flinch and pull the phone away from him.

He quickly passed the phone off to you, and you were bombarded by three heavily accented Monganesque accents, "Hi, guys it's me," You responded making the call go silent for a second and then they all began screaming again, loudest was Arthur, then came Charlie's voice. Lastly, It was Lorenzo who got both the others to keep quiet.

You used the peaceful moment to excuse yourself to another room.

"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked and you replied with a small yes, he hummed and passed the phone.

"Y/n, oh my god, I saw the posts," Charles began, "Those people were stupid to attack you like that," He comforted you.

"Thank you, Charlie," You said, a small smile on your face.

You waited as words were exchanged in French and you heard footsteps on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry Y/n, that should have never happened, it is all because of us," his voice rang sad.

"It's okay, Arthur, we'll talk about this when we're together okay?" You responded, and he kept apologising as he cut the call.

Next came Logan's call, just as you were about to call him, "What the fuck is wrong with people?" He questioned, his tone angry, "You could have gotten hurt. Like seriously hurt. This is bullshit." He yelled, but then his voice softened, "You aren't hurt are you?"

"No, not much, I've got a few bruises and cuts but all mint other than that." He hummed as you spoke, and began asking you other questions and you told him about what your roommates had done, you could hear that he was livid but kept trying to be calm for you.

And when Oscar called, that's when it finally hit you again, that feeling of losing everything that you held dear, "Y/n, please don't cry," came his voice from the other end, "Please don't cry while I'm away cause then I can't do anything about it," his voice broke.

"They took all our stuff, Osc, all the way from the first time we met to the last time we got McDonald's together, everything," you sniffled and you could hear the frown in his voice.

"I'm sure we can get it back, don't worry y/n, we'll figure it out, ya know, we've all got your back, speaking of which, you'd better call Max right away, he's with Lando, his bombarding my phone as we speak," He complained, returning some normalcy to your situation.

You cut the call and called Max, and it was Lando who spoke first, cursing at the media and complementing your punch and quick response and then Max took over.

"Firstly, are you okay?" He asked, making you say yes, "Secondly, I've got a lawyer ready, tell me and we'll fight this. We can find a way to get your stuff back." you didn't know what to say.

"Yes, yes, please," you spoke for a little longer before you had to excuse yourself. You had to call someone, someone you know who was going to be livid.

"Hiiiiii," You spoke into the phone, awaiting a response.

"Y/n, how are you, kiddo?" Your uncle's voice rang out. He had been taking care of you ever since you were a teenager, not that you needed much, a place to stay and school.

"I'm fine, it was bound to happen one day," you exhaled at the unfairness of it all.

"I know, I heard what your bastardas friends did," and you could hear the anger in his voice, "Names, and I will get it sorted," He asked making you giggle, he'd always been like this ever since you had showed up on his doorstep.

You told him not to do anything rash but that Max had gotten you a lawyer, he seemed proud of Max for that.

You told him you had to leave since it wasn't your phone you'd been using.

You walked inside, apologising for hogging the phone but George just waved his hand, too invested in whatever episode that was playing. He'd gotten out a bottle of wine (Of course he had,) and he and Alex were busy deep-diving into the show's lore.

He'd kept you a glass, which you gladly accepted.

As the day progressed, you took your leave, but not before George offering you the guest room, saying Alex would take the sofa, which made the other man kick the taller blonde, as you took your leave, having booked an Uber and hotel room for the week, you could still hear them play fighting.

As you were in the car, Mick called you, and you were surprised he had.

"Hey, Y/n! How are you?" He asked,

"Good, you?" You were good at pretending everything was okay, you got an A+ in coping mechanisms class in school!

"Can't be worse than, you know, punching someone," he laughed, you had realised, that the both of you had a sense of humour that really just clicked.

"Oh mate, that was the good part!" You made sure that your payment had gone through with the Uber driver and walked into the hotel. They already had your room ready (courtesy of George, you were sure,) and you only needed to show an ID to be led in, without any other questions.

"Yeah... I saw all the clips on Instagram," He sighed.

"It was kind of crazy, I can't even imagine how it must be for you guys!" You put the phone on speaker and looked through the room service options.

You were going to have lunch in your dorm's cafeteria but that loan had kind of fallen apart, and anyways tea and wine wasn't nearly enough to make you forget the shit show that happened today.

"Mate you won't believe what else happened," You told him about the laptop.

"What the fuck,"

"RIGHT- anyways, I hope they don't get into my drive 'cause I have some in there that is not for public eyes, like imagine they saw the video of your horrible Ghostface impression?" You laughed at him, making him remember the party.

"Oh, Please, it was amazing, I scared you!" He yelled,

"And then you shrieked when Logan did the same to you,"

"Well yes, but he was dressed as Anakin, y/n! I'm not competing with that!" He gasped, shivering at how the hair on his neck raised when Logan did the voice.

"Oh mate please, but that's not even the worst of it, I've got a video of Max and Charles, slow dancing, and literally everything Lando and Carlos do is incriminating."

"That is true, I didn't see them for half of the party," he insinuated.

"Well, you and Arthur were pretty busy seeing who could down more shots," You snickered.

"Well, it wouldn't have become that big if Oscar didn't egg us on!" He complained as he had for days after the party but all he got from Oscar was a smug smirk, with an evil look in his eyes whenever he did something like that.

You spoke till room service came in and then excused yourself to drown in pasta and Netflix.

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat @allenajade-ite @megatrilss1885 @squirreljoe @jsjcue @s4turnsl0ver @yl90 @elijahslover

[imagine-shenanigans]

Professor on Professor Violence (Professor Gale Dekarios x Professor Reader)

all you need to know is this is rivals to lovers where reader and gale have deeply sexually charged feelings for each other but they're both fucking idiots

AFAB reader, y/n not used, this has porn in it but it's 8k words of it you can also find it on ao3 right here but i have to go to bed now because i wrote this in a haze for six hours straight like a man possessed

Gale Dekarios.

