#half the time A and C have no real relationship to speak of outside of their relation to B

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐨𝐧𝐞)

prisoners!ghoap x civilian!reader x ex-cons!pricegaz | your small sleepy town has never been enough for you. maybe that’s what makes it so easy for inmate soap, his cellmate ghost, ad their friends on the outside to convince you to help sneak them out of prison. (w/c: 1.2k)

warnings include language, dark themes, prisoners!ghoap, unprotected sex (wrap it in real life), bit of an age gap between reader and 141 (late 20s/30s and 40s), bodily fluids (mentioned), soap and ghost work in the tailoring room, improper/taboo relationships (prisoner/worker), cheating, manipulative!ghoap, submissive!f!em!reader, loser boyfriend behaviors (you'll see), illegal activities, violence (mentioned). +18/mdni

full masterlist

The claps are almost loud enough to creep under the crack in the door. Almost… thankfully Soap has perfected the art of fucking you in the back of the sewing room closet. Quick, punchy thrusts at just the right angle to yank an orgasm from the both of you. He pierces himself inside you, and your pussy pulses hard around his thick member that spurts out spells of cum that you’ll hold onto for the rest of the day.

You barely contain the whimpers that want to spill from you.

“Oh, whit I wouldn’t give tae hear those bonny sounds out loud, little miss,” Johnny whisper hot, lips brushing the back of your ear messily. He kisses the spot before pulling out of you with a grunt he has to cover with a cough.

He gives your bare hip one more pat, squeezing the skin for a quick moment before hurrying to raise his pants. You feel a heated gaze on your backside as you bend to pull your panties and pants back into place. A rush of heat rewires you once again, as you can feel the load attempt to seep from your whole. You squeeze with a bitten lip and slight shudder, turning to face Soap but able to meet his eyes. The man puffs his chest in a stretch, smirking at you with a smug rub of his stomach.

You sure are something, aren’t you? Letting him fuck you raw in the place he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life, and you can’t even look that sweet gaze at him. The inmate knows the two of you don’t have much time left but takes a few long seconds to up-and-down you anyways.

Finally, Soap steps forward. Swaying in his stand, his pointer finger coming to lull your gaze to him while the rough pad of his thumb drags just across your chin. He makes sure not to speak until you’re really looking at him.

“See ye out there, huh?”

Soap’s tongue dips from his mouth, wetting his lip with a pretty shine. He has to hold back a chuckle at how slow you nod for him.

“Stay sweet, hen,” he sniffs, and you almost flinch at how fast the cool air returns to you at the removal of his hand. You clear your throat, gathering yourself as you grab your clipboard and  follow him back into the tailoring room.

Ignoring whatever eyes are on you, your legs are still a little shaky when you walk yourself back to your seat at the front of the room. You fail in your attempt to not let your eyes glaze back over to Soap, who’s also just making it back to his assigned chair. He collapses in the seat with a breath, scratching the back of his head.

It’s when your stare floats to the man next to him–a mass of muscles and a hard face that you don’t think you’ve seen crack anything close to a smile–that you pause. You’re stuck in a stupid stare, watching and squirming in your seat when they catch eyes with each other. Their silent conversation is loud. It screams right into your face, and you wonder so hard what they could possibly be talking about that it makes your head hurt.

Is it bad you want it to be you?

~

“Grape or blue raspberry? Or cherry, maybe?”

Soap. An odd name you’ve wondered about since he was placed in your section. And his mohawk. Does he cut it himself? Or get another inmate to do it?

Ghost. A mystery in a half, you’ve found. Never speaks. Looks at you funny… a different kind of funny than Soap but still funny.

“Hey.”

A blink of your stinging eyes brings you right back to the gas station dining room booth. He’s sitting in front of you, forgetting about the different options of flavored ice on the laminated menu before him. The stare he places on you is hard to sit with, and you feel the guilt working its way up your throat in the form of bile.

Rocky’s eyebrows do his speaking for him when they pinch together as he leans toward you.

“Don’t want an icee,” you finally mumble, a little rude. Rocky seems more concerned than offended, nodding with visible hesitation. He stays in his quiet while you slide away the menu to rub at your eyes. “Not that thirsty anymore, actually.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” your fiance blinks, pausing for a moment. “Did… did something happen at work?”

“Something always happens at work, it’s a fucking correctional facility.”

Rocky blinks again, trying not to brisk at the harshness of your voice. Swallowing, he shifts. “You know, I still don’t like you working there. In that place. With all those jerks.”

Jerks. That’s the best he can come up with?

“So you’ve said,” you sass back, wishing it was morning already. Morning means that Rocky’s already out of the house before you’re waking up. Morning means you start a new day of work and get to see the way Inmate Soap’s chest and biceps bulge in his prison uniform. Morning means another chance that Inmate Simon might speak to you. “Can we go home now?”

Rocky throws his head to the side in dissapointment, pouting childishly. “We didn’t even get anything yet.”

“Get it to-go, then,” you instruct him, yanking yourself from the booth to make a b-line to the truck with a dissatisfied shake of your head.

Inmate Soap would treat you better than this. Take you somewhere nicer than a goddamn gas station dining room for your anniversary. And you know what? So would Inmate Ghost. Even if he doesn’t speak…

~

Dinner is the usual. Sloppy but edible.

“Same sad meal,” Soap sighs, dropping his spoon so that it crashes into his tray of half-eaten food. He stares at Ghost through his eyelashes before his face brightens with a smirk. Voice lowering, Soap leans. “Wish I was eatin’ her, instead.”

Ghost has to pause in his chewing of the mushy carrots they were served this evening. It’s a miracle the fork in his hand doesn’t break at how hard he comes to clench it.

“‘M tellin’ you, Si,” Soap shakes his head with a rub of his chin, face hazy. “Pussy’s hotter than th’ sun. Would live inside there, ‘f I could…”

“Stop speakin’,” Simon rumbles out, and Soap shakes with a delighted giggle.

“Jus’ sayin’,” Soap shrugs, gathering his spoon back up to pick at the leftover food. “Bet she’d, ah, let ye have a taste, too. Sweet thing… even got those sad eyes ye like. Which you would notice if you’d speak to the lass–”

“Shut the fuck up, Mactavish.”

Simon’s voice catches the attention of a few surrounding inmates, who know not to question what’s wrong. Not if they want to get their head bashed in by an angry Simon Riley. If they only knew it wasn’t anger coursing through his vein, but a healthy dose of blood running down to his cock that’s making him like this. He resettles in his seat, ignoring the way Johnny’s looking at him, and giving a good palm to readjust his now-leaking cock. Biting his tongue, he can’t help but clench all his muscles at how right Johnny is.

You would taste a hell of a lot better than this sad excuse of a meal.

(next part) - © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[daddy-dins-girl]

Talk Me Down

A fic requested by @anotherpedrolover

I was gonna wait until Frankie Friday (tomorrow) to post this, but this sweet human being has already waited like 2 months for me to finish this, lol, so here you go! I was asked to write a fic about insecure!Frankie who has some self-esteem/body image issues but after being with Reader (who is very appreciative of his body) he gets into it and develops a bit of a praise kink for it but but he hits a rough patch and gets into a dark place, feeling very undeserving of the love and attention Reader gives him. The person who made the request asked me to focus on his feelings and emotions when he is feeling bad and insecure (and specifically asked for some tears to be shed, lol) so I did my best to beat the crap out of Frankie (emotionally).

I hope this is somewhat what they had in mind and that they like it :) I've never really written anything like this (PWP queen over here) so I hope I got it right and didn't make Frankie too OOC. Hope you all enjoy it!

Page dividers provided by the gracious and talented @saradika-graphics

Ao3 link

My Masterlist Word Count: 9.8k Fandom: Triple Frontier (Frankie Morales x f!Reader) Notes: Pre/No TF Mission. Fic title is from the song of the same name by Troye Sivan. Warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. Angst. Drama. Body Insecurity/Self-esteem issues. Praise Kink. Smut (pretty tame and not a lot, considering its me lol, but its there). Sad!Frankie. Mid-Life-Crisis!Frankie. Emotional hurt/comfort. Eventual happy ending. Established Relationship. No use of y/n. No physical description of Reader.

“Babe, have you seen my -“ you cut yourself off mid sentence as you turn the corner and your eyes land on your boyfriend, leisurely sprawled on the couch with his legs up on the ottoman, ankles crossed over each other and television remote firmly in hand while a baseball game plays in the background.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” Frankie asks, incredulous.

“We have to be at Will and Benny’s in like…” you pause to look at your watch. “Fifteen minutes! And what is that… are you eating the potato salad I made?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Frankie responds, forkful halfway to his mouth again already.

“Oh my god” You shake your head. You literally can’t with him today. You made that for the barbecue pool party today and now it was nearly half gone.

“Nevermind, let’s just go” you huff. You’re not in a great mood and maybe you’re being a little bitchier than usual thanks to this god awful heatwave but Frankie wasn’t helping matters any.

“I’ll be in the car” you grumble towards his general direction as you head out the front door. At least there’s A/C in the Jeep.

Surprisingly he doesn’t keep you waiting long. He’s shoving his slides on his feet as he hops down the front steps only a minute or so later and then jumps into the driver’s seat next to you, buckling his seatbelt and the two of you head out of the driveway.

“See, plenty of time” He grins at you when you pull up to the outside of your friends house a short while later with actually a few minutes to spare before your requested arrival time. You had attempted to stay mad at him, neither of you speaking more than one or two words the entire drive but now with that stupidly adorable smirk on his face you have no choice but to want to kiss it off of him. Despite your best efforts, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“There it is” his grin widens as he brings a hand up to pinch at your cheek and you playfully swat him away, trying and failing to hold back a little laugh.

“Baby I don’t know what you think we’re gonna miss anyway. It’s my birthday party. They literally can’t start without me”

“Francisco Morales, you’re going to be late to your own funeral, you know that don’t you?” You shake your head at him but the smile hasn’t left your lips.

“Oh baby we’re gonna be real late if you keep that ‘Francisco’ talk up” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at you and reaching over the center console to grab a handful of your upper thigh. “Maybe we skip the party all together, you give me my birthday present early, hmm?”

“Get out of the car you perv!” You laugh, giving him a playful shove. “Are you sure you’re turning 40 and not 14?”

“All right, all right I’ll behave” He sighs, hands up in the air to signal his defeat.

You’re glad he seems like he’s in a better mood so far today. He’s been a little off the last couple of days and you can’t say why. You’ve asked a few times if something was bothering him but he kept shrugging you off, insisting everything was fine. You chalked it up to maybe just work stress and are hoping now that the weekend is here that he’ll be able to just relax and have a great time with his friends.

Despite you being early, the party is actually in full swing on your arrival. You and Frankie let yourselves in through the back gate where the backyard is filled with several of Frankie’s (and now yours, you supposed) friends milling about. The ones you recognize immediately are his old military unit; Santiago, Benny, Will and Tom, as well as Will’s girlfriend and Tom’s wife. There are a few other people around you’ve definitely met before but can’t place all of them. Either way, you’re glad to see so many people have shown up for Frankie on his big day.

The space is decorated too with balloons everywhere, a giant banner that reads “Happy Birthday Fish!” and a big poster board is taped up against the side of the house as soon as you walk in that has pictures of Frankie and his family and friends all over it with the title “40 Years In The Making” written at the top in huge block lettering. You and Frankie both take a moment to look over the board before anyone deeper inside the yard notices you yet. There are a bunch of photos from his younger military days and even a few from when he was just a boy that have you gushing over him, telling Frankie how adorable he was and pinching his cheek for good measure. You spot a couple of pictures of Frankie having fallen asleep at a party (something he’s been known to do) with his signature ball cap pulled down over his face and beer bottle loosely gripped in his hand and those give you both a good laugh. There’s two photos of you and him together, you notice, and your personal favourite picture of Frankie - him flying his helicopter wearing a pair of Aviators, looking so sexy it makes you melt each time you see it.

You safely assume the wife and girlfriends of Frankie’s closest pals were mostly to thank for the decorating. If it were up to the boys there would be a folded table in the middle of the backyard with a pack of cards and a cooler full of beer and that would be it.

“There he is!” Benny shouts across the yard the moment he spots you both just inside the gate. He dashes across the patio and throws his arms around Frankie, nearly knocking him over in the process before landing a few hard slaps to his back. “Happy birthday ya old fuck” he teases, grabbing on to Frankie’s shoulder and jostling him slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be your turn soon enough” Frankie reminds him but Benny just shrugs.

“Always be younger than you though” he winks and that earns him a little shove from Frankie.

The rest of the greetings go more or less the same way, playful teasing or ribbing on Frankie for turning the big “4-0”. It gets old quickly but if it bothers Frankie he doesn’t let it show, just takes it in stride as he makes his way through the small crowd and says his hello’s.

By the time you get home much later that night you’re exhausted. It’s late and the day had been long (and hot in that blistering sun). Add to that you’re sober whereas everyone around you had been thoroughly wasted which made the night seem to drag on even longer. You wanted Frankie to have a great time, it was his birthday after all, so you offered to drive you both tonight and somehow that had turned into you offering to be an Uber driver for half the party so instead of it taking ten minutes to get home it had taken an hour.

“I’m beat” you announce through a long drawn out yawn, stretching tired limbs over your head. “You wanna come to bed with me, birthday boy?” You ask playfully, walking up to Frankie and looping your fingers through the belt loops of his tan cargo shorts to tug him a little closer, hoping he catches on that you’re not that tired.

“Think I’m gonna shower, I hate smelling like chlorine” he complains, gently taking your hands and removing them from his waist. “You go on, I won’t be long” he promises before leaning forward and planting a kiss to your forehead.

“Baby,” you whine, a masterful pout displayed on your lips. “C’mon upstairs with me, while it’s still your birthday” you try seductively, hand reaching out to brush over the outside of his pants at his crotch.

“I said I want to shower” Frankie replies back, a little too curtly for your liking and his tone leaving no room for argument as he pushes your hand away a second time. You frown and the huff of disappointment you breathe out doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“Baby come on, I’m sorry. I just don’t wanna go to bed smelling like chemicals. Go on up to bed, I’ll be right behind you” he says with finality and gives your hand a little squeeze before dropping it and heading off to the bathroom.

You sigh but let him go. Truthfully you’d been trying to drag him out of the party for hours, desperate to get him alone and all to yourself. You don’t know what’s come over you today but you felt downright needy for him, your hormones just off the charts and now he’s making you wait even longer when all you want to do is rip his clothes off and show him exactly how glad you are that he was born forty years ago today and by some cosmic twist of fate found his way into your life.

Once in the bedroom and settled into bed you hear the spray of water come to life in the bathroom down the hall and your mind can’t help but drift and think about Frankie, naked and in the shower. How the water is cascading down his broad shoulders to his soft tummy and strong, thick legs and a heat floods your body, going straight to the lower part of your abdomen. You loved his body and you weren’t shy about telling him either. You remember back to when you’d first started dating, the early stages of your intimate relationship. He was so shy around you at first, always insisting the lights be off or even leaving his t-shirt on when you’d have sex. It was all a mystery to you, how someone as gorgeous as Frankie could have self-esteem issues but you loved to remind him how crazy he drove you and how perfect he was in your eyes.

At first he got so embarrassed at your borderline worship of his body, refused to even believe you in the beginning but he warmed up eventually to the point where he loved it. Craved it, even, your praise of him. Though he’d never admitted to it out loud and always remained a little bashful about it, you could tell. Frankie was already a very generous, selfless and enthusiastic lover, but when you really got vocal with him (or better yet let your tongue and hands do the talking) of how much you enjoyed every part of his physical anatomy, Frankie could get downright animalistic with you and it brought the already amazing sex to a whole new level for you both. You had definitely uncovered a little praise-kink in your boyfriend that you don’t think he even knew existed in himself and honestly no sexual relationship you’ve had in the past could ever hold a candle to the one you and Frankie have created together.

You plan on using every weapon in your arsenal on him tonight to truly wish him a happy birthday he won’t soon forget. You’ll caress, kiss and lick your way from his prominent neck vein, his broad chest with just the lightest smattering of golden brown hair, take more than enough time for your tongue to appreciate each of his small dusty pink nipples before you continue down his sternum to where he gets a little softer. You’ll playfully nip and suck at the small expanse of flesh at his belly that protrudes just barely over his waistline, making sure to let him know with words how gorgeous he is, how hot he makes you, how he’s all yours. You just hope you get to have your fill before he takes his own. It had taken you a while to get Frankie to allow you to appreciate him the way you wanted to. He was always insistent on your pleasure and he still is to this day, but you’ve managed to strike a fairly delicate balance now for the most part, though you’ll admit there are days where Frankie comes home and he just needs you. You’ve come to recognize it on him and you’re glad to give him the reins when that happens, knowing that he’ll allow you to do the same when you need it. When you said Frankie was a generous lover you weren’t exaggerating. That man would spend hours with his face buried between your legs if you’d let him, and sometimes you’d let him do just that. But tonight was for him and tonight you need him. Need to show him how in love with him you are in a way that words just can’t do.

You have to press your thighs together just at the thought of him in the shower now, hoping he won’t be long so you can hopefully pull him out of this weird mood he’d been in most of the day. It started not long after you got to Will and Benny’s. Just silly, little things that just seemed to set him off to the point where he’d either pick a fight with you (or whoever else he happened to be talking to) or just get overly quiet and wander off by himself. You think back trying to think what could’ve started it all. He’d gone into the party in a good enough mood but soon after he started acting weird. The two of you barely fought, like ever, and here you were today in front of all your friends getting into a yelling match with each other about goddamn sunscreen of all things. And it wasn’t just you, he seemed overly quiet today around everyone, even his best friends who were more like brothers to him than anything and none of it made sense to you, you just hope now that he was home maybe he’d get out of his funk.

Your mind doesn’t have any longer to dwell however because Frankie emerges from the bathroom and into the bedroom, already changed into a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Your tongue absent-mindedly peeks out to swipe across your bottom lip at the way the wet curls stick to his forehead or how tiny droplets of water soak through the thin cotton of his dark gray t-shirt because he didn’t quite dry himself all the way off before tugging it over his head.

Not that it matters, you don’t plan on him wearing it long anyway.

“Finally” you smile at him from your spot on the bed and shuffle back slightly to pat down on the space next to you on the mattress. You pull back the bed covers to reveal that you’re wearing next to nothing, A black lacy bra and matching panties that really left nothing to the imagination. It was Frankie’s favourite on you.

“You didn’t have to wait up” Frankie says casually, looking down as he unfastens his watch from his wrist to toss it on the nightstand. If he notices your state of nearly undress during his brief glance in your direction he doesn’t say anything or even react. “Thought you were tired” he adds, feigning concern for your sleep habits.

“Read between the lines Morales, was just trying to get you into bed” you tease, sticking the tip of your tongue out at him playfully. He says nothing in response, just flips off the light and crawls in next to you but to your surprise just throws the comforter over you both and turns on his side and faces away from you as he scrunches up his pillow under his head until he’s comfortable and settles.

You frown, not that he can see you, but shuffle over to him anyway so you’re pressed up against his back and your arm slings around his waist. You stay still for a minute, waiting to see if he’ll take your less than subtle hint that you’re “not tired” but he just lays there, unmoving, and so you decide it’s time to take matters into your own hands. Literally.

Your hand slips under the hem of his shirt to rest on his soft belly and begins to gently explore. Fingertips dancing along the smooth skin and sparse little body hairs and moving over to his hip where you grab onto the small bit of extra skin there and massage his side but before you can go any further he’s grabbing your hand and pushing it out from under his shirt. He brings it to rest on top of his chest over the thin cotton of his t-shirt and just holds his hand over top of yours.

“Baby?” You breathe out into the blackness of the room, worry evident in your tone. Was he angry at you for something else now? You hadn’t even done anything for him to be mad at you about, you’ve been in bed the whole time.

“Sorry, I’m just tired” he mumbles into the pillow but you’re not buying it. Frankie was a bit of a night owl, not to mention it was a Saturday night, neither of you had work in the morning and the two of you always made sure to make the most of your weekend nights together when you could really take the time to make love the way you craved to all week.

“Hey,” you call out softly, grabbing for his shoulder and pulling it towards you so he’ll turn to face you. He lets you, turning halfway to you, onto his back and craning his neck to face you.

“Is everything okay? Are you mad at me or something?” You ask genuinely concerned. You try not to make it sound like you’re pouting because you’re not, you just need to know what’s going on with him. Maybe he’s upset about something, or maybe just a little too drunk to actively participate the way he thinks he should but you wouldn’t mind too much if he was, you certainly don’t mind taking care of him and you know he’ll more than make it up to you the next time.

He lets out a sigh and tiredly rubs at his eyes.

“Of course not. Come here, I’m sorry” he sighs once more and lifts his arm closest to you so you can snuggle into him, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm drapes across his middle again. He tilts his head down slightly to kiss the top of your hair but otherwise makes no moves to initiate anything further physically with you, just holds you tightly to his body.

“Are you really tired?” You ask quietly, turning your face slightly to nuzzle into his neck and plant little kisses there. You feel the little shudder that runs through his body and a smile pulls at your lips.

Maybe he wasn’t mad at you.

“I haven’t given you your present yet” you breathe into the warm flesh of his throat, tongue darting out to give a tentative little lick to the underside of his jaw and he rewards you with the slightest little moan, but it’s enough that you heard it and it encourages you to continue.

You begin to kiss and lick your way down the column of his throat while your hand leaves his chest to come down and gently palm him over his boxers and he instinctively thrusts his hips into your touch and you moan into his skin. You can feel him beginning to swell under your touch already.

“Mmm, can I take you out?” You murmur against his collarbone and he nods his head.

“Yeah,” he lets out in a breathy whisper and brings his own free hand down to help you shove his boxers down his thighs until he’s able to kick out of them.

Your hand wraps around his impressive length the moment he’s free from the confines of his underwear, slowly pumping him with practiced strokes and it’s not long until he’s fully hard in your hand and quietly grunting and groaning, your face buried in the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. You hate that his shirt is still on, your mouth not able to reach all the places it desperately wants to.

Your hand leaves him for a moment as you push yourself up onto your knees and swing one leg over him so you're straddling his hips, your hands resting on his chest overtop of the soft worn cotton.

“You can be tired baby, let me all do the work” you coo, leaning down to place another kiss to his jaw as you slowly grind your pelvis into his. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just too tired or drunk to have the full cognitive function he needed but that was fine by you, tonight was for him anyways.

