#hope this is okay it feels stilted and weird but what do i know

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 25th-31st 2024

Happy late Easter if you celebrate! I had four days off soooooo as you can see, this is a long one 😆 (honestly feels like I spent the entire fucking day working on this!!)

OMG those stills last week? That episode synopsis? can't WAIT for 7x04 !!!!

(There's a couple of people not tagged, if you know them, please tag the min the comments!)

Complete

🔥 A Million Pretty Pieces by ShesLikeTexas / @shesliketexas-17 (Sentinel/Guide AU, Canon Divergent, SEAL!Buck | 251K | Teen): After enduring countless procedures to save his older brother, Evan Buckley is only four-years-old when he manifests as the youngest Guide in human history. The Global-Sentinel-Guide-Association brings one of their finest mentors, Bobby Nash, out of retirement to help train the young Guide.

When You Gimme Those Ocean Eyes by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Post-Tsunami, Mermaid!Buck | 5K | General): The loft was dark and stilted like Buck hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights when he got home but the air was thick with moisture. Maddie heard the shower first and then the pitiful, pained whimper next. “Buck!” Maddie moved in through the loft to the bathroom and pushed open the door. She was met with a face of trapped steam that seeped into her skin and made her lungs release a tension she didn’t know she’d been holding. But that tension returned tenfold as she flipped on the light. Buck stared up at her, tired and scared, from where he was slumped in the corner of his shower. (Part 1 of 🔥Mermaid AU)

Fallin’ Into Your Ocean Eyes by Princessfbi / @princessfbi (Mermaid!Buck, Getting Together | 21K | Mature): “Do you trust me?” Buck asked, as he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s. “You know I do.” “Good,” Buck said, pecking him on his lips again before he pulled away and kicked off his boots. “I need you to hold my pants.” Buck hooked his thumbs in the waistline of his jeans and pushed them down in a blink of an eye. If Eddie’s face could get any redder, it would, but the heat of his gaze had Buck shoving down a shiver that raced up his spine. He handed Eddie his jeans and pulled off his shirt. “This is weird,” Eddie mumbled as Buck handed his clothes to him. “I hope you realize this is weird.” (Part 2 of 🔥Mermaid AU)

A Diamond Mind and Those Ocean Eyes by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Mermaid!Buck | 35K | Teen): “Buck…” Eddie wheezed, his eyes rolling in his head. Maddie snapped her gaze down to look at him and almost burst into tears at the sight. Eddie’s sun kissed skin was deathly pale, with blue tinging his lips and dark circles under his eyes. Buck never would’ve left him. Not like this. “Eddie!” Maddie said, shaking him herself. “Where’s Buck?” Eddie wheezed and said, “… boat.” Then Eddie stopped breathing and Chimney started CPR. (Part 3 of 🔥Mermaid AU)

Work It Like The Rent's Due by Loverlylo/ @theloverlylo (Stripper!Buck | 4K | Teen): Look, the cost of living in Los Angeles is insane, and public servants make nothing. Lacking savings, an inheritance, or a spouse with a high-earning job, Buck turns to a side gig to help pay is rent. And what side gig is perfect for a gorgeous man with no shame? If you guess stripping, you win.

the music moves me (right onto your lap) by KaztielCS118 (Stripper!Eddie | 4K | Mature): Eddie used to be a strip dancer, he shows Buck just how good he is.

🔥 I want to be your fantasy (maybe you could be mine) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Bachelor Party | 7K | Explicit): Eddie stopped just outside the doors, a hand on Buck's arm to stop him from going inside. “Buck I have to tell you something and you’re not allowed to say shit about it okay?” “Of-of course,” Buck was a little worried at how serious Eddie was being, but it probably wasn't anything that bad if he was going to tell Buck something and then go into a pole dancing class. “I’m going to be really good at this class,” Eddie said, his voice low. “Because one of my jobs before moving to L.A. was stripping. You’re the first person who didn’t work at the club or go to the club to know that and I’d prefer if it stayed that way.”

pauses, then says by vstars (S7E4 Speculation | 1K | Teen): or, Eddie checks up on Buck after an accident at the basketball court

Wrong Side of Heaven by TearsThisSideofHeaven (MCU AU, Post-Snap | 8K | Mature): In the moment, Buck wonders if this is the end of the world. Later, he’ll find himself wishing it had been. Or: the post-Thanos 9-1-1 AU that's been rattling around in the author's brain for literally years.

too tired to keep lying by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (S7E6 Spec, Madney Wedding | 1K | Teen): “But someone has to tell everyone that there’s—” Buck’s voice cracks. A shudder wracks him and Eddie’s hold tightens. “—that there’s not going to be a wedding today.” “There could be.” “What?” Eddie swallows hard, pulling back enough that his eyes can meet Buck’s. “There could still be a wedding today.”

do you want to know a secret by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (S7, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck overworks himself and his family worries. When Eddie overhears a conversation between Maddie and Chimney, he learns he might just have caused Buck’s change in behavior. The good news is – there’s something he can do about it.

🔥 If I Never Hear Your Voice Again by actualalligator/ @actualalligator (Canon Divergent, Post-S3E1 Kids Today, Online Friendship | 21K | Mature): After the pulmonary embolism, Buck starts to experience nerve pain and intermittent weakness in his leg. He undergoes another surgery, but when it does not help, he is medically retired from the LAFD. Chimney gets him a video game so they can play it together, but one night it leads him right to Eddie, a single dad from Texas, desperate to make ends meet. They strike up a friendship that eventually leads to more while they work through depression, a move, some new jobs, and a lot of other life stuff.

The One Where The 118 Play "Never Have I Ever" & Chaos Ensues. by dylaesthetics (S7, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Or playing Never Have I Ever during a slow shift goes as well as you can probably expect.

Warmth of your Gratitude and Appreciation by Wildgirl93/ @wildlife4life (S7E3 Coda | 1K | Not Rated): Buck is coming down from the rush of the cruise rescue and Eddie takes him home.

Buck the Bachelor by terranobis (S7, Bachelor!Buck | 41K | Not Rated): When an emergency at the Bachelor mansion leads to Buck becoming the Bachelor, Buck and Eddie begin to realize that there might be more to their friendship than they thought.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.

🔥 Racing with the Brakes Cut by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Fast&Furious AU | 61K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz is offered an undercover job by the LAPD, he takes it so the money will take care of his son. But his mission to infiltrate The 118, a group of street racers suspected of hijacking trucks and selling the goods on the black market, goes awry when he meets Evan Buckley. The more time Eddie spends with Buck and his family, partnering with Buck to win the dangerous Race Wars, the harder it is to remember why he's really there. As the police breathe down his neck, Eddie will have to choose exactly which side he's on, and where his loyalties lie.

of epiphanies by tawaifeddiediaz / @tawaifeddiediaz (Post-S7E3, FWB Buck/Tommy, Buddie Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck doesn’t know what to do about Tommy, but somehow, he finds the love of his life anyway.

oh i wonder who i'm looking for by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Post-S7E3, Buck/Tommy | 2K | Mature): after 7x03, buck and tommy go to a bar

if i died last night (it would haunt me forever) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E3, Love Confessions | <1K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck can't go another night without telling Eddie how he feels.

i love you if you even care by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Mature): 7x04 speculation where Buck gets jealous of Tommy, but hits Eddie with the basketball instead.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 75K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

a matching pair (we go together) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Getting Together | 1K | Teen): Or, the one where Eddie makes the team friendship bracelets.

be there on the next train by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Getting Together | 1K | Teen): or, painkillers, pet names, and other sure-fire ways to finally tell your best friend you’re in love with him

slowly getting sober from the taste of your skin by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7, Getting Together | 11K | Teen): Or, the one where Eddie gets drunk and pines. Includes Maddie & Eddie friendship, lots of miscommunication, and a happy fluffy ending. 

Left Unsaid by C_M2 (Post-Tsunami | 33K | Mature): The discovery of a small facebook group full of tsunami survivors rocks station 118.

it’s just the thought of you and what I leave behind by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Alternate S7E3 | 6K | Teen): As the cruise ship starts to sink, Bobby and Athena aren’t the only ones in desperate need of saving. The 118 goes on a high-risk mission and a close call brings Buck and Eddie together. 

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (PWP, Post-S6, Sex Pollen | 21K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

chafe the skin (you know i like it rough) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Buck had a problem. A very, very big problem. Eddie hadn’t shaved in two days.

Love's No Pressure by kittyeddie (PWP, Established Buddie | 7K | Explicit): 5 times Buck and Eddie try to have sex but don't, and one time they finally get to

baby, can i hold you? by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S7E1, Hurt/Comfort | 3K | Teen): or, eddie panics. buck holds him.

WIP

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 13/? | 113K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 29/? | 19K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

29. 71. Lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other to the point of barely having strength enough to breathe

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 123/? | 379K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Podfic

🔥 Still Waters by MilenaDaniels [Podfic] (@milenadaniels) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Post-S4E14: Survivors | 45-60 minutes | Explicit): As Eddie lays on the hot pavement bleeding out, his eyes locked on Buck’s bloody face, his hand reaching out towards him, what washes over him isn’t his hard-earned stillness nor is it shock. It’s clarity, edging slowly into focus from off-stage. And when he wakes up in the hospital bed and registers a soft, slim hand in his, he thinks, "no, that’s not it". Or, Five Ways Eddie's Body Feels Different After the Shooting

🔥 Nights are mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day by HMSLusitania [podfic](@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Camping Trip, Getting Together | 20-30 minutes | Not Rated): Coincidentally lacking children for a week, the firefam go camping together. Eddie would have a better time with it if he wasn't hiding a major secret.

🔥 What's Died Will Never Stay Dead by HMSLusitania [Podfic] (@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/@rhea314 (The Old Guard AU, Bobby POV | 45-60 minutes | Teen): Bobby's family died in an apartment fire in St Paul, he was honest about that much. But it was in 1904, not 2014.

🔥 Which Witch (series) by HMSLusitania [Podfic] (@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea) / @rhea314 (Witch!Eddie | 1-1.5 hours | Teen): It starts as a stupid conversation at the station. Chim, overly credulous, kicks them off with a quick, “Hey remember when we were jinxed because Probie said the q-word? Do you guys think there’s such a thing as actual magic?” In his defence, Eddie guesses, it really is a …q-word… shift and they don’t have anything better to do, everyone sprawled around on various pieces of furniture in the loft. Eddie had been playing a round of pool with Buck, but if they’re going to get into this conversation, he’s got to nip it in the bud. “Nope,” he says.

🔥 The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [podfic] (@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels) by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Post-S5, Fake Relationship | 4-5 hours | Explicit): The Buckleys are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new. Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part. Oops.

🔥 right in front of your eyes by rainbow_nerds [podfic] (@rainbow-nerdss) by Rhea314 (Rhea) / @rhea314 (Fake Relationship | 1.5-2 hours | Teen): Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

🔥 Lifelines by hetrez [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 (Canon Divergent, Tsunami | 2 hours | Teen): Buck said, "Look, I'm sorry I overheard that because it's personal, and you should be able to decide who gets to have that part of you." Eddie came out of his hunch a little and looked him in the eyes, and Buck felt a zing of giddy accomplishment. It maybe made him stupid. "But to be honest, I'm really flattered that Pepa thought a punk like me could get a guy like you." Eddie's eyes went huge, and under the sodium lights Buck could see his ears turning red. Just two strangers hanging out after a tsunami, talking about being in the closet.

🔥 Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania [Podfic] (@hmslusitania) by Rhea314 (Rhea) / @rhea314 (Post-Lawsuit, Time Loop | 2.5-3 hours | Mature): “You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?” OR The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 7

Find the series masterlist

Ace gets in over her head. Fortunately, Laswell knows someone who can help.

Warnings: Blood, injury (relatively minor), death of a minor character, so much spy shit, the plot thickens, Price is not very nice this chapter. 