The man.

The myth.

The legend.

The once lover of Mystra. The man who had survived the netherese orb. The man who had survived being infected by Mind Flayers and, with the help of his companions, had destroyed the Nether Brain.

Gale Dekarios.

The newest Evocation professor at Blackstaff.

Gale. Fucking. Dekarios.

The boy who pulled your hair, and gave you a black eye and who you had scratched and bit so much as a child that the two of you came home looking as though an owlbear had mauled you.

That Gale Dekarios.

That man, who was now teaching across the hall from you.

“And then he rolls his stupid sleeves up-” you rant, stabbing angrily at your lunch. Cheeks burning angrily as you direct the skeleton to continue cleaning the classroom. “And he says what a surprise to see you, Tabby.” 

“No!” Gossamer gasps, her claws twitching in the air. “What did Master do?” 

“I fucking left the room, obviously.” You snort. Scratching behind Gossamer’s quills as you take another bite of food. “Can you believe it? I don’t see the man for years and he still calls me that stupid nickname!” 

“Honestly! How hard is it to say- DON’T TOUCH THAT!” 

Dropping your fork, you immediately scramble up, turning your back on your familiar to stop the skeleton you’d animated from punching a damn hole into a desk.

“Gods above and below what are you- honestly!” You groan, throwing your hands into the air. “Can’t even, Gossamer are you seeing this shit-” 

Turning around, you see… the absence of your familiar.

“Gossamer?”

Oh shit.

There’s a quasit loose in the building.

SHIT.

(LINE BREAK) 

You are. 

So fucked. 

So unbelievably, terribly fucked. 

Of course, you’re currently the only member of staff with a specialty in necromancy. There’s a little job security in that, at least - most necromancers tend to be blowhards trying to reverse engineer their way into immortality, or are so terribly delusional about the blackness of their own hearts that nobody can stand to be around them for more than twenty minutes. And, yeah, okay, you’re also a professional. You get along with most of the faculty, and your small group of necromantic majors are doing well.

But, unfortunately, you’re hardly any more tenured than Gale. 

You’ve got a scant few months on the man, and if you don’t find your damned quasit who, by all means, has a penchant for mayhem, you’re absolutely, totally, irrevocably fucked. 

As discreetly as possible, you wander the halls of Blackstaff between your classes. 

Righting random wrongs that you’re almost certain are just normal wear and tear, but can’t be certain enough to leave well enough alone. Explaining that you were taking a much needed break when in reality you were doing your best to alleviate the damage you’re at least ninety percent sure is your familiar’s fault before someone actually realizes what’s happened. 

Thank the gods for the mending cantrip. 

Regardless, it unfortunately leaves you with a terrible headache, as your  last classes of the night（well, some stereotypes are true, at least.）filter out into the hallway. You roam about again, your… well, probably eighth trip into the hallway going just about as well as the rest. Even as the early morning light filters into the halls through the large windows, you really just can’t find the beauty in it. Not with that terrible headache beginning to grind at your skull. 

Like a nagging, angry voice in the back of your- 

”Can’t believe how immature-” 

”Ignoring me, really?”

Oh. 

Wait, no, that’s actually just Gale. 

Turning around just in marvelous time to peek back around the corner of the corridor, you get to watch Gale go completely off the deep end. Throwing his arms up in frustration, you joyously watch with immense satisfaction as the grown man kicks a gods damned doorstop. 

Amazing. 

”Did the doorstop jump out at you?” You can’t help but smirk. I hear those are prone to do that.

”Oh yes, very funny,” Gale grouses. Watching happily as his face twists in a soured exasperation. ”For the record, I know it was you in my office last night. I don’t know how you got in, considering I have that door locked by both mundane and magical means.”

Actually, it had been really easy. 

A bit of lockpicking you’d picked up could have come in handy if you didn’t just… you know. Have the knock spell prepared. 

…oh shit maybe he found the glitter.

”I have no idea what you’re talking about Dekarios,” you lie. ”I’ve been teaching all night.”

”Really?” Gale deadpans. ”That’s what you’re going with? You’ve been ‘teaching all night’? And I’m supposed to believe that.”

”You can believe what you want Dekarios. I haven’t been in your office.”

”Really, you’re going to play this game?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched. ”Who else in this bloody school enjoys bright colors as much as you? And so help me, don’t you dare blame Tara again. My tressym has more maturity in a single claw than I think you have in your entire body.”

…shit he did find the glitter.

”I love Tara. I would never blame her…more than once. But in my defense, she did help me that one time.”  Huffing softly, you cross your arms, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. ”Anyway, it was just a bit of glitter-”

”Just a -” Gale goes positively red in the face at that. ”Just a bit of glitter? I’d say you did a fair bit more than putting just a little glitter on my lecture notes. The ones I’m to use for my first class in a scant two hours, mind you. A little glitter my behind, look at this and you tell me if you can understand a damned thing on the page.”

…huh?

”Huh?” 

Staring at Gale’s notebook, which is now helpfully shoved in your face, you can see… fuck all. The neat handwriting that you’re intimately familiar with is completely scrawled over with your favorite crayon color. 

Huh. 

“I- okay I do now see how this looks.” You sweat, giving a nervous grin. “But I was… okay I was in your office, but I swear it wasn’t to ruin your lecture notes. I misplaced someo- something, and I was rummaging around to try and find it.”

“You were… rummaging around my office.”

“Yes.”

“For something important. Something that you misplaced.”

“Yes.”

“And it just so happened to be that you lost it in my office.”

“Again, yes.”

You watch Gale’s jaw clench, as he takes a steadying breath. 

“Now, just to be clear. Most people would take locked doors as a sign that certain rooms aren’t meant for them.” Gale drawls, arching an eyebrow. “But as you so eloquently put it, you chose to open the locked door to my office, and rummage around.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And just what, exactly, is it that you lost?”

“It’s ah…” you trail off nervously. “Well it’s not something I think you’d be able to find easily. It’s a bit… tricky like that.”