“Shit,” he groans, hands sliding under the back of your panties to grope the globes of your ass in his two large hands and he presses you down even harder against his groin just as he thrusts his hips upwards, the delicious friction causing a moan to escape your lips.

“Mmm, you feel so good” you whimper against his heated flesh as you nuzzle the underside of his jaw and into his throat.

“Take these off” Frankie practically growls, impatiently shoving your underwear down and with his help you manage to wiggle free of them. You both moan in unison when your lower halves press together again, this time with no barriers between you as his throbbing member slides through your slick folds with every calculated thrust of your hips against him.

“Baby you make me so wet” you giggle, hands roaming his hard chest and broad shoulders. “God you’re so hot” you praise, mouth latching back onto his neck as you trail hot open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat until you reach the collar of his t-shirt.

“Off” you gently demand, hands going to the bottom of his tee and beginning to push it upwards. You need to feel all of him, his warm skin on yours. Need to lick and kiss and touch every inch of him. “Let me touch you”

“Mnnmm mnmm” he shakes his head and without warning suddenly flips you both with practiced ease until you’re underneath him flat on your back and he’s on hands and knees looming over you. He grabs your wrists and hauls them up above your head, bringing them together so he’s able to hold them down with one hand against the top of the mattress so he can have one free and you giggle up at him.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re supposed to be tired, old man” you tease him but there’s no mirth in his eyes after he hears your words, no lingering smile on his lips. There’s desire, sure, but something else on his features. Subtle, whatever it is, but it’s there.

“Do you wanna fuck or not? Jesus,” he snaps. “I can’t do anything fucking right”

Oh, and there it is. It’s anger.

Your face scrunches up at his little outburst. That was not like Frankie at all. Not your sweet, loving, caring Frankie who adored you, this was someone else, someone you didn’t recognize.

“Get off me” you huff, easily wiggling your wrists free as he wasn’t holding too tightly and you bring your hands up to shove at his chest. His yelling at you instantly taking you out of the mood.

He does, immediately. He rolls off of you, grabs for his discarded boxers near the bottom of the bed and shoves them on. You do the same with your own underwear and also pull the sheet up to cover yourself, not wanting to feel any more vulnerable in front of him than you already do.

You have no idea what in the fuck that was all about, snapping at you like that when you thought everything was going rather well. He really was in a mood today apparently, and you didn’t care for it one bit. You’re already feeling overly emotional today, your period must be just around the corner or something.

The room falls silent. Frankie sits on the edge of the side of the bed, hands on his thighs and head hanging low while you lay back against the headboard, fingers twisting into the sheets, holding them around you like a shield. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to fall but you quickly blink them away before you bury your head in your knees.

“Do you want me to sleep downstairs?” He asks softly, the gruffness gone from his voice now. He sounds almost apologetic, though he’s still yet to apologize. He's not looking at you either, but your grateful for that at this moment.

You say nothing. Not trusting your voice just yet but the tiniest sniffle from your nose is near deafening in the stillness of the room. You quickly clear your throat in an attempt to cover the sound but it’s too late. Frankie’s head whips around back in your direction and he’s suddenly scrambling up the bed to wrap his arms around your lower back. Your legs lower instinctively to let him in and he lies over top of you with his head resting on your middle.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he breathes out, voice muffled by the thin layer of the bed sheet as he buries his face into your stomach. “I’m an asshole”

“You’re not” you sigh. “Just - tell me what’s going on with you” you say calmly, hands now petting through his hair.

“Nothin’” he grumbles into your tummy.

“It’s not nothing, come on,” you try, a little softer this time. “You can tell me anything, you know I love you no matter what”

“Why?”

It's so quiet, so soft, mumbled against you that your ears almost didn’t even pick it up. Your heart breaks a little at the single uttered syllable.

“Hey,” you frown, grabbing both sides of his face in your hands and forcing him to look up at you. “Are you seriously asking why I love you? Where’s this coming from?” You ask, concerned. He’s been known to get down on himself from time to time but you’ve never seen him like this and it worries you.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rolls off of you, crawling up the bed to lay on his back next to you and rubs his hands over his face.

“Baby, talk to me” you press, turning to your side and curling up to his larger frame, hand stretching out to rest on his chest as your fingers play absently with the soft material of his t-shirt. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, 40 happened” he groans, hand doing a sweeping motion down his body. “I mean, look at this” he shakes his head.

“Oh baby trust me, I look at this every day” you counter, an appreciative smile playing on your lips as your hand gently rubs into his chest.

“This perfect,” you pause to press a kiss into his cheek. “Sexy,” another kiss to his jaw. “Man of my dreams”

“Stop” he huffs, gently pushing you away. “Just don’t… say shit like that. It’s not true” he argues, flipping over onto his side to face away from you.

You know when to push him and when not to, and now is not one of those times. You’ll let him have his moment, knowing if you get too in his face about it he’s likely just going to shut down and you need him to be open with you if you’re going to get anywhere. So instead you just leave him be, but stay nestled into his side, your hand rubbing small circles into his back and shoulder blades, just a soft gesture to let him know you’re here and not going anywhere.

Long minutes pass and after a while you think maybe he’s fallen asleep, until you hear it. It’s barely audible, but it’s there. The tiniest whimper falls from his lips, followed by a quiet little sniffle before he buries his face into a pillow in an attempt to cover it up and your whole heart breaks in two.

“Frankie, baby” you soothe, pulling on his shoulder and forcing him to turn towards you. Surprisingly he doesn’t fight it, just lets you roll him over and he instantly buries his face in your neck once he’s facing you, unable to look you in the eyes. But you don’t need to see him, you can feel the hot tears on his cheeks as he presses into you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders a little tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head as he lets his emotions out.

“I love you, ok?” You whisper against his chocolate brown curls, your lips pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He says nothing, just nods his head against you that he knows you love him and he knows he’s being oversensitive but he just can’t help it.

“I wish you could see what I see” you murmur against him, still hugging him tightly to your body.

Franky gently pushes back from you slightly, quickly wiping at his eyes and collecting himself before his red-rimmed gaze settles on yours.

“I’m sorry I’m in a shit mood and taking it out on you, it’s not fair and you don’t deserve it” he apologizes, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just feeling down on myself I guess and I dragged you into it and I’m sorry”

“Is that what’s been going on all day?” You ask, genuinely curious. You’re starting to piece it together now, all the teasing he’s put up with all day, how he only seemed to be snapping at you when you complimented him or tried to take off his shirt tonight. Not to mention all his friends running around half naked in just their swim trunks all afternoon, most of whom kept themselves in very tip top shape. Maybe Frankie had grown a little softer since the two of you have been together but you loved it on him, his ‘dad bod’ physique. He has nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, as far as you’re concerned. But you suppose it’s hard not to feel self conscious when standing next to a shirtless Will, Benny or Santiago who all look like they could be models in some sort of hot firefighter calendar or something. None of them did anything for you though, Frankie would always hold your heart and your gaze, no matter who he was standing next to.

“I guess” Frankie sighs, fingers now picking at an imaginary thread on the blanket underneath you. “Sometimes I just wonder…” he trails off again and you frown.

“Wonder what?”

“Wonder what in the hell you’re doin’ with me” he sighs, throwing his hands up. “I’m a fuck-up. Forty years old and what have I accomplished in my life? I have a shit job, working for an asshole I can’t stand, flying tourists around and giving private lessons on the side to rich jerkoffs who don’t give a shit about learning anything about flying, just want a cool photo for their Instagram. Since I left the service I just feel like… Like I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life anymore so I just haven’t done fucking anything. And you… god knows why you give me the time of day but you do and I just don’t ever feel like I’m enough. Least I could fucking do for you is go to the gym and take care of myself, god knows I need to eat healthier” He shakes his head and you’re unsure for a moment if he’s done beating himself up but before you even have a chance to articulate a response he starts up again.

“Like look at this!” He shouts suddenly, voice raised much higher than moments earlier as he rips his shirt off his head and sweeps his hand down his front. “How can you be in love with this, with someone who looks like this?! I… fuck’”

He doesn’t get any more words out, his hands flying to his face to hide his shame as he starts sobbing with how much hatred he apparently holds for himself and you can’t take it. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and holding him as tightly to your body as possible. Thankfully he doesn’t push you away, just grabs onto you like you're his only lifeline, clinging to you with desperation.

“Frankie, my love, oh Frankie” you’re in tears now too, holding onto him for dear life so he can’t slip away from you. You won’t let him. Not this time.

You crawl into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms still around his neck like a needy spider monkey.

“I love you, so fucking much” you clarify, because you need him to hear you. “I’m sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable. I know I can get carried away sometimes but I guess I just thought you were okay with it, thought we were both into it. But I’ve never lied to you when I tell you how I feel about you or your body. Do you hear me, Francisco?” You ask and after a moment he nods his head just slightly, just once.

“I am crazy about you, whether you believe it or understand it. But if it makes you uncomfortable when I express my physical attraction to you the way that I do, then I'll stop. Or, you know, try to. Sometimes in the heat of the moment it might just come out but you can remind me and I swear I'll do my best. Just tell me what you need from me baby, whatever it is I’ll give it to you. I can’t lose you Frankie, I can’t!” Your tears flow even harder and Frankie’s grip around you tightens at your words.

“I know, I know” he murmurs softly. “Too fucking good for me” he reiterates quietly, but not in an argumentative way like he’d meant it earlier, more like he can’t believe you put up with his shit but he’s so glad that you do. You think maybe your words have sunk in because he's not arguing with you anymore, not berating himself, just absorbing everything. You decide to leave it be for now. You've said your peace, now you can only hope he'll believe your words and take everything you've said into consideration to fend off whatever demons are feasting inside of him. All you want is his happiness and you know that you can't be the one to solely give that to him, that he needs to find it within himself as well, but you're damn sure willing and hoping that he'll take the support you give him and that he'll let you be there at his side to continue to take on this journey of life together. If he wants to find a new job, or a new career even, you'd support him through that in every way you can. You'll do whatever is in your power to get him through this and you just hope now that he knows that.

You hold each other for several minutes, neither of you saying anything further, just taking whatever comfort you have left to offer one another. You don't push him for any more communication, assuming if he's not speaking it's because his thoughts are still a little all over the place and he still hasn't quite worked it all out for himself. He'll talk about it again when he's ready and whether that's tonight or tomorrow or next month, you'll wait for him. He's worth the wait, there's no doubt in your mind about that.

After a while Frankie shifts you both until he’s lied down on his back on the bed with you half draped over top of him and eventually sleep overcomes the tears and emotions and your breathing evens out as you both drift off within minutes of lying down, the full events of the day finally taking its toll on your weary bodies.

When you wake again the sun hasn’t quite risen to the sky but you know it’s only minutes away, not hours. You feel like you didn’t sleep at all. Your head is pounding like you’re the one who finished a gallon of tequila last night, not your boyfriend and his friends. Frankie is beside you, though you’ve more or less switched positions. You’re fully on your back with Frankie’s arm draped across your middle, his face buried into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder and he snores softly. You’re glad he’s sleeping peacefully, god knows he needs it. You carefully extract yourself from him, needing to get up and use the bathroom, tossing on a pair of shorts and a tank top. As you pad across the plush carpeting and out to the hallway your mind spins a hundred different directions as you think about yesterday, about last night. You were both highly emotional but truth be told you’ve felt off for weeks. More tired. Bitchy. And you know you’ve been taking it out on Frankie even when he’s the last person that deserves it and who knows, maybe he thought you’ve been trying to push away from him and last night he just tried to do it himself before you got the chance to and he let his insecurities get the better of him. Of course that wasn’t your intention, you’ve never felt for anyone the way you feel about him and you meant every word last night when you told him you can’t lose him. You’ve just been a mess lately and you can’t really explain it other than you know it’s nothing to do with Frankie and certainly not his fault, he just takes the brunt of your ‘crazy’ because he’s the closest person to you. You don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you unless…

Shit.

You practically sprint the rest of the way to the bathroom down the hall, tossing open drawers and cupboards and medicine cabinets in a flurry as you look for that precious little white stick that might explain a whole hell of a lot that’s been going on with you.

“Hey” you softly call out from the doorway of the bedroom, leaning up against it with a large glass of water in hand. Frankie slowly stirs. He’s on his stomach now and raises his head to look at you through sleep-bleared eyes, wayward curls falling across his forehead.

“Hey” he rasps out, voice no doubt shot from all the talking and yelling and crying from last night.

This is what the water was for.

You cross the room and he immediately throws the blanket open, inviting you into his warm cocoon as he slightly sits up against the headboard. You hand him the water as you settle in next to his large warm frame and he chugs the entire glass in record time.

“Ah, thank you, I needed that” he says, clearing his throat and then reaching past you to place the glass on the nightstand before he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur into his chest, hand coming up to draw small shapes against his clavicle.

“Like a bit of a first class idiot, if I’m bein’ honest” he sighs and you squeeze your arms around him a little tighter.

“Don’t, babe” you tut, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You were feeling a lot yesterday and it obviously needed to come out. I’m glad it did. We need to be honest with each other, you know?” You tell him, tilting your head to look up at his face. He flashes the tiniest smile at you and leans down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose before you settle back against his chest.

“Some of the things I said last night though, I didn’t even mean. Not really…” he trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to get his thoughts in order.

You push back from him slightly and up into a sitting position and turn to face him so the two of you can have a real conversation.

“Like what?”

He shrugs shyly and looks away, fingers fidgeting with the blanket around his waist. You hear a mumbled ‘dunno’ fall from his lips. You have a pretty good idea what he’s getting at but know that he’s too embarrassed to say it himself so you help him out, scooting a little closer and placing a hand on his naked chest before you let it slowly drift lower, fingertips dancing across his warm soft flesh and his eyes close and he lets out a content little sigh as he feels your hands on his body again.

“Last night I thought that maybe… I sometimes make you feel uncomfortable when we’re in bed with the attention I give and show you... Was that just insecure Frankie talking?” You ask softly. His eyes are still closed but he nods his head. Your hand rests on his stomach and you slide it upwards again and wrap it around his neck, your thumb brushing back and forth behind his ear.

“Sorry I basically called you a liar last night. That wasn’t fair of me” He tells you sincerely, finally opening his eyes to look back at yours. “I know you love me. All of me. God knows why, but you do” he finishes with a teasing smirk.

“I do love all of you. Every inch. And sometimes I just love showing you how much I do” you shrug.

“I know. And if I’m bein’ honest… I do… y’know, like it. I really like it. I just, yesterday, I don’t know what came over me. Just feeling sorry for myself I guess and wasn’t feeling… up to par, for you, and I guess I got a little too much in my own head. Shit I don’t know, guys teasing me all night, I probably had too much to drink and looking at those stupid pictures of me from when I was much younger and took better care of myself just had me feeling not very good about myself”

“Frankie, baby,” you begin, shifting your position so you can swing one knee over to the other side of his hips so you’re sitting on his lap on your knees facing him while he rests against the headboard. His hands immediately go to your hips and rest there, just holding you, while yours go to his shoulders.

“You never have to doubt for a moment how I feel about you. How I desire you. I need you to hear me on that” you tell him, staring into his eyes in hopes he doesn’t get too embarrassed and turn away from you again. To your delight, he doesn’t. He holds your gaze and his thumbs absently draw small circles on your hips. “I am in love with this Frankie, the one right in front of me. To me he’s sweet and perfect and yeah, he turns me on. Like, a fucking lot. So sorry, but you’re just gonna have to face facts, and thems the facts” you conclude teasingly and he lets out a little chuckle.

“Understood” he nods once before he pushes forward slightly and his mouth latches on to the side of your throat, gently kissing at your inviting flesh. Your head falls back and your hands travel up to hold the back of his head, fingers running through soft chestnut curls.

“There’s something else you said last night…” you begin, trailing off slightly as Frankie’s hot mouth on your skin attempts to distract you.

“Mmm?” He mumbles into your neck, not letting up from what he’s doing as he licks and nips and sucks at the supple flesh of your throat.

Despite wanting nothing more than for him to continue, your hands go to his chest and you gently push him back. He falls back against the headboard with a quiet thud and looks at you with a hint of confusion and worry in his gaze.

“You said you haven’t accomplished anything since leaving the military and well… I just wanted you to know that I am currently in possession of evidence that you have accomplished something very special. Might even be the most important thing you’ve done in your life” you shrug and he raises a curious eyebrow at you.

“Possess… what? What do you mean?”

Rather than spell it out for him, you take his large hand in two of yours and bring it to rest on your stomach, his palm flat across the span of your belly. It’s probably too early for a ‘bump’ just yet but you hold his hand there all the same and within seconds you watch as the realization dawns across his face. At first his brow furrows like he’s confused but then they perk up and his face splits into a giant grin that reaches his eyes and causes them to crinkle at the corners.

“Baby are you… are you serious?” He asks for confirmation and you simply nod your head.

“I mean, I think so. I’ve been feeling kinda off for a while and you my dear boyfriend were too sweet to call me out on any of my crazy shit” you add teasingly and huffs a little laugh but shakes his head. “Then it all kinda clicked into place when I woke up so I took a test this morning and it was positive” you shrug. “I’ll have to make a doctors appointment to be su-“

You don’t get the rest of the words out before Frankie is on you. He surges forward pressing his mouth to yours in a firm kiss before he moves to start peppering tiny little kisses all over your face and neck until you’re bubbling over with laughter as his facial scruff tickles your throat with his frantic movements.

“We’re having a baby?” He asks, eyes welled up with tears as he pushes back from you to stare into yours. He needs to hear you say it, make sure he’s not dreaming this moment. You had a close call together once before, hence the left over pregnancy tests in your bathroom cupboard but nothing came of it. Neither of you expressed disappointment or relief over the false alarm several months back, just kept on with your lives but now it felt different. At least for you. You felt… ready. Excited, even.

“We’re having a baby” you confirm, wide grin across your lips, ecstatic that Frankie is happy with this news.

“Oh my god” he breathes out, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you tightly against his chest so he can bury his nose in your hair. “I'm gonna be a dad?”

“You’re gonna be a great dad” you clarify.

“Oh my god” he breathes out again, pulling you back tightly against him one last time.

“I’m so glad you’re happy about this” you blubber through a few tears, squeezing him back just as tightly. You really weren’t sure how this news would go over, especially given the events of last night and how Frankie currently felt about his position in life but you are incredibly relieved at how happy this news has made him. You weren’t planning this, like at all, but you suppose when you have as much sex as you and Frankie do, no matter how careful you are, it’s bound to happen.

“Of course I'm happy” Frankie murmurs into your shoulder. “I’m so fucking happy” you can feel a few stray tears fall against your skin and you smile, holding him impossibly tighter.

You stay there for several long moments, just letting everything sink in before Frankie speaks and breaks the silence. It’s quiet, muffled into the warmth of your skin as his face stays buried in your neck, but you hear it.

“Will you marry me?”

“What?” You breathe out in shock. You heard him, you know you heard exactly what he said, but… is this really happening?

“Will you-”

“I heard you” you quickly interrupt, gently pulling back from him enough so you can look at each other again. You put both hands on his face, searching for any traces of regret like maybe he just blurted that out because of the endorphins coursing through his body but he looks back at you only with pure love in those giant brown irises of his.

All the same, you need to be sure he’s absolutely sure and not just doing this because he thinks it’s ‘the right thing to do’. You want him to marry you because he wants to marry you, not because of any obligation he might feel. To be honest you’ve been waiting for a while for him to pop the question, you figured you’ve been together long enough, living together even for a while now but it hadn’t happened yet. You try not to feel too over excited that he’s asked you now, in case it’s for the wrong reasons, but you can’t help but feel how your heart practically soared the moment the words fell from his lips.

“And?...” Frankie asks hopefully and you realize it’s been several long seconds without you actually giving him an answer.

“Baby,” You sigh, your gaze glancing down for a moment and you feel his shoulders drop a little, like he’s already anticipating you saying no to him. “I would marry you in a damn heartbeat but… I just don’t want you to ask me now because you think you have to. This is a lot, I just don’t want to put any more pressure on you. I don’t expect you to suddenly feel ready to marry me because of this”

You try desperately to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. If he agrees with you and takes it back you won’t be mad with him but you know your heart will be just a little bit broken.

“Wait right here” he suddenly pipes up, taking your hands and pressing them into your lap before he extracts himself from the bed and runs over to the closet. You watch him closely, not exactly sure what he’s up to as he scavenges around at the top of the closet for a moment, rooting through a box you recognize that holds some of his military achievements that he said he didn’t want to hang up or have on display, a chapter of his life he had closed.

He seems to find what he’s been after and scurries back over to the bed, crawling across it on his knees until he’s back in front of you again and presses a small blue velvet box into your hands. You flip the lid open and a soft gasp leaves your lungs.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to do this” he shrugs. “I bought it weeks ago and I wanted to, you know, plan something big for you and then ask you but, I mean, what’s a bigger moment than this, right?”

Your eyes well up again (happy tears this time) as you stare down at the beautifully crafted diamond engagement ring that sparkles brightly despite the low lighting of your bedroom. The band is a beautiful rose gold, your favourite, and the cut of the diamond and style of the ring is one you’ve been dreaming about since you were a little girl. Clearly Frankie paid attention all those times you happened to pass by a jewelry store together.

“You’ve had this for weeks?” You ask through your tears, still not believing it, your dream actually coming true. Not only was Frankie asking you to marry him, but it was his idea and something he’d decided on long before he knew you were pregnant.

“Yeah I guess I’ll have to call off the marching band and the flash-mob dancers now though” he teases with a smirk. “Unless you want me to take it back and-” he goes to reach for the ring but you snatch the box out of reach, clutching it to your chest.

“Not on your life pal” you playfully threaten.

“Can I at least put it on you then?” he laughs. “That is, if you’re saying yes? Wait, let me…” he trails off and scoots off the bed again only to kneel down on one bent knee beside it. He reaches up and turns you so you’re facing him and a huge dopey smile spreads across your lips as you watch him want to do this at least somewhat properly. If anyone asks later you’ll leave out the part where he’s half naked when he popped the question.

“May I have that back, just for a second?” He asks and you oblige him, handing back the box.

He begins with saying your full name and your heart practically flutters in your chest as you take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure and get through this without being a weeping, blubbering mess.

“Would you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” he asks, slight tremble in his voice from his nerves and all you can do is give him a face splitting smile before you frantically nod your head and yank him up from the floor, crushing your mouth to his.