Word count:  3k

Your flight landed in Ireland, and you had to check your phone twice. Once to check the time (you’d gone through multiple time zones in the last week) and once to confirm the location. 

You really needed a good night’s sleep, soon. You were beginning to feel stretched too thin. Maybe you’d take this info in person to Kate, crash at her place for a week. 

You arrived at the meeting place early, settling in and getting something to eat. You kept a casual eye out around you - it all just looked like locals gathering after a day of work. The gentle chatter was soothing in its own way. 

A man stood at your table, looking nervous and fidgety. “How do you like the view?” he asked, speaking carefully. He even sounded a little stilted. Hopefully you’d never run into him again. 

“The green does my soul good,” you responded the other half of the code, much more normally. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?” 

He sat and immediately ordered a beer. You frowned, just a little, but complied. So long as he remained sober and talking, you wouldn’t begrudge him a little something to take the edge off. 

You were careful not to put your notebook on the table where it could be seen, but you did hit record on your phone. You’d transfer the recording to a USB later - for now, this was the easiest way to get the information down fast. 

“You know someone in the group?” you asked quietly, gently leading. 

“Aye,” he agreed softly. “My cousin. He was the decent sort, but he got into some weird shit, ya know? And then…” He trailed off, shaking his head. ��Dunno how he got mixed up in all of this, but he keeps saying that the new world order is coming, shite like that. Crazy shite.” 

You nodded, hoping you looked appropriately sympathetic rather than just eager. “I see. What do you know of their plans?” 

“Not much,” he admitted, wringing his hands together. When his beer arrived, he downed nearly half of it in one go. “I know they are planning stuff, right? But he’s not allowed to tell me stuff, could get him killed to tell me too much.”

You hummed your understanding, watching him carefully. He was too nervous to be lying to you. If you had to guess, he was nervous about getting caught. “What else can you tell me?” 

You sat and listened patiently for the next forty-five minutes as he went on a ramble, a mixture of propaganda you figured the Russians used, a few oblique references to Al-Qatala, how much he missed his cousin, and how he was nervous to talk to people now. Honestly, it was a bit headache inducing. 

You weren’t sure you’d exactly call this the font of information you had been hoping for… but it was better than nothing. So you slipped the man cash and stood to leave.

“Can I walk you anywhere?” he offered, cheeks pinked from the second beer. 

“No,” you refused gently. “Thank you. It’s better if we go our separate ways and don’t speak again.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” He bobbled a little, awkward and uncertain. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. Aw. Darling. You turned to leave, deciding to head back to your hotel to transcribe the information before taking it back to Laswell. 

A thump from behind you made you still, heart slamming into overdrive as all your hair stood on end. One look back confirmed what you had feared. 

He was dead, slumped to the ground. 

The first scream came from the pub the two of you had just left, and you dove for cover behind a car. A bullet pinged into the brick behind you, where you had been a moment before. 

You were in fucking trouble now. 

Hands shaking, you looked back at the pub to see several people on their phones, likely phoning the cops. Another bullet hit the car you were hidden behind. 

You could stay and hope the car provided good enough cover until the police arrived. 

Or you could make a dash for it and get the hell out. 

Swallowing, you reached into your bag, grabbing the beanie you weren’t using. Quick investigation showed that ahead of you was another car, a line of them going down the street to provide some cover. The opposite direction had no cover but quickly turned into an alley behind the building. 

Taking your chances, you tossed the beanie towards the next car, making sure it would be visible from above. And you booked it in the opposite direction, ignoring the bullets behind you. You rounded the corner and could have cried with relief. As you suspected, there was a back door into the pub. You yanked it open and ran through, ignoring the yells of the kitchen staff, getting to the side entrance you’d found earlier. 

From there, it was a matter of making as many turns as possible, hoping that the sniper was bogged down by equipment and hampered by line of sight. Any time you could, you went through a building. That got you yelled at more than once, but you ignored every person. 

After an hour of this, you felt confident enough that the sniper wasn’t going to snipe you immediately to pull out your phone. You were panting, shaking, rattled. 

“Laswell,” you gasped, looking around furtively. “I need an immediate drop point.”

“What’s going on?” she demanded, short and tense.

“Got in over my head.” You sucked in another deep breath. Now that the adrenaline was fading, you hurt. Actually, your side hurt more than you should, and you looked down. Blood had stained the front and side of your shirt. “Oh fuck.”

“What now?” She sounded calmer than you, at least.

“Uh. Might’ve got shot. A little bit.” You lifted your shirt carefully, looking at the wound. “Just a graze. Not really bleeding anymore.”

“You need to get that taken care of, before you lose more blood,” Laswell ordered.

“Yes, thank you, I do–fuck!--do realize that.” You swallowed hard, poking very carefully around the edges. “Nothing broken, no major damage. That was… Goddamn that was close.” 

“You are going to explain everything to me,” Laswell ordered. “Now.”

“Not my boss,” you grumbled, even as you looked around again, this time looking for directions. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, hiding the blood. “Followed some intel on some Russians, got shot at, need to drop the info.”

Laswell sighed deeply. You hadn’t heard that particular sigh in… years. “Alright. I’ll send you coordinates. They might not be happy to see you.”

“They?” 

“Captain and his team.”

“Oh, well, no problem.” You huffed a little laugh, walking quickly now and sticking to populated areas. “Pretty sure he likes me.”

Laswell huffed an almost-laugh. “Just stay safe.”

“Will do.” You hung up on her, focusing on getting to your hotel. You needed to bug out. Immediately. But you also needed to dress this damn wound and change clothes. 

Fortunately, Laswell was as good as her word, and got you the directions to the drop point. Along with a reminder to stay safe. 

You didn’t reply, busy putting some bandages over the graze. Which hurt like blazes. Then you put gauze over the whole thing and taped it down.

That would just have to hold you until you could get to an actual medical professional. Preferably one you could pay under the table. 

It was a short flight down to London, and you didn’t stop. As soon as you were off the plane, you were gone again, making your way through the city to the drop off point. 

By this point, you weren’t sure how long you’d been awake, or how much blood you’d lost. More than you were comfortable with, apparently. 

Hopefully you could throw the notebook tucked under your shirt and the USB on your necklace at him and then call it a day. 

You made it to the drop off and paused in the street. This was… not the greatest neighborhood. Half the street lights were out, many windows were dark. Honestly, it set your nerves on edge. 

“Keep walking,” someone behind you grunted, right before something hard jammed into your back, against your spine. “Captain’s waiting.” 

You swallowed, not quite brave enough to look behind you, and started walking. The door ahead of you opened, revealing Captain, looking much the same as ever. He nodded once and stepped aside while the man behind you nudged you inside. Captain took the lead from there, walking down a set of stairs into a basement, and from there through a door and down a hallway. Vaguely, you realized this must have been a hidden entrance to a base of some kind, because you walked much too far to still be in the same neighborhood. 

At least there were lights placed regularly in the ceiling, all in working order. 

Captain pulled another door open and motioned you first. You went up the stairs perhaps a little more slowly than you needed to, but you were tired and in pain and confused. You figured you could be forgiven. 

At the top of the stairs, the man behind you moved up to take the lead momentarily. All you saw of him was that he was wearing all black, was an absolute mountain of a man, and had a full on mask over his head. 

But he opened a door and motioned you in with the gun. So in you went, Captain behind you. The masked man closed the door with a soft click. 

“Really, Captain?” You huffed as you were more or less pushed down into the single chair in the room. “Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Is that what you are?” Captain loomed over you, blank-faced, hands tucked into the neck of his tactical vest. “A guest?”

“What else would you call someone bringing gifts?” You spread your hands out, tipping your head up to look at him.

“A spy.” That came from the masked one, still behind you. 

You sighed. “Captain,” you murmured. “Still no trust after all this time? I’m hurt. Absolutely hurt.” You pressed a hand over your head, the drama covering up the very real pain. 

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You know, Laswell told me about you.”

“All awful things, I’m sure.” You kept your gaze on him as he took three steps over to the table. (Which you hadn’t even noticed, too busy being drawn into Captain’s gaze. Sloppy.) 

“Not all.” He didn’t look at you as he picked up a file. “You’re not the only one capable of gathering intel.” 

You blinked as he held out the file to you. You took it carefully, opening it. Your own face stared back at you, a still from an info drop. You leafed through it slowly, looking at the pictures inside. You sitting at dinner with Sergio. You playing with Sergio’s girls. You on the phone with someone, cool and collected. You getting off the plane in Mexico, being picked up by Valeria’s men.

“And all of this is…?” You trailed off leadingly, closing the folder gently.

“Evidence.”

“Against me.” You held out the folder for him to take, heart plummeting. This was bad. This was potentially every bit as bad as the sniper you’d escaped in Ireland. 

“Laswell thinks you’re not in on all of this.” Captain took the folder and tossed it back on the table. “I disagree. I think you’ve been in bed with the enemy for a while now.”

You drew in a slow breath. So. That was his play here. Honest hurt clenched in your chest, dragged against your lungs. Only sheer bloody-mindedness kept you breathing normally. 

“Well.” You licked your lips. “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind about me.”

His eyes narrowed at you. Neither of you spoke for several moments.

“Not even going to defend yourself?”

Your smile was definitely sad at this point, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You were tired. You hurt. You ached. All you’d wanted was a smooth drop off. Not this. “In my experience, there won’t be anything I can say to make you believe me. I could tell you my rules, but I suspect Laswell already has. I could remind you that I saved that young man’s life, but you doubtless took that into account. A conscious ploy on my part, perhaps. A way to get you to trust me.” You breathed in slowly. “You’re a stubborn man, Captain. As I said. I can’t change your mind.” 

“You’re probably right.” He remained calm, facing you, hands once again tucked into his vest.

“I think I’d like to give you the information now, before you let your underling at me.” Your fingers did not tremble as you pulled the necklace from around your neck. The notebook had left indents against your skin by the time you wormed it out from under your shirt, and you held both items out to Captain. “Here. Take them.” 

Looking suspicious now, he took the items. “What’s this, then?” 

“Intel.” You shrugged. “Movements of a Russian terrorist group. Weapons shipments. Numbers. What of the finances I could trace. Shell companies.” You shrugged again, folding your hands together in your lap. 

He was quiet as he looked through the notebook, not reading but skimming. The masked one shifted closer to you, banked violence rolling off him like fog, thick and eager.

And then your cell phone rang.

All three of you paused, and then the masked one snatched it and tossed it to Captain. 

“Laswell,” Captain murmured, letting it ring through without answering it. But then your phone rang again, and he huffed, holding it out to you.

“Katie Kate,” you greeted, light. Nothing was wrong. Nothing to see here.

“Did you make it?” 

You blinked, surprised, and looked at Captain. “Yes.”

“Price grabbed you, didn’t he?” Laswell demanded.

“I don’t do names, Katie Kate,” you reminded her gently. 

“Give him the phone. Then tell him where you’ve been for the last 72 hours.” 

You blinked. “Not a lackey, Laswell.”

“Do it.”

You sighed but held out the phone. “She wants to talk to you, Captain.” 

He took the phone, grunting once in acknowledgement. Then he remained silent for several moments, half-turned away from you, completely silent. “Fine.” He hung up and looked back at you. “Start talking.”

“I spent the last 72 hours getting that information.” You shrugged. “I’ve got friends in arms dealing and movements, so I visited a couple of them to get some of those numbers. Then I headed up to Ireland to see another contact who knows someone in the Russian group, and let me tell you, he rambled. Then he got shot, and I spent the next hour dodging a sniper.” You blinked, going through your memory. Things got a bit fuzzy there. “Took me a few hours to get here after that, and voila.” 

“That’s not how Kate put that last part.”

You winced. Just a little. “Does it matter?”

“It does if you bled for this.” He let the necklace dangle between his fingers. 