“Is it… a ring? Or perhaps another piece of jewelry? Something small, you mean?”

“No…” you wince. “I mean, yeah it’s a little small but it’s… the problem is it can move around.“

“It can…“ You watch Gale’s mind begin to whirr, working in overtime to solve the riddle you’ve accidentally just given him. Just when you begin to think you might be able to give him the slip and run for it, you watch Gale’s face contort in horror. “Tabby.“

“Don’t call me that-“

“Tabby.“ Gale begins, voice choked. “Do you mean to tell me. That you let Gossamer run loose in my office?“

“Let her is a strong phrase!“ You hiss, pulling Gale into your classroom. Looking around wildly before you shut the door. “She ran off last night while I was- well one of my skeletons was about to punch a hole in a desk while rearranging, and I was ranting to her, and then I turn around and I see the door open.“

“And you didn’t follow her?!“

“She’s a fucking quasit! She can turn invisible!“

“And -“

Ah. 

“What did you just realize?, Gale asks with a distinct tone of dread.“

Quickly opening and rummaging through the drawers of you desk, you look for your stationary. 

“You didn’t. Tell me. You didn’t.“

After the great ink war at age eight, it had been a requirement that all familiars and summons were to be kept away from stationary. And you had fully left the drawer open. Like a damned test. Taunting your poor, innocent little familiar like a succubus to a greasy teenage boy. 

“So,“ you begin. Holding up the crayon box that is, of course, missing your favorite color. “In my defense, I thought I locked the drawer.“

“You. You’re-“ Gale sputters. “You’re telling me, right now, that your familiar, who can turn invisible was let loose on the building with stationary.“

“…yes.“

“Dear Mystra, Tabby do you know what you’ve done to us?“

You can feel a twinge of something you are definitely not going to examine when he says her name, and push it down. Opting to focus on the anger bubbling in your chest. That you can handle. That is familiar. 

“I said stop calling me tha-“

Oh gods.

“Please tell me there isn’t more.“ Gale whispers, face pale as he sees the thought cross your mind. “Please, for the love of everything that is holy, there is not more.” 

“Well, you wince. I may have been ah… rambling this morning. And now I realize this may have been targeted because you… maybe came up.“

“Rambling. You were… rambling.“ Gale stares at you, as though you’ve just told him he’s become king of the possums that live behind the dorms because of an electoral vote. “To your notoriously spiteful familiar. For, I presume, long enough for her to not only find a way into my office, which was locked. With normal and magical means. And then had enough time after that to find my notebook, which contains my important class notes. Then draw all over them.“

“That is what you’re telling me.“

“Well technically I was - I really only turned around for a minute, but I had no clue she was going to run off to your office.“

“Now, just to be extremely clear. You said I may have come up. And you genuinely, for some reason thought she would not retaliate.“

“I complain about everyone Dekarios, don’t get a big ego.“ You huff, throwing a hand in the air. I’ve complained about you for years, why would I think she’d do anything about it now?!”

“You’ve complained about me for years?” Gale nearly shouts, voice raising at least an octave. “Years?!”

“We’ve known each other since we were four Gale!” You hiss back, throwing your hands in the air. “Is it really so hard to imagine that you may come up from time to time when I’m complaining?” 

“I have never uttered a bad word about you to Tara you should-” 

“Oh that is bullshit I talk to Tara,” you bite back. “And I know that you complain about me even if you don’t realize it.”

“I do not.”

“You do, and I know it for a fact because she brought it up when I talked to her last! In the middle of her complaining about your beard.” 

“Tara did what?” Gale asks, flabbergasted as he looks at you.

“She has some very strong opinions.” 

You did too… even if yours trended far more towards the opposite of the tressym, of course.

“Please,” you snort, misunderstanding Gale’s look of horror. “You can’t tell me that she hasn’t outright said it to you before.” 

“That is…” Gale scowls, looking away from you as he puts a hand on his beard. “Very hurtful. And none of Tara’s business.” 

You open your mouth to speak, and Gale cuts you off with a wave of his hand. 

“That’s not the point. The point is that my notes are ruined. The notes I, may I remind you, need for my next class. And while you may not write lecture notes, I do.” 

You sigh.

Tuning Gale’s ranting out for a moment, you rub at the back of your neck, already feeling a knot forming. Gods above, you do feel guilty. 

Stupid Gale and his stupid attractive beard. 

“I’m sorry,” you grit out. Almost pained. “I… did not ruin your notes, but I do know that it’s my fault since Gossamer did. I’m sorry.” 

Gale is silent for a long moment. 

You can see the surprise on his face, the anger slowly, reluctantly fading. It’s hard to pick apart the emotions on his face, but you like to think you’re slightly better at it than most, but there’s an unreadable emotion you don’t think you’ve seen before.

Strange. 

“I…” Gale sighs. “It wasn’t so much work. I should, in theory, be able to redo most of them before my first class.” 

“Let me help.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I…” you sigh, rubbing your hand on your face and brushing a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s my fault. I know it might disrupt your lesson plan, but I can take over your first class. You can send them to my classroom so they can focus and I’ll do a lesson about some of the overlap between our schools of wizardry.” 

“That is…” Gale nods hesitantly. “That would be most appreciated.” 

You nod again, a bit awkwardly. 

The silence in the room is palpable, and you try to ease the tension a bit. 

“Not like I have many classes,” you laugh. Turning to look through the bookshelf behind your desk. Anything to keep you busy and not focus on the weight in the room. “Necromancy isn’t nearly as popular as Evocation, after all.” 

“Yes well,” Gale laughs, and you see him sit on the corner of your desk. “I imagine some large number of students may be put off by the heart of the curriculum. After all, raising the dead does seem a tad… unsavory.” 

You scowl, rolling your eyes - but fighting back a smile. 

The age old argument between the two of you. 