“Yes I’ll marry you Francisco Morales” you murmur against his lips between hungry kisses. “About damn time” you tease and he laughs at that as well. He knows he probably should have done this sooner but he’d been waiting to save up enough money to get you the perfect ring he knew you deserved.

Frankie regretfully pulls away from your mouth to carefully pull the ring from the box and place it on your finger before he holds both your hands in his and lets out a big sigh of relief.

“You make me so happy” he confesses, leaning down so his forehead rests against yours. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you any reason to doubt that, but you’re the best thing in my life. Best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making sure that you and this little one feel the same way about me”

“I will always feel the same way about you Frankie” you promise, eyes slipping shut as another tear escapes which Frankie gently brushes away with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re sure you’re still gonna love me when I’m even more of a pain in the ass in a few months than I am now?” You ask playfully and Frankie huffs a laugh but nods his head affirmatively.

“We’re locked in now baby” Frankie affirms, gently twisting the ring around your finger. “It’s you and me”

“Plus one” you add, looking down to your tummy and Frankie laughs.

“Plus one” he confirms. “And maybe down the line… more than one?” he asks playfully, moving a little closer and nuzzling into your throat before he begins to plant hot little open-mouthed kisses there. You laugh wholeheartedly, your head tossing backwards. Leave it to Frankie to learn five minutes ago that you’re barely pregnant and already asking you if you want another. You really did love him with all your heart and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier than in this moment.

And it turns out that was the truth, that was your happiest moment, until about seven months later a new one replaces it as you hold your beautiful daughter in your arms for the first time. Frankie is at your side with his forehead resting against yours as a tiny hand clutches around one of his large fingers, the one that happens to have a shiny gold band around it now, and tears flow freely down his cheeks. He’d barely gotten there in time for your unexpectedly two-week-early delivery, but he’d made it. Thankfully he was well enough known around the hospital by this point that they allowed him to land his bird on the helipad on the roof before he jumped out and let his co-pilot take over for him as he rushed inside to find you.

It turned out Frankie had found his calling not long after your little unexpected surprise all those months ago. His reflections on the direction his life was going, coupled with your exciting news of having an addition to your family, gave him the push he needed to have his career together in a way that was both rewarding and challenging to him and after a few months of long days and intense training he was accepted into the local Red Cross chapter’s Search and Rescue Program as a Lead Pilot. He loved his job again. He was proud of what he did and most importantly knew that his family could be proud of him too. It allowed him to give back and to serve his community and country the way he always felt he was meant for, except now he could do it and still be home in time for dinner most nights, not shipping out to god knows where for months at a time as he had done in the service.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Morales” the doctor beamed at the two of you, though neither of you could take your gaze off the tiny bundle in your arms long enough to look back at her. Frankie mumbled a polite ‘thank you’ towards her before pressing a kiss into your temple.

“You did it baby” he murmurs against your skin and you can feel the smile spread across his lips.

“We did it baby” you correct him, turning your head just slightly to press a kiss to the underside of his chin. “We made this beautiful, perfect angel” you sigh, nuzzling back in towards your daughter, inhaling that euphoric ‘new baby smell’ you’d up until now only read about but now completely understood.

“My girls” Frankie sighs, heart swelling with content at how goddamn lucky he got in his life.

“Thank you for loving me” he confesses, lips pressed to your temple.

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @suzdin @iamasaddie @boliv-jenta @chronically-ghosted @vabeachazn @anotherpedrolover @axshadows @pedroshotwifey @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings

[mental-breaker-74]

Imagine: Relationship with Suguru Geto x y/n before dating (Young!Geto – school era Geto) part 1

First time meeting Geto and how Geto falls in love with you

(the second part is out)

Pairing: Suguru Geto x y/n (you)

Genre: fluff, romance

* y/c – your country name

* you are the same age as Geto, Gojo and Shoko

A/N: Hi! This my first time ever writing an imagine in english. I’m also pretty new fan of JJK. Guys, have a wonderful day and even if not perfect I hope your are going to like (even if just a little) this piece! I would love to know your opinion! I’m in the middle of writing the second part - dating! 

- you become student in the first half of the second year. Transferred from other school from (y/c/n)

- getting classes one-on-one at the beginning to easy you to the rules, new school, new people, new teachers and new work ethic

- the real reason behind that? You are a very powerful sorcerer, and they want to ‘’study” closer your power and potential

- it’s true, with your Domain Expansion which is based on the Power of Omnipresence and reality manipulation they believe you can go against one of the most powerful ones (and if needed, the not so obedient ones – looking at Gojo) – of course no one says that out loud

- you are Special Grade Sorcerer

- First time Geto sees you, you are strolling casually through school grounds while listening to music

- from this day on he is going to look for you in the halls, in the crowds… even when he is sitting in the classroom and looking outside the window – with hope to get at least a glimpse of you

- doesn’t speak with Gojo about his attraction to you, but his friend catches on it either way

- like come on, it’s Gojo and thou Geto think he is sneeke about stealing glances at you (the moment you enter his field of view his attention span gets close to 0, and there is just you, your pretty hair, eyes, skin… the list goes on) – he is not as subtle as he thinks he is

- Gojo never asks about it directly, because it’s kind of obvious (low-key bumped because he finds you also attractive, but Geto is his friend and he can’t do that to him, not when Geto looks at you like that – soo intense)

- the first time you are formally introduced to the trio, they are captivated by you instantly – you are just a wonderful person

- you, your partner (with which you usually go on missions with) and the trio, goes to the city to eliminate some curses (by the weeks their numbers have been going up)

- all of you decided to take different parts of the area and meet later in the same place after the work is done

- you finish a little faster than the others thanks to the form of your abilities, and come back to the meeting place

- even tho you are waiting just about 10 minutes, you have already gained attention of few guys who are searching for new models

- you are in the middle of the texting with your partner, when one of them approaches you and starts asking you personal questions, while trying to get you to come with him

- you are politely trying to decline, but the guy is persistent

- and then… there comes your knight in shining armor (some badass flip-flops and baggy pants)

- Geto comes from behind, sneaking his arm around your middle, firmly grasping your hip (the feel of security washes over you in that very moment)

 - ,,There you are princess” – He says and looks at the guy. „Is there a problem?” – He asks with a smile but you can hear the warning below the surface of each word

- the guy stutters, hurriedly apologize and leaves

- such a relief! You don’t like confrontations and Geto showed up just at the right time

- as a thank you, you offer him a coffee before the others show up

- he takes the offer but ends up paying for both of your coffees either way: „ Because you deserve it”

- after that, open about his advances and flirting, even if, once again, no one says it out loud –  he know he likes you, you know he likes you, gojo, shoko everybody who looks at him or have seen the interactions between you two – knows it too

- if you ask, he will probably say „yes, i like you / yes, i like y/n” and keep on treating you the same way

- gentleman, protective, very patient – will wait for you to make it official but treats you already as his

- has that calming and chill aura, it’s easy to relax in his presence

- the same goes for you, you just make all his worries and problems go away

- you ground him, you are his anchor

- easy to talk to

- slight touches, just to feel you but not to makes you uncomfortable – the contact will increase with time

- loves spending time with you – watching movies together in his bed, snacking and napping; going shopping for new clothes, books, CDs/vinyls; getting coffee and some good food; staying in silence and enjoying each other presence while looking at people and taking in everything that surrounds you both

- you guys understand each other without words, one look is all you guys needs to know what the other person feels

- trust, trust, trust

- Geto is a perfect gentleman, but boyyyy he can be a little possessive. He doesn’t like to share – and if Gojo hands linger on your body a little too long? If you make plans with Gojo but without him? The glare Suguru sends in Satoru direction makes his skin crawl. Because Geto knows. Gojo likes you too, and if it wasn’t for Geto he would definitely make a move.

- He is a gentleman but… honestly he can’t stop thinking about you:

How is to hold you? Feels your warmth seeping into his body, his bones and reaching deeply within him – he could spend days just laying with you in his bed, with the weight of your head on his chest.

How is to kiss you?

How is to have you in the most intimate ways?

- thinks… no, he knows you are the most gorgeous, the most beautiful person, the most beautiful thing, the most beautiful view in the world to ever exist – nothing can’t even compare or come close to you.

- the most amazing part of your love (yes, you love each other deeply) is that before everything you guys are friends

[supyovalk]

Just Dance: The Backup Clone Theory(-ies)

So just about now I thought about the Just Dance Story Mode And then I thought about how Jack Rose's Maps (Yes, both maps) and The Travler's solo map are the only story mode maps with some kind of "Clone Backup dancer" And that make me question...

Why? And Why these two specifically?

Like treasure is all about the clones, and even in Locked out of Heaven it's a major deal in the first two houses.

So I came up with two main theories into why is that the case.

THEORY 1: CLONES = EGO

In a universe where dancing is the driving focus, it's easy to assume that the Coach's environment reflects their personality.

And what fit for a dancer with a bit of ego? Clones of Themselves.

Now, It does actually fits really well with the current story.

Case A: "Rock Your Body"

In "Rock Your Body", Traveler does bring an aura of ego to with his expressions and dance. Hell, the song is basically "Hey Babe, Stay with me since my game is the best." And Us One of the Most Powerful People in the dance verses.

Be noted that he doesn't use them in "Save Your Tears". Maybe to imply that he lose his ego the moment he found his one true love Shia Nova?

Case B: "Locked Out of Heaven"

During the First and Second Houses, we see clones of Jack through mirrors, and also in the upper section, he does project himself on the screen. Now calling it to say Jack is has much ego seems like a good move... however, it does seem like those aren't real clones, but rather reflections.

That could Imply that Jack maybe does have Ego as a Performer, as seems on the Reflected outside, and told as he does told that he "has trouble sharing the spotlight" but inside he's reserving that ego. After all from his Epic Avatar, he does want nothing more then a love from friends.

Also more notable is Nightswan popping in the second verses, taking over the mirrors, the physical reflceting. maybe that's an analogy for Nightswan's reshaping Jack's outside personality through her upbringing to fit more to hers? He is the closest in appearance to his Night form from all the five coaches.

Maybe also that's why Nightswan's Weakness strategy didn't work on him, his real weakness is not his ego, but instead could his reliability for adoration, from fans, from his mom, anyone at all, and therefore not having enough self worth.

Speaking of Which...

Case C: "Treasure" (A.K.A Ego Clone Central)

In Treasure, we see an illusion of Jack, a narcissist that has achieved his dreams of glory, full with thousands of clones. And is the first time we see his clones? Them breaking out of the mirrors from "Locked Out of Heaven". That could symbolize that Jack opened his gates of ego into his head and is now only caring of himself.

But interestingly, that didn't seemed to convince Jack at the end of the story, Despite Nightswan specifically trying to target that weakness in him. because that's not what he wants to be on the inside.

Now that's theory 1, deep and intersting. But here's another possible take not as deep but still is consequenceial.

THEORY 2: THE TRAVLER'S IS JACK ROSE'S DAD

Now this one is more straightforward: Since Wanderlust's inherited portal creation but NOT clones, maybe Jack Rose is the opposite.

And as established, The Traveler does get around a lot, both literally and figuratively, so he could have had an affair with Nightswan.

That would make Wanderlust & Jack Stepbrothers (Half brothers) which would explain why they are paired together, and why the JD Team is insistent on not romantically pair them.

That would also make Cygnus' relationship with Nightswan be a business partner who either has a crush on her or is not given enough respect by her.

What do you think about those theories?

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 11

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It's spring when you start your Master's degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: mild angst, mild depressed reader

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

The end of the term arrives, marked only when you turn in your copy of the paper online. You don’t bother to run the edits you made by Gojo, but you’re proud of the final result. Once you’ve submitted the final paper for your Learning Theories class, the term quietly slips away.  

Summer break begins without any of the normal fanfare or excitement. Although you’re glad to have the break from daily classes, the time that’s been spent in years past relaxing and soaking up the sun will be taken up with preparation for the presentation. 

You give yourself a day to unwind and rest, and treat yourself to lunch at your favorite restaurant off campus after the emotional highs and lows of the last couple weeks. It is important to take care of yourself, after all. 

The next day, you create a document to plan the speech. You hope that he might be more active in planning after he’s solidified details for his conference, but after you share the document with Gojo, it seems your relationship with him has all but vanished, dissipated like the afternoon rain evaporating in the summer heat. 

While July usually brings some showers in Tokyo, the first week of your break it feels like the precipitation never stops. 

The soupy hot weather makes you less inclined to spend time outside during the interlude between classes. You do love to visit different parts of the country and take advantage of the wonderful opportunities Tokyo itself has to offer, but you don’t feel quite as motivated to go out and celebrate this year. The gray weather reflects your own mood. 

It doesn’t help matters that your timetable is abruptly blank. Meetings with Gojo and individual research had eaten up a significant amount of time the last few weeks, but you no longer have to fit those in. It would be nice to have more free time with your friends, but Kuzume left for her home after classes ended and you don’t want to monopolize all of Saito’s time. 

You throw yourself into the two remaining distractions you have- completing the outline for your presentation and teaching. 

There’s a considerable amount of pressure to write and give an excellent presentation- your partner is apparently well known in academia, and you’ll be on stage with him. You’d like to hold your head high and deliver your section with just as much confidence and poise as Gojo.  

Sometimes as you filter through the finished paper and write your speech outline, you see his cursor flicker as he makes his own edits in real time. You can nearly picture him flicking the pen over his fingers, scribbling on scrap paper before typing the final version. His outline isn’t half as organized as yours, but you can see the bones come together as he fills in the blanks. You wonder how his conference went, if it gets easier speaking to academic crowds. If you were on better terms maybe you’d ask for some pointers. 

There's a heaviness in your heart when you think about Gojo or see his name on your screen. It feels strange not to see him or talk at all after so much time spent together, and you’re certain some of his light hearted teasing would ease your nerves. 

In an effort to think of topics besides Gojo you let your mind wander between bouts of lesson planning and speech writing.

You’ve grown to love almost every part of living in Japan. You’ve adjusted to the culture, found work and friends, and the reason you even started this Master’s degree is to ensure you can build a future here.  

But even in the world’s most populated city, it’s easy to feel lonely. You miss Kuzume’s bright storytelling and Saito’s easy laughter as you walk to class. The loss of Gojo’s conversations and academically rigorous conversations stings. 

Without your circle of support in Tokyo easily accessible, the absence of your friends and family back home wells and crashes over you in a way you haven’t felt for years. You move through each day mechanically, and it’s easy to wonder if you’ve made the right decision in moving abroad. 

On the dry days sprinkled between the storms, you find yourself mostly content to stay on the university grounds. 

The campus is quiet, the normally bustling library and cafeteria are nearly empty over break, and it’s kind of nice to walk solo through the winding paths. In an effort to spend more time outside your dorm, you take up residence in the library for a couple days, letting the peace of the books and soft conversations of the librarians provide white noise for your work. 

It’s pleasant to be around other people, and you don’t want to completely waste your extra free time, so in the second half of the break, you make an effort to get out more. With renewed vigor, you visit some of your favorite museums in the city and take a day trip to the Kurkku Fields in Chiba Prefecture. 

The gloomy weather and doubts in your mind can’t quench the fire in your heart to prepare your students- current and future. 

In the Eikaiwa school, you converse with your students, learn more about what they’re interested in, and build brand new lesson plans. In the mornings before class, you brainstorm opportunities for your class to practice vocab in fun ways and how they can continue to improve outside of the classroom.

To avoid adding more homework to your students’ already full plates, you offer English books and additional grammar resources to those who want to learn more. Though some days (especially the sunny ones), the students are less focused or engaged, your class rises to the challenges you provide them, and you can hear the improvement in their speaking skills from even a few months ago. 

There’s no longer hesitation or whispered conversations when you give your class freedom to converse, and you can’t help the warmth in your chest when you see you’ve won their trust and attention. 

No matter how else you’re feeling, the pride and fulfillment that comes from your students' success validates that you’ve made the right choice to stay in Japan. 

As the break comes to a close, you are excited to resume classes and even happier to reconnect with your friends.  

When you grab dinner with Kuzume and Saito the weekend before the symposium, there’s a fresh energy and vigor that had been exhausted by the hard work at the end of the first term. The tinkle of glasses and laughter in the vibrant bar mirrors the lively conversation at your small table. 

“It’s gonna be good to have a fresh start. I mean, we’re a quarter of the way done with the degrees already!”

“I have heard the next two classes aren’t as much work as the last two,” you agree. 

The drinks are full, dinner is wonderfully fragrant and delicious, and you’re feeling the brightest you have all break. The rain has held off and in another few short months, you’ll have completed half of the program and be well on your way to teaching more than just English. 

“You know,” Saito says, “I think they put the hardest classes at the beginning to weed out students. And after this term we’ll be able to student teach!” 

“Finally!” Kuzume laughs. “I don’t think I could stand another term reading 30 texts. I want my guitar back in my hand.”

Saito laughs, “I’m not going to miss all those readings either. At least the papers I’ll have to grade will be shorter!”

“It’ll be really nice to teach something else other than English,” you agree. 

You indulge in another round of drinks and the conversation shifts away from school. Kuzume fills you in on how her family in Matsue is doing, and Saito lets your table know she’s started seeing a nice girl who works in the Agricultural and Life Sciences department. 

The hours stretch into the night, and before it gets any later your group decides to head home. 

The night is clear, and the three of you decide to indulge in the warm evening and walk home from the bar. The lights of the city twinkle and flash, bright as stars come to earth, and even this late at night there are plenty of pedestrians whose conversations melt together in the stream of city noise.

You love Tokyo. 

The bright sidewalks aren’t as radiant as your spirits are tonight. Kuzume’s laugh is beaming as Saito describes her father’s latest academic work. Magnets are a notorious difficulty in physics and are apparently causing quite the trouble. She can hardly finish the story before breaking into laughter herself. 

Saito’s apartment off campus comes first on your journey home, with promises of breakfast and another study group this term.

Then you and Kuzume continue home. Your shoulders bump and you laugh and chat about her trip back into the city. The crowds slowly thin as you approach the university, conversation and traffic slowing to a trickle by the time you reach the graduate student dorms. Kuzume lives a couple buildings over, so you walk together to her room first. 

She turns to you and gives you a fond smile. 

“It’ll be a good term. I know it.” 

On the short walk back to your own room, you can’t help but agree. This term will bring cooler weather, less stressful assignments, and the ability to continue developing as a teacher. All things that you can handle and that will help you grow.

[sweetlytempests]

in 2021 can we make an agreement to stop telling disappointed shippers to just multiship or polyship as a means to solve shipping disputes. if i don’t like A + B by themselves, why am I suddenly gonna like it because it’s A + B + C. “B has two hands!!!” yes to hold both of C’s hands, A doesn’t need to be up in here at all, stop it. 

[smelted-applejuice]

His Weakness.

Paring(s); c!Technoblade x Reader Pronouns; she/her Desc; [YourName] has always and will forever be The Blade’s weakness. Here’s their story.  TW; Voices, Pregnancy, threatening of life/animals 

Requests are open!!  -

[YourName] and Technoblade met years prior before Techno was known as a bloodthirsty killer, before the voices decided blood was their calm down cure, [YourName] knew the real Techno. The soft-spoken, nerdy, loving Techno. She was beyond lucky to come across him when they both were younger.

Even if it was a complete accident, she had bumped into Techno while looking for some berries for her mother. [YourName] was seven, Technoblade was seven, it was just faith! She was the only child within her village, so finding someone so close in age made her want to befriend them even more! [YourName] abandoned her basket and rushed over to the child.