Abruptly, you were angry. So angry. You wanted to shout at him. You wanted to hit him. You wanted to run to the far side of the planet and burn every alias you’d ever made and retire to a quiet beach. 

You wished you’d been able to actually see the sniper. 

“You’ve made up your mind about me,” you pushed, eyes narrowing, shoulders tense and tight. 

“You never defended yourself.”

“Because it doesn’t matter!” You started to rise, only to be pushed harshly back down. “It never matters!” 

Captain crouched in front of you, the line of his jaw easing. “Let me see.”

You bared your teeth at him. “Shoot me first.”

“Nah. Someone else did that already.” One big hand caught the wrist nearer him, holding you steady as his other hand pulled your shirt up enough to see the blood-stained bandages over your ribs.

“Let go of me.” Your voice had gone frigid, frame so tense you ached with it.

“Not yet, love.”

The softness in his tone had you blinking, dumbfounded. The emotional whiplash combined with the sleep deprivation and blood loss was doing absolutely wretched things to your heart. “What?” 

“Come on. Let’s get you up to medical.” He stood and pulled you up with him. Unprepared, you swayed, off-kilter. 

“I don’t…” You felt like you were lagging, blinking rapidly. 

“You’ll feel better after some sleep.” He nodded to the other man, helping you out of the room and down the hall. “You know, took me a bit to put together your passwords.”

“...What?” You blinked at him, a little bleary, stumbling through the door. 

“Enterprise. Imperial. Used Voyager before, too.” His lips twitched in something approaching a teasing smile. “Didn’t realize you were such a nerd.”

“You were testing me.” You spoke slowly, tongue thick, mind working overtime to fight through the everything: lack of sleep, lack of blood, emotional whiplash. 

Captain hummed his agreement of that, depositing you onto a cot. “Yes.”

“Why…?” You turned your gaze to him, hoping you were hiding your hurt, fairly certain you didn’t succeed.

He sighed slowly. “I’ll explain it all after you get some sleep.” He stepped back, letting a medic over. “Rest, Ace.” 

You blinked at his retreating back. You needed more intel. None of this made sense. 

It didn’t even occur to you until later that he had somehow seamlessly traveled the long path down to the soft part of your heart without permission. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had become important to you.

And that? That hurt worse than the stitches the medic was putting in you.

[doeeyeseddie]

If you're still taking soft prompts (and if you're inspired), how about "walking home" maybe? <3

morgan!! thank you, i hope you like this one <3

send me a soft prompt

[read on ao3]

Their first date is a little awkward. Buck has never been on a first date where he knows the other person inside out, after they’ve already said “I love you”, after they’ve kissed.

But no one’s ever been as important either, and they want to do this right, so they’re on a first date anyway, dressed up and on either side of a small table at a fancy restaurant.

They’ve made it to dessert without anyone choking, and it’s not like they don’t have anything to talk about – but their conversation does feel a little more stilted than usual. This restaurant doesn’t seem like the place to shoot the shit like usually, and Buck’s kind of intimidated by the wine menu they had to order from, and some of the ingredients in the food they had to google.

The portions are incredibly small but Buck didn’t want to complain or make fun of it, so he just feels like he’s been holding back all night.

He’s pretty sure Eddie feels the same way, but they haven’t talked about it, because this is their first date and it was meant to be perfect.

The sun is going down when they leave the restaurant, casting the road in front of it in a golden glow. They walked here from Eddie’s house – all nervous smiles and careful hand-holding – because it’s close enough and parking is a nightmare, so they’ll have to walk back too.

Buck isn’t sure what the rules are. His car is parked at Eddie’s, does he say goodnight and drive away? Does he kiss Eddie goodnight? Is Eddie gonna invite him inside, and if he does, what does that mean?

He hasn’t felt this unsure about what he’s allowed to do since…probably the lawsuit, and it’s unsettling. He’s way happier now, of course, the two situations aren’t really comparable, but it’s weird not knowing exactly how to act around Eddie.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asks when they start walking, bumping their shoulders together.

“Yeah,” Buck says too quickly, and Eddie raises his eyebrows at him.

“So you didn’t think that was awkward?”

Buck laughs in relief. “No, it really was.” He sobers up. “But why? I thought we’d just – keep being us.”

Eddie shrugs and his shoulder bumps Buck’s again. “I think we can. This just wasn’t really us, was it?”

“Guess not,” Buck mutters, feeling miserable. He wanted this date to be perfect, and now it wasn’t.

Eddie stops walking and reaches for Buck’s hand. “Buck.”

Buck squeezes his hand but doesn’t look at him. “Sorry. I just– This was our first date. It was supposed to be perfect.”

“Well, if it’s up to me, we have the rest of our lives left for perfect dates,” Eddie says, like that’s a normal thing to say. Buck almost gives himself whiplash from looking up at him too quickly, but Eddie’s just smiling a little bit. “And this one isn’t over yet, is it?”

“Eddie,” Buck says, and it comes out a little choked.

Eddie reaches up to cup his cheek, his smile growing into a grin. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still kind of hungry. Those portions were pretty small.”

Buck laughs, aware that this was Eddie’s goal all along. “They were so small.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and his hand drops from Buck’s face, but the other one stays in Buck’s hand. “So let’s find something real to eat.”

“We can stop by that food truck on La Cienega, you know the one with the good tacos?”

“Oh, yeah, we haven’t been in way too long,” Eddie says, and he’s pulling Buck forward by the hand before Buck can do any of the things he suddenly really wants to do, like hug Eddie, or kiss him like there’s no one else on the street.

It’s probably for the best – this is still a first date, after all.

But it’s like a dam has broken. Outside of the restaurant, having acknowledged the awkwardness, and holding Eddie’s hand tightly, everything suddenly feels normal again. They can talk the way they always do whether they’re holding hands or not, and Buck feels a bit silly for his worrying. Of course they’re still them.

It only takes them five more minutes to get to the food truck, and another five for their tacos to be ready, and then they sit down on one of the small tables in front of it, their hands linked on top of it and legs tangled under it. Eating with one hand is a little bit of a challenge, but Buck is determined, and so is Eddie.

For a few minutes they eat in silence, just smiling at each other, and then Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s.

“This is better, huh?”

“So much,” Buck agrees. “I think I was so focused on making today special that– that I forgot to think about what would be perfect for us. I don’t need a fancy restaurant, I just want to be with you.”

Eddie lifts their linked hands and presses a kiss to Buck’s knuckles. “Me too. All I need is you and me exactly the way we’ve always been, except now I finally get to kiss you.”

Buck feels his face flush, pleased. “Sounds good to me.”

“Ready to go home, then?”

Buck nods, balling up his napkin and collecting their trash on his paper plate, still one-handed. “It’s our first date, ‘course I gotta walk you home.”

Eddie laughs. “I was counting on it.”

The sky above them is dark now, streetlights guiding their way home, and Eddie’s face looks just as beautiful in the artificial light as it did in the evening sun earlier. Buck keeps looking at him, and most of the time, he finds Eddie already looking back. And still, each time there’s a little flutter in his belly, a giddy little skip of his heart. He’s never felt this way before, and it’s impossible to keep the smile off his face.

It’s not far to Eddie’s house, and Buck follows Eddie’s lead all the way to the front porch, where he stops. Eddie turns around to face him, a curious tilt to his mouth.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Buck says, and the corners of Eddie’s mouth turn up into a smile. Buck finds it hard looking anywhere else.

“Me, too. But why are we standing out here?”

“So I can kiss you goodnight,” Buck says, eyes on the little scar that starts right below Eddie’s bottom lip. It’s been around 48 hours since he last kissed Eddie (first kissed him too, actually), and he really wants to do it again.

Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and Buck’s eyes flick up to meet his eyes for a moment, just to gauge his reaction.

Eddie pulls him closer by the hand and places his free hand on the back of Buck’s neck, murmuring, “Like I’m gonna say no to that.”

It’s all the permission Buck needs, and he closes the last of the space between them quickly. He can feel Eddie smiling against his mouth, and the flutter in his belly is back at full force. With an arm around his waist, he pulls Eddie as close as he can get and lets his tongue trace the path of the scar he was just staring at.

Eddie makes a small noise and opens his mouth, meeting Buck’s tongue hungrily. It takes Buck’s brain a minute to remember the fact he meant for this to be a chaste goodnight kiss, and he pulls back with difficulty.

When he opens his eyes, Eddie is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, and Buck immediately wants to kiss him again.

“Do you kiss all of your first dates like this?”

Buck nudges his cheek with his nose, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Only you.” Eddie’s smile sets off sparks all over his insides, and he kisses him again, quickly this time. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie says, his fingers carding through the hair at the back of Buck’s head. “Not that I didn’t enjoy this kiss goodnight, but you’re coming inside with me, right?”

And honestly, Buck kind of thought he’d be going back to his loft after this, considering this was their first date. But the way Eddie’s asking, and everything they’ve talked about since they left the restaurant, kind of makes him realize that none of that matters. They’re in love, they’re a family already, why should it matter that this was technically the first time they went out to dinner together and called it a date? They’ve done it without the name a million times already.

“Yeah,” he says, following Eddie to his familiar front door. “I’m coming with you.”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

So with Clementine Book Two coming out in October, I decided to do another reread of Book One. Though, I'll be honest, the bigger reason for this reread was out of spite; I follow Tillie Walden on instagram, and while I don't go on there often, I usually check her page when I do so I can see any new artwork or Clementine updates. Her latest post is from one of her other graphic novels, and I guess I just... don't get it.

I don't understand why people are like this:

This is on a post that has nothing to do with the Clementine comics. As for ones that are about Clementine-

Those are just a handful from a few Clementine-related posts, but there's so much of this all over Tillie's posts and I don't understand.

What does this accomplish? Other than making you look like an asshole? Like... no one is impressed by this. No one is applauding you for repeatedly commenting "lol we didn't want a forced gay romance ew," which by the way? Repeating that in every single paragraph you comment? Tell me you're homophobic without saying you're homophobic, y'know?

There are legit criticisms to be had of Clementine Book One- The pacing is all over the place where it starts very slow and then goes into whiplash mode after Amos dies. Georgia as a villain is a weak point in the story. Clementine naming her leg after Kenny is a bit icky considering in canon, he physically and verbally abused a disabled person with a brace on his leg in S2. I don't think there was much thought behind that decision past "Hey, the fans like Kenny," and I think that's worth pointing out as "Hey... maybe don't?"

Some of the dialogue is a bit stilted, but some of it is actually pretty good. My personal favorite is when Clementine and Amos are fixing a roof-

Amos: Lord, this roof is... Clementine: ...fucked? Amos: SHH, don't say that! It's... troubled.

I'm sorry- that's funny! And it actually says a lot about who these characters are and the kind of friendship they have.

And yeah, Ricca is just okay. She's clearly the love interest, and I'm hoping we get more development of her character. And yes, the "baby" thing is still weird.

There's a lot about the art style that I'm not crazy about, specifically Clementine's face and expressions, and I hope to see an improvement in that for Book Two.

And then the obvious: Clementine leaving because she was unhappy and felt everyone thought she was a liability doesn't match up with the end of TFS.

I don't think it's mean to say that Tillie wasn't the best fit for this project, but that's on Skybound. They're the ones who reached out to her and hired her. I think Tillie's a great artist and her graphic novels have great queer, wlw representation in them. Just because she wasn't the perfect fit for Clementine that doesn't mean she's bad, it means that maybe she should've been considered for a different project.

And honestly...? Y'all, Book One isn't THAT bad. It's not great or anything, but the comics can't take the games away from you. If you want to say canon ends with the TFS, then that's where it ends. That's where it ends for me; these comics are more of a "what if" scenario than anything.

No one is forcing you to accept this as canon, and if you're so pathetically butt hurt over the existence of a comic that you feel like you have to go on Tillie's instagram, the artist who is only doing the job she's obligated to do, and comment shit like this on every. single. post-

Maybe, just maybe, you need to go outside. I'm serious.