“Yes well, you can complain all you want about how unsavory raising the dead is. But it’s incredibly useful when you can turn two zombies into a horde of undead and turn the tide for your allies. I mean, the ones that are transformed from your original two aren’t meant to last, but still. More targets to hit, but more firepower that can take a total sweep of your allies to a triumph with no casualties.” 

“Yes but it’s quite… well, the ethics leave something to be desired.” 

“There are ways to ethically source your minions.” You laugh, waving a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I can understand why someone might find it distasteful but you know not all necromancers rob the graves of innocent townsfolk. If you’ve got a horde of enemies, all you need do is help your allies kill two enemies, and then, well, the process I’ve already explained.” 

“You’re making it sound like you’ve done battle before.” Gale snorts, crossing his arms over his stupid chest, his sleeves rolled up his forearms. “Not that this is all theory.” 

You pause, hand on the spine of a tome. 

Hesitating, you pluck it from the shelf. 

“Because I have,” you deadpan. Not looking at Gale. “I was an adventurer before I joined the faculty here. I’m a professor because of my battle experience and practical application than just my theories, Dekarios.” 

That… makes Gale pause.

You can hear the gears turning wildly in his head, grinding intensely as he processes the words. 

He’s silent for nearly a full minute before he speaks again. 

“You… you’re an adventurer?” 

“Was,” you correct, turning to set the books on your desk. Unable to quite bring yourself to look him in the eye, you pretend that you’re checking the contents of the book. “I was an adventurer. I might do it again in the future, but that depends on how I feel and if any of the parties I’ve run with have need of a spellcaster of my caliber.” 

“You… haven’t told me that before.” 

An ugly, angry part of your heart stirs. 

Deep in your chest, you feel it claw its way up into your throat. The bitter, acrid taste that you’ve come to know so well. 

“Yes well, when have you ever asked?” 

“Don’t…” Gale begins, and you hear him sigh. “I simply… we’ve known each other for years. How was I to know you still had secrets to hide?” 

The black smoke of rage curls back up into your throat. Gnashing teeth and dragging claws. It hurts, snaking its tendrils around your heart in an ugly grip. Maybe if you were a little stronger, a little better, a little less… you… maybe you wouldn’t let it escape. Perhaps you’d just let it sit there and burn in your lungs. Or maybe you’d be honest, vulnerable. 

But you aren’t. 

“It’s not exactly a secret, Gale.” You snort, though the sound isn’t mirthful at all. “It was my primary income source for five bloody years.” 

Silence meets your words.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Gale asks, just when you’re about to look up at him and see if he’s still paying attention. “If you spent five years as an adventurer, you’d think I’d have heard about it.” 

“Ah, yes,” you nearly snarl. “Telling you. Would you have preferred I mentioned it between the paragraphs where you talked about your goddess lover like a lovesick puppy? Because I certainly couldn’t have mentioned it during the time you locked yourself in your tower for over a year because she dumped you.” 

You laugh, the sound bitter. 

Turning angrily, you ignore the look on Gale’s face. 

There’s a line you’ve crossed, and you know it. But the anger doesn’t subside. And you… don’t care anymore. 

(That’s not true, you do care. You care too much, you think. Too terribly much.)

“Oh, maybe I should have sent the update letter while you had an ilithid tadpole swimming in your skull. I’m sure Tara would have loved to deliver that letter to you.” 

Gale… flinches.

Huh. 

“You know,” he begins, anger rising in his own voice. Red hot. “It’s not like you’ve ever asked me how I’m doing. I don’t even know how you found out-” 

“Oh don’t you pull that shit with me Dekarios, I’m not the one who stopped responding to your letters. It’s the other way around.” 

“You- you only responded with one sentence half the time!” Gale stands, throwing his arms out as you slam the book in your hands shut. “I was lucky if you even responded for months!” 

You feel like a cornered animal. 

Gods you hate this man. 

Why does he always know how to get under your skin? 

“And what was I supposed to say Gale?” You demand. Knowing you’re crossing the line but needing to get the reaction that you’re looking for out of him. A sick, twisted part of you needs him to hurt like he’s hurting. “Congratulations on getting with the goddess who groomed you?” 

“It’s my life! It has absolutely nothing to do with you!” 

“Oh your life, that’s fucking rich Gale!” You shout, getting a little closer, leaning forward on your desk to point a finger at his chest. “What, you wanted me to sit by and say nothing about the matter? To watch my - to watch you love a goddess who is renowned for dating young boys? A woman who - again no disrespect to Mystra herself she’s a powerful goddess, I just don’t agree with her choices as is my right - dropped you the moment she was done with you?” 

You stare at Gale expectantly, waiting for any expression to twist on his face than the defensive rage you already see. 

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to note that down for next time. Next time, I won’t be supportive of you, I won’t just try and be nice or as nice as I can be. Next time, when you do something stupid I’m not going to even try to bail you out. No more sending loot to feed your orb, no more-” 

“Wait,” Gale interjects, an expression on his face you don’t quite understand. “Are you telling me…” 

You watch Gale’s hands clench into fists at his sides. 

“Are you telling me that you brought me items full of the weave while I was locked in my damn tower?” 

Ah.

Shit.

You… hadn’t meant to say that.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“I-” 

“You’re telling me…” Gale laughs, hands coming to cover his eyes as his head tilts back. “You’re telling me that you snuck items into my tower?!”

That…

Well it sounds… bad when he phrases it like that. 

“It’s not- I just knew you needed the items Gale! I had Tara take them inside and put them in spots to make them look forgotten.” 

“And you didn’t say anything, why?!” 

Because you… 

Fuck.

You can barely think it without hot shame washing down your back. Face warm, eyes hot. 

Like you’re about to cry. 

“It’s not important Gale,” you deflect. “You got the items, why does it matter?” 

“It’s not important?” Gale shouts in response. “Me dying wasn’t bloody important?!” 

“That’s not - that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Oh? And what is it that you meant?” 

Gods.

Don’t cry.

“I meant,” you begin. “That I didn’t want credit for it! I wasn’t doing it to curry favor or something, you needed the items and that was all that mattered to me!” 