Techno was currently watching his father fly around, observing the area to build their ‘forever home’. This would be Technoblade’s third ‘forever home’ that Phil had built for them, but each time Phil has gotten on the wrong side of the wrong person and their house would be in flames. He was tired of moving, the itching feeling in his head was getting ever so slightly worse. He wanted it to stop, but it seemed like there was no time in the world for Philza to care for it, for now, he’ll focus on how his new ‘Forever Home’ would look like. Techno heard rustling in the bushes behind him, so he tore his eyes away from the sky and looked over. A little girl with a messy dress, stained with dirt and gravel, and slightly neat hair had popped out of the bush. “Hello!” The girl greeted Techno glanced around, trying to figure out if she was truly speaking to him, “Hallo..” he replied watching the child approach him with no fear. When people see him, they see Piglin, this child must not know what a piglin is quite yet- but he felt happy. “I like your hair, it's pretty! And your ears are so cool!” [YourName] complemented with a bright smile, Techno blushed and shook his head trying to avoid eye contact. “I uh... I like your.. Dress?” Techno replied he didn’t have a lot of social interaction with other children so he didn’t know exactly how to reply to a child. [YourName] smiled, “Thank you! My momma made it. What are you doing out here? Where are your parents?” she asked inching closer so she could stand next to Techno. Techno shrugged, “My father is flying around, he’s trying to see where to build our next home.” he hummed watching the little girl closely. She cooed, “That’s so cool! He can fly?! He’s a hybrid! That’s cool, that means so are you! What are you? A pig?” [YourName] asked wanting more information on the mysterious child. “Oh, no, I’m a piglin... So you’re close” He mumbled, [YourName] nodded humming slightly before remembering something, “Oh! Oh! My name is [YourName].” she introduced with a bright smile. Technoblade blanked out, making sure he remembered the girl’s name, “My father calls me Technoblade, call me Techno though..” he replied. The girl’s bright smile made him chuckle, just giving his name brightened her mood and that was a new fuzzy feeling placed into his chest. Techno and [YourName] began to mess around within the grassy area and soon Phil had landed. Phil looked around with panic, he was a young father and fathering a seven-year-old, and could barely keep up with both his son and the many bad apples he’s managed to come across. Phil smiled softly, sighing out in relief when he realized Techno was simply being a child. “Techno!” Philza called out making his way over to the two children, “Random child, hello.” Phil greeted getting to the children’s level. [YourName] looked over to Techno who nodded, claiming Philza was safe. “Hi!” [YourName] greeted, “I’m [YourName].” she giggled making Philza nod looking over to his son. “She’s a... Friend.” Techno said, smiling at his words making Philza smile himself. “Well then, it’s getting late, and I saw a village close by- you might want to head back home,” Phil suggested making the little girl whine- she didn’t want to leave her friend! Phil shook his head, “No worries, I’ll make sure you see Techno again, now c’mon.” he hummed to the child offering his hands to the children and returning [YourName] to her home. This time, Philza did his best not to cause trouble this time. Techno seemed to settle fast, faster than Phil has ever seen him do so. It was all because of [YourName], the little girl about a twenty-minute walk away, who made Techno feel like a child and gave him a childhood with happy memories of exploring the woods with a friend. [YourName] and Techno were best friends and it amazed him when he saw how hard Philza was fighting to remain at that home, and he made sure to thank his father for that. Years would go by and Philza had found himself taking in two more children, both were normal humans, who would be named Wilbur Soot and Tomathy, Wilbur and Tommy for short. [YourName] was there for each child, and each time [YourName] was there to comfort Techno. She jokingly told Techno that since he was the only hybrid within the children cluster-- he would be Philza’s favorite. She didn’t know how true her words would end up being. By age fifteen, [YourName] and Techno developed feelings. Now, neither one of them was shy around each other, so they didn’t tip-toe around their feelings for long. They were smart, knew each other’s mannerisms, and most importantly the voices creeping inside of Techno’s head were fond of [YourName]. The itch in his head ended up not being an itch but his thoughts gaining voices of their own, and despite that [YourName] remained around and wanted to help out as much as possible. After returning home for a trip with Philza, he washed up and would wait until morning for [YourName] to stop by for breakfast. Even when he wasn’t here, she would come by and check on Wilbur and Tommy hoping to get them to eat breakfast with her. He waited outside for a few hours before [YourName] had come from down the hell a soft chuckle. “Techno!” [YourName] squealed with joy. Techno looked up from his scarred hands and cracked a smirk, “Oh I missed you!” the girl said placing her breakfast basket down and bringing him in for a hug. Techno and [YourName] chuckled, squeezing each other in a hug. They stayed there for longer now, Philza had taken Techno out for longer than usual and it had affected both teenagers. [YourName] sighed in content and pulled away from Techno, but gently moved her hands over to cup his face. “I was worried this time..” [YourName] whispered softly, “You’re always worried,” Techno remarked, making the female simply giggle, “No, I know, but this time I was up late many nights, scared for you..” she explained deeper. Techno closed his eyes, a quiet happy grunt as he enjoyed their closeness. He placed a hand on top of her’s and nodded, “I get it, it’s alright, I’m home now.” he whispered, making [YourName] smile. “Forever?” She asked, “I won’t stay home forever, but I’ll definitely be with you forever.” he remarked in the same tone as prior. [YourName] placed her forehead against his own, kissing his lips finally sealing the deal that they knew was bound to happen. They never bounced around their feelings and even spoke about having a romantic relationship a few weeks prior, Technoblade just didn’t know him leaving would make [YourName] act. It would take a few months for [YourName] and Techno to come clean to both of their families. The first one to hear the news would be Techno’s family, and it was pretty natural. You had ended up staying the weekend, soaking in as much time as you could get with Techno before he would leave again with Philza. Tommy and Wilbur were watching from the kitchen as you two interacted in front of the fry, “Are you two dating?” Tommy asked bluntly, making Wilbur slap his shoulder roughly. “It’s a valid question! But Tommy, you can’t just ask people if they’re dating each other!” Wilbur scolded, Techno and [YourName] shared a look and just nodded, “Well, yeah, we have for a while. And even if we weren’t what makes you think we were?” Techno asked, deadpanning on his brother. [YourName] and Wilbur would sit back and chat while Tommy ran away from Techno for the rest of the afternoon. When your family found out, it was less of a brightly lit scene. It was dull and grey. [YourName] had accidentally let it slip that Techno, whom her parents had never met, was a hybrid one day. “Well, sweetie, what hybrid is he?” Her mother questioned curiously, [YourName] chuckled slightly and shook her head “What? Hybrid? Nah..” she said, panicked slightly. Her father shook his head, “We know how you act, darling, stop lying and go ahead and tell us more about his hybrid.” he said sternly. If they were to find out she was lying, she’d get her ass handed to her hard. “Well... He’s half Piglin..” [YourName] confessed and it seemed like everything dropped and shattered into pieces right there. [YourName] was told she wasn’t allowed to leave the house without one of them and she snapped, “I just turned sixteen! You can’t keep controlling me like this, Techno and I are happy together and we’ve been friends for years now. You’re stuck in your shit thinking, I’m going to go visit him.” she yelled, grabbing her coat and leaving. [YourName] would end up staying with Techno and his family for a few weeks before her parents would come looking for her. Well, they had been looking for her but they never knew where Techno lived. So when she opened the door she closed it only for her father’s foot to stop it from closing, “What do you want?” she asked squinting toward her parents. Her mother and father shared a look before sighing, but before they could speak Techno came down to see who was at the door. Then n’ there [YourName]’s parents and Techno met for the first time, and he was nothing her parents had thought Techno would look like. After a long conversation, [YourName] had forgiven her parents for acting the way they had but explained how she established a living while staying with Techno by taking care of his brothers, so she would remain living with him. A few years later, a few months before Tommy and Wilbur would recruit Techno for Pogtopia, [YourName] and Techno would finally wed. After about five years of being together, four months of being engaged, they decided to tie the knot and finally bind their souls together for life. They knew they were meant to be, they have been through too much together not to end up as soulmates. The only attendees were Philza and [YourName]’s parents, it was a small wedding and right afterward Techno and [YourName] disappeared once more. They would only reappear when Tommy ran into [YourName] at a village trading with someone, “[YourName]?” Tommy asked in shock. [YourName] quickly glanced over and smiled before waving, “Hallo Tommy.” she hummed, Tommy groaned “God you’ve been around Techno for too long!” he complained, “Well, married him for a reason, Tommy.” she remarked back. “MARRIED?! TECHNO MARRIED A WOMAN?!” Tommy asked as if it was overly shocking news, “Tommy, Techno, and I have been together for years, it’s not shocking.” she huffed. She began making her way back to the house she and Techno were occupying, in front were two horses peacefully munching on hay, “Techno! Found a kid!” she yelled through the relatively empty house. Techno came down the steps rubbing sleep from his eyes and that’s when he realized the child [YourName] had found was Tommy and he was about to turn back around. Tommy stopped him and that’s when he asked for help to get L’manberg back. Techno had nothing better to do, so he accepted. [YourName] was more hesitant, but wanted to trust her husband. They shared similar beliefs, their dislike for governments, but often butted heads on the whole orphan thing- but each relationship has its flaws. Months spent helping Wilbur and Tommy out, meeting and trying to make Tubbo less obvious that he was helping the other side of history. When Techno and [YourName] got an invite to the L’manberg festival, Techno was dead set on going but wanted his wife to stay behind; “I believe this is a trap.” Techno said placing the paper down. [YourName] crawled over to him and sat behind Techno on their shared bed, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sighed, “More reasons for me to go” she whispered. “No, if it’s a trap, I don’t want you there..” Techno said even more seriously than usual, [YourName] hummed and nodded “As you wish, darling..” she whispered, kissing his cheek. Techno was right, it was a trap, he was forced to murder Tubbo in front of a crowd of L’manberg- now known as Manberg- citizens. After killing Tubbo under peer pressure, he fled and wouldn’t be seen for hours. [YourName] was beyond pissed at Tommy for being angry, “It was a canon life, [YourName]!” he defended “And you know how your brother reacts under peer pressure, you shouldn’t have promised Tubbo that Techno wouldn’t pull the fucking trigger!” [YourName] said in an angry tone. When they heard footsteps, they quieted down, fear for who might be roaming around Pogtopia. They relaxed when they noticed it was just a Technoblade covered in blood, while Tommy tensed up and left [YourName] rushed over to examine her husband while he changed clothing. A war would be brought onto Manberg and Pogtopia, which [YourName] participated in next to her husband. She defended his every move, summoning three-headed beasts with him, and causing chaos on the land that was promised to them to become government-free. They didn’t care about the aftermath, L’manberg made a promise to Technoblade and his wife and they didn’t follow through, so now they must suffer the consequences. Between two people who have the same mindset and would be there for each other in a heartbeat versus government-loving mindless children- they knew they had the upper hand. So they caused their chaos and left. Decided to finally settle down, Technoblade wanted to retire- even if it was temporary. So with the help of Philza, [YourName] and Techno moved their belongings to a nice cozy cottage built in a snowy biome. The home was nice and in the end, [YourName] and Technoblade finally felt complete. They had their pets, they had the enderman named Edward, and the bee farm which kept the voices at bay and [YourName] busy. She was the one to calm him down when Techno would become randomly bloodthirsty, just her voice made him sleepy and the way she would hum and run her fingers through his hair really was the icing on top of the cake. A few weeks into setting a schedule, [YourName] began to act weird, craving things, missed period, morning sickness, Techno and [YourName] didn’t need a doctor to tell them that she was pregnant. While she and Techno were processing the news of this event, Tommy was making a nice home underneath the couple who were recovering from the shock. “I- I want you to keep it, [YourName], is that alright?” Techno asked holding her hands slowly interlocking their fingers together, [YourName] smiled softly and nodded tearing up “I would love to, Techno” she said quietly trying to refuse the shake in her voice that became evident anyways. [YourName] and Techno would quietly celebrate [YourName]’s seven-month mark right before the Butcher Army would make an appearance. [YourName] was confused when Philiza had sent the emergency message their way, and the panic she would feel didn’t help Technoblade’s panic. [YourName] was doing her best to scramble around, trying to help her husband relax but all it did was make him more on edge “You need to sit down! N-No! You need to hide, they can’t find you-” he said running around and trying a place to hide his obviously pregnant wife. “I still don’t fully understand what’s happening, Techno!” [YourName] complained about assisting with brewing potions. “Stop! Stop!” Techno said rushing over and trying to force [YourName] up the steps but it would be too late, Ghostbur- who had stopped by moments before- had led the Butcher Army to the house. Techno was gentle but rushed outside and would begin trying to talk it out rather than fighting, he was doing so good with not doing bloodshed, he was retired and prepping for a child. He didn’t want to fail his wife and future baby now. But when worse comes to worst, he did what he had to do. While Tubbo and Ranboo kept Techno busy, Fundy and Quackity ripped through the house and found his pregnant wife. Quackity smirked while Fundy seemed more hesitant, but still dragged her outside. The huffs and whining from her were enough for Techno to look over and he was pissed, “LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!” Techno yelled, finally pushing Tubbo and Ranboo off enough. Everything came crashing onto [YourName] at once and she’d begin to cry and begged for this to be over. Between [YourName] and Techno’s horse begging for his wife to be let go, Quakcity groaned. “FINE! Fine, she’ll be set free, but if she dares make a move to help you.” Quackity said leaning into [YourName]’s ear closely “You’re going to get it too, I don’t care if you’re pregnant.” he said making her flinch. Techno held back from fighting, he was already pushing it by begging for his wife to be let go. He was given a moment with her before he had to go to L’manberg for a trial. Techno placed a hand on top of [YourName]’s stomach, softly kissing her forehead, “I love you, [YourName]. I’ll see you later, I promise.” he whispered nuzzling his nose into her hair. [YourName] nodded, wiping her tears with her sleeve as she watched Techno get forced away and toward L’manberg. When Techno discovered Tommy was living underneath his house, [YourName] was napping and would wake her up. Now, [YourName] was now hitting thirty weeks into her pregnancy and as mentioned before would be showing, so when she came down the steps to her sixteen-year-old brother-in-law and her twenty-one-year-old husband arguing she wasn’t shocked when Tommy hit her with the “WOMAN YOU’RE LOOKING RATHER FAT!”. Techno whacked him across the head while [YourName] held back some laughter, “Tommy, I’m not fat, I’m pregnant.” she explained pinching her husband’s clothing to tell him to relax. “Pregnant? Like Techno’s baby?” Tommy asked calming down, now he had to process the information while Techno went on a tangent of rules and to-do list while Tommy remained under their roof in secrecy. Apparently he was exiled, but [YourName] was too busy trying to focus on herself to realize that- and she felt bad, but she wasn’t going to cry about it for too long. After Tommy was exiled, he spent weeks under the green gremlin’s hold until recently realizing the flaws in Dream’s logic, so Tommy ran from exile and found himself in their basement. Somehow that last part seemed far-fetched but [YourName] was too tired to dwell on it for long. It would be another few weeks before Dream would make a surprise visit to check out the new house. [YourName] was sitting close to Tommy, just in case Tommy wanted to troll around and open the box. Dream looked around and nodded, making conversation with Dream about Tommy’s escape from exile which he acted shocked about. The topic of the conversation shifted when Dream realized [YourName] was housing a child, “Oh, you never mentioned anything about becoming a father.” Dream said walking up the steps. There stood [YourName] with a plate of food trying to cover up Tommy’s eating noises, she flustered, almost nine months pregnant and smiling softly. “Ah no, we just haven’t really told anyone, I don’t think Philza knew until recently..” [YourName] explains lying slightly loudly and harshly placing the plate down on the box Tommy was in to shut him up, “Oh, so a slight secretive thing?” Dream asked “Yes. Please keep it that way.” Techno said. Dream hummed, finishing up his visit and leaving. In the weeks after that meeting, [YourName] would go into labor. So Techno was hesitant, but he left his wife with Tommy while he rushed out to find a doctor. [YourName] was leaning against the wall, trying to breathe and ignore the random pain she’d feel now and then, “What’s wrong now?” Tommy asked hesitantly. “WHAT DO YOU THINK!?” [YourName] snapped but then paused, she whined “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just in so much pain.” [YourName] explained softly. Tommy was actually truly helpful, without him around [YourName] wouldn’t have been able to get to a bed and lay down for a bit until Techno and a doctor had made it to the home. The doctor would monitor [YourName] for a few hours before active labor would begin and that’s when chaos had started. [YourName] would be pushing and waiting for their child to be welcomed into the world, Technoblade right there next to her for it all. Tommy walked in once, covered his eyes, and never once entered that room until he was welcomed in. [YourName] would finally give birth to a baby girl, healthy as ever, in the early hours of the morning. It was snowing, the room was perfectly lit, and after she was cleaned off and checked on, the doctor held the baby to its mother and father. [YourName] softly smiled through her tears as she let the baby eat, leaning her forehead against Techno’s who placed a hand against the baby’s head. The two, now freshly three, shared a moment as the child ate peacefully. After she ate, Techno was given the chance to do skin-to-skin, and since it was getting brighter out, her features showed more. The little one had Techno’s pink hair and little piglin features, but when she opened her eyes she had her mother's sparkling (EyeColor) eyes. [YourName] softly laughed, easing herself into sleep, as she watched Techno walk around the room and show the sleeping baby wrapped in his cape different photos within the room. She couldn’t help but smile, listening to the quiet conversation he was having with his daughter. “And that’s your grandfather..” Techno whispered leaning his daughter’s head to his lips, “We’re glad you’re here, Aurelia..” he added in the same tone as before kissing his daughter. His weaknesses. 

[dreamteamspace]

They really went there huh

/rp (good lord I rly hyperfixated on this essay huh)

torture tw, abuse tw, manipulation tw, gaslighting tw

So the Dream SMP built a character, once maybe morally gray, who slipped straight into villany with little to no desire to change, and willing to cause a LOT of pain to get his way. Despite this, he doesn’t question what he does enough to stop, justifying his actions with a good intent that doesn’t come close to justifying what he’s done.

C!Dream is unremorseful of what he’s done, he’s quite literally manipulated and gaslit (like actually, not in the way everyone keeps throwing the word around) c!Tommy, almost drove him to take his last life- like, jesus christ. That’s not even to mention blowing up L’Manburg three times, encouraging c!Wilbur, wanting the discs JUST to have power over c!Tommy, etc.

SO, he gets thrown in a box for it so he doesn’t hurt anybody anymore, making his own hubris his downfall (narrative consequence my beloved). This leads us to a good finale - the bad guy, the person who’s caused objectively the most pain and destruction, is now unable to do so anymore, taken down by the person whom he tried to weaken. It is also revealed he was planning on blackmailing and threatening pretty much everyone, but now everyone gets their stuff back.

Good, right?

Especially for the finale, yeah! The message of the finale is good, c!Tommy manages to escape his abuser with nothing more but his clothes on his back and fights his way back to c!Tubbo and his home.

He doesn’t let his trauma (which is still very present!) let him become a terrible person (arguably the way that c!Dream DID let his frustrations make him a terrible person, c!Tommy, despite bearing quite a heavy weight, recognizes when he begins to turn that way and actively works against it).

It shows that while alone, c!Tubbo and c!Tommy were outfought by Dream, but because c!Tommy went the length to ask for help (which he didn’t even really seem to be relying on actually showing up), he wins! It truly is a good message.

C!Tommy escapes his abuser and manipulator, refuses and fights his trauma to not become someone he doesn’t want to be, and defeats his abuser by asking for help and receiving it, even more than he thought he’d get. He refuses to play c!Dream’s “game”, refuses till the very last moment to let c!Tubbo die, to surrender and say goodbye to him.

So, great! Good finale! C!Dream The Villain is boxed like a fish in a prison of, quite literally, his own making. It sent a good message to people. C!Tommy wasn’t expected to forgive him and did, in fact, axe him down twice, causing c!Dream to finally fall from his high horse.

Most media would stop at this point, say the villain is now defeated and never show them again, or have them come back another one or two seasons later, escaped and seemingly unharmed and worse than ever.

Alternatively, there’s a throwaway line, (or, in good media, a genuine, reasonable backstory, complete with remorse and bad role models and complicated situations), that allows the villain to be redeemed.

In GOOD redemption arcs (See: Zuko from avatar tbh), the villain was already never quite as heartless, or stressed their good intent, or felt remorse for what they felt they “had to do”. Then, ideally, the villain takes a looooong time adjusting their habits, regretting their actions and changing until they’re considered redeemed.

Not on the Dream SMP, though.

They don’t stop at c!Dream’s defeat.

He doesn’t dissapear off-screen and is never spoken of again. His life continues on, everyone’s does, just like it would in reality. He doesn’t magically want to become a better person, far from it. So no redemption. But he doesn’t dissapear, either.

They go on to, slowly, stress how awful the conditions in Pandora’s Vault are. c!Bad says c!Dream should be imprisoned, but at least at slightly better conditions. We’re in very VERY morally gray territorry here. Nobody says c!Dream is a good person, of course not, but even c!Bad - who knows Dream was planning on keeping c!Skeppy in a cage to control him with - goes, “yeah, he should stay boxed, but does he really need to like... suffer suffer?”

Still, c!Dream seems to be kindof inconsistent in his behavior. Is he faking his pain? Is he not? His actions don’t fully make sense for either take. He acts differently to each person, but at the same time some things he does don’t make sense if he were just fishing for pity.

Then c!Sam admits to trying (and thinking he succeeded) to “break Dream’s will”, to quite literally starving him for weeks.

Okay, so now we’re a step further. C!Dream is now suffering even more, although already boxed and unable to hurt anyone. Pandora’s Vault is one thing, but now c!Sam just seems to be out for revenge and nothing more. Instead of spending his time with c!Tommy, he spends his time pickaxing(?) c!Dream.

C!Sam isn’t an angel, and we should all know that by now. He does what he thinks is right, but he’s deeper than that, all characters on the DSMP are.

He cares deeply for the Badlands, and would always choose them above anybody else. He’s a capitalist. He built the prison because it would benefit the Badlands resource-wise, despite knowing Dream would probably use it on his enemies, and it was no secret that ALL members of L’Manburg, especially c!Tommy, are his enemies. C!Sam, undoubtedly, knew that. He still built it.

Arguably, he didn’t know about c!Dream’s attachment obsession at the time, but the point still stands.

People have already latched onto the untold story happening between c!Dream and c!Sam, and frankly, we barely know enough about it. Does c!Sam torture him regularly? Do they talk? Does c!Dream try to verbally fight back? CAN he fight back? We don’t know! We’ve gotten proof for both, between c!Sam saying that c!Dream is terrifying even in prison and c!Dream going silent to go on strike. We don’t have enough of an idea how bad or how good it truly is.

So the people who prefer to humanize c!Dream and explore morality imagine c!Sam to downright torture him, people that prefer to see c!Dream as nothing but evil due to his actions imagine prison on the DSMP to not be equivalent to real life prison, and thus nowhere near as torturous as people are making it out to be.

Now all that is thrown out the window as c!Quackity quite literally tortures him.

So now the internet is faced with a question that, judging by some of the impulsive reactions *cough cough* celebrating torture *cough*, it didn’t turn out to be ready for.

Tell me.

How far do we go?

C!Dream hurt a LOT of people. He did a lot of things that caused irreparable damage. Now what? Do we torture him forever? Why? Because he deserves it? How do we determine that without comparing one kind of pain to another?

It’s custom and kindof generally respectful not to compare people’s pain too accurately, because different things vary greatly in severity depending on the person that experiences them.

At what point do we say he’s suffered enough without comparing exile to the prison?

And if we DO compare, does that even make the question easier to answer?

And if he’s never suffered enough ever, killing them would be a mercy...

At what point has a person done enough damage that they “deserve” to die? What if someone only did half of the things c!Dream did. But if c!Dream gets infinite punishment, and half of infinity is still infinity, do they ALSO deserve endless suffering?

Do you think every person that did something you can’t emphasize with deserves to suffer for eternity and die?

I’m not saying we SHOULD emphasize with c!Dream. He did things we cannot justify, that NOTHING can justify. He did things that were, by their nature, unjustified.

I’m also not saying anybody should forgive him. I think it’s a GOOD thing that c!Tommy doesn’t want nor is narratively pushed to forgive c!Dream.

But c!Dream doesn’t need c!Tommy’s forgiveness to be... a person.

There’s a saying that I’m sure you know, that goes “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”, because there’s things you wouldn’t want any human being to experience. Not because you like them, not cause you think they’re right, but because they’re human.

And perhaps this is my personal opinion, but I don’t think c!Dream being a bad person justifies dehumanizing him, because then we get into an area where someone needs to meet criteria just to be human.

-

I met someone once, whom, because of outside circumstances I knew I probably wouldn’t meet again. We’d been getting along just fine for people who just met, and were both getting into an interesting discussion about morality. They kept insisting upon something I kept refuting, so they said they needed to get something off their chest.

They proceeded to tell me that they had, years ago, while a teen, manipulated someone in a relationship, pushed boundaries and tried to convince them to do things they didn’t really want to do to get what they wanted.

They cried, while telling me, too terrified to tell anybody they know, terrified nobody would ever speak to them again, insanely regretful of their actions. They didn’t know whether to go back and apologize or just stay as far away as humanly possible, didn’t know which one the right thing to do is.