This isn't the only comment about grooming on Tillie's posts, or that I've seen on reddit. Like... do you understand what grooming actually is and how serious it is? Or are you just using it as a buzzword that you know is bad and triggering as a means of insult and convincing others that she's bad, too?

Also, I don't think you really understand how creativity and writing work. Maybe it's just me, though I doubt it, but when I create characters or write already established characters in my fanfiction, they all have a piece of me that's apart of them. My life experiences and who I am as a person influences everything I write, and that bleeds into the characters, for better or worse.

What, you think Louis having a random pillow collecting problem was something I just pulled out of my ass? No, it's because I have a pillow collecting problem! Do you know why I've always had a such a hard time writing for Violet? It's because I see a lot of myself in her and that scares me and I'd rather just not unpack all of that, okay?

I mean, how many times on this hellsite have you come across someone saying, "lol my otp is just Person A is my type and Person B is the one I project onto" and it has thousands of notes because, on some level, we all get it.

Tillie has talked about Ricca before and like most creative people, she's drawn from her own life to create her characters. Ricca isn't some self-insert character just because they both wear glasses, I'm-

You are just being an asshole! I just- I'm getting pissed off because this shouldn't even be a thing. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? WHO HURT ALL OF YOU?

I love Clementine, too! She's important to me! I have replayed TWDG more times than I can count! I was pissed about the comics in the beginning! You can go back on my blog and I probably said stupid shit, too!

But Clementine isn't real. She's a fictional video game character. She isn't going to reward your bullying or white-knighting because she doesn't exist. You're not doing this because you're a "true fan" that loves Clementine. Honestly, if you were a true fan, you would know that if Clementine was real, she would find you and this behavior disgusting. Tillie Walden is a real person and I don't give a flying fuck if you hate her work. By all means, hate the comic! Criticize the comic and Skybound for continuing the series, but leave Tillie out of it.

And I think the part that sucks the most is it doesn't matter what I say, you can't rationalize with irrational people intent on being assholes so they're not going to stop.

I guess what I'm trying to show with all of this is when Book Two comes out, and y'all start reading it and making posts... please don't be these people.

Whatever you may feel about Clementine Book Two, try to remember that Tillie Walden is a real person and she's just doing the job that Skybound hired her for. Tillie's an artist just trying to live her life in Vermont with her wife and their cats, and she's gotta deal with all of these people harassing her posts. She can't even post something non-Clementine related without a bunch of #notmyclementine shit in the comments.

I don't even know what else to say... Uhm, I guess if anyone from those screenshots sees this, then... I don't feel that bad about calling you an asshole. We all learned in kindergarten to treat others the way we want to be treated, but maybe you were sick that day, I don't know. Go outside. Get your life together. We have a short time on this planet and maybe you should try to actually accomplish something while you're here. Eat a kitkat or something👍

[wastemanjohn]

helloooo bottom!john truther and enjoyer and apologist and whatnot here. can we please please please get john fucked on his hands and knees by another hunter in exchange for information/weapons/help on a hunt? (extra extra love if dean or sam is aware of it & has to keep their mouth shut but feels TERRIBLE)

Thanks for the prompt Angel, I loved this idea. I wrote this very quickly so I hope it's alright!

cw: extremely dubious consent, pretend sam's already 18, nsft

Most kids Sam's age are at parties tonight. Celebrating the start of spring break, trashing the houses of unsuspecting parents and throwing up on each other's shoes. You know, normal stuff.

Sam? Sam barely set foot out of the school gate before Dad was upon him, ushering him into his truck, spewing precious few, undetailed words about some urgent job down south, Dean already on the way, everything so urgent - and yeah, it's not like Sam has ever been invited to one of those parties. Honestly, nothing about them even sounds appealing. But just for once, for once, he'd give anything to be at one of them. To be somewhere normal, doing something normal. Anything that's not sitting in Dad's truck with hair metal thrumming low on the radio, waiting in some low-lit motel parking lot for Dad to do some shady sounding business with some shady sounding sounding hunter. Something about silver bullets. Something about best quality, last minute, no one else holding. And something - something off.

Dad's been gone a while. He said he'd be a few minutes, but that could be hours in Dadspeak, because he never says what he means - and it's just one of the many big and small resentments snowballing in Sam's head with all the others that made a home there during the six hour drive down here. Dad's inability to keep one radio station on for more than two minutes. Dad's little pop quizzes on various monsters, with no sign of him actually telling Sam what they're hunting right now, because that would make too much sense. Dad's too-fast driving, his chain smoking, and the car stinks, Sam's hair stinks, even with the windows right down - and Sam sits in the passengers' seat, he waits for Dad, he's always waiting around for Dad, and he's trying to read a book, trying to pass the time, but his eyes are strained in the low light and his mind just won't focus and he keeps getting distracted. He absently watches the neon signs for air conditioning and cable TV flicker, hears their low buzz. There's a sad, wilted palm tree outside the reception. The door is open, leaving a cutting rectangle of grainy light on the ground, and somewhere, someone is shouting, because in motels, someone is always somewhere, shouting.

And this feeling growing like mould in the bottom of Sam's gut, this weird feeling that's starting to supersede that constant feeling of unfair-unjust that lives in Sam like blood; this feeling that his common sense tells him is stupid. But his intuition disagrees, it's kicking up a fuss, and he hasn't been able to settle since Dad got out of the car.

Because maybe there was something off about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.

Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.

Sam didn't bother asking to go with anyway, because Dad would have said no. He didn't feel much like arguing and insisting at the time, because he was pissed about the quizzing-smoking-Dadness of the entire miserable journey up here. But the longer Dad doesn't come out, that something-weird-not-right feeling gets bigger.  Loose cannon could mean anything, absolutely anything. I don't want him to see you - that phrase is really gaining traction in Sam's head. Why not? And what the hell is taking so long?

The thing is, Sam knows some hunters aren't - well - right. He knows it from the things Dean tells him with dark glee, from the way Bobby has warned him to trust anyone in this life very, very cautiously. Dad has always told him not to trust anyone at all, but Dad is paranoid and thinks in extremes, and Sam never listens to him all that much.

As time rolls on, right now increasingly becomes no different.

There's a pistol in the glove compartment. He conceals it at the small of his back, and glances around like he's being watched as he gets out of the car.

He's worried. He's only a little worried, because Dad's only been gone a little longer than reasonable, and this is stupid anyway; and Sam's only a little worried because Sam's not letting himself be scared, Dad's fine, he's always fine, and Sam is not letting images of Dad stabbed or shot by one of these not-right, untrustworthy loose-cannon hunters flood his mind until he's sick with panic - and he moves quietly but quickly across the parking lot, takes the path Dad had followed, expecting him to emerge from that quick-open-shut door any moment and chew Sam out for disobeying a direct order. Sam would welcome it. He'd let Dad smoke and fidget as much as he wanted for the rest of the journey, he wouldn't bitch about it once, he'd sit shotgun and he'd be the best, most obedient kid in the world, whether Dad deserved that or not. So long as Dad was okay, so long as Sam knew he was safe.

He stops outside the door, dead of night quiet; he can't hear anything from inside. His heart beats out strange rhythms. He's sure this is the right room. The curtains are drawn over windows bordered by flecks of mould. They're ill fitting, don't quite come down all the way.

Sam swallows. There's a tremor in his hands. Maybe Dad and this guy went elsewhere. Maybe Dad's slumped over the bed with a knife in his back, on the floor with his brains all over the wall. Or maybe Sam has just got the wrong room. Only one way to be sure.

He draws a breath, cool-spring night air. Touches the concealed pistol for comfort as he crouches down to peer beneath the crack in the curtains. Braces himself for what he might see, all the awful things he's gone from avoiding truly considering to entirely convinced of.

His heart rate kicks up faster. Then stops. He can't see everything through the crack beneath the curtains. He can see more than enough.

He can see an unmade bed with holes in the frame. He can see Dad on that bed, on his hands and knees. He can see two hands on Dad's bare hips, his jeans hanging loose halfway down his thighs, open belt swinging in rhythm with - oh, god.

The curtain cuts the guy off at the waist. He's much the same - clothes only off as much as convenience requires - but Sam can see enough thigh, enough hip, to know that he's younger, possibly much closer to Sam's age than Dad's. Sam doesn't know why that makes it worse, but it does.

His hand quivers around the gun. He's frozen with shock, with this innate gut-deep disgust at seeing his father being, doing... and with anger too, at Dad, for giving Sam some sinister, hard to decipher warning to keep him away so he could apparently get his fucking rocks off. With a guy. A younger guy. And on the job as well - but then again, that doesn't really sound like Dad.

And maybe getting angry is easier than considering what's in front of him, because the longer Sam stands there, frozen, disgust, what-the-fuck - the more weird this gets.

Dad is - Dad's very still. Rigid, unnerving still. His back is slightly arched, and his hands are flat on the mattress, bunching the sheets between fingers that are bloodless at the knuckles. His face - god, Sam doesn't want to look at his face, not right now, not for this - but Dad is - well, clearly not enjoying himself. His eyes are open, focused on the wall ahead like he's zoned out. His nostrils are flaring faintly. His mouth is in a tight line, somewhere between a grimace and a fixed wince. He looks - irritated, is the closest Sam can come to describing it. Impatient.

His body moves like it's weightless with the force of the hunter's thrusts. His - and Sam doesn't mean to look, but it's kinda hard not to see - Dad's dick is soft. Hanging limp and sad between his legs.

Sam's guts twist, shooting bile to the back of his throat. Fuck, no kid wants to see that. Sam could've gone his whole life without ever knowing what that looked like, what any of this looked like. Without having to consider, with his bones locked together, what he might be seeing.

The guy looks not only younger, but smaller. There's no gun to Dad's head, no knife to his throat. If Dad didn't want to be there - exactly there - well. This guy would be the one bleeding out with a knife on his back. Then why does Dad look - well - like that?

Unless he's being threatened in some other way. Unless Sam is standing here gawping while Dad's in genuine danger, not knowing what the fuck to do. He feels paralyzed, and utterly confused.

Sam's eyes stray to the guy's nightstand. There's a bag there, a brown, straw-like bag with a pattern Sam recognizes. The bags silver bullets sometimes come in, which is all Sam knows, they sometimes come like that, because he doesn't think much about where they do come from. He'd forgotten all about the bullets.

Next to it, Dad's gun.

A disembodied hand comes down on the back of his father's neck, a fierce grip. Dad's brow knits. And for all Sam couldn't hear anything through the door, he's certain he can hear everything now. Grunts, pants. Loud, like they're exaggerated; and as that hand pushes Dad's face into the mattress, Sam definitely hears the slap to Dad's ass, even more clearly than he sees it. Dad flinches, and Sam feels very glad that he can't see his expression anymore.

His thighs are starting to shake from crouching, but he's shaking anyway. There's a cold layer of sweat breaking out on his skin. He watches those faceless hips stutter, then slam to a stop. Sam can see the disgust shudder through Dad's body. He feels it in his own.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one moves. Sam becomes aware that he's stopped breathing, maybe a while ago.

The guy, the loose cannon, the hunter Dad was nervous about, pulls - he pulls out of Dad. Dad doesn't move. Sam watches half a strange arm reach out, grab the bag on the nightstand. He watches as the guy throws it onto the mattress, watches it land an inch from Dad's face.

Dad flinches again. And then, with slow, creeping horror, Sam thinks he might understand.

That bile-rush returns, burns the back of his throat. There's a part of Sam that would like to believe Dad would never be that desperate, that he'd never - do this, let someone do this - just for fucking supplies. But then again, Dad is Dad. The job comes before everything, and it gets done. No matter the cost.

He thinks about how many times he's seen that specific bag among their possessions. Wonders if - if every time - if Dad has done this every single time...