In fact, you’d exclusively taken your cut of some adventures in magical items. Instead of gold lining your pockets, you’d worked on getting more and more loot, some you’d keep to get better jobs, and the rest you sent back home- back to Gale. He’d even shut out his mother during that time, the only person you could trust to get the items to him had been Tara. Who had promised not to say a word, the damned angel. 

Even more, you’d spent countless hours researching. 

Working yourself to the bone, searching through texts. Any mention of Karsus had immediately gone to the top of your list.

“I don’t care if you didn’t want credit, I was dying!” Gale shouts. “I spent a year in that tower with nobody to talk to. Thinking every day I was losing my mind, damn near insane with the knowledge that if I failed I would take all of Waterdeep with me, and you knew?!” 

Gale laughs again, the sound harsh against your ears. 

“What the hells is wrong with you?” 

Tears do prick your eyes now, and you scrub angrily at them with the back of your hand. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” You snap back, pushing angrily at Gale’s chest. “It’s not like you ever reached out! I had to find out from Tara, who was beside herself with worry!” 

“Of course I wasn’t reaching out! What was I supposed to have said? That I was losing my mind? Should I have just sent a letter saying ‘oh, hello, how’s your life going. I know it’s been awhile, but I’m dying and my life is falling apart’ and then went on to describe the weather?!” 

“Yes!” Gods you feel like every word is a pulled tooth. “Yes! You should have! Anything! Why on Toril didn’t you?” 

“Oh, and why would you have helped me?” Gale spits, letting you push him back a step before getting even closer than before. “Do you really think I’d have thought you’d have done anything but laugh at me and tell me I deserved it? That I was the biggest fool in the history of the Arcane?”

It’s like a bucket of cold water has doused you. 

Ice dripping down your spine, heart turned to stone in your chest, sinking deep into your gut. 

“Is that what you think of me?” You ask, voice low. “You think I’m so cruel, that I’m so heartless, that I’d have laughed in your face while you died?” 

“Of course you could be that cruel.” Gale spits, proverbial venom dripping from his lips. “I’ve seen you be cruel. You’ve made me look a fool a thousand times over for a laugh.” 

You stare at Gale, face turning cold. 

Expression neutral. 

You feel fucking sick. 

“Okay.” 

“I- okay?” Gale says, confusion etched into his face. “What do you mean okay?” 

“I mean, okay.” You say, already building a wall around your heart. “Get out of my classroom. I heard what you have to say, now get out.” 

“Excuse-” 

“No. Get out.” 

“You’re just… kicking me out.” 

“I am.” 

Gale stares at you, expression unreadable. 

Then, you watch his eyes cast over to the windows, and then down at the watch he pulls from his pocket. 

“Fine,” Gale spits, taking a step towards the door. His gaze locked onto you. “But we are not done talking about this.” 

“Sure,” you huff. “Later.” 

With a flick of your wrist, and a muttered incantation, you cast mage hand. Slamming the door behind him before flicking up an Arcane Lock. 

The moment you think you’re alone… Gossamer appears. 

A big smile on her face, a crayon in hand… and you just…

You just.

Sob.

//

You have a good week of peace. 

(It’s not good. It can never be good again.) 

You’re careful, between your days off, and your odd hours for the necromancy classes, to avoid Gale. 

But today is just not your day. 

“Professor Dekarios,” you say evenly in acknowledgement. Watching Gale enter the room while you’re wrapping up your final lesson of the day. “What can I help you with?” 

Gale is silent for a moment, aware of the eyes on him. The students of various ages that are watching with rapt attention. 

“May I have a word?” Gale asks, voice clipped. 

God you want to run. 

You have misty spell prepared. One of the windows is open to let in the afternoon breeze, and you’ve got a clear shot out into the open campus. You could do it, you just know it - 

“Sure,” you say instead, knowing exactly how that’s going to look if you do end up running from your own damned classroom. You’re already on thin ice from letting Gossamer run amok when you could have dismissed her. Which you. Completely forgot about. “My class will be done in just about fifteen minutes if you’d like to come back.” 

“That’s quite alright, actually.” Gale smiles, and gods. You’re fucked. “I’m happy to observe.” 

And he watches.

Waiting. 

You don’t stutter when you go over the homework for the evening - you don’t - and remind your class about the project that’s due two classes from now. Even more than that, you don’t stumble and your hands don’t shake. Certainly, you don’t stall by shutting both the window and the curtains. And, above all you don’t activate the wards in the classroom to make it soundproof and lock the door once all the students are gone. 

Those are all things that just happen to occur for different reasons. 

And still, Gale stands, leaning against the wall by the door. Arms crossed over his chest as you go back to your desk. Silent as the grave (if the pun can be forgiven) as you slowly sift through your mail instead of giving him the time of day. Both of you waiting to see who would break first. 

“So?”

“So what, Professor Dekarios?” You ask neutrally, carefully not reading the source of the letter in your hand before you open it. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.” 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” 

“I really don’t, actually. You will have to be more specific.” 

“Really?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched, voice low. “You don’t think, in the slightest, this might be about something you know?” 

You shrug, continuing to read the letter that’s… what even is it about. Some sort of promotion? No it’s- 

“You kicked me out of your classroom.” Gale hisses. “And you have been avoiding me.” 

“I have not been avoiding you.” Lies. “I’ve been busy. It’s not my fault you always seem to try and speak to me while I’m not here.” 

“You can’t-” 

You don’t watch Gale’s face contort with anger, don’t watch his fingers ball up into fists as his sides. But you know him well enough to imagine it, even as the splotches of ink all blur together on the page you’re holding.

“Fine, you weren’t avoiding me. Then why did you kick me out of your classroom?” 

“We weren’t having a productive conversation,” you answer simply. A week had given you time to re-build up the wall you usually afforded strangers, rather than the man you- “And so it was, in my professional opinion, the best for us to call it there.” 