It had been years, by then, and I talked them through it. I said that what they did was bad, and there’s no going around that. But I also said what I saw, which is someone who would never do something like that ever again. I saw a human being. Someone who regrets a mistake they did and now, after enough time has passed, would do anything to make it undone.

Someone who is too terrified to be close to anybody in fear that they would do it again. I don’t remember if they already went to therapy or not, but it was definitly on the table, or in the near future.

They asked me how I could possibly even keep talking to them after they told me all that. They implied they felt like some kind of monster despite literally chocking back tears, firmly convinced they don’t deserve to be close to anybody in their life ever again.

I never swerved from the fact that what they did was wrong, and harmful. But I also told them they’re human. The universe isn’t keeping score. They want to be a better person now, and they were never going to learn how if they never let themselves be close to anybody.

I told them to seek therapy, and to slowly, carefully, try. Assured them that the fact that they regret it so strongly will at least help them in not falling back into the same pattern, and if they do, they can learn to recognize that.

They thanked me after the conversation, genuinely, especially for the fact that I didn’t sugarcoat what happened, because I know otherwise it would’ve felt like I was lying, like I was just sparing their feelings. I wasn’t. I was thinking about how to make sure they get to live without hurting anybody.

As per the circumstances, we didn’t speak again after that, which we knew basicly from the very start.

-

I still think about that conversation a lot.

Do you think they should’ve been locked up for life after it happened, instead?

Do you think this real human being, that I spoke to, that took years to realize their mistake - and never would have realized it if they hadn’t had the time to, if they’d been killed right afterwards - deserves to suffer forever?

Let me tell you something, from someone who’s been in more than one abusive situation: People that hurt you are human.

That doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. That doesn’t mean you have to like them. That doesn’t mean you have to make an effort to understand them. That doesn’t mean you need to go anywhere near them ever again.

You can hate them. You can be angry at them. You can (and should) go as far away from them as possible, and/or defend yourself.

But that doesn’t mean you have to dehumanize them.

You’re allowed to hate and dislike people that are human, because you’re human, especially if they hurt you. That’s how life is.

And to go back to my original point - c!Quackity torturing c!Dream is not something that should be celebrated.

There’s a difference between necessary measures (locking c!Dream up so he doesn’t hurt anyone), and torturing people for fun.

It’s not right. It’s never going to be right, and do not justify literal torture on human beings, and do not make someone lower-than-human to justify torturing them.

Taking revenge on someone for what they did tenfold is romanticized, I know, but I promise you it’s not actually as cool as it sounds.

[potteresque-ire]

Can you talk more about the usage of the word "wife" to talk about men in the BL context? I've noticed it in BJYX (particularly with GG), in the (English translations) of MDZS, and then it came up in your recent posts about Danmei-101 (which were super helpful btw) with articles connecting the "little fresh meat" type to fans calling an actor "wife." My initial reaction as a westerner is like "this is very problematic," but I think I'm missing a lot of language/cultural context. Any thoughts?

Hello! First of all, for those who’re interested, here’s a link to the referred posts. Under the cut is arguably the 4th post of the series. As usual, I apologise for the length!

(Topics: seme and uke; more about “leftover women”; roster of feminisation terms; Daji, Bao Si & the origin of BJYX; roster of beautiful, ancient Chinese men; Chairman Mao (not part of the roster) ...)

[TW: feminisation of men]

In the traditional BL characterisation, the M/M (double male) lead pairing is essentially a cis-het relationship in disguise, in which one of the M leads is viewed as the “wife” by the creator and audience. This lead often possesses some of the features of the traditional, stereotypical female, but retaining his male appearance. 

In BL terms, the “wife” is the “uke”. “Seme” and “uke” are the respective roles taken by the two male leads, and designated by the creator of the material. Literally, “seme” (攻め) means the dominant, the attacking / aggressive partner in the relationship and “uke” (受け), the passive / recipient (of actions) partner who tends to follow the seme’s lead. The terms themselves do not have any sexual / gender context.  However, as male and female are viewed as aggressive and passive by their traditional social roles, and the attacker and recipient by their traditional sexual roles respectively, BL fandoms have long assigned uke, the passive, sexual “bottom”, as the “woman”, the “wife”. 

Danmei has kept this “semi” and uke” tradition from BL, taking the kanji of the Japanese terms for designation ~ 攻 (”attack” is therefore the “husband”, and 受 (”receive”), the “wife”. The designations are often specified in the introduction / summary of Danmei works as warning / enticement. For MDZS, for example, MXTX wrote:

高貴冷豔悶騷 攻 × 邪魅狂狷風騷 受

高貴冷豔悶騷 攻 = noble, coolly beautiful and boring seme (referring to LWJ)  邪魅狂狷風騷 受 = devilishly charming, wild, and flirty uke (referring to WWX) 

The traditional, stereotypical female traits given to the “uke”, the “wife” in Danmei and their associated fanworks range from their personality to behaviour to even biological functions. Those who have read the sex scenes in MDZS may be aware of their lack of mention of lube, while WWX was written as getting (very) wet from fluids from his colon (腸道) ~ implying that his colon, much like a vagina, was supplying the necessarily lubrication for sex. This is obviously biologically inaccurate; however, Danmei is exempt from having to be realistic by its original Tanbi definition. The genre’s primary audience is cishet females, and sex scenes such as this one aren’t aiming for realism. Rather, the primary goal of these sex scenes is to generate fantasy, and the purpose of the biologically female functions in one of the leads (WWX) is to ease the readers into imagining themselves as the one engaging in the sex.

Indeed, these practices of assigning as males and female the M/M sexual top and bottom, of emphasising of who is the top and who is the bottom, have been falling out of favour in Western slash fandoms ~ I joined fandom about 15 years ago, and top and bottom designations in slash pairings (and fights about them) were much more common than it is now.  The generally more open, more progressive environments in which Western fandomers are immersed in probably have something to do with it: they transfer their RL knowledge, their views on biology, on different social into their fandom works and discourses. 

I’d venture to say this: in the English-speaking fandoms, fandom values and mainstream values are converging. “Cancel culture” reflects an attempt to enforce RL values in the fictional worlds in fandom. Fandom culture is slowly, but surely, leaving its subculture status and becoming part of mainstream culture. 

I’d hesitate to call c-Danmei fandoms backward compared to Western slash for this reason. There’s little hope for Danmei to converge with China’s mainstream culture in the short term ~ the necessity of replacing Danmei with Dangai in visual media already reflects that. Danmei is and will likely remain subculture in the foreseeable future, and subcultures, at heart, are protests against the mainstream. Unless China and the West define “mainstream” very similarly (and they don’t), it is difficult to compare the “progressiveness”—and its dark side, the “problematic-ness”—of the protests, which are shaped by what they’re protesting against. The “shaper” in this scenario, the mainstream values and culture, are also far more forceful under China’s authoritarian government than they are in the free(-er) world. 

Danmei, therefore, necessarily takes on a different form in China than BL or slash outside China. As a creative pursuit, it serves to fulfil psychological needs that are reflective of its surrounding culture and sociopolitical environment. The genre’s “problematic” / out of place aspects in the eyes of Western fandoms are therefore, like all other aspects of the genre, tailor-made by its millions of fans to be comforting / cathartic for the unique culture and sociopolitical background it and they find themselves in. 

I briefly detoured to talk about the Chinese government’s campaign to pressure young, educated Chinese women into matrimony and motherhood in the post for this reason, as it is an example of how, despite Western fandoms’ progressiveness, they may be inadequate, distant for c-Danmei fans. Again, this article is a short and a ... morbidly-entertaining read on what has been said about China’s “leftover women” (剩女) — women who are unmarried and over 27-years-old). I talked about it, because “Women should enter marriage and parenthood in their late 20s” may no longer a mainstream value in many Western societies, but where it still is, it exerts a strong influence on how women view romance, and by extension, how they interact with romantic fiction, including Danmei.

In China, this influence is made even stronger by the fact that Chinese tradition  places a strong emphasis on education and holds a conservative attitude towards romance and sex. Dating while studying therefore remains discouraged in many Chinese families. University-educated Chinese women therefore have an extremely short time frame — between graduation (~23 years old) and their 27th birthday — to find “the right one” and get married, before they are labelled as “leftovers” and deemed undesirable. (Saving) face being an important aspect in Chinese culture introduces yet another layer of pressure: traditionally, women who don’t get married by the age agreed by social norms have been viewed as failures of upbringing, in that the unmarried women’s parents not having taught/trained their daughters well. Filial, unmarried women therefore try to get married “on time” just to avoid bringing shame to their family.

The outcome is this: despite the strong women characters we may see in Chinese visual media, many young Chinese women nowadays do not expect themselves to be able to marry for love. Below, I offer a “book jacket summary” of a popular internet novel in China, which shows how the associated despair also affects cis-het fictional romance. Book reviews praise this novel for being “boring”: the man and woman leads are both common working class people, the “you-and-I”’s; the mundaneness of them trying build their careers and their love life is lit by one shining light: he loves her and she loves him. 

Written in her POV, this summary reflects, perhaps, the disquiet felt by many contemporary Chinese women university graduates:

曾經以為，自己這輩子都等不到了—— 世界這麼大，我又走得這麼慢，要是遇不到良人要怎麼辦？早過了「全球三十幾億男人，中國七億男人，天涯何處無芳草」的猖狂歲月，越來越清楚，循規蹈矩的生活中，我們能熟悉進而深交的異性實在太有限了，有限到我都做好了「接受他人的牽線，找個適合的男人慢慢煨熟，再平淡無奇地進入婚姻」的準備，卻在生命意外的拐彎處迎來自己的另一半。

I once thought, my wait will never come to fruition for the rest of my life — the world is so big, I’m so slow in treading it, what if I’ll never meet the one? I’ve long passed the wild days of thinking “3 billion men exist on Earth, 0.7 of which are Chinese. There is plenty more fish in the sea.” I’m seeing, with increasing clarity, that in our disciplined lives, the number of opposite-sex we can get to know, and get to know well, is so limited. It’s so limited that I’m prepared to accept someone’s matchmaking, find a suitable man and slowly, slowly, warm up to him, and then, to enter marriage with without excitement, without wonder. But then, an accidental turn in my life welcomes in my other half.

— Oath of Love (餘生，請多指教) (Yes, this is the novel Gg’d upcoming drama is based on.) 

Heteronormativity is, of course, very real in China. However, that hasn’t exempted Chinese women, even its large cis-het population, from having their freedom to pursue their true love taken away from them. Even for cis-het relationships, being able to marry for love has become a fantasy —a fantasy scorned by the state. Remember this quote from Article O3 in the original post? 

耽改故事大多远离现实，有些年轻受众却将其与生活混为一谈，产生不以结婚和繁衍为目的才是真爱之类的偏颇认知。

Most Dangai stories are far removed from reality; some young audience nonetheless mix them up with real life, develop biased understanding such as “only love that doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations is true love”. 

I didn’t focus on it in the previous posts, in an effort to keep the discussion on topic. But why did the op-ed piece pick this as an example of fantasy-that-shouldn’t-be-mixed-up-with-real-life, in the middle of a discussion about perceived femininity of men that actually has little to do with matrimony and reproduction? 

Because the whole point behind the state’s “leftover women” campaign is precisely to get women to treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations, not beautiful sceneries that happen along the way. And they’re the state’s destination as more children = higher birth rate that leads to higher future productivity. The article is therefore calling out Danmei for challenging this “mainstream value”.

Therefore, while the statement True love doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations may be trite for many of us while it may be a point few, if any, English-speaking fandoms may pay attention to, to the mainstream culture Danmei lives in, to the mainstream values dictated by the state, it is borderline subversive.

As much as Danmei may appear “tame” for its emphasis on beauty and romance, for it to have stood for so long, so firmly against China’s (very) forceful mainstream culture, the genre is also fundamentally rebellious.  Remember: Danmei has little hope of converging with China’s mainstream unless it “sells its soul” and removes its homoerotic elements. 

With rebelliousness, too, comes a bit of tongue-in-cheek.

And so, when c-Danmei fans, most of whom being cishet women who interact with the genre by its traditional BL definition, call one of the leads 老婆 (wife), it can and often take on a different flavour. As said before, it can be less about feminizing the lead than about identifying with the lead. The nickname 老婆 (wife) can be less about being disrespectful and more about humorously expressing an aspiration—the aspiration to have a husband who truly loves them, who they do want to get married and have babies with but out of freedom and not obligation.

Admittedly, I had been confused, and bothered by these “can-be”s myself. Just because there are alternate reasons for the feminisation to happen doesn’t mean the feminisation itself is excusable. But why the feminisation of M/M leads doesn’t sound as awful to me in Chinese as in English? How can calling a self-identified man 老婆 (wife) get away with not sounding being predominantly disrespectful to my ears, when I would’ve frowned at the same thing said in my vicinity in English?

I had an old hypothesis: when I was little, it was common to hear people calling acquaintances in Chinese by their unflattering traits:  “Deaf-Eared Chan” (Mr Chan, who’s deaf), “Fat Old Woman Lan” (Ah-Lan, who’s an overweight woman) etc—and the acquaintances were perfectly at ease with such identifications, even introducing themselves to strangers that way. Comparatively speaking then, 老婆 (wife) is harmless, even endearing. 

老婆, which literally means “old old-lady” (implying wife = the woman one gets old with), first became popularised as a colloquial, casual way of calling “wife” in Hong Kong and its Cantonese dialect, despite the term itself being about 1,500 years old. As older generations of Chinese were usually very shy about talking about their love lives, those who couldn’t help themselves and regularly spoke of their 老婆 tended to be those who loved their wives in my memory. 老婆, as a term, probably became endearing to me that way. 

Maybe this is why the feminisation of M/M leads didn’t sound so bad to me?

This hypothesis was inadequate, however. This custom of identifying people by their (unflattering) traits has been diminishing in Hong Kong and China, for similar reasons it has been considered inappropriate in the West.

Also, 老婆 (wife) is not the only term used for / associated with feminisation. I’ve tried to limit the discussion to Danmei, the fictional genre; now, I’ll jump to its associated RPS genre, and specifically, the YiZhan fandoms. The purpose of this jump: with real people involved, feminisation’s effect is potentially more harmful, more acute. Easier to feel. 

YiZhan fans predominantly entered the fandoms through The Untamed, and they’ve also transferred Danmei’s  “seme”/“uke” customs into YiZhan. There are, therefore, three c-YiZhan fandoms:

博君一肖 (BJYX): seme Dd, uke Gg 戰山為王 (ZSWW): seme Gg, uke Dd 連瑣反應 (LSFY): riba Gg and Dd. Riba = “reversible”, and unlike “seme” and “uke”, is a frequently-used term in the Japanese gay community. 

BJYX is by far the largest of the three, likely due to Gg having played WWX, the “uke” in MDZS / TU. I’ll therefore focus on this fandom, ie. Gg is the “uke”, the “wife”.

For Gg alone, I’ve seen him being also referred to by YiZhan fans as (and this is far from a complete list):

* 姐姐 (sister) * 嫂子 (wife of elder brother; Dd being the elder brother implied) * 妃妃 (based on the very first YiZhan CP name, 太妃糖 Toffee Candy, a portmanteau of sorts from Dd being the 太子 “prince” of his management company and Gg being the prince’s wife, 太子妃. 糖 = “candy”. 太妃 sounds like toffee in English and has been used as the latter’s Chinese translation.) * 美人 (beauty, as in 肖美人 “Beauty Xiao”) * Daji 妲己 (as in 肖妲己, “Daji Xiao”). 

The last one needs historical context, which will also become important for explaining the new hypothesis I have.

Daji was a consort who lived three thousand years ago, whose beauty was blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. Gg (and men sharing similar traits, who are exceptionally rare) has been compared to Daji 妲己 for his alternatively innocent, alternatively seductive beauty ~ the kind of beauty that, in Chinese historical texts and folk lores, lead to the fall of kingdoms when possessed by the king’s beloved woman. This kind of “I-get-to-ruin-her-virginity”, “she’s a slut in MY bedroom” beauty is, of course, a stereotypical fantasy for many (cis-het) men, which included the authors of these historical texts and folklores. However, it also contained some truth: the purity / innocence, the image of a virgin, was required for an ancient woman to be chosen as a consort; the seduction, meanwhile, helped her to become the top consort, and monopolise the attention of kings and emperors who often had hundreds of wives ~ wives who often put each other in danger to eliminate competition. 

Nowadays, women of tremendous beauty are still referred to by the Chinese idiom 傾國傾城, literally, ”falling countries, falling cities”. The beauty is also implied to be natural, expressed in a can’t-help-itself way, perhaps reflecting the fact that the ancient beauties on which this idiom has been used couldn’t possibly have plastic surgeries, and most of them didn’t meet a good end ~ that they had to pay a price for their beauty, and often, with their lowly status as women, as consorts, they didn’t get to choose whether they wanted to pay this price or not. This adjective is considered to be very flattering. Gg’s famous smile from the Thailand Fanmeet has been described, praised as 傾城一笑: “a smile that topples a city”.

I’m explaining Daji and 傾國傾城 because the Chinese idiom 博君一笑 “doing anything to get a smile from you”, from which the ship’s name BJYX 博君一肖  was derived (笑 and 肖 are both pronounced “xiao”), is connected to yet another of such dynasty-falling beauty, Bao Si 褒姒. Like Daji before her, Bao Si was blamed for the end of the Zhou Dynasty in 771 BC. 

The legend went like this: Bao Si was melancholic, and to get her to smile, her king lit warning beacons and got his nobles to rush in from the nearby vassal states with their armies to come and rescue him, despite not being in actual danger. The nobles, in their haste, looked so frantic and dishevelled that Bao Si found it funny and smiled. Longing to see more of the smile of his favourite woman, the king would fool his nobles again and again, until his nobles no longer heeded the warning beacons when an actual rebellion came. 

What the king did has been described as 博紅顏一笑, with 紅顏 (”red/flushed face”) meaning a beautiful woman, referring to Bao Si. Replace 紅顏 with the respectful “you”, 君, we get 博君一笑. If one searches the origin of the phrase 博 [fill_in_the_blank]一笑 online, Bao Si’s story shows up.

The “anything” in ”doing anything to get a smile from you” in 博君一笑, therefore, is not any favour, but something as momentous as giving away one’s own kingdom. c-turtles have remarked, to their amusement and admittedly mine, that “king”, in Chinese, is written as 王, which is Dd’s surname, and very occasionally, they jokingly compare him to the hopeless kings who’d give away everything for their love. Much like 傾國傾城 has become a flattering idiom despite the negative reputations of Daji and Bao Si for their “men-ruining ways”, 博君一笑 has become a flattering phrase, emphasising on the devotion and love rather than the ... stupidity behind the smile-inducing acts. 

(Bao Si’s story, BTW, was a lie made up by historians who also lived later but also thousands of years ago, to absolve the uselessness of the king. Warning beacons didn’t exist at her time.)  

Gg is arguably feminized even in his CP’s name. Gg’s feminisation is everywhere. 

And here comes my confession time ~ I’ve been amused by most of the feminisation terms above. 肖妲己 (”Daji Xiao”) captures my imagination, and I remain quite partial to the CP name BJYX. Somehow, there’s something ... somewhat forgivable when the feminisation is based on Gg’s beauty, especially in the context of the historical Danmei / Dangai setting of MDZS/TU ~ something that, while doesn’t cancel, dampens the “problematic-ness” of the gender mis-identification.

What, exactly, is this something?

Here’s my new hypothesis, and hopefully I’ll manage to explain it well ~

The hypothesis is this: the unisex beauty standard for historical Chinese men and women, which is also breathtakingly similar to the modern beauty standard for Chinese women, makes feminisation in the context of Danmei (especially historical Danmei) flattering, and easier to accept.

What defined beauty in historical Chinese men? If I am to create a classically beautiful Chinese man for my new historical Danmei, how would I describe him based on what I���ve read, my cultural knowledge?

Here’s a list:

* Skin fair and smooth as white jade * Thin, even frail; narrow/slanted shoulders; tall * Dark irises and bright, starry eyes * Not too dense, neat eyebrows that are shaped like swords ~ pointed slightly upwards from the center towards the sides of the face * Depending on the dynasty, nice makeup.

Imagine these traits. How “macho” are they? How much do they fit the ideal Chinese masculine beauty advertised by Chinese government, which looks like below?

Propaganda poster, 1969. The caption says “Defeat Imperialist US! Defeat Social Imperialism!” The book’s name is “Quotations from Mao Zedong”. (Source)

Where did that list of traits I’ve written com from? Fair like jade, frail ... why are they so far from the ... “macho”ness of the men in the poster? 

What has Chinese history said about its beautiful men? 

Wei Jie (衛玠 286-312 BCE), one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men (古代四大美男) recorded in Chinese history famously passed away when fans of his beauty gathered and formed a wall around him, blocking his way. History recorded Wei as being frail with chronic illness, and was only 27 years old when he died. Arguably the first historical account of “crazy fans killing their idol”, this incident left the idiom 看殺衛玠 ~ “Wei Jie being watched to death.” ~ a not very “macho” way to die at all.

潘安 (Pan An; 247-300 BCE), another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, also had hoards of fangirls, who threw fruits and flowers at him whenever he ventured outside. The Chinese idiom 擲果盈車 “thrown fruit filling a cart” was based on Pan and ... his fandom, and denotes such scenarios of men being so beautiful that women openly displayed their affections for them. 

Meanwhile, when Pan went out with his equally beautiful male friend, 夏侯湛 Xiahou Zhan, folks around them called them 連璧 ~ two connected pieces of perfect jade. Chinese Jade is white, smooth, faintly glowing in light, so delicate that it gives the impression of being somewhat transparent.

Aren’t Wei Jie and Pan An reminiscent of modern day Chinese idols, the “effeminate” “Little Fresh Meat”s (小鲜肉) so panned by Article O3? Their stories, BTW, also elucidated the historical reference in LWJ’s description of being jade-like in MDZS, and in WWX and LWJ being thrown pippas along the Gusu river bank. 

Danmei, therefore, didn’t create a trend of androgynous beauty in men as much as it has borrowed the ancient, traditional definition of masculine Chinese beauty ~ the beauty that was more feminine than masculine by modern standards.  

[Perhaps, CPs should be renamed 連璧 (”two connected pieces of perfect jade”) as a reminder of the aesthetics’ historical roots.]

Someone may exclaim now: But. But!! Yet another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, 高長恭 (Gao Changgong, 541-573 BCE), far better known by his title, 蘭陵王 (”the Prince of Lanling”), was a famous general. He had to be “macho”, right?