Sam's knees feel rubbery. He watches the guy get off the bed, leaving Dad on the mattress alone.

Dad doesn't move for a while. Sam stays frozen with him, until finally, he uprights himself onto his knees, slow, heavy, baring his teeth like it hurts. And it must.

It's that thought that spurs Sam to get out of there. His quiet-fast walk back to the truck is unsteady, and his head pulsates in rhythm with his stomach, and it's all he can do not to throw up. His thoughts feel jumbled, his head all over the place. But Sam can at least feel pretty strongly that if he ever finds out who this guy is, he'll kill him. Slowly. Excruciating.

It's rage he can't do much about. He can't exactly express it to Dad, humiliate him like that, because if getting fucked for goddamn bullets isn't bad enough, the thought that his son saw the entire thing, stayed to watch what the hell is wrong with Sam he feels dirty and sick, will no doubt kill him. So Sam cans that rage inside of him, saves it for another day. It'll come out the next time a jock thinks he's an easy target, or during a fight about something unrelated. Although, right now, Sam kind of feels like he can never bring himself to fight with Dad ever again.

He waits for Dad in the passengers seat like he hadn't moved at all. His fingers tremble around the corners of his book. Those lights keep on hissing, hissing.

I don't want him to see you. What had that meant?

Sam thinks he might know.

He wishes he could wipe his memory. He wishes he wouldn't keep thinking about it. He wishes Dean was here.

Dad comes back a short while later. He goes to the trunk first - storing that bag, Sam assumes, the bag that guy had fucking thrown at him - before getting back into the car.

Sam closes his book. Dad reaches for his cigarette on the dashboard. His fingers are unsteady when he lights up. He doesn't say a word, which isn't unusual, because Dad never says much; he smells like Dean does sometimes when he stumbles in at 4am. A hint of something else, something like shame; but Sam's imagining that. Shame doesn't have a smell.

Sam watches him, doesn't quite meet his eyes. He feels out of his depth and very, very young. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He asks it casually, in too small a voice. Dad grunts, non-committal, equally casual. "Let's go find your brother."

Sam nods. It's the best idea he's ever heard. And maybe Dad throws him a glance, a confused glance, at the complete absence of Sam's attitude; but maybe he doesn't acknowledge it, because it's easier for them both if Dad acts like he doesn't suspect a thing.

But the job comes first, so Dad starts the car. That smell lingers.

[malicedafirenze]

so I finally got done watching S5 of The Dragon Prince and ghgnghghggngh why do I have such a mixed bag love hate relationship with this show (spoilers)

I want to love this show but there's so many things that just don't land and don't work, and yet here I am, hooked once again, because after 8 episodes of cringe humor and weird dialogue it fed me some crumbs of delicious Aaravos content.

I find so many of the accents so goddamn stilted and awkward. The french sun fire elves are the worst. I don't object to french-sounding elves in principle but dear lord does it sound unnatural and strained

SO much of the humor just does not land and the pacing of individual scenes is just ??? ATLA had some very kiddie humor here or there too, and I love the somewhat darker and more mature tone of TDP but jfc it feels like they need to hammer every joke home with so much time that you'd think they were planning for a laugh track

ep 8 and 9 were so much better than the whole rest of the season because once this show lets itself focus on action and drama, it's actually pretty fucking good, but for some reason you need to get through a first half season of awkward goofs.

Terry annoys me so much. Yay trans rep, but why the utterly random coming out out of nowhere (that was S04 I know but I watched it very recently okay) and his whole sounding like a therapist shit towards Claudia, like yes, it could be funny that this random wood elf does aroma therapy on his dark mage gf but everything somehow turns awkward in the execution

The library showdown was generally cool but the framing for why Amaya told them to leave without her was so fucking weird: you have this moment of Dragon Ex Machina, Zubeia wiping away the demon bears with ease, and then suddenly when Amaya is back in the frey after grabbing Bait, they're suddenly out of time and need to leave that instant??? Like I see what they were going for, obviously Zubeia was under real threat from the demon bears, but imo the framing/visualization of that threat did not work at all and I audibly went "WHY" at my screen at the random "you have to leave without me" thing.

That being said there's some shit that goes extremely hard and I'm here for it:

Rayla just fucking dismembering Claudia apparently wtf??

I enjoyed the sexy fish pirate man, I hope he survived getting eaten

I am an utter addict for Aaravos' voice and even the flashback repetitions in Janai's nightmares were legit enough to get my attention again

I am very excited for how someone is going to end up saving Viren's life against his will and I will gladly read fanfic of it

I had the 'our child' thing spoiled by being careless on tumblr but seeing it actually on screen was better than expected, love that for my OTP, toxic af parenthood is just what they needed

I really expected there to be more Aaravos since this show got renamed to Mystery of Aaravos false advertising smh.

They got creative with Dragon designs this season and I support that

out of all the things I found weird and cringe, I am 100% here for Zubaia getting randomly healed by a funky little gnome that calls himself the mushroom mage, 10/10 no notes

young viren hot

Rayla and Callum worked much better for me towards the end of the season when they got more comfortable with each other, love that for them, some delicious drama when the sexy fish man tortures them in front of each other, good for them, that's my shit

Considering all the things I liked about the last 2-3 episodes I feel nitpicky and weird for complaining about the first 7 or so but UGH it was a bit of a pain to get through them tbh. There is so much I deeply, deeply appreciate about what this show tries to do, as a high fantasy kids show with an overarching story, gorgeous visuals and explicit lgbtq and disability rep that I feel like an ass for complaining about it so much, but god damn there are so many things that are just unbearably cringe about it and OH MY GOD I just remembered the god damn "maybe you should express your love like a bee, here just move your tushy like that" scene holy FUCK can someone please give me an edit of this show with about three times the Aaravos screentime and all this second hand embarassment removed

[marshmellowtea]

um. so. y'all are not going to believe this but i've had this goddamn fic finished for MONTHS but i fucking FORGOT??? IT WAS HERE??? IT'S JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS BECAUSE I FORGOR I HAD THIS BASICALLY FINISHED FIC JUST WAITING TO BE EDITED AND PUBLISHED HGKLDSJFLKSD 😭

ahem. anyway. sorry for yelling lmao. onto the actual fic summary—basically, i decided to write this silly little thing about human, arospec lila trying to talk about a newly formed crush with an aroacespec will. it's very silly and fluffy and writing it made me giggle a lot, don't expect much angst here, aside from like a sprinkling of it for flavor lmao. that being said, small warning for some toxic queerplatonic partner vibes between will and lila, but the vibe is still mostly lighthearted, it's not too heavy or extreme. also, they're working on it, okay :') they're teenagers who grew up in abusive/traumatizing environments (which isn't referenced in the fic but it definitely shapes the way i characterize them), they don't exactly know how to navigate a healthy relationship yet but they're trying goddammit dskjfkdsafj

.....uh, if it's not obvious, i don't remember how i do summaries on tumblr fics ngl. there'll probably be a cleaner one when this gets posted onto ao3 in a day or two, so watch out for that if you'd prefer to read this on there :P tbh depending on how tired i am when i get home from work i might just go ahead and post it on there later today anyway oops

anyway, onto the fic now, hope y'all enjoy! :)

William's curled up on his side, his upper body in Lila's lap and her hands kneading though his hair in a way that mostly feels good, when she suddenly asks the question.

"Is it called a crush because you want to crush them?"

If this were closer to the beginning of their friendship, when he wasn't already used to weird comments like these from her, William might've sat up in shock, giving her a wide eyed expression of surprise she loves to make fun of him for. This is far from the most outrageous thing she's ever said to him at this point, however, so instead, he just furrows his brow and shifts in her lap a little, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Lila, what on earth are you talking about...?"

She's quiet for a moment, her hands pausing in his hair. He lets out a little whine at the loss of feeling, and she huffs softly before continuing, using a little bit more of her nails than she was before.

"Let's say...like...maybe there's this person someone thinks is...pretty," she says, the words awkward and stilted in a way he's never heard from her before. "And because they're so pretty, that person keeps...fantasizing about...squeezing them. In their arms. Or under them."

"Ew," he says on instinct, his fingers moving to fiddle with the black ring around the middle finger of his left hand. "Is this hypothetical person you, Lila?"

"No, dumbass!" she says, and, well, that almost sounds convincing. "I'm just...asking. For a friend."

"But I'm your only friend?" he asks, genuinely confused. His confusion then turns to pain, however, as she pulls on his hair—apparently she found that insulting. "Ow! Lila!"

"I have friends. Mainly friends you picked out for us—" and here, she huffs, sounding put upon about his choice in companionship, as though she has no choice in whether she hangs out with them too, "—but friends nonetheless."

...okay, admittedly, he understands where the offense came from now. But still, she claims that he's her only friend enough that of course he would make that assumption, and it's kind of not fair for her to punish him for words he's repeating from her. And also, he must reiterate, ow.

"Anyway, it's for a friend," she insists, sounding a bit wounded. "God. Don't be a smartass, Will, it's not flattering on you."

"I'm not trying to be a smartass, you're just—ugh, nevermind," he grumbles, letting his eyes flutter open and sulking at a vague point in the distance. His hand drifts toward the hem of her skirt, and he plays with it absently, rubbing his fingers over the soft fabric. "Putting all that aside, well...um, sorry to your friend, but I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that. I still don't really...understand all that stuff."

"Ugh, right, I forgot you were a fucking loser."

"I'm not a loser!" he protests, but he immediately feels childish for it. He flips onto his stomach to hide his face in her lap, and is instantly rewarded with one of her hands on the nape of his neck, a warm, comforting weight. "That stuff is just...really complicated..."

"Yeah, well, that's cuz you're a loser who's bad with people, it's okay to admit it."

There's a twinge of fondness to the insult, and despite himself, he finds himself smiling a little at her tone. Still, he decides to retaliate by lightly pinching her on the calf, just under the crook of her knee.

"Ow! Will!"

She then retaliates to him by pulling on his hair again, harder this time despite only using one hand this time. He lets out a sharp cry of pain and smacks her on the knee, pulling out of her lap briefly to escape her wrath. She drops her hands once he's fully off of her and sitting up on his knees, and he scowls at her unamusedly. She scowls back at him, the two of them staring at each other for a moment with equal mild annoyance.

Then, face unchanging, Lila pats her thigh, looking even more annoyed when he doesn't immediately lay back down. "Well?"

He huffs, but obliges, flopping back in her lap, this time on his back so he can continue to scowl at her. One of her hands returns to his hair, and the other one grabs one of his hands, though it feels less like she's just trying to hold his hand and more like she's trying to restrain him from pinching her again. Which, really, is super unfair, given that he only pinched her because she was being mean to him. And she pulled his hair first. And because she always does shit like that to him, and he deserves a chance to defend himself...

...but she is petting his hair in a way he likes again, and her face has softened a little, her lips now in that tiny but genuine sort of half smile he's only seen her use on him. He smiles back at her, wobbly and crooked but just as genuine, letting out a little laugh despite how genuinely annoyed he was moments prior.

"You're the worst," he says, and though he kind of means it he also says it with all the affection in the world. "I am sorry I can't answer your question, though."

"Hey, you also suck," Lila says back, but she coos it in the same tone you'd use on a mischievous kitten. "And it's fine, honestly. It wasn't a serious question, anyway. I was just wondering."

They fall quiet for a moment, and William's eyes fall to their enjoined hands, watching as Lila idly traces his fingers with her thumb. He's struck, then, with the oddest thought—that being, the thought that he does love her, in some weird way, despite the constant bickering and occasional minor physical attacks. That no matter how hard she makes it for him, he cares about her, and he wishes she would let him do that without constantly trying to fight on him on it. That he's glad she loves him too, in her own weird way, because he knows she does but he rarely gets to hear her say it out loud.

Not that he could ever say all that to her, of course. She'd probably just make fun of him.

Instead, he says, "If it is you with the crush...you know I'd be here to listen if you wanted to talk about it, right?"