“A productive- of course we weren’t having a productive conversation, I was trying to understand why you were hiding things behind my back, and you just tried to throw the blame at my feet-” 

“Professor Dekarios if we can’t-” 

“And stop calling me that!” Gale hisses, slamming his hand on your desk. You jolt - when had he gotten so close? “I’ve never been Professor Dekarios to you, don’t start that now.” 

“What’s done is done, Professor.” You continue, digging your hand into the fabric of your top. “I tried to explain myself, and you wouldn’t listen-” 

“Oh that is rich-” 

“And so I thought it best-” 

“You thought it best to stonewall me?” Gale asks incredulously, talking over you. A pang of irritation cuts through you, but you think you hide it fairly well. “Because that’s what you’ve been doing. You’ve been defensive and-” 

Gale stops, and gods.

You hate the face he makes. 

The dawning realization in his eyes.

You know that expression, you’ve seen it thousands of times. For good or ill, you’ve seen that face all your life. 

“That’s what this is about.” 

“What are you talking about?” You drawl, trying to keep some sort of neutral expression on your face. “Lay it out plainly, professor.” 

“You’re trying to shut me out.” 

Ah hells. 

“You- you’re upset.” 

A genius. 

Truly.

“You’re upset.” Gale repeats, arms crossing over his chest as a flat laugh escapes his lips. “You’re upset and you’re trying to make me leave.” 

“Gods I wonder what gave you that idea.” 

“No, no you’re hurt.” Gale cuts through, gripping the edge of your desk so tight that you can see his knuckles go white in the periphery of your vision. “So you’re trying to be some… cruel, heartless person to make me leave.” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” You frown. “Our… conversation last week made me realize I wasn’t. I’ll endeavor to be better in the future.” 

“Oh you’re not fooling me.” Gale’s hand comes down to rip the letter from your hands when you look down at it. “I know you’re not reading some… some school newsletter about what they’re serving in the mess hall in the evenings.” 

“Yes I am,” you huff. 

Oh so that’s what that was. 

Damn you actually should have read that - you really could use the staff meals if it’s something you can stomach. 

“No, you’re not.” Gale asserts. “Now look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull another letter from the pile and begin to look it over, reaching for your letter opener when Gale rips the damned thing from your hand. Ignoring your noise of protest. His hand coming up to - honestly kind of gently - grab your chin. Brows furrowed in anger as you’re stunned into silence.

“Look at me!”

You… holy shit.

You cannot process this.

Blinking dumbly, for the first time in years, Gale has rendered you speechless. 

“There,” he grits out. “Now you have to look me in the face while you lie to me.” 

“I’m not-” 

“You are.” 

“I am not!” You grunt, irrationally choosing to clamber up onto your desk, papers scattering as you try to reach for the letters in Gale’s hands. Hoping it will give you an advantage with a little more height. “I am trying to be professional! You- you horrible man!” 

“Oh yes, I’m so terrible because I-” 

“Because you’re a bastard!” You hiss, snapping your teeth at Gale in warning. The two of you were no longer children, but gods this reminds you of then. And, unfortunately for Gale, you’re still a biter. “Give me my mail!” 

It doesn’t take long for the spat to turn ruthless, Gale yanking the letters from your hand so hard you end up toppling over onto his feet. Ramming straight into his knees, which in turn sends him tumbling to the ground with a matching groan. 

“Ow.” 

“Are you alright?” Gale asks with a soft huff, rubbing at his shoulder when he sits up. “ Didn’t hit your head, did you?” 

“No,” you answer honestly, just like when the two of you were kids and trying to assess the damage before you went home. The anger of the moment briefly fading. “I’m fine.” 

“Good.” 

“And you?”

“I’m fine.” 

“Good.”

Silence reigns for a moment. 

“I don’t know why you-” Gale sighs. “You know you’re being ridiculous, right? Just be honest with me.” 

“I already tried to tell you.” You huff, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Doesn’t matter?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched. “You’re being a complete ass to me for no reason. Do you just enjoy being cruel?” 

A shard of ice pierces straight through the walls you’ve painstakingly tried to build. But one week isn’t enough time to shut Gale out. Not when he’s had years and years to get under your skin like nobody else could. 

“Yeah,” you answer with a shrug. Standing up and brushing yourself off. “Sure Gale. I do enjoy being cruel. Cruel and twisted and sadistic and all the horrible things you think of me.” 

“You-” 

Gale stops, stunned into silence. 

He opens his mouth and closes it, and you can watch… something build in his eyes. Anger? It must be, you realize, when you see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“You’re trying to make me stay away from you.” 

“No, I’m not.” You lie again, shrugging as you lean back against your desk. “You’ve just made it abundantly clear what you think of me. I’m not trying to change your mind anymore.” 

“That’s not-” 

Gale falls silent, and you watch the emotions play out on his face. 

This time you choose not to think about it.

“It’s fine, Dekarios.” You say flatly. “I’ve heard it before. I know what I am.”

Gale winces. 

“You can’t honestly think you’re-” 

“Heartless? Cruel? A monster?” You ask, arching an eyebrow. “Gale I’m a necromancer. Of course I am those things. I get the job done.” 

Gale stares at you, eyes unreadable, and you can feel the terrible, terrible feelings return. Everything that you’d ever been scared about as a child comes bubbling right back up to the surface. Betrayal burns hot in your chest. And- 

“What the fuck!” You choke out, jolting as Gale pushes you back into the desk. You go toppling on top of it, back pressed flat as he pins his hands by your head. “What has-” 

“You do care what I think about you,” Gale says, and you freeze. His voice is… it’s not quite surprised. Soft, but not- he speaks again before you can finish your thoughts. “You actually do.” 

“No I don’t.” 

“You do,” Gale says, just a bit breathless. God, is that… pity in his voice? That’s just enough- “You actually do.” 

Anger rises up like hot bile in your throat, and you feel tears prick in your eyes. 

“What, do you want a fucking medal?” You ask, eyes watery. “Just laugh at me. Get it over with so we can both move on.” 