... As it turns out, not at all. Historical texts have described Gao as “貌柔心壮，音容兼美” (”soft in looks and strong at heart, beautiful face and voice”), “白美類婦人” (”fair and beautiful as a woman”), “貌若婦人” (”face like a woman”). Legends have it that The Prince of Lanling’s beauty was so soft, so lacking in authority that he had to wear a savage mask to get his soldiers to listen to his command (and win) on the battlefield (《樂府雜錄》: 以其顏貌無威，每入陣即著面具，後乃百戰百勝).

This should be emphasised: Gao’s explicitly feminine descriptions were recorded in historical texts as arguments *for* his beauty. Authors of these texts, therefore, didn’t view the feminisation as insult. In fact, they used the feminisation to drive the point home, to convince their readers that men like the Prince of Lanling were truly, absolutely good looking.

Being beautiful like a women was therefore high praise for men in, at least, significant periods in Chinese history ~ periods long and important enough for these records to survive until today. Beauty, and so it goes, had once been largely free of distinctions between the masculine and feminine.

One more example of an image of an ancient Chinese male beauty being similar to its female counterpart, because the history nerd in me finds this fun. 

何晏 (He Yan, ?-249 BCE) lived in the Wei Jin era (between 2nd to 4th century), during which makeup was really en vogue. Known for his beauty, he was also famous for his love of grooming himself. The emperor, convinced that He Yan’s very fair skin was from the powder he was wearing, gave He Yan some very hot foods to eat in the middle of the summer. He Yan began to sweat, had to wipe himself with his sleeves and in the process, revealed to the emperor that his fair beauty was 100% natural ~ his skin glowed even more with the cosmetics removed (《世說新語·容止第十四》: 何平叔美姿儀，面至白。魏明帝疑其傅粉，正夏月，與熱湯餅。既啖，大汗出，以朱衣自拭，色轉皎然). His kick-cosmetics’-ass fairness won him the nickname 傅粉何郎 (”powder-wearing Mr He”).

Not only would He Yan very likely be mistaken as a woman if this scene is transferred to a modern setting, but this scene can very well fit inside a Danmei story of the 21st century and is very, very likely to get axed by the Chinese censorship board for its visualisation. 

[Important observation from this anecdote: the emperor was totally into this trend too.]

The adjectives and phrases used above to describe these beautiful ancient Chinese men ~ 貌柔, 音容兼美, 白美, 美姿儀, 皎然 ~ have all become pretty much reserved for describing beauty in women nowadays. Beauty standards in ancient China were, as mentioned before, had gone through significantly long periods in which they were largely genderless. The character for beauty 美 (also in Danmei, 耽美) used to have little to no gender association. Free of gender associations as well were the names of many flowers. The characters for orchid (蘭) and lotus (蓮), for example, were commonly found in men’s names as late as the Republican era (early 20th century), but are now almost exclusively found in women’s names. Both orchid and lotus have historically been used to indicate 君子 (junzi, roughly, “gentlemen”), which have always been men. MDZS also has an example of a man named after a flower: Jin Ling’s courtesy name, given to him by WWX,  was 如蘭 (”like an orchid”). 

A related question may be this: why does ancient China associate beauty with fairness, with softness, with frailty? Likely, because Confucianist philosophy and customs put a heavy emphasis on scholarship ~ and scholars have mostly consisted of soft-spoken, not muscular, not working-under-the-sun type of men. More importantly, Confucianist scholars also occupied powerful government positions. Being, and looking like a Confucianist scholar was therefore associated with status. Indeed, it’s very difficult to look like jade when one was a farmer or a soldier, for example, who constantly had to toil under the sun, whose skin was constantly being dried and roughened by the elements. Having what are viewed as “macho” beauty traits as in the poster above ~ tanned skin, bulging muscles, bony structures (which also take away the jade’s smoothness) ~ were associated with hard labour, poverty and famine.

Along that line, 手無縛雞之力 (“hands without the strength to restrain a chicken”) has long been a phrase used to describe ancient scholars and students, and without scorn or derision. Love stories of old, which often centred around scholars were, accordingly, largely devoid of the plot lines of husbands physically protecting the wives, performing the equivalent of climbing up castle walls and fighting dragons etc. Instead, the faithful husbands wrote poems, combed their wife’s hair, traced their wife’s eyebrows with cosmetics (畫眉)...all activities that didn’t require much physical strength, and many of which are considered “feminine” nowadays.

Were there periods in Chinese history in which more ... sporty men and women were appreciated? Yes. the Tang dynasty, for example, and the Yuan and Qing dynasties. The Tang dynasty, as a very powerful, very open era in Chinese history, was known for its relations to the West (via the Silk Road). The Yuan and Qing dynasties, meanwhile, were established by Mongolians and Manchus respectively, who, as non-Han people, had not been under the influence of Confucian culture and grew up on horsebacks, rather than in schools.

The idea that beautiful Chinese men should have “macho” attributes was, therefore, largely a consequence of non-Han-Chinese influence, especially after early 20th century. That was when the characters for beauty (美), orchid (蘭), lotus (蓮) etc began their ... feminisation. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which started its reign of the country starting 1949, also has foreign roots, being a derivative of the Soviets, and its portrayal of ideal men has been based on the party’s ideology, painting them as members of the People’s Liberation Army (Chinese army) and its two major proletariat classes, farmers and industrial workers ~ all occupations that are “macho” in their aesthetics, but held at very poor esteem in ancient Chinese societies. All occupations that, to this day, may be hailed as noble by Chinese women, but not really deemed attractive by them.

Beauty, being an instinct, is perhaps much more resistant to propaganda.

If anything, the three terms Article O3 used to describe “effeminate” men ~ 奶油小生 “cream young men” (popularised in 1980s) , 花美男 “flowery beautiful men” (early 2000s), 小鲜肉 “little fresh meat” (coined in 2014 and still popular now) ~ only informs me how incredibly consistent the modern Chinese women’s view of ideal male beauty has been. It’s the same beauty the Chinese Communist Party has called feminine. It’s the same beauty found in Danmei. It’s the same beauty that, when witnessed in men in ancient China, was so revered that historians recorded it for their descendants to remember. It doesn’t mean there aren’t any women who appreciate the "macho” type ~ it’s just that, the appreciation for the non-macho type has never really gone out of fashion, never really changed. The only thing that is really changing is the name of the type, the name’s positive or negative connotations.

(Personally, I’m far more uncomfortable with the name “Little fresh meat” (小鲜肉) than 老婆 (wife). I find it much more insulting.)

Anyway, what I’d like to say is this: feminisation in Danmei ~ a genre that, by definition, is hyper-focused on aesthetics ~ may not be as "problematic” in Chinese as it is in English, because the Chinese tradition didn’t make that much of a differentiation between masculine and feminine beauty. Once again, this isn’t to say such mis-gendering isn’t disrespectful; it’s just that, perhaps, it is less disrespectful because Chinese still retains a cultural memory in which equating a beautiful man to a beautiful woman was the utmost flattery. 

I must put a disclaimer here: I cannot vouch for this being true for the general Chinese population. This is something that is buried deep enough inside me that it took a lot of thought for me to tease out, to articulate. More importantly, while I grow up in a Chinese-speaking environment, I’ve never lived inside China. My history knowledge, while isn’t shabby, hasn’t been filtered through the state education system.

I’d also like to point out as well, along this line of thought, that in *certain* (definitely not all) aspects, Chinese society isn’t as sexist as the West. While historically, China has periods of extreme sexism against women, with the final dynasties of Ming and Qing being examples, I must (reluctantly) acknowledge Chairman Mao for significantly lifting the status of women during his rule. Here’s a famous quote of his from 1955:

婦女能頂半邊天 Women can lift half the skies

The first marriage code, passed in 1950, outlawed forced marriages, polygamy, and ensured equal rights between husband and wife.  For the first time in centuries, women were encouraged to go outside of their homes and work. Men resisted at first, wanting to keep their wives at home; women who did work were judged poorly for their performance and given less than 50% of men’s wage, which further fuelled the men’s resistance. Mao said the above quote after a commune in Guizhou introduced the “same-work-same-wage” system to increase its productivity, and he asked for the same system to to be replicated across the country. (Source)

When Chairman Mao wanted something, it happened. Today, Chinese women’s contribution to the country’s GDP remains among the highest in the world.  They make up more than half of the country’s top-scoring students. They’re the dominant gender in universities, in the ranks of local employees of international corporations in the Shanghai and Beijing central business districts—among the most sought after jobs in the country. While the inequality between men and women in the workplace is no where near wiped out — stories about women having to sleep with higher-ups to climb the career ladder, or even get their PhDs are not unheard of, and the central rulership of the Chinese Communist Party has been famously short of women — the leap in women’s rights has been significant over the past century, perhaps because of how little rights there had been before ~ at the start of the 20th century, most Chinese women from relatively well-to-do families still practised foot-binding, in which their feet were literally crushed during childhood in the name of beauty, of status symbol. They couldn’t even walk properly.

Perhaps, the contemporary Chinese women’s economic contribution makes the sexism they encounter in their lives, from the lack of reproductive rights to the “leftover women” label, even harder to swallow. It makes their fantasies fly to even higher, more defiant heights. The popularity of Dangai right now is pretty much driven by women, as acknowledged by Article O3. Young women, especially, female fans who people have dismissed as “immature”, “crazy”, are responsible for the threat the Chinese government is feeling now by the genre.

This is no small feat. While the Chinese government complains about the “effeminate” men from Danmei / Dangai, its propaganda has been heavily reliant on stars who have risen to popularity to these genres. The film Dd is currently shooting, Chinese Peacekeeping Force (維和部隊), also stars Huang Jingyu (黄景瑜), and Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) ~ the three actors having shot to fame from The Untamed (Dangai), Addicted (Danmei), and Word of Honour (Dangai) respectively.  Zhang, in particular, played the “uke” role in Word of Honour and has also been called 老婆 (wife) by his fans. The quote in Article O3, “Ten years as a tough man known by none; one day as a beauty known by all” was also implicitly referring to him.

Perhaps, the government will eventually realise that millennia-old standards of beauty are difficult to bend, and by extension, what is considered appropriate gender expression of Chinese men and women. 

In the metas I’ve posted, therefore, I’ve hesitated in using terms such as homophobia, sexism, and ageism etc, opting instead to make long-winded explanations that essentially amount to these terms (thank you everyone who’s reading for your patience!). Because while the consequence is similar—certain fraction of the populations are subjected to systemic discrimination, abuse, given less rights, treated as inferior etc—these words, in English, also come with their own context, their own assumptions that may not apply to the situation. It reminds me of what Leo Tolstoy wrote in Anna Karenina,

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Discrimination in each country, each culture is humiliating, unhappy in its own way. Both sexism and homophobia are rampant in China, but as their roots are different from those of the West, the ways they manifest are different, and so must the paths to their dissolution. I’ve also hesitated on calling out individual behaviours or confronting individuals for this reason. i-Danmei fandoms are where i-fans and c-fans meet, where English-speaking doesn’t guarantee a non-Chinese sociopolitical background (there may be students from China, for example; I’m also ... not entirely Western), and I find it difficult to articulate appropriate, convincing arguments without knowing individual backgrounds.

Frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve done the right thing. Because I do hope feminisation will soon fade into extinction, especially in i-Danmei fandoms that, if they continue to prosper on international platforms, may eventually split from c-Danmei fandoms along the cultural (not language) line due to the vast differences in environmental constraints. My hope is especially true when real people are involved, and c-fandoms, I’d like to note, are not unaware of the issues surrounding feminisation ~ it has already been explicitly forbidden in BJYX’s supertopic on Weibo. 

At the same time, I’ve spent so many words above to try to explain why beauty can *sometimes* lurk behind such feminisations. Please allow me to end this post with one example of feminisation that I deeply dislike—and I’ve seen it used by fans on Gg as well—is 綠茶 (”green tea”), from 綠茶婊 (”green tea whore”) that means women who look pure / innocent but are, deep down, promiscuous / lustful. In some ways, its meaning isn’t so different from Daji 妲己, the consort blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. However, to me at least, the flattery in the feminisation is gone, perhaps because of the character “whore” (婊), because the term originated in 2013 from a notorious sex party rather than from a legendary beauty so maligned that The Investiture of the Gods (封神演義), the seminal Chinese fiction written ~2,600 years after Daji’s death, re-imagined her as a malevolent fox spirit (狐狸精) that many still remembers her as today.

Ah, to be caught between two cultures. :)

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

taglist:

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[diaphragmjellyfish]

Hawk Fluff Alphabet

Requested by @manicgrungegf​

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

What hawk finds most attractive about you is your kindness. You’re literally the sweetest person to everyone you meet and he likes to think that if he knew you when he was Eli, you still would have dated him. You didn’t care about the muscles or the tattoo or the hair. You genuinely loved him and were always kind to him even when he was being an ass. 

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He’s not sure about whether he wants kids or not. He’s kind of just enjoying being young and having fun right now, and he never actually thought he’d get married before, but he’d be open to it later on down the line if it was something you really wanted. 

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

For as much game as he talks, this boy is a LITTLE SPOON. He loves being held by you, and sometimes can’t fall asleep unless your arms are wrapped around him. In public, he’s always the one with his arm around you, hugging you from behind, putting on that alpha male persona, but when it’s just you guys he’s a total puppy. 

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Hawk likes to take you to parties. You guys can drink, dance, hang out with your friends, it’s the perfect place in his opinion. But for more private occasions like your anniversary, he likes a nice picnic on the beach. He’d make PB&J’s for you guys (and cut off your crusts), pack some juice boxes, and bring a big giant blanket (and condoms shhh) for you guys. 

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

You’re my happy place. Hawk thinks of you as the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Whenever he feels frustrated from training or insecure about his scar or angry at Demitri, he knows he can always go to you for support and you’ll make him forget all about that stuff. He’s never not smiling when you’re around. 

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

He first knew he loved you when you said his scar was cute. It’s always been his biggest insecurity, and even when you guys first went out, he always just assumed you just tried not to look at it and look at his hair or muscles instead. But when you told him you liked it, thought it gave him character and looked kind of tough, his heart shot through the roof. This beautiful, ethereal, magnetically charming girl thought his scar, his deformity, was cute?! Love on sight. 

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He’s more gentle than you would think, but still not as gentle as, say, Miguel. He would never hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want to do, but he likes to rough house, play wrestle, and tease you a little bit. He likes to sneak up behind you, pick you up and spin you around, and ruffle your hair as a “good morning” every day. 

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Hawk is holding your hand all. The. damn. Time. He likes everyone to know who you belong to. Inside, he’s still a little insecure and nervous that you’ll decide you can do better and leave him, so he finds holding your hand reassuring, especially when you run your thumb over the back of his hand. 

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

His first impression of you was honestly not good. You were friends with Samantha Larusso so he just assumed you were stuck up and snobby. The first time you guys actually talked was at a party. You were pacing nervously outside because your friends had left, your phone died, and you had no way to get home. Hawk took pity on you and offered to give you a ride on his motorcycle, and you guys ended up driving all over town, talking, laughing, drinking milkshakes, and you quickly made plans to hang out the next day. 

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He is the most jealous boy, mostly because he’s insecure that you’ll leave him for someone else. Sometimes you think it’s hot, but if it ever bothers you, he’ll make a conscious effort to work on himself and trust that you’ll always come back to him. 

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Your first kiss was the sweetest moment ever. You guys were sitting on the beach one night talking about all your deep thoughts. He started telling you how he was super insecure about his lip scar and thought no girl would ever want to kiss him before he got the mohawk and muscles. “Well I can think of one girl who would love to kiss you.” At this, he looked at you with pure shyness, and you leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss. Now, his kisses can range anywhere from sweet and loving, to possessive and dominant. You love them all. 

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He knew he was in love with you when you first talked about nerdy shit with him and Demitri. He always thought he couldn’t like nerdy stuff like Dr. Who or girls wouldn’t like him, so when Demitri brought it up while you three were hanging out, he panicked. But then you started talking about the new trailer and how excited you were for a female Dr. and he fell in love on the spot. 

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

His favorite memory with you is that time he needed to touch up his hair color and you asked if you could do it for him. You got him a little poncho (garbage bag but shhh), parted his hair in neat little sections, and touched up the dye. You guys had such a fun time, you gushed about how good his hair looked down, and it ended up looking way better than when he did it himself. Now every time he needs a touch up he comes to you. 

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Hawk doesn’t generally spoil you with material things. You both would much rather spend your time and money on memories, or food. Of course on your birthday and anniversaries he gets you little gifts, but generally speaking, his love language leans more towards quality time. 

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Lavender reminds him of you. Soft, sweet, feminine. He thinks it looks amazing on you, too. He’s actually thought about dying his mohawk lavender next just to feel closer to you. 

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Princess. That’s the biggest one. Sometimes angel, or babygirl. 

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

His favorite non-modern thing is old muscle cars. He’s saving up to buy an old Corvette one day. It’s one of his big goals in life. He wants to have a mohawk made for the car, too, so everyone knows how cool he is. 

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Little secret about Hawk, he loves to cook. When it’s raining outside, he likes to have you come over and make a big meal with him. Maybe chicken pot pie, steaks, or pad thai, and sit on the couch eating and watching old movies. 

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Unfortunately, Hawk used to be an expert at being sad back before he joined Cobra Kai. The way he likes to deal with it is generally just crying. He likes to let it all out, be alone, collect himself, and then maybe watch a movie or hang out with you. If you’re sad, his first question is “who do I have to beat up?” If it’s not from a person, he’ll take you on an adventure. Hikes, long drives, exploring new places, just to get your mind off it. 

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Umm karate. It literally changed his life. He loves to tell you about the new moves he learned in training, talk about the tournaments coming up, or the rivalry between Cobra Kai and Myagi-Do. And you’re a sucker for gossip so you love to hear about it. 

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Music, soft blankets, the tiredness after a workout, a good hot meal, and he loves to watch cringe compilations on Youtube. 

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Ever since his transformation from Eli to Hawk, this boy likes to show off everything, all the time. His hair, his tattoos, his muscles, his fighting skills, his sarcasm, his girl… 

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes to you about 6 months into your relationship with a ring pop outside of a gas station. You both knew it was a joke, but honestly started referring to each other as fiance and never stopped. Then, about 3 years later, he got you a real ring and took your hand and said “about time we actually do this, huh?” Of course, he took you to the same gas station where he had “proposed” the first time. Not the most romantic thing looking in on it, but to you guys, it was perfect. 

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Highway To Hell- ACDC

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

He proposes to you multiple times! Of course he thinks about it. He wants you guys to be together forever! 

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

A hawk! It’s his signature symbol, of course he thinks it would be super badass to actually have a pet hawk. He would name it Desmond, and get it a tiny little mohawk.

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Yup, Sure Was a Finale

I had an epiphany. The reason why I never re-watched the final two parts of Sozin’s Comet even though I’ve popped in episodes at random many times over the years isn’t that I can’t bear the sadness of seeing one of the best, most engaging narratives out there come to an end.

It’s simply that the finale isn’t all that good.

Some honorable mentions of what was enjoyable.

(+) This

Just this.

(+) The Church of Zutara has another convert

“Are you sure they don’t get together?” Hubster, 2020

(+) The tragedy of Azula

And the fact that it’s acknowledged as such. I hope Zuko will do his best to get her help and have a relationship with her…

(+) Sokka being a big bro

And the whole airship sequence in general. It’s wonderfully paced and plotted, with moments of humor, real stakes, Toph being both badass and a scared crying kid, Sokka strategizing and protecting, Suki saving the day, and non-benders being instrumental in thwarting the bad guy firebender’s plans. Would be shame if Bryke never portrayed them this capable ever again…

And now for the main course.

(-) Blink and its over

The wrap-up feels too quick (hashtag Needs More ROtK-style False Endings). A part of this is due to how fast the story goes from the thick of the action to hastily tying up a bunch of loose ends, but the larger issue is how Book 3’s uneven pacing comes home to roost. After spending half a season on filler episodes that at best subtly flesh out established characters while dancing around a huge lionturtle-shaped hole, and at worst contradict the theme of “no one is born bad” with “you’re a hot mess because your great-grandfathers didn’t get along too well”, the frantic “go go go” rush of the second half screeches to a halt with “they won and everyone was happy because now the right people have power and it will be all good from now on yup nothing more to deal with baiiiii”.

Yes, I know, it’s a kids’ show. But goddamn, this particular kids’ show has proven so many times it can do better than the expected tropiness. Showing the characters in their roles as builders of a new world was the least that could have been done.

Oh well!

(-) Ursa

We’ll never know. There will never be a story that delves into this. Yup. Shall forever remain but an intriguing mystery. Is good, though. Mystery is better than a story where Ursa shares her son’s penchant for forgetfulness. Imagine how embarrassing that would be. Speaking of which…

(-) What does Mai see in this jerkbender?

Look, I like to harp a lot on the mess of inconsistent writing that’s Mai but let’s unpack this scene from her perspective, shall we?

Zuko forgot about her! It totally slipped his mind that the one person who prioritized the safety of his dumb ass was rotting in the worst prison in the Fire Nation—because of him! And she was rotting there long enough after the final Agni Kai for the news of Zuko’s upcoming coronation to spread and her uncle to feel sufficiently secure to release her. But then the coronation scene is attended by every single member of Gaang & Friends that was imprisoned?

So what this tells me is that either a) the invasion force had the ability to break themselves out the whole time and for some reason decided not to exercise it until after the war was over, b) Zuko forgot about them as well and no one thought to remind him there were prisons full of POWs until Mai arrived, or, and that’s even better, c) Zuko took care to free every single resistance fighter while making sure Mai would be the one to stay behind bars.

Never thought I’d say this but Mai? Honey? You deserve so much better.

(-) “What does Katara want?”

Asked no one in the writers’ room ever, apparently.

This is not so much anti Cataang as anti romance stories that pay attention to the needs, opinions, and wants of only one partner in general. Over the previous 60 episodes, Katara actively expressed romantic interest in Aang exactly, wait for it,

Once.

And it got retconned out of relevance by the following two interactions where the possibility of a romantic relationship came up, making the Headband dance pretty easy to reclassify as just one of those examples where Aang “teaches” Katara to have fun (as if one of the main obstacles to her having fun wasn’t him constantly fooling around and offloading his duties). And because the writers not only didn’t succeed in portraying Katara’s internal state of mind, but also failed to root her reluctance to pursue a relationship in outside circumstances that could change, her sudden state of unconfused once Aang steps into the spotlight has a single canonical explanation that as much as approaches coherency.