He's fully prepared to let the conversation end there, but she surprises him by letting out a sigh and saying, "I don't even know if it is a crush."

He raises his eyebrows at that, trying not to get too excited at the information he was just given. She'd hate it if he said it out loud, but she's really easy to scare away on these rare moments where she's being open or vulnerable. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying not to let his voice soften too much.

She groans loudly at that, but she hasn't stopped talking, which, score. "I dunno, William, like...the crush question was kind of a joke? But it also kind of wasn't?"

"...elaborate?"

She groans louder, loud enough to startle him a little. She must feel him jump, because she gives his forehead a light pat before entangling her fingers back in his curls, the hair petting having mostly stopped now. "When I think about this person...I want to hold them as tight as possible and not let go. And squeeze their hand and just...hold it. And..." She grimaces, like it pains her to admit it. "And kiss them, maybe. On their stupid fucking face. Among...other things that I suppose I will graciously spare you."

She taps his ring as she says that, making him giggle. "Thank you. I appreciate that," he says, smiling broadly up at her for a moment, before his face falls back into an inquisitive frown. "Uh, but, Lila? I'm no expert, but that...kind of sounds like a crush? I think?"

Lila chews on her lip for a moment, as if considering what she's going to say next. When she finally speaks, William feels his heart cease to beat in his chest.

"I know, but like...a lot of that is stuff I want to do with you."

William feels his face grow hot, and he stammers, ice cold panic rushing through his veins. Yeah, he loves Lila, but it's not—it's not like that, he's not comfortable with—she knows he's not—

"Not the—not the sex stuff!" Lila says suddenly, giving him a harsh shake. "I didn't say I wanted to do all of that with you, take a fucking breath, Will!"

Oh, he did stop breathing for a second there, didn't he? He inhales deeply as she told him to, letting her lightly push him upright into a sitting position on the bed. He twists around a bit so the two of them are side by side, and she immediately tugs him closer until his head is on her shoulder, awkwardly patting his back in a way he thinks she thinks is comforting. It's a little much, honestly, given that his moment of panic really was just a moment—it was instant relief hearing that she wasn't into him in that way, and it was kind of silly for his brain to jump to that conclusion in the first place anyway since he mostly knows where they'd drawn the lines in their relationship, even if they've never properly talked about it—but he likes these rare occasions where she attempts to fuss over him, so he's not going to protest it. It's kind of sweet, really, even if it's obvious that she has no idea how to comfort another human being.

"Ugh," she says, sounding more embarrassed than exasperated. "Ugh, I said that in the stupidest way, sorry." Then, after a pause, she adds, "I mean...it's all just stupid, anyway."

"Aww, no it's not," William says gently, very comfortable in his place nestled against her side. "I guess I get what you mean though. I know I don't have a crush on you, but I like cuddling you and stuff. I'd also feel weird if I suddenly felt the same thing toward someone else but with...other stuff too."

"Yeah," Lila says, sounding mopey. Probably because she's moping, if he had to guess. "It's not just that, either, wanting to touch this person the way I touch you also feels...different. Different in a way that's hard to pin down." She grabs his hand, having lost it in the shuffle of him sitting up, and once again starts tracing his fingers, running her thumb from the back of his hand, over his knuckles, down to his fingernails. "Like when I do this, it's nice, but I don't do it and think about you as my boyfriend. That'd be disgusting."

William barks out a laugh at that. Technically, it could be an insult toward him, but... "I understand what you're getting at, yeah. I want to be close to you, but you're not, like, my girlfriend or anything, and I wouldn't really want you to be. You're just my friend, but, like...a friend I want to cuddle sometimes."

"Stop saying that we cuddle," Lila scoffs, but the usual harshness of her tone is still rather muted. "But...yeah. Exactly. It's different, and it's weird."

William hums sympathetically, giving her arm a light pat. "Yeah," he says quietly. "That does sound weird." Then, after a pause, "I'm sorry. I wish I could help you more."

Lila huffs, letting her cheek rest against his head. "I wish you could help me more too," she bemoans, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a light squeeze. "But, whatever. Just talking about it was nice, so you're not completely useless..."

Once again, William just chuckles at that. He can hear the unsaid Thank you in her voice, and he appreciates it, even if he does wish she would just be straightforwardly nice to him sometimes. Hell, not even just to him, oftentimes he wishes she would be nice in general.

But...she's working on it. He thinks. There's been a notable difference in the way she speaks to Martha, Ellie, and Regina, anyway. She's still on guard around Jim and Mike, and god, he doesn't really know what her deal with Tanya is, but she's friendlier with those three, at least. And...she's been more gentle with him, too. At the very least there's been less pinching.

He's proud of her. Which is another thing he can't tell her if he doesn't want her to laugh in his face, but, hey. Maybe one of these days.

"...you wanna lay down now?"

Her question pulls him out of his introspection, and William hums in assent, finally pulling his head off of her shoulder. "Are we gonna take a nap now?" he asks, rubbing at his face absently. "I got pretty close to falling asleep before, well, you know."

She sniffs, pulling her legs up on the bed and stretching out behind him, her arms and legs reaching each end of the mattress before she rolls back onto her side and brings them back in again. "I mean, you can sleep if you want. I don't know if I will."

"You're not at all tired?" he asks, curling up on his side next to her. They're face to face, now, and he can see the exhaustion in her face, as well as the slight flush left over from their conversation.

"Not really," she sniffs. "I mean, I don't think I am enough to fall asleep. I just want to rest my eyes a little."

"Oh, okay," he says, scooting a little closer to her. "I might fall asleep. You didn't want to talk more, did you?"

Lila shakes her head rather than verbally answer, and William smiles to himself. She's probably going to fall asleep too, judging by the way she's gotten quieter, but even if she doesn't, he knows she'll let him sleep if he needs to. Unless something important happens. Or if she gets too bored, which is something important in Lila's eyes.

She kind of is the worst, but luckily for her, he kind of does love her.

He lets his eyes fall closed then, pressing further into her warmth until he's tucked up under her chin. She doesn't fight him on it, instead wrapping a loose arm over him, and he knows he's very close to drifting off when he hears her ask one last thing.

"You're really not going to ask who my hypothetical crush is on, are you?"

It's an interesting remark—it almost sounds like she's disappointed. Still, it's not interesting enough for him to open his eyes. "I kinda figured I wouldn't be able to get it out of you," he mumbles, his voice muffled by her collarbone. "Why?"

"...I dunno. I just thought you would ask," she says, starting to sound close to sleep herself.

"Did you want me too?"

"No." She says it too quickly. And then amends, "Maybe..."

He laughs sleepily, resting one curled up hand on the small of her waist, wanting to be closer, trying to absorb the warmth she's emanating—she's always run weirdly warm, while he runs weirdly cold. He tries not too think too hard about the way that makes them fit so well together. "Tell you what. When I wake up, I'll pester you about it as much as you want me to. Is that okay?"

"I didn't want you to pester me," she protests, scowl audible in her voice. "Just ask."

He laughs again, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment. "'m gonna pester you so hard," he mumbles, picturing the dirty look he knows she's giving him despite his still closed eyes. "'m not gonna leave you alone until you give me answers. S'only fair."

"How's that fair?"

"I mean...you pester me when I try to keep secrets from you."

"I don't..." Lila protests, but she sounds amusingly unsure. "Besides, since when did you try to keep secrets from me anyway...?"

"Mm. I stopped tryin' cuz you'd always get them outta me."

"Well, that just sounds like your fault."

"...maybe you've got me there," he mumbles, chuckling softly. "I jus' think it's my turn to needle somethin' out of you this time, mmkay?"

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Lila grumbles, making him giggle more.

The two of them then lapse into a comfortable silence, aside from their quiet breathing. William is just about asleep when he feels more than hears Lila murmur something against his hair.

"Love you, Will. No matter what happens."

He smiles widely at that. She must think he's asleep—rarely does she say that she loves him without him saying it first. Even then, he usually receives it with a (nonetheless fond) eye roll, so hearing it now sounding so genuine is a nice treat.

"Love you too, Lila," he mumbles back, his voice slurred from exhaustion. "Love you so so much."

Given the way she tenses, he was probably right in thinking that she thought he was asleep. Still, she doesn't respond with a protest or a quip like she normally does, whether because of her tiredness, or maybe she just wanted to let a nice moment linger for once. Either way, he'll count that as a win.

It doesn't take him long to drift off after that, the smile not leaving his face even as he sleeps.

[bengiyo]

Love Mate Eps 3 & 4 Stray Thoughts

Last week we met Seo Yi Jun and Jeong Ha Ram. Yi Jun is honestly an asshole who only goes out with people once on dating apps just to hang out before blocking the date. He pitched a mean-spirited "happily single" app at work, only to get dunked on by the newbie Ha Ram. Yi Jun and his work wife agreed to go out and try dating properly. Ha Ram has begun using BL tropes aggressively in pursuit of Yi Jun. We left at Yi Jun waking up after passing out from catching feelings and accidentally kissing Ha Ram.

Episode 3

"Take responsibility?" I hope when we finally see Ha Ram's room it's just full of manga and BL posters.

We've reached the stage of BL where smart watches contribute to "the heart knows."

I feel like the manager is maybe overstepping a bit?

My goodness Ha Ram lays it on thick.

Love that we're letting the BL happen so the work wife doesn't worry about your latest project. Oh, BL.

Of course they matched on a dating app and have compatibility.

The framing with the butterfly wings was cute.

I actually think that slap was well-deserved. I think he should have revealed his identity.

Episode 4

I feel a little bad for Yi Jun, because he did get all excited about this date. Still, he would have likely brushed off another stranger.

I need to know what they're eating. Is it some sort of chicken dish?

Oh hey they're outside the same building from Our Dating Sim.

Falling for someone attractive because they treated you kindly is quite valid.

Well, we all knew it was going to be a bad breakup. Ghosted by a cheating ex.

I like Yi Jun describing the feeling of being dumped unceremoniously as embarrassing, and wondering if his feelings were so insignificant. Was not expecting to appreciate his reticence so much, and at least understand why he's been kind of a dick to other guys.

Flirting over a claw machine my beloved.

Gays in photo booths are so important to me.

The shift in demeanor feels a little suddenly, but I'm not going to complain about a Korean team going for first date intimacy.

Finally, boys talking about their lips.

I'll forgive them waking up together dressed because the implications were good enough.

Ha Ram trying to leave quietly to spare Yi Jun the embarrassment of facing him was kind of endearing.

A ramen joke to affirm what happened? I'm okay with this.

Burgers the morning after? Good job, gays.

The admission of feelings felt a bit stilted, but that could just be the translation. I'm curious to see what they do with this.

I'll also give points for wiping mayo off of lips.

Okay! This show still feels a bit weird, but I'm into it!

[daintyduck99]

things I wish you’d said for PeterPatterLina please?

"EARTH TO JULIE!"

She blinks as her reverie dissolves, then hurriedly shoves scrambled eggs into her mouth, hoping her hair hides her flush. 

"Hm?" 

"You were making weird faces at the salt and pepper shakers. Again," Carlos complains. "Could I have them now?" 

She shoves them across the table without comment, mindless of their dad's mild scolding. Moments from her reverie are already replaying in her head; it's like a song that just won't leave her alone until she gets it out and she gets it right. 

Would their hands be warm or cold? Calloused yet soft? Light or heavy in hers?

The thing that never changes is how they hold her, like something precious. They call her angel or sweetheart or baby or boss or even just Jules, and she laughs. 

Sometimes, they ask if they can kiss her. Luke usually says that he wants to. The confessions are probably too flowery, or what she imagines for Luke, at least. 

Reggie's a romantic at heart, just like her. 

But it basically always boils down to…

We're in love with you, and also each other, which is weirdly convenient and unconventional, but hey, so's being dead. 

Julie doesn't know what they are, though. 