“Move-” Gale blinks, and you recognize the anger in his eyes. “Move on?” 

“You think so little of me,” you spit, jabbing a finger into Gale’s chest above you. “Go ahead, laugh. Laugh at the stupid little beast who cared.” 

“Is that what you think?” Gale mirrors your words from days before, and it catches you off guard. “You think I view you as some… some heartless beast.”

“Clearly!” You bite out. “You all but said it outright.” 

“I don’t-” Gale blinks, eyes owlishly wide. “I didn’t mean that.” 

“Didn’t-” 

You choke on your own laughter, and decide to pretend it isn’t sobs. 

“Didn’t mean it? I spend years of my life trying to keep you alive, not telling you because I knew you’d reject the help.” You choke out, hot tears slipping down the sides of your face. “I didn’t want credit. And I try to tell you that, and the takeaway you got really did seem to be that I didn’t care.” 

“I-” 

“And now I know why! You fucking hate me!” 

“I don’t hate you!” Gale shouts, and gods, you do idly think about how glad you are for the soundproofing. “How the hells could I hate you?” 

“You sure sounded like it!”

“I don’t-” Gale begins again, before stopping. Realization dawning on his face again. “Gods. Gods you believe it. You believe I hate you.” 

“No shit!” You choke out, bringing your hand up to angrily scrub at your eyes. “Clearly you hate me! And I think so fucking highly of you. Even now, I-” 

“I’m an idiot.” Gale says plainly, the calm stupor in his voice enough to stop you dead in your tracks. “Gods, I am an idiot.” 

“What?” 

Eyes unreadable, Gale stares at you. 

And then - and then - 

Oh.

His lips are on yours. 

Head twisting, sealing both of your lips together in a heavy, hot kiss. Teeth clacking awkwardly with the force of it, Gale swallowing the sound you make as one of his hands comes up to grip your hair. 

Your eyes flutter shut, your own hand coming up to tangle in the locks at the back of Gale’s head. 

Gods this is…

Everything. 

You never- 

You shiver as your legs wrap around Gale’s waist as he kisses you. Desperate, hungry, like a man deprived of everything and given a meal for the first time in his life. He presses his body into yours like he wants to merge them into the same being. Getting lost in the kiss, you can hardly tell who’s doing what, your own actions, your own need, far outweighing the logical portion of your brain. 

Hands clutching and pulling and grabbing. 

Gale grinds against you and you nearly see stars - by the noise he makes, you’re pretty sure it’s the same for both of you. 

When the two of you finally part for air, your breathing is ragged, heavy gasps that match Gale’s own. Dazed, as your foreheads press together. Sharing the same air in a dizzyingly tender moment. 

“You,” Gale pants against your cheek, eyes half lidded in a way that makes your toes fucking curl. “I- again. Again.” 

You nod, desperately. 

“Please.” 

His mouth is on yours again, too much and not enough all at once. 

You roll your hips up into Gale’s again, groaning at the friction. Your hands are still tangled in Gale’s hair, heat rolling th-

“Oh fuck!” You gasp when Gale yanks your head back and to the side, mouth moving to your neck with a desperate fervor. Intentionally bucking his hips into yours harder. The angle making it easy for him to do so. “Gale-” 

“You-” Gale swallows thickly, nipping at your neck, his free hand coming to clutch your hip. “You drive me insane. Do you know that?” 

“I-” 

“You drive me insane, every damned day,” Gale growls out, body rolling against yours again. Pulling a high, needy whine from you. Gods, you’re rutting like teenagers and Gale is still fucking talking. “The things- the things you’ve made me want.” 

“I thought-” you choke. “I didn’t think you wanted me. I- fuck, you, I’ve wanted you for so long. And I just never, never thought-” 

“Never thought what?” Gale grinds out, voice hoarse as he bites down harder, sucking a hickey into your neck. “That you’d unravel me? Tear me apart at the seams? Make me ache for you, need you?” 

Oh fuck. 

God. 

Why is he so hot. 

“You didn’t-” Gale groans, leaving you breathless with each roll of his clothed hips against yours. “You didn’t know I’ve wanted you for months now, did you? Dreamed about touching you, just like this.” 

“Gods,” you choke out, feeling like you’re going out of your damned mind as your face feels like it’s on fire. Nearly dizzy with desire as you admit the things you’ve thought out loud. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Can’t… gods, Gale.” 

“You have no idea the images you put in my head,” Gale pants, uneven as he begins to struggle for the words. Groaning when you tug at his hair as he kisses your neck. “The things that I’ve wanted to do to you, to do with you.” 

“I think- I think I might have an idea,” you admit softly, legs wrapping tighter around Gale’s waist. “If they’re any- fuck - any similar to my own.” 

Gale groans at that. 

Teeth clamping down hard against your neck. 

“If you did,” he rasps. “I can guarantee they’re much filthier than you think.” 

And fuck, that sends a hot bolt of lightning through your gut. You feel yourself clench around nothing, a high, reedy whine pulling from your throat again. 

“Fuck.” You gasp. “Show me?” 

“You really,” Gale chokes out, moving back from your neck to grab your hips with both hands. Grinding down harshly against your aching core. “You really want to know what I think about, when I look at you?” 

“Yes. Yes, please-” 

Yanking your shirt up, you can hear the pop of stitching even as you try and assist. Bra coming with as Gale takes a handful of your chest into his palm. Fingers tweaking a nipple as you gasp, throwing the damned shirt across the room or something. You aren’t really sure, and it doesn’t matter. 

“Gods,” Gale whispers, almost reverently. Tracing his hands over your skin, leaning down to place kisses wherever he can, speaking between them. “Gods just look at you. So beautiful. So lovely.” 

“You have no idea what you do to me like this.” 

Your hands grip Gale’s forearms tight, as he holds you, giving a soft squeal when he nips at one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. A chuckle pulling from his lips while his hand tweaks the other.