The fact is, though, that trying to interpret canon Cataang from a Watsonian perspective is an exercise in foolishness. Because there is no Watsonian justification for the ship and never has been. Bryke simply conceived of Katara as nothing but a tropey prize for Aang, never saw her as anything beyond that, and were perfectly happy to go on and immortalize her as a passive broodmare for the rest of her life.

And I fully intend to die mad about it.

(-) Iroh dips

OK, it’s been long apparent that the show doesn’t intend to do anything about Iroh’s complicity in AzulOzai’s regime in any meaningful way, and that his sole motivation for doing anything whatsoever is Zuko whom he views as a replacement son which is supposed to be good for some reason. But the finale has him abandon even that, and instead turns him full-on YOLO, idgaf anymore. It really throws Iroh’s supposed love for Zuko into doubt when his last act in the entire show is to take a half-educated 16-year old with no political savvy or an heir to secure a dynastic continuity and plomp him on the throne of a war-mongering imperialist regime where the entirety of the militarist and ruling class is guaranteed to fight him tooth and nail for power.

(I sure hope Mai’s ready to start popping out babies by tea-time otherwise the whole country is fukd in about a week)

Christ, how hard would it be to have Iroh keep the throne warm for a few years while Zuko is getting ready to succeed him? Not only would it make the whole FN reformation bit quite likelier to occur, it would require Iroh’s hedonistic ass to actually sacrifice something for once. And not having Zuko ascend to power, instead spending some time bettering and educating himself first, would be a wonderful message that no matter what you endured and overcame, you never stop growing. A kids’ show, remember?

(-) The conquering of Ba Sing Se

Gee, I feel so blessed to have my attention diverted from battlefields which actually matter to an old dude vanity project I would have been perfectly happy to assume resolved itself off-screen.

The White Lotus in general just bugs me. I was fine with the individual characters and their overall passivity when they were portrayed as lone dissenters living under circumstances where it wasn’t really possible for any single person to mount a meaningful resistance. But as members of a far-reaching shadowy organization that’s left the real fight to a bunch of kids for 59 episodes straight and didn’t turn up until a perfect opportunity presented itself to take control of the largest city in the world and bask in the spotlight?

Yeah, no.

Similarly to the lionturtle-ex-machina, the White Lotus represents a huge missed opportunity for a season-long storytelling. Here’s just a brief list of what they could have been doing throughout Book 3:

orchestrating a Fire Nation uprising;

gathering those directly persecuted by AzulOzai’s regime to help Zuko keep his hold on power once he’s crowned;

establishing themselves as a viable alternative to Ozai;

sabotaging Fire Nation’s war efforts from the inside;

countering Fire Nation propaganda (Asha Greyjoy’s pinecones, anyone?);

running a supply network to alleviate the suffering of Earth Kingdom citizens.

Instead, they sit on their asses until the time comes to claim personal glory.

You know what, good on Bryke for making me conclude that in comparison, the Freedom Fighters were perfectly unproblematic, actually.

(-) Fire Lord Dead-by-Dawn

Yes, a kids’ show, I know! But ffs, this is the same kids’ show that came up with Long Feng and portrayed courtly intrigue, kingly puppets, secret police, spy networks, and information wars. Was it really too much of me to expect something other than “enlightened despot solves everything”? Especially if said enlightened despot has persisting anger issues, no personal support system, no base of followers, and no political experience whatsoever?

If Zuko’s actually serious about regaining the Fire Nation’s honor (i.e. by dismantling the country’s military machine, decolonizing the Earth Kingdom, paying reparations to everyone and their lemur, and funding any and all cultural restoration projects Aang and the SWT come up with), then there is no way, no way in the universe that he doesn’t face a civil war, deposing, and execution within a month.

One reason why his future as a Fire Lord seems rather bleak is that little’s been shown about the actual subjects of AzulOzai’s regime. While we get a vague reassurance that “no Toph, they’re not born bad” (le shockings), they largely remain a voiceless uniform mass of brainwashed clapping seals. What is their view on the Fire Nation’s crimes? Do they associate their condition with their country’s war-mongering? How will they react when Zuko starts dismantling the country piece by piece to rebuild it, bringing it to economic ruin? What will they do when noble Ozai loyalists come out of the woodwork and begin rounding them up under the banner of “Make the Fire Nation Great Again?”

I have no idea, and Zuko doesn’t either because he’s unironically more qualified to rule the Earth Kingdom than his own people.

You know what would have been better? Fire Lord Iroh, White Lotus pulling the strings to maintain the regime, and Crown Prince/People’s Champion Zuko travelling the Fire Nation with Aang and an army of tutors to promote the new boss, only to realize that absolute monarchy is kinda crap for the people he’s one day supposed to rule and gaining their support by ceding some power to them.

I’d laser holes into my TV due to how much I’d enjoy watching that.

(-) All hail Avatar Rock

Literally and metaphorically. Aang doesn’t sacrifice anything, gets everything, and the clever solution of going about getting said everything is handed to him on a silver platter, requiring no active participation on his part whatsoever.

He doesn’t work to unblock his chakras, spiritually or physically.

He only speaks to his past lives to get a pat on the back and a bow-tied solution he could mindlessly follow.

Energy-bending doesn’t require any sacrifice from him, leaves no lasting marks, and only serves for the narrative to praise him as the rare individual that’s unbendable and thus so very very special.

The most infuriating thing is, however, that Aang is clearly shown as being able to beat Ozai without either the Avatar state, or energy-bending.

And he chooses not to. From this moment on, Aang no longer fights to save the world. He fights to preserve his beliefs, going directly against the instructions of his past lives and effectively reneging on his duties as the Avatar.

Again.

It’s not like you can’t portray Aang’s faithfulness to his spiritual beliefs as the key to beating Ozai and saving the world. But that’s not what the show did. There is no link between Aang sparing Ozai and securing a better future, quite to the contrary—Ozai’s survival ends up being a massive problem for the continuation of Zuko’s rule, and consequently a threat to the world at large. His survival benefits Aang and no one else.

Aang’s spiritual purity and his status as a savior of the world are allowed to coexist only due to a deliberate stroke of a writer’s pen.

And I hate it.

Welp, nothing to do about it now except to bury myself up to my tits in fix-it fics I guess.

[xmint-conditionx]

《the emperor’s dagger》 ch4 | myg

❦ pairing: emperor!yoongi x concubine!reader ❦ w/c: 3.1k ❦ summary: you realize that your love cannot last beyond the secret meetings, but that doesn't make his pull to you any less powerful. he wants to give you everything in his power that he can, but the one thing he can't give you is the thing you want most. but that doesn't stop him from showing you how badly he wants to spoil you... ❦ tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, balcony sex, penetrative sex, one single instance of "daddy", light thigh smacking, gagging (on dick and being gagged), multiple orgasms, oral (f+m recieving), being tied to the bed, they both pretend like there isn't a problem so i guess it's not really that healthy ❦ a/n: please enjoy this unedited mess. school is kicking my butt right now but i figured i would get this out to you now and perfect it later lmao.

<3 minty.

taglist: @jiminisnotavirgin @aretha170 @btstrash2013 @bbykoos @aquaalanah

You’ve both learned to be more careful. Both with your time, and your feelings. The relationship feels more professional than it did in the recent past, but along with the sting comes the assurance that it’s the right thing to do. It’s the safe thing to do.

Your nightly sword fights have continued without a hitch, although you’ve yet to use a real blade again, since that night a month ago.

He’s made a deliberate effort to formally request you less, and for you, that has likely been the most painful thing. He’s called on other concubines, and the only time the two of you are intimate is when it’s “off the books'' so to speak. The two concubines you’ve grown closest to over your time here, Euriyan and Wysteria, take notice of your pallid demeanor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Euriyan asks between bites of their lunch.

“Talk about what?”

They both give you the look.

“Nothing’s wrong, seriously,” you say, taking another bite. Wysteria rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to… but I want you to know that I know,” Euriyan says, in an almost threatening manner.

“Wait, what? What do you know?” you ask in a panicked hush. How could they possibly know about your romantic affair with the king?

“I know something is bothering you. You can’t think I don’t know my best friend,” Euriyan says nonchalantly, swallowing their bite before realizing what you thought they meant. Their eyes fly wide open.

“Wait, you have a secret!” they say a little too loudly, so you gently shush them. Shit.

“Okay, yes,” you admit, “I have a secret, and it’s bothering me a little. That’s it.”

“Well, if I can’t know, it must be important,” Wysteria says, mid chew, “Is it your family? Is your mom okay?” she asks, eyebrows scrunching in worry.

“Mom’s fine. She’s actually doing much better. She went with Uncle Benji to the market the other day.”

“Just know you can tell me if you need to, okay?” Wysteria says and Euriyan nods.

“I know,” you say, “I just can’t.”

“It can’t be worse than me sleeping with the head guard,” Euriyan says nonchalantly.

You and Wysteria both stop chewing.

“You can’t be serious!” you exclaim, “how in the world can you manage that?!”

“Well, he does know all of the imperfections in the patrols…” they say. Of course, it’s the same way that you and the King are able to sneak off.

“How long has this been going on?!” Wysteria asks.

“Probably about a month and a half,” they say, continuing to chew, “He’s always been very professional, but something came over me at the moon festival last month.”

“You mean you approached him?!” you ask.

“Yeah,” they say, “he was looking up at the sky and I asked if he liked to look at the stars… then I asked if he wanted to look at them with me… and then he did… then I fell… on his dick… So it can’t be worse than that.”

You stay silent, moving around the bits of your lunch left on the plate.

“It’s not worse than that... right?” they ask.

“Everything is going to be okay,” is all you can say, before picking up your plate and walking back inside.

That night, your king requests you to his chambers instead of the meadow, which is a welcome surprise. Sneaking into the room, you gently close the large and ornate doors behind you before turning toward where your king sits waiting for you.

“Come, sit,” he says, smiling at you as he pats the space on his bed next to him.

You sit on his sheets comfortably, making yourself at home in his presence. No matter how much you tell yourself not to get carried away, you can’t help but melt.

“It’s your birthday next week,” is all he says.

“Um… yes…” you reply, unsure of where this is going.

“So, tell me what you want,” he commands.

“I don’t want anything, Your Majesty,” you say.

“Of course you do!” he says, “Ask me for anything in the world, and it’s yours.”

At that last statement, you can’t help but to wince a little. There are some things even a king cannot get for you. The thing you want most is the one thing he cannot give you.

“My parents could use another fishing boat,” you say, lighting up.

“The gift is meant for you, dove,” he says, but your pleading expression is unwavering. He sighs.

“If it would truly make you happy, then a new fishing boat for your parents would be my pleasure. But that will not stop me from getting you a gift as well…”

“It had better!” you tease, “I said I don’t want anything.”

“Nothing?” he asks, leaning in so that you can feel his breath on your skin, “Nothing at all?”

“Well, there is one thing,” you tease, “but I think you would have no problem giving it to me now…”

You allow your hand to wander up his thigh, and you hear a sharp intake of breath when you give it a small squeeze.

“I ought to make you wait until your birthday…” he says.

“You wouldn’t…”

“I wouldn’t?” he asks playfully, “you sure about that, little dove?”

He runs his fingertips over your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Every time he touches you, it feels as fresh and exciting as the first time you snuck into his chamber all those months ago. You get lost in him every time.

“Are you going to answer me?” he asks, tone more stern. You meet his gaze as he picks up your hand.

“No, I don’t think you would.”

“You do seem to be my weak spot…” he says onto the soft skin of the top of your hand, “but I’m sure you know that.”

He kisses each of your fingertips, one by one.

“How does it feel to have power over the most powerful person in the kingdom, little dove?” he asks.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Highness,” you say, taking your thumb and running it over his bottom lip, “you are one of the strongest men I know. And you are easily the most stubborn.”

“But you cannot deny that I would do anything in my power for you,” he says.

“That may be true,” you concede, “but I would never ask.”

He stands up from the bed and walks over to the window overlooking the balcony.

“Yes, that’s the infuriating part,” he says with a chuckle before turning around. The moonlight shines behind him and illuminates his blonde hair like a halo. “Why won’t you let me spoil you?”

“I don’t need to be spoiled, Your Majesty.”

“Nobody needs to be spoiled,” he says, “but I can’t stop thinking about how incredible you would look covered in my jewels.”

“Is that right?” you ask incredulously.

Without missing a beat, he walks over to a tall wardrobe against the wall, opens it, and begins sifting through a drawer. You can’t quite see what he’s looking for from your position on the bed, but you can tell by his gentle touch that it must be precious.

When he turns back around, he’s holding a large and heavy-looking necklace that shines a deep green in the dim candlelight. He makes his way back to you and kneels down at the bedside. He reaches up and around your neck to place the jewels, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as he tries to fasten it. He leans in further to get a better view of the clasp, and his warm breath ghosts against your neck. The cold hard metal of the necklace is a shocking sensation after his soft and warm breath. Once secured into place, he pulls back and can’t hide his smile.

“I told you that you’d look incredible,” he says, as he runs his fingers over the jewels and down your cleavage, “I wonder…”

He looks up at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, as if he’s asking a question. You’re not sure what exactly he’s up to, but you want to find out. You smile back as your answer, and he begins to dip his fingers beneath the edge of the fabric by your breasts.

You shift to allow him to pull the fabric down, and the cool air is shocking against your now exposed breasts. You think that he’s going to spend more attention there, but he just continues to slowly pull the fabric down. Once he gets to your hips, you raise yourself up and help him by shimmying out of the rest of the fabric.

Once your body is fully exposed, he tosses your white dress to the bottom side of his large bed, and turns back around. He goes back to the wardrobe and pulls the whole drawer out before returning back to you. He kneels in front of you again and sets the drawer beside his legs on the wooden floor. As he lowers it, you look inside to see a drawer filled with shining jewelry. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, delicate crowns, all glistening and all too nice to be worn by you.

“Let’s see how much we can fit on you…” he says, grabbing a diamond bracelet and draping it over your wrist. One by one, he adorns you with items from the drawer. Your fingers are covered in rings, jewels drape off of your wrists and ankles, your neck is heavy with the weight of the many necklaces, and a single ornate circlet decorates your forehead.

“In front of me is every last piece of royal jewelry that exists outside of the vault, and you are still the most beautiful thing I see.���

He leans forward and presses a wet kiss on your stomach before kissing his way back up your body, underneath your breasts, lips grazing against your pert nippples before he’s nibbling at your neck.

You begin to work at one of the necklaces to unfasten it from your neck, but he reaches for your wrist before you can.

“No, keep them on,” he says against your skin, “luxury looks good on you.”

He kisses you hard, not wasting any time before opening his mouth and biting your bottom lip. You groan as his hands grab your hips and thumb presses into you. The aching between your legs begins to spill out; you can feel your wetness beginning to pool. He breaks the kiss and tosses you over to the top of the bed, where you bounce gingerly on the pillows that lay there.

He strides quickly back over to the wardrobe and grabs something colorful.

Before you can register what he’s holding, he’s back on top of you; his weight presses you into the bed, and you can feel his cock twitch as he leans his body down over you. As he nibbles along your ear, he takes one of your wrists and hoists it up, and then you feel something cool and soft being secured around it.

When he releases, he quickly moves over to the other hand, leaving you the opportunity to look at his handiwork. Your wrist is secured to the post of his bed with a tight knot in the most beautiful silk you’ve ever seen.

He finishes the other side, and kisses his way up the length of your arm before settling back onto your lips.

“I’m not waiting for you to test my patience tonight, brat,” he says between kisses as he trails back down your body. He plants a sloppy kiss on your aching cunt, and looks back up at you through his lashes from where he is. “I want you to come on my mouth, slut. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“That kind of depends on you, don’t you think?”

He responds with a sharp smack against your thigh, causing you to yelp slightly. He narrows his eyes at you.

“You know better. Keep that pretty little mouth shut, too,” he says before plunging his tongue into your slit. The contact makes your fists clench until your knuckles turn white, and you really, genuinely try to keep it down.

He rolls your clit with his tongue and then closes his lips around it to add suction, and you suck in a sudden breath. Your body tenses up in an attempt to stifle your own moans, but despite your best efforts, a whimper escapes. He stops and looks up at you”

“One more chance, dove,” he says against your heat, “before I have to intervene.”

He continues his unrelenting pace on your clit, and as you begin to climb the mountain, he inserts two fingers into your slit, and you grit your teeth at the small stretch. He curls his fingers upward, hitting your spot, and you teeter on the edge of orgasm. Your thighs tense and tighten around his head, signaling to him that you’re closing in. The king looks up at you once more, and the hunger in his onyx eyes alone pushes you the rest of the way.

You come hard on his lips, unable to stop the small moan that escapes your lips. As you ride out your high, you’re bucking your hips against his mouth before he can wrap his hands around your thighs and hold you still. When you’ve finished coming down, you lay there panting as you hear and feel him readjusting himself. You close your eyes and hear the rustling of fabric before you feel his weight climbing towards you.

You open your eyes to find him walking toward you on the bed, his hard cock at eye level. You put on your best doe eyes and wonder what’s going to happen next.

He stands over your sitting body, cock inches from your mouth.

“Looks like we’re going to have to give that mouth something other than moaning to do, aren’t we, dove?”

You gladly take his length into your mouth in one go. It’s been a little while since you’ve gotten to give him head, and honestly, you miss it. Even without your hands, you’re confident in how weak you can get him.

You flirt with deepthroating as you take him all the way in, but as soon as it seems like you might, you back off and let him back out. He seems to be growing impatient, but you know it takes more than a little bit of teasing for your king to lose control.

You let him slip all the way out, and lean forward to that his shaft is resting on your lips. You move your head forward, licking the bottom as you find one of his balls. You look up and meet his gaze before sucking it into your mouth and rolling it over your tongue. It pops as you release it, and he grunts so quietly you could have missed it.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to suck you,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes as his tip rests on your lips, “I think I forgot how…” He grabs onto your hair and speaks in a low voice.

“Then practice.”

You take him back into your mouth, this time opening your throat and sucking him all the way in. You hold him back there as long as you can, before tears begin prickling in the corners of your eyes. When you’re desperate for air, you release him and gasp. The tears fall out of your eyes and down your cheeks. You look up at him and watch as his chest rises and falls.

“Am I doing it right, daddy?”

He answers by pulling your head back onto him, so that you’re taking him in once again. He tightens his grip on your hair and begins to fuck your face, something that you’ve been waiting for. You know it won’t be long until he’s spilling inside of you. You hollow out your cheeks and look up, and as soon as he meets your gaze, he pulls out.

As you’re catching your breath, he quickly unties your hands and practically drags you off of the bed and onto the outdoor balcony. The balcony overlooks the back wall of the palace, and beyond that is stretching forest. He bends you over so that you’re supporting yourself with the balcony railing, and he takes one of those silk ties and gags you with it, securing it behind your head.

He pushes you forward with his body and pulls your hair so that you’re standing upright, neck extended back. His hand glides across your neck as his dick presses against your opening.

He doesn’t tighten his grip on your neck, but he eases himself into your dripping entrance. You moan at the slight ache of his length stretching you out, and then the sound is cut off as he tightens his hand.

“You have been spoiled, don’t you realize? In the clearing, you can be as loud as you want. But you’ve forgotten how to behave, haven’t you?”

You can hear the wet sounds of your cunt as he thrusts into you, setting an unrelenting pace. Before long, you find yourself nearing climax again, and you tighten around him. His hips sputter as he begins to reach his own climax, so you reach your hands back behind your head and tangle them in his hair. As soon as you give it a sharp tug, you hear him groan as he spills inside of you, and your second orgasm of the night begins immediately after.

After you both have cleaned up, you lay stretched out on his large bed as he’s putting the jewels away.

“You seem to be in good spirits lately,” you say, “any good news?”

He places a ring in its proper place in the drawer, and considers for a moment.

“Yes, there is good news, but you may tell no one.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. You have my word.” He sighs.

“I am making efforts toward a peace treaty with the neighboring kingdom. A century of war could be drawing to a close, my dove.”

“And your generals are pleased with this?” you ask. He sighs again, deeper this time.

“The generals do not know.” You allow him to continue.

“I am engaging in secret correspondence with the neighboring king,” he says, turning towards you, “If all goes well, this treaty will be done with only the two of us. We are both tired of fighting, it seems.”

“So, you think this will go well, then?” you ask, and see a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Our lives will depend on it, dove.”

[misscrawfords]

17+32, Catherine and Henry (Northanger Abbey)?

War AU + Pregnancy fic

My anon, are you sure about this? Because this sounds hella angsty and if Catherine and Henry are anything, it's not angsty!

So I'm really sorry for completely ruining your desire for angst here.

*

Catherine goes to war in maternity leave.

Not literally, don't be ridiculous. She's an English teacher; what on earth would she be doing in a war zone? (She did once fancy herself a member of the Royal Navy but she had been 13 and mostly inspired by going on a high ropes adventure course on a school trip. The craze had not lasted.)

No, maternity leave is simultaneously boring and freeing. Since she started as a teacher, she's never had so much free time to just think. Henry's around some of the time, of course, but he has sermons to write and parishoners to see and tedious parish council meetings to chair. She flits in with cups of tea (waddles, really, at this point) and homemade cake that they at least pretend to like. (Sometimes she likes to give in to all the stereotypes of a vicar's wife. It makes her feel strangely cosy.) But when she isn't baking, she's at war.

At war on the internet. With the dog over her feet and a cup of tea at her side.

It started with a fun looking show on Netflix. Henry pointed it out to her one evening. "It's aimed at people who really loved Twilight when they were teengers and now lead depressingly generic lives in suburbia. People like you," he added pointedly.

Catherine narrowed her eyes and didn't let on that she'd already seen the trailer. "You're going to make fun of it."

"I mean... yes... obviously, but also, I really want to see whether the Dawn Angel gets together with the..." He squinted at the summary on his phone. "Immortal Night Demon or with her high school ex-boyfriend turned firefighter, Jordan. Golly, tough choice there, right? It's going to be compelling drama - breathtaking fight scenes, symbolic dark and light imagery, the epic highs and lows of high school football. You name it!"

They binged the whole thing in two days. Henry's next sermon, on the possibility of redemption even for demons and the devil himself, had been written in a fever dream by both of them at 2am after staying up far too late on Saturday arguing over the fate of the Night Demon and other related topics.