The three of them. 

Sometimes she feels so sure and others…it's snuffed out with an awkward moment, a stilted laugh, a harsh reminder.

Flynn was right; she always seems to want what she can't have. 

It doesn't help that she can't always touch them. The ability comes and goes at random, unless they're playing together. 

She'd learned that the hard way after trying to walk through Luke again. 

"Julie? Could you finish those eggs so I don't have to keep looking at them?" 

She squeaks, then turns to glare at Reggie, cheeks burning. He holds his hands out in surrender, but he's grinning. 

"Sorry. You didn't hear me the first time." 

"Oooooooh," Carlos says, irritating in a way that only little brothers can be, "now what's got your attention?" 

Julie turns her scowl on him. He knows. 

"Nothing. Just a fly buzzing in my ear." 

"Hey!" Reggie cries. "Words hurt." 

Shoo! she mouths, and he gives her the most lethal puppy-dog pout she's ever seen. I'll talk to you guys later. 

"Fine. But only if you finish your breakfast."

She takes another bite, and he nods, smiling now like he's won something. 

Her heart hammers long after he leaves.

Luke, of course, follows her to school. He has yet to convince her to ditch, although many of her daydreams center around what would happen if she ever said yes. 

And he says something very tempting.

"You know, you didn't give Reg the chance to mention it, but there's this new song we've been working on, and we can't really finish it without you. We need you, Julie." 

Isn't that basically what she wants to hear?

Of course they need her…and not just for visibility. She knows that much; she needs them too, Alex included. She loves them. 

But do Luke and Reggie really need her the way she's starting to need them? 

Maybe…there's only one way to find out.

"I'll help you," she says, murmuring into her phone as she meets Luke's eyes. 

He lights up, but before he can get too swept away (and she can either), she adds, "After school. Okay? Fair is fair." 

Damn, what is it with both of them and the devastating puppy-dog eyes? 

Then he blinks, and a smirk slowly spreads over his face. 

"Oh, right. 'Cause you sent Reggie away."

She nods, then remembers she's supposed to be on the phone.

"Yeah?" 

"Otherwise you would've said yes?" 

Julie huffs, probably unconvincingly, as she flushes and he keeps smirking at her.

"You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

He laughs, and she has to smile. They've found the ground again, and hope flutters brightly in her heart as he holds her eyes. 

"Yeah," he says, "I guess we will." 

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, fucking hell. I have been looking forward to the start of season 15 for so long, and when it finally happened, I got delayed even longer. Missed it the night it happened because I had to go out and live in the real world, then the next day I got really busy with work, then had to go five hours out of town and get no sleep in a terrible hotel room before spending yesterday yelling at some teenagers while they fought other teenagers, then got home today and had to do more work stuff. Now, finally, on Sunday evening, I get to do the thing I’ve really wanted to do for several days now, which is sit down and watch this fucking Taskmaster episode that aired on Thursday.

At long last, here are my thoughts on Taskmaster s15e01, written as I watch it:

- If you take into account Alex Horne’s fame for giving very memorable performances in Dictionary Corner of Catsdown, as well as impressive performances as a proper contestant on the real Countdown, this might be the best of all the “Greg gives Alex an insulting nickname” jokes they’ve ever done, thrown in as one of the very first lines in this season.

- Oh good, I have no good reason for this but I enjoy the prize tasks with a size or weight stipulation. I just think it’s funny to see the wildly different directions people can go with things that are about the same size.

- Well, this show promised us Frankie Boyle being a human being for once, and here he is bringing his kids into it in the first thing he says. And then having a delightful little exchange where he calls Greg creepy for wanting a painting of him in his house. Lovely, no notes.

- Okay, when the trailer came out recently and spoiled the fact that Frankie and Ivo are the team of two, I said that’s great, because I know this might not say anything great about me, but I do find the “one contestant being terrified of another” dynamic hilarious, when it happens on Taskmaster. Dara O’Briain and John Kearns played it to perfection last season, and if anything could match that, it would be Frankie Boyle getting paired with a younger, skittish, susceptible-to-pressure Englishman who’s built a career on talking about how posh he is. My hopes for this were only buoyed when Frankie’s interview came out, and it turns out that after filming the tasks (including team tasks) but before filming the studio stuff, his answer to “Who’s your biggest rival?” was “Everyone except Ivo.” Ivo’s interview came out just today, and his answer to that question was to stammer slightly while saying “Frankie”.

I almost feel bad for expressing how funny I find the idea of this dynamic, because it’s not a good thing. Disclaimer: I think schoolyard bullying in real life is very bad. And I suppose there’s some level it can reach on panel shows, after which it would stop being funny. I’ve seen a few examples, across many years of television, of panel show bullying going so far that it’s not funny anymore. But I do tend to find it really funny until it reaches that level.

I give all the background because Frankie was the first person to present his prize, and Ivo had to go second. While this happened, I though Ivo looked and sounded a bit terrified, possibly just from having to explain something with Frankie Boyle looming over him.

But then I thought, okay, I’ve made so many assumptions about that dynamic before the season even started, that I’m projecting them onto what is clearly just a completely normal prize task description. He might sound slightly stilted, but there’s no need to imagine that he’s noticeably bothered by anything this early in the season.

But then Greg cut him off mid-sentence to ask:

And then they all stopped to acknowledge how weird it was that Ivo Graham sounded unnecessarily terrified, and then he immediately got bullied by Frankie Boyle, saying he sounds like he’s playing a game where he can’t say certain words. I’m not imagining it, everyone! Team Franko (just coined that one, will be using it any time I reference them in any post I make this season, add it to the list of Taskmaster teams with convenient portmanteaus, like Vicotrialan and Morguziree) is going to be fun. I’m sorry, I really do like Ivo Graham, but I kind of want to see him get crushed. To be fair, I think he’d be the first to admit that part of his appeal as a comedian is it’s funny to watch him get crushed.

- I haven’t gotten to the scoring yet, but Jenny got robbed in that chat, eggs are dependable as hell. Quick, easy, convenient, good for you, cheap, last longer than most things that aren’t processed food. Solid prize. Also, Jenny Eclair’s the one I know the least about, but I immediately like her energy. Based on the few YouTube clips of her I’ve seen, I predicted her Taskmaster persona might be Jo Brand’s level of giving a shit with Rob Beckett’s level of energy. So far, we’re on track for that to be true.

- Took this screenshot entirely because this joke of Alex’s seemed to unnoticed by the audience, and it deserved more.

- So, based on only his prize task presentation, I’m getting that Kiell is going with “wildly enthusiastic, going ironically over the top in selling himself” energy. Making me think of Guy Williams from Taskmaster NZ a bit. I like it.

- Slightly weird to see Mae Maritn introduce a prize task so soon after watching their new stand-up special, as their enthusiastic prize task selling persona is very similar to their stand-up persona. And to their self-insert sitcom character. Basically, I’m pretty sure this is just the actual Mae Martin we get every time. And it’s absolutely captivating. I promise I will try not to mention how incredibly attractive they are too many times before this season is over.

- Oh, I wrote the above point before seeing Mae’s actual prize, and I need to come back and say they nailed that one. 1) A full English breakfast is awesome. 2) Bringing in that kind of food plays perfectly to Greg’s tastes, the mark of a student of the game. 3) Perfectly fits the remit. A breakfast like that can get you ready for anything - dependable. And I love that they bothered to specifically make it a kilo. I mean, I assume all Mae actually did was tell the producers to measure out a kilo, they weren’t putting food on scales themself. But still. I admire the commitment of saying they want to follow the instructions perfectly. That is how you do a prize task.

- Alex calling Ivo out in the moment for not getting the remit right, letting them all make fun of him for that, and then casually mentioning at the end that Frankie was also way off - very funny. Also, Frankie Boyle got overscored pretty hard there, as a painting of himself on a horse is neither one kilo nor dependable. Should have been an easy one point. But I get it, Greg. It’s Frankie Boyle. The inherently interesting nature of the enigmatic character-within-a-character Frankie Boyle being weirdly human does feel like it should be rewarded with points, though if we keep seeing things that way he’ll win every task all season.

- Well, Kiell wins the Fun Outfit Award this season.

Jenny wearing something that could be a costume but could also just be how she dresses. Frankie dressing down, because he’s insufficiently jolly for costumes. Ivo turning up in what looks like a school gym class uniform, because otherwise he might not give off a strong enough vibe of “student who’s bad at sports getting bullied during gym class”. And Mae wins the award for “Jesus, it’s only a track suit, how can I think someone’s clothing choice makes them look so attractive when all they’ve done is put on a track suit?”

- Oh yeah. The joke about it being funny that Frankie Boyle is so far out of his element is going to take a while to get old. It might get old at some point, but  that one has some mileage in it.

- Does the music playing in the background while they discuss their choreography remind anyone else of the But I’m a Cheerleader soundtrack?

- Alex mentioned that he’s had proposals and stag dos on Taskmaster before. He’s also choreographed dances before, circa season 4. To ringtones, that time.

- Jenny Eclair threatening to infect Alex with trench vagina on their wedding night is definitely backing up the idea of her having Jo Brand vibes. But she did say it with the enthusiasm of Rob Beckett.

- Ah, I see, dancing with no music. That makes sense - I did wonder why it said they could use any music, as surely only some stuff will be cleared in terms of copyright, not to mention Chanel 4 content regulations. But I guess you can play anything if you don’t actually play it. Similarly, ringtones are presumably not expensive to put on TV. They should keep having “choreograph a dance” tasks in each season, finding increasingly elaborate ways to avoid paying for music.

- Have now watched Kiell’s dance, and can say: Yep, they’re correct. I assume they created this entire task to prove the point that dancing looks funny with no music playing, and yep, turns out they’ve successfully proved that hypothesis. Dancing does, in fact, look funny with no music playing. Well done, Alex.

- Obviously Frankie Boyle chose an American hip-hop song from 2005, about socioeconomic mobility in a racist capitalist system. Obviously. It’s almost a relief, it would be too weird to watch him go completely out of character, all at once.

- I mean... it’s still pretty out of character.

I’ve seen a lot of sides to Frankie Boyle, from Mock the Week to New World Order, from his stand-up to his Guardian columns, his novel that had a little bit of everything. That’s a new one, though. Apparently he’s not always insufficiently jolly for costumes. 

- Another comparison for Jenny Eclair: her dance reminds me of Mel Giedroyc’s from season 4. Also, best one so far in terms of making it fun to try to guess what on Earth the music is. And learning the answer makes it funnier.

- Ivo not doing a lot to dispel my theory that he’s going to spend this whole season like a gym class student who’s bad at gym class.

- Ivo revealing that he picked one of Greg’s favourite bands and put a reference to another one of their songs on stage as well, like a student desperately sucking up to the teacher - also not dispelling the theory. Why does it come off as desperate when Ivo plays into Greg’s hands but savvy when Mae does it? I don’t know, something about the public personas they have both carefully curated over many years.

- Oh, Mae Martin is not fucking around. They actually choreographed that. Picked music that would actually be appropriate for a wedding. Put effort into doing it and visibly winced when it went wrong. Mae Martin is here to be competitive and I am so pleased about that.

- 

What an exciting matchup! Which of Charlotte Ritchie’s husbands would be able to give her the best wedding dance?

- Yeah, fair enough. I fully agreed with the scoring on that whole task.

-

Okay, I think the winner of this season (assuming it’s one of these two... and that is looking likely, based on how things have started) should get to actually marry Charlotte Ritchie. Those would be good stakes.

- Oh, I immediately like the premise of this next task. Reward and punish based on arbitrary adherence, or lack thereof, to basic social etiquette. Leave them wondering whether to follow the etiquette or not, before and after knowing the premise. I like any task where we get to watch the premise slowly dawn on someone, and then watch them work out what to do about that in real time:

- 1) Watching Frankie Boyle unroll a ball of string while giggling like a child and batting at it like a cat is delightful.