“Fuck you can’t-” you choke. Squirming, unable to press your thighs together because Gale godsdamned Dekarios is between them. “Can’t just do that-” 

“Do what?” Gale asks, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Say how perfect you look beneath me? Tell you that every whine, every breath, every sound makes me want to ruin you?” 

“Holy shit,” you choke, jolting against Gale. You move, tugging desperately at his shirt. “Nine hells take your fucking shirt off Dekarios.” 

Gale has the audacity to laugh at that, pulling his shirt over his head with the same desperation you had. Tossing it somewhere you didn’t care about in the room, before moving to curl his fingers in your waistband. 

You nod, at the look he gives you. 

When he stays still, you groan. 

“Oh my god,” you huff. “Consent, hot, yes, get my fucking pants off before I soak through them.” 

“Let me appreciate the moment,” Gale smirks, but complies. Yanking off your shoes, pants, and underwear as quickly as possible to join schrodinger's clothing pile somewhere in your classroom. “You make me crazy, gods, you truly do. The thoughts I have…” 

“Show me then,” you taunt, rolling your hips into Gale’s, whining when you realize his pants are still on, the bastard.

“You truly want to know?” Gale grunts, his hand instead coming down to your thighs, holding them open as he presses a thumb, unmoving, right over your clit. “You want to know how badly I’ve daydreamed about you?” 

You choke on your answer, hips jolting as Gale moves his thumb, but Gale just presses your hips down against your desk harder. 

“You want to know how I’ve dreamed of you? Woke up with the taste of you in my mouth? Woke up to my own seed spilled in my underwear in the night?” Gale asks, punctuating his words with sharp movements of his thumb, his clothed cock grinding against your hole. He laughs, breathless, airy. “Like some desperate, hormone ridden teen?”

“F-fuck!” You gasp, every word going straight to your core. “Gods- just- I want you to ruin me.” 

“Don’t-” Gale chokes out, hips grinding against you. Trying to gain some sort of leverage, he slips a finger inside of you, watching your mouth go slack. “Don’t just say that. You’re going to break me, talking like that-” 

“I will say,” you groan, trying to remember words. “Whatever will get you inside of me faster.” 

“Don’t tease,” Gale chokes, slipping another finger inside. “I can’t take it.” 

“If I were teasing,” you choke out after a moment. “I would walk away.” 

A sound you’ve never heard Gale make leaves his lips, and you nearly squeal as Gale’s fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing harder. Watching every expression you make just to be sure. The kind of intensity you’ve seen him give spells - oh god. He’s taking this more seriously than you thought. 

“Don’t even threaten that,” he chokes out, teeth scraping against your neck as he leans down again. “I couldn’t- gods if you walked away-” 

“I wouldn’t,” you assure him, desperately shaking your head. “I wouldn’t- I was just teasing. Trying to- to show how - fuck! - how serious I - a-am.” 

“I would let you but gods would it break me,” Gale breathes, before sucking another hickey into your skin. He pulls his hand back, and you whine, shivering with need and desperation before Gale flips you onto your stomach. “Gods, just-” 

“Fuck,” you breathe, parting your thighs as Gale takes himself out of his pants. Tucking them down just enough before he’s lining himself up, and then slams into you. “Gale!” 

He pulls at your hips, arching you up into his touch. Snaking a hand around while he splays himself across your back. Fingers hot on your clit, Gale’s cock pounding in and out of you. 

You choke, eyes watering as your leg twitches. Pleasure spiking harshly in your lower belly. 

“Say it- say it again. Say my name again.” 

You nod, trying to arch back into Gale’s touch. 

“Gale!” You moan, your knuckles going white as you clutch at the desk. 

Gale continues to rub your clit, harsh, and fast, as he pounds into you, desperate fervor driving his every movement. Suddenly, he arches you back, pulling you up onto your knees so you’re leaned back against him. One arm securely wrapping around your middle, Gale continues to pound up into you. All words muted down to whines and grunts and moans. 

It doesn’t take long, not with how needy you both are, for you to cum around Gale’s cock, seeing stars when he pulls you down harshly against him. 

The two of you are left panting, your head leaned back, resting on Gale’s shoulder. His face coming to rest in the crook of your neck.

“Gods,” Gale breathes first, hands smoothing over your skin. “You look divine.” 

“I can barely think,” you grumble, tilting your head to press against his. “How are you still talking?” 

“You like when I talk.”

“I do.”

“Mn…” 

“I didn’t… think to…” 

“It’s fine.” You say, shaking your head. “I have a contraceptive ward.” 

“Oh thank gods.” Gale breathes. “It’s a bit too early to be talking about children.” 

“You mean after we fucked in my office after a fight?” 

“I do.” 

You laugh softly, relaxing into Gale’s touch a moment longer.

“We should get dressed,” you say softly. One hand coming up to play with Gale’s hair. “Actually… talk later.” 

“I know,” Gale nods pressing another kiss to your neck. “But do we really have to? Get dressed I mean.”

“Don’t do that,” you warn, drawing a groan from Gale when you involuntarily clench around him. “Or we’ll be here a lot longer.” 

“Mmmn… is that such a bad thing?” He asks, and you can practically feel the smile on his lips as he presses another kiss to your shoulder. “I quite like having you… so docile. In comparison.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” you warn softly, a smile on your lips. “But… if we get dressed, we can leave. Go to a real bed.” 

That gets Gale moving, even if it is reluctantly. His hands smoothing over your skin one last time before he pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants. You swallow thickly at the feeling, and Gale helps you step into your underwear and pants. Pulling your shirt over your head, and helping you fix your hair so that you don’t look quite so fucked out. 

“You know,” Gale hums softly, pressing a kiss to your ear. “We could always teleport to my tower. It’s a bit of an… irresponsible use of the planeshift spell, I must admit. But… I do have a rather large bed.” 

You hum, as though pretending to think. 

“I could be convinced,” you drawl teasingly. “For another kiss?”

Gale chuckles, and you smirk against his lips that are already on yours. 

“How could I possibly refuse that?”