Old Mrs. Evans was heard to mutter sourly to her daughter Carys after the service, "That'll put the cat among the pigeons, that will alright. Too much Milton, not enough St Paul!"

"I always find Milton very inspiring!" Catherine replied bravely and loyally, as she helped them to a cup of tea in the church hall. She smiled at Carys, whom she'd taught Paradise Lost to at A Level a couple of years earlier. "St Paul too, of course," she added quickly, quailing under the mother's righteous glare. "Very inspiring."

But without marking or admin or driving to and from the high school in the large town half an hour away and without groups of teenagers to debate books with on a daily basis, Catherine found herself bored.

So she booted up her tumblr once again, abandoned since teaching had taken over her life and spending time with her wonderful, clever, funny, loving husband had seemed more interesting than scrolling aimlessly through social media, and discovered to her gleeful pleasure that fandom had not changed much and neither had she.

Or so she thought. Nowadays, she realises, everyone is moralising. The prevailing view seems to be that teenage girls in fandom aren't capable of distinguishing fact from fiction, that if they want a fictional heroine to rule hell with a sexy demon overlord at her side that must mean that that's what they want in real life. That the only moral thing to do here would be to marry the nice but boring guy who's been there for ever.

Catherine is an English teacher married to a vicar. If anyone knows anything about morality and fiction, it's her. This is all sounding very similar to the male critical outrage at women's novels in the 18th century. It seems nothing ever changes except that this time it's girls doing it to each other. Catherine writes several essays explaining all of this. She gets sent death threats and called an abuse apologist.

"It's so strange," she muses to Henry, as they eat homemade Thai curry in front of the aga.

"What is?" he replies. (She's told him everything, of course.) "The teenagers sending you anonymous death threats on tumblr? Because-"

"Nah, that's just standard for tumblr. I mean, it's so strange that anyone would want Griselda to be with Jordan. He's just so... normal and not in a good way. Just always going on about football and how great he was in high school. He really peaked then and he's a firefighter so that should make him brave but he never seems to actually do any fire fighting. He just talks about it as if we're meant to be impressed. We all know a Jordan and nobody wants to date him."

She'd know. Her first boyfriend had been a Jordan. They'd dated for five minutes. (Literally five minutes. Then she'd realised she'd been asked out and not to do a singing gig. Thorpy had been so subtle as to be unintelligible. Then she'd run for the hills, more disappointed in not having her vocal talents finally recognised than in being asked out by such a bore.)

"So a literal demon is a better bet?" Henry asks. "Just asking for clarification. Next year's Halloween costume depend on it."

"He's interesting and sexy and treats Griselda as an equal. What more do you want?"

"Well, speaking as a clergyman...." Henry begins with faux pomposity as he often does, his expression very fond.

She leaves him to do the washing up and lecture the dog. (She frequently hears him discussing doctrinal issues with the dog from the other room. It's adorable. She wonders if he'll be like this with the baby too. She can't wait.)

Back in her study, she boots the kitten off her chair and settles down for a long evening of defending a fictional relationship against antis, maybe reading a bit of a 52 chapter fanfiction where the Night Demon owns a tattoo parlour in New York City, and continuing to work a little on her new scheme of work for Year 9 when she eventually returns to work. It has the working title of "Sexy villains through history and why we should stan them".

She might need to edit that before she pitches it to her Head of Department.

There's a wonderful smell coming from downstairs: Henry is spontaneously baking apple cake. If she glances behind her computer monitor to the window, the graveyard looms dark and comforting in the autumn night, illuminated just by one of the outside lights on the old church. On a cushion by the bookcase, the kitten is lightly snoring and twitches in her sleep. She feels the baby shift slightly within her.

Shipping wars and the thrill of being so engaged in a fandom once more might fill a current space in her life, but goodness, she knows the difference between fact and fiction! Why would she want anything other than what she already has? Life is good.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Angel

Summary: You are their guardian angel.

Warning: Language, Injuries

Word Count: 2,159

* * * * * *

Your foot taps nervously against the bottom of the stool, eyes fixed on the folder in front of you, that contains the briefing of your mission. Nerves trying to further expel themselves through the clinking of your nails against the glass mug of tea.

Your mission in Vienna.

The first mission you’ve had overseas.

Being the newest member of the Avengers meant countless months of training until the team deemed you fit to go on missions. And even then you had to continue to prove that you’re ready to go further than you had.

It also meant still learning your teammates. There’d already been very strong relationships set between the team when Nick Fury pulled you in, claiming all your abilities would benefit them.

Having been born with special abilities meant dealing with the hate that comes with being different. When people found out it was rarely a good reaction.

So even though you agreed to join the Avengers, you kept your special abilities to yourself and instead trained to perfect the normal ones you had. 

“Y/n?” 

Thoughts get interrupted by the familiarly sultry voice of your teammate and half of your assigned mission partners. 

Natasha gently sets her bag at the door and walks closer to you, choosing to lean on the kitchen counter beside you.

“I know this is your first, fairly major, mission. Which can be nerve wracking. But I promise, myself and Wanda have your back. And I also know you’re more than ready for this.” 

E/c eyes raise to green, searching for sincerity and finding it. 

You nod, the corner of your lips just barely tugging up. Then you stand, silent as always, to leave the kitchen. 

All the while Natasha watches you, hoping her words had the proper effect, but still glad she didn’t fumble over them or say the wrong thing. 

Since you’d joined her team the redhead was unsure of you, almost as unsure as you were of all of them. Over time though, she’d grown more interested than unsure. She wondered what kept you so quiet, what was holding you back from them, from her, and what it was that seemed to plague your mind at every moment of the day. 

Trying to become closer to you became the goal which meant tailoring her approach. Natasha couldn’t come to you as the Black Widow, she couldn’t intimidate or seduce you into opening up. You have a fragile soul and she knew that.

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d tried speaking to you and said the wrong thing or worded her thoughts the wrong way. But each time ended with you walking away and her, sometimes literally, smacking herself.  

With a huff, she picks up her bag, and starts toward the jet. It doesn’t take long to make sure everything is running properly so she waits inside for you and Wanda. 

The two of you appearing shortly after.

Natasha watches as her girlfriend speaks to you, your expression unwavering. It seems Wanda is walking on the same eggshells with you, pausing for long moments to think of what to say before speaking. 

It was no secret that Wanda is more in touch with her emotions and those of others out of the two, so it’s slightly odd to see the woman struggle with you as well. 

But just like Natasha, she tries. Because just like Natasha, she’s intrigued.

Wanda was taken with your beauty the second she saw you. Both internally and externally. Without invading your mental space, simply put she read your aura. But it was as if she could only read the surface of it. Like you were blocking her powers. Still what she found was beautiful.

That had drawn her to you even though you were keeping her at a distance. And so she did her best to make you feel comfortable and understood one the rare occasions you let her in. 

Now isn’t one of those times.

Wanda can tell that you’re anxious about your first international mission. She understands that, which is what she had been sharing with you when you got on the jet.

Two hours into the flight though, she’d stepped away, not wanting to crowd you. 

So as you laid down to calm yourself and rest, she moved to the co-pilots seat beside Natasha. 

Reaching over, Wanda grabs her girlfriend’s hand and laces their fingers together. 

A look is shared between the two, both worried about you but also confident in your ability to do complete this mission. 

There had long since been a discussion between the girlfriends about you. Revolving around their feelings for you.

They’d both admittedly felt guilty for developing feelings for someone outside of their relationship but Natasha had noticed the signs of Wanda’s crush and on the chance that she was right, she mentioned hers.

Being honest with each other lead to the idea of bringing you into their relationship, but that would all depend on you. Your feelings for them and your willingness to let them in.

But that was something to come later.

Now they focused on the mission at hand. 

The mission had begun exactly as planned. A simple data collection. 

Honestly you all should’ve seen the problem when the enemy base was empty, the data left unprotected. While your guards had been up for ambushes or unexpected threats.

Despite that, none of you had been prepared for a bomb. 

While leaving the base you’d caught the glare of a red light in the dark and the faint ticking and knew what it was. 

“There’s a bomb, we need to move now.” You rush, anxiety climbing as you all ran from the building. 

The three of you bad just barely stepped foot out the base when the bombs went off and despite your running you knew you weren’t clear of the blast. 

Your eyes frantically searched the field as the heat of the explosion got closer and there was no escaping it. So, in an attempt to protect the women, you laced your arms around them and pulled them to your body. 

In seconds their visions were obscured by beautiful white feathers. And while they had confusedly stared at their new unfamiliar surroundings, you gritted your teeth at the searing pain of the heat and shrapnel of the explosion. 

You held on though, unmoving until you no longer felt the suddenness of it.

“Y/n,” Wanda breathes, eyes following the shimmering white feathers to you, only to find your eyes drooping. 

They caught your now unconscious form. Your wings slacking away from their body as you were no longer awake to control them. 

Using their joint strength, they drug you to the jet.

Natasha moved almost in a panic, but kept her expression neutral, as she put in the coordinates of the mission assigned safe house. It would take hours to fly back to New York and that was time they weren’t sure they had. 

As they flew, Wanda took in your wings. The wings no one on the team knew about. 

Even though feathers were singed and there were bloody cuts, they still managed to leave her awestruck. 

“Did you know-” Wanda begins, looking up to Natasha who simply shook her head. 

When you landed at the safe house, they carried you inside and to the nearest bedroom. 

It’d taken a lot rushed research on their part to clean and patch up your wounds. They both knew how to tend to human skin but nothing about wings. But they managed, moving with care and gentleness as they removed the scattered pieces of shrapnel, tended to the burned feathers, and cleared away the blood. 

Seeing you hurt yet so beautiful stirred their emotions more than usual. Causing them both to act without thinking.

“Please be okay.” Wanda whispers, fingers smoothing over your silk like wings. Beside her Natasha repeating the same sentiment in her head as she leaned down and pressed a kissed to your forehead. 

Neither woman could leave you, resulting in Wanda falling asleep beside you, tucked under your wing, and Natasha occupying the chair in the corner of the room with her eyes trained on both of you. 

The woman was tired but more than that she was determined to make sure you were okay. Something she didn’t find out until hours later.

The signs of your consciousness came gradually but still alerted her, as the first one was the retracting of your wings.

Green eyes focused on the way the angelic appendages seemingly folded into your back and under your skin. It looked painful and the woman’s concern for you increased. 

She was so focused on you she didn’t notice Wanda wake up to see it as well, the second the warmth of your wings left her body.

Now both sets of green eyes were trained on you back. Mainly the very noticeable extra bones. They were raised a little higher than the normal back bones, both perpendicular to your spine. 

Still acting without much thought, Wanda reached out, her fingers ghosting over the smooth skin covering the bones. It felt as if there had been no wings there, as if the skin hadn’t just opened to let the large additions into your body. 

Neither woman noticed you wake up, not until a shiver wracked you at Wanda’s touch. 

Wanda jerked away, silently praying she hadn’t overstepped by touching you. 

“Could-”‘ your small voice reached their ears and Natasha moved to kneel beside the bed,“ can you get me a shirt?”

She nods, disappearing from your eyesight for seconds and returning with a top. 

After awkwardly pulling it on to make sure they didn’t see your naked front, you hesitantly moved to sit up against the headboard. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs.

Natasha’s brow furrows at the way you seemingly tried to hide from them, curling in on yourself. 

The redhead sits in front of you on the bed, hand laying against the bed as if she really wanted to rest it on your leg.“ You have nothing to be sorry for Y/n.”

“Really. You didn’t scare us, we were worried, not scared.” 

It was your turn to frown. 

You hadn’t been blind to their attempts to get closer to you. You felt guilty about it though. You were hiding such an important part of yourself from them, a part you weren’t sure you’d ever share. 

Not that that mattered now. They’d seen the real you. 

Whatever opinions they’d formed on you are sure to change. You’d lose them.  Like everyone else.

Both women watched the emotions flashing through your eyes and across your face. The confusion, the guilt, the sadness, then settling on fear. 

What were you scared of? 

Ever the emotionally observant, Wanda guesses correctly on why you’re scared, and takes the proper approach at talking about it with you.

“Y/n, why hadn’t you said anything about your wings?” She asks.

Your gaze moves to her slowly and your breath catches. 

Where was the hatred? The disgust? The fear?

“I-” your words fall short, eyes searching hers deeply for the reaction you usually got. 

When her hand wraps around yours in comfort and encouragement to speak you’re even more perplexed. 

Had you truly misread them? Mistaken them for the people in your past?

“I was afraid you’d be scared of them.” You swallow.“ Or find them ugly. I know it’s not normal but I was born with them.” 

Natasha feels her heartbreak at the obvious pain you’d endured because of them in your past. It was written in your eyes. 

She scoots closer and takes your other hand.“ Your wings are beautiful Y/n. And anyone in your past who thought otherwise were ignorant. People fear what they don’t understand.” 

Your frown returns,“ why aren’t you?” You direct to them both. 

“Because as beautiful as your wings are, as much as we don’t know about them, we see beyond that.” Wanda answers. 

Natasha stands, gently nudging you to the center of the bed, then sitting so you’re between the two. 

“Trusting new people is hard when you’ve been hurt by people you thought you could in the past. But I promise you can trust us and we won’t let you down if and when you begin to.” She assures.

How could you not believe the soft and honest admission? Especially coming from two of the most powerful women you’ve ever met.

“I think I may be starting to.” 

Moving with caution, hoping you aren’t the one overstepping this time, you lean your head on Natasha’s shoulder, and squeeze the hand Wanda is holding.

Natasha and Wanda know it will take time for you to fully open up to them but they’re more than patient. And if a time ever comes when you reciprocate their romantic feelings, they’d gladly treat you like the angel you are.

* * * * * *

taglist: @trikruismybitch 

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Cheryl//you can’t go through life trying not to get hurt

Request: So can I ask for a cheryl x reader where r does everything to make cheryl happy and just being supportive of her?

hey! i kind of got just a little bit carried away with this. but i think i pulled it back! i hope you like it! also, i know the title is an archie quote but i don’t really care because it fits and i like it! plus, they’re both red-heads so what’s really the difference? 

- We know Cheryl hasn’t had the best life 

- Her entire family and everything to do with it is tainted

- So for a long while, she thinks she’s tainted to

- And when she meets you 

- On a rainy Friday night, sat by Sweetwater River

- With your hair plastered to your face and the brightest smile she’s ever seen 

- She knows she has to stay away from you

- Because anybody who can be that happy sat in the pouring rain 

- Is somebody too pure for her 

- So she turns around and heads back to her car 

- Deciding that if she wants to be alone, she can just do it at home

- But then she hears it

- Your voice

- So soft, but so demanding 

- And you’re calling her name 

- Her name has never sounded so pretty 

- Even if it is coming from a complete stranger, who’s staring at such a dark place like its the most beautiful thing in the world

- ‘yea-yeah?’

- Her confidence slips for just a few seconds and its purely down to the way you’re looking at her 

- Like she’s filled with magic and wonder and mystery 

- A mystery you’re going to solve 

- Spoiler alert...you do

- ‘come sit’ You pat the rock beside you and she glances warily between you and it 

- It may have stopped raining but that rock is still very wet and she’s wearing a new skirt 

- ‘oh come on. live a little’ Your eyes sparkle as you speak 

- She eventually concedes and sits beside you

- Now she just has to make sure she doesn’t give too much away 

- Never let anyone else in

- Its the mantra she’s been repeating for as long as she can remember 

- This time she’s going to stick to it 

- Spoiler alert...she doesn’t

- Because thats easier said than done when a pretty girl is asking her questions 

- Or just paying attention to her tbh

- So she asks you questions instead 

- ‘how do you know who i am?’ 

- Normally she’d be afraid of a complete stranger who knew her name

- But this time, she’s just curious 

- She wants to know who you are 

- Why you’re in Riverdale?

- How has a town so full of dark secrets and awful people managed to capture you?

- She’s expecting a long winded explanation about how you just moved from a big city

- Because lets be real, thats the only place she can picture you living 

- But instead you just laugh 

- Such a light, unexpected laugh

- And now she’s unsure of what to say 

- What do you say to that?

- ‘i know a lot about a lot’ 

- ‘wow’ She mutters 

- She couldn’t help it 

- She is Cheryl Blossom after all 

- She can’t been seen as anything other than a bitch 

- But when she see’s the flash of hurt in your eyes 

- She can’t help but feel even more like the worst person in the world 

- She mumbles a quick apology and looks at the river instead 

- ‘its fine.’ You shrug. ‘you’ve been through a lot’ 

- ‘how do you know?’ 

- ‘i just do. but you will be okay cheryl, and don’t worry, you could never taint anything. i don’t think you’re capable of even leaving a trace of something bad.’ 

- She really wants to say something 

- But what the hell do you say to that? 

- And when she turns to face you, hoping the right words will find their way somehow 

- You’ve vanished 

- For a split second she thinks you’re a ghost 

- Its not the first time she’s had full on conversations with the dead 

- But then she hears a thud

- Followed by a groan and a small ‘ow’ 

- And it makes her laugh 

- Like properly laugh 

- The first she has in a while 

- She watches you stand and give her an awkward wave before actually disappearing 

- For the rest of the weekend you’re the only thing she can think of 

- By the time Monday rolls around she’s determined to find you 

- It can’t be hard 

- You’ve got to be a new student

- And Betty gives tours to all the newbies 

- She’ll just ask her 

- Thats easier said than done though

- She tried looking for her cousin before classes started 

- She even came in early 

- But no luck 

- So she has to wait until lunch time 

- And that makes her worry 

- By lunch time, you could have been told literally everything about her 

- How her brother was murdered by her father 

- How awful her mother is 

- She was almost assaulted 

- She attempted suicide 

- And she joined a cult 

- Just to name a few 

- Riverdale High is a breeding ground for rumours 

- Usually created by her 

- But they spread fast around here

- When lunch time rolls around, she’s sure you’re going to know how much of a train-wreck she actually is 

- Despite all of that though 

- Something inside her wills her to ask Betty about you 

- She then goes on to describe everything she remembers about you 

- Maybe in a little too much detail 

- ‘she had sparkly y/e/c eyes’ 

- ‘and y/c/h hair that framed her face in just the nicest way’ 

- ‘and her smile...it was wonderful’ 

- ‘...right. did you get a name?’

- ‘if i got her name do you really think i would be here right now?’ 

- ‘che-’ Betty is cut off by someone calling her name 

- The sound of it making Cheryl feel like she can’t breathe 

- She knows that voice 

- Even Betty’s name sounds nice when coming from her 

- From you

- But hold on

- You’re hugging Betty 

- Thats way too friendly for someone you’ve only known for half a day 

- ‘hi cheryl’ Your wave is less awkward than it was on Friday night, but your smile is just as cheerful as you look at the red head. 

- Okay, now she definitely doesn’t know what to say

- Betty quickly puts two and two together and smirk appears on her lips as she looks between the two of you 

- She has known about your small crush on Cheryl for a while 

- So she decides to help you out 

- ‘what were you saying about y/n’s smile? it was amazing? no! wonderful!’ 

- ‘shut up betty. i think your boyfriend wants you’ 

- She’s practically shooing Betty away and she mutters something under her breath but walks away anyway 

- Once she’s gone, Cheryl turns back to you and just stares at you 

- ‘so, you go here?’ 

- ‘yep?’ 

- ‘how long?’ She really doesn’t want to know the answer 

- ‘as long as you have’ You don’t seem annoyed when she looks at you 

- The opposite in fact

- You kind of look amused 

- ‘how have i not noticed you?’ 

- ‘you’ve been pre-occupied I suppose’ 

- ‘how can i make it up to you?’ 

- ‘notice me’ 

- ‘i’ve definitely already done that.’

- ‘take me to pops then’ 

- She never wanted to do something more

- But she’s torn 

- She wants to say no. To keep you safe from her and everything that come with being involved with a Blossom 

- But the way you’re looking at her makes her knees weak and her head dizzy 

- So she says yes 

- And its the best decision she’s ever made

- At first you take it slow 

- She’s been hurt before 

- And she’s hurt other 

- But something that makes it easier is the fact that you already know everything about her 

- Even if you were in the background during most of it 

- She’s so excited to get to know you

- One of the first things she learns is how you’ll do anything to make the people you love happy 

- Especially her 

- She’s quite literally never met anybody like you 

- You’re just so supportive of her 

- Nobody has ever treated her like that 

- So at first she doesn’t really know what to do 

- But then she remembers the night you met 

- And how you were so kind to her 

- Even though she didn’t know who you were 

- And she slowly starts to get used to it

- In return she learns how to be more supportive of others

- Something her friends are incredibly grateful for 

- To the actual supporting/happy bit because I kind of got a bit carried away 

- Whenever she’s sad 

- Whether it be because she’s missing Jason 

- Her mom/other family members have made an unwelcome appearance in her life 

- Someone has been rude to her 

- Or she’s just sad

- You will do literally anything and everything to make her smile 

- Cuddles? Hell yeah! 

- She wants to stay in bed all day? That sounds like an amazing day.

- She wants to watch her favourite film/tv show? Definitely

- ‘where do you keep your dvd’s?’ 

- ‘what century are you living in? you know there is a thing called the internet.’ 

- She wants her favourite food from Pops? You’re already out the door 

- You’ll go for drives around town while she tells you stories of her and Jason 

- Or you’ll let her teach your archery or some other weird hobby she has 

- Plus, you’ll tell her all the stupid jokes you know 

- Usually she laughs more out of pity than humour

- But it still counts 

- ‘sure it does babe’ 

- And if someone has made her angry 

- It doesn’t really take much

- But you’re working on it 

- You are 100% behind her if she wants to ruin their life (in moderation) 

- You go along with whatever crazy plan/scheme she’s though of that week

- She wants to start a business? Where do you sign? This is the best idea ever 

- Steal something from somebody thats wronged her? Where is the best place to buy spy-wear 

- Create a little chaos? You’ve already got three ideas planned out you just need her approval

- Its not just silly things either 

- She decides she wants to go to therapy (everybody in this town needs it, including Pop). You’ll go with her and wait outside of every single session if she wants you to. 

- You usually spend the time googling how to help her (she just thinks you spend the entire time on Instagram) 

- She wants to properly cut off her family (with the exception of Nana Rose and the twins). You 100% support her if thats what she wants

- As your relationship grows, so does your support 

- She’s literally never felt more loved than when she’s with you 

- And you make it a mission to make her feel like this for the rest of her life 

- Spoiler alert...you do

support my writing! if you want!