2) I haven’t seen whatever they’re building up to yet, just paused it after Alex asked him if he’s happy. They’re going to have to roll it back up, aren’t they? Frankie won’t see it, because he’s not paying enough attention.

- Okay... so the back of the task negates the front? But if they’re contradictory instructions, can’t they argue that following either one should be as good as following the other?

I mean, fair enough, Frankie.

- Oh, title drop from Ivo. Who’s keeping stats on these things? Someone should be keeping track.

- Ivo looking for another ball of string in the house: student of the game move. That is a man who’s watched all his friends do this show over the last few years, and has memorized ideas for the sort of thing to expect. I bet there is one somewhere.

- Alex Horne: Do you think a Canadian will trust an Englishman?

Frankie Boyle: Shouldn’t do.

Me: Thank you, Frankie. I’ll keep your sage advice in mind if I ever manage to save up enough money to visit the UK.

- Mae Martin throwing the string around with abandon is... I mean. I’m trying to not just comment all the time on how attractive they are. Why is throwing string around something that makes that especially difficult? It’s something about the determination and breathless enthusiasm. This might be the biggest crush I’ve ever had on a Taskmaster contestant, despite there being some very significant competition in that field.

- It’s early in the season for this level of betrayal, really.

- Ooh, credit to Jenny for that workaround. I didn’t think of that idea at all.

- And Mae found it! This is another thing seeing up a Mae/Ivo dynamic, in which they both similarly care about winning, but Ivo holds back and Mae commits harder so is better at it (which is how Mae sucking up to Greg comes off as calculated, while Ivo doing it comes off as desperate). I’d be happy to watch that keep playing out all season.

- Location task!  I'm on a boat, I'm on a boat, take a good hard look at the motherfucking boat!

- Okay, this is basically a Super Mario game.

- Frankie Boyle saying “We’re lining up with this bad boy” and then immediately crashing into a tree on the other side of the river from his target is the first thing all episode to make me properly laugh out loud. Other parts have made me laugh, but not as hard as that.

- I really like this task. Where did they get a barge? I hope the other location tasks are not just in that general area, but are also on that barge.

- I agree with the decision to put that Jenny Eclair crash at the beginning of the opening titles. Good stuff.

- I’ve paused it after seeing Frankie and Jenny’s attempt to say: there has to be some other way of doing it, right? Some way of going around and catching the rings, not touching them but gather them on a stick or something? Maybe that wouldn’t work. Maybe they really do just have to drive a barge.

- Yep, I’m definitely on board with Kiell playing this season with comically over-the-top confidence. That’s entertaining.

- Mae and Ivo both kiling it out there, genuinely impressive. Sorry Ivo, I might have to take back at least a few things I said about you being competitive but incompetent. We’re getting competitiveness and competence from both people here.

- Oh shit! I think this is only the second time in Taskmaster history that two people have been so close in a “fastest wins” task that they’ve shown them next to each other. The first being Chris Ramsey and Sophie Duker, which was both a very exciting individual task, and the beginning of a really good rivalry.

- Right, I obviously wrote the above two points before this happened:

Well done with the misdirect on the photo finish, editors. That was slick.

- You know what else was slick? Mae Martin snagging those tubes like they’re a professional barge driver. God damn. Well done.

- Ivo completing the task, cheering so hard his hat fell off, and then immediately crashing into the concrete - another proper laugh out of me.

- I started this post by saying I’m amused by the idea of Ivo Graham being so afraid of Frankie Boyle that he had difficulty just introducing a prize while sitting next to him. That theory has also not been dispeled.

But based on watching him visibly squirm while they discussed his errors, and and then physically jump on the first person who tried to save him - I think this this season is going to offer me plenty of two things I like. One being highly competitive Taskmaster contestants caring way too much about doing well (from Ivo and Mae), and the other being, as I said, Ivo Graham getting crushed.

- I can’t be bothered to make a gif of this, and actually, I think the still images might be funnier anyway.

God damn, Ivo. Now I really do have to take back at least four or five of the comments I’ve ever made about your incompetence. That is… that was so cool, that you get one free pass in the future, you get to do one stupid thing some other time and I won’t even hope anyone crushes you for it.

Oh, that was genuinely good. Kiell responding in kind, also very funny. But humour aside, that was just a really smart idea out of Ivo. Fucking right.

- I tried to think of something to say about this screenshot so I could justify posting it, but I’ve got nothing, I just wanted that picture of Mae.

- Hell of a screenshot, this one is:

It’s a good Taskmaster episode when it produces at least one tableau that looks like it could be an ancient painting. It adds to the composition that it gets more dramatic as you work inwards - Frankie and Mae just observing, Ivo and Kiell processing what they’ve done with each other, Jenny raising her arms to the heavens.

- I like it. A strong balance in that opening episode, a solid mix. Some promising starts to various dynamics and personas, pretty much along the lines of what I was hoping for. This is going to be fucking good.

[screechingzephyrr]

today i watched the first five episodes of cbs ghosts and as an avid enjoyer of bbc ghosts i decided to share my thoughts and comparisons!

so here are my thoughts… (its kinda long so beware)

Things I Liked:

-My favourite characters are Isaac and Thorfinn, because Isaac is a silly gay soldier man (can you tell i love the captain) and thorfinn is THE icon.

-My favourite parts of the episodes are when they move away from the original bbc ghosts plot and create something of their own- it makes it more enjoyable and interesting as someone who has watched each episode of ghosts so many times ive lost count.

-The characters bounce off each other quite well, there were moments, like when pete and trevor hugged each other after pushing over the pot and i was like haha nice. 👍 they feel like a group

-the show is americanised and i like that about it, it feels very different from the rest of the shows i watch (im british) so its kind of a breath of fresh air in that way

-

Things i Didnt Like (sorry :(

-The run time (20 mins) means the story is very compacted and, compared to the original, the plot is the same but feels more rushed.

-They sometimes try to have emotional moments??? but i dont feel anything. in the first episode they have one just after samantha goes to hospital and i was sat there like Ok???? It didnt have an impact bc i had only known them for 15 minutes.

—Trevors character….. i think if i saw him without watching bbc ghosts i would have felt better about him. hes a combination of julian and thomas, and he feels washed out because he has both their major traits (slutty politician + liking alison/sam) but toned down.)

Instead of a poet waxing romance and almost innocently adoring her (like thomas) he is a weird politican guy who kinda hits on her sometimes (calling her hot, wondering if they were flirting). i still think hes entertaining, i like him but when he makes comments sometimes i want to scream like someone please make this man stop. hes like julian if he had 0% slut, looked like thomas, and hit on alison.

—some ghosts i dont really see??? like sasappis and that high girl (idek her name😭) i barely see, and the greaser guy with his head chopped off ive seen twice??? they probably get more screentime later but damn where these ghosts at. i want to know more

—cbs ghosts doesnt leave any suspense to what most died of. they flat out state most of them. it leaves the suspense that came with bbc ghosts completely gone. you cant make theories bc they hand it to you on a silver platter and dont make you wait.

—jay and samathas relationship makes me want to commit a crime (in a bad way!!). jay is the worst. they were arguing in teh first three episodes. Jay didnt want to move into the house. theyre not a united front at all! hes kinda fighting with sam and mentioned multiple times about her “cute butt” which personally made me want to scream again. and they just dont have couple vibes

when they try to have moments, it’s stilted. compared to alison and mike who you can see together and who you are endeared to from the first episode, they DONT compare.

Alison sometimes borrows mikes coat in the show, and i dont get that kind of comfortable loving vibe from sam and jay. its not happening for me.

anyway sam should just divorce jay and run the bnb by herself, send post

— OKAY there was this moment where trevor raises his arms and the rest of the ghosts cringe and look away bc of his crotch. Then theres a shot where trevors crotch isnt covered by a pot or another object, its blurred out in pixels. anyway i hated it so much pls make it disappear from existence im begging

-the colour palettes are kinda jarring, its not really that cohesive

Conclusion:

I do like it and i will keep watching it for Isaac, but mostly i still think bbc ghosts is the better option so far and if you are thinking about which to watch first, you should watch the original bbc ghosts.

im gonna keep watching and I really hope this show comes into its own.

BUT saying that, im probably biased because im super attached to bbc ghosts, so go check it out for yourself! i am a simple person on the internet and you’d probably be better forming your own opinion.

i’ll probably post my complete opinion on it if i ever finish it. so. yeah.

anyway if you read this far, i love you

[elirium]

Important notes people who know more than i do had:

#tiny note but as a jpv fan. he didn’t grow up in the cult#his dad put all the cult info into his subconscious memory but jpv himself didn’t know anything about the order until after his dad was shot#and crawled to jpv’s door as Azrael and died in his apartment after admitting their whole life was a lie#so you can add that to the trauma bucket!#(also his dad had the same name azrael is a generational thing etc)

from @avaraydrake

#okay as someone who just finished reading Az’s 100issue run#I wanna mention that ur on the right track abt his mom being assumed dead before he knew her HOWEVER#jpv also went on an adventure when he thought she might be alive and the woman that he thought was his mom then sacrificed herself to save#him :) directly in front of him :) and I’m STILL HAVING FEELINGS ABT IT#and depending on where you place it jpv has also died (at the end of his run akdjks SPOILERS LMAO) but idk if they ever resurrected him or#what. haven’t checked his wiki just yet abt that but ye \o/ love this boy and his weird almost-Catholic-but-more-Gen-cult guilt

from @dyketectivecomics

1) he killed i'm pretty sure two people canonically? (at least pre reboot) only one of them directly though (the other, he let fall into a Vat while having a mental health crisis, near the end of i think knightquest the crusade?? or begining of knightsend) 2) bruce also doesn't hate him, he just doesn't give a shit about him past using Azrael and controlling them, which, imo, is kinda worse?? the number of people who fully accepts both jp and az is tiny (it's like. babs. cass. debatably alfred) 3) azzy isn't evil!! he's very dear to me, and the fact that over the course of sword of azrael/knightfall/azrael and also the new azrael we have, he has sooo much character developpement is so important to me. even as soon as sword of azrael, he tries to go against what he's been made for to be an angel of mercy instead of angel of death. he's kind of shit at it, but like. he's trying!! he's shown with compassion more than once, making choices to save ppl instead of going for the kill etc 4) dick relationship: no notes. should add that jp also doesn't like dick and is kind of dramatic about it. once dick kissed the girl jp likes. "the heir to a stilted throne" or something 5) star wars: no notes, he was a comp sci major, of course he likes star wars 6) kind of. don't think you could make azrael's activation work the same as the pit? but like. i'd like to see it done. but a plot point the tim&jason EtC fic writers love is to have tim idolize jason pre-pit. though you might have it work with tim idolizing jp as a hacker or smth idk 7) vibes are immaculate, i hope people do write more jpv & tim fics that don't make jp/az a malicious abuser for most of knightfall when they really weren't (mostly told him to stay away, though the choking Did happen),i also hope you have a nice day, thank you for reading my ramblings JPV and Azzy are soooo important to me <33

from @creetchure

A helpfull step by step guid on how to turn your EtC jason & tim fics into Etc Jean-Paul Valley & tim fics

for people who have never read a comic <3

i made a power point

[perlukafarinn]

Destiel prompt: Dean driving Cas to some pretty place so they can watch the stars together

Dean liked stargazing but it had never exactly been a planned activity for him. It was something you did when the day's drive had stretched on too long past sunset, when you had nowhere particular to be and a good spot on the side of the road to pull over.

But they didn't spend much time on the road these days, for better and for worse. Their longest drives were usually to and from Sam and Eileen's place, which took about half a day at a leisurely pace.

Their home wasn't the best place for watching the stars either, even with their wrap-around porch and the big backyard. They were too close to the nearest city, the light pollution dimming all but the brightest stars.

It didn't even occur to Dean how long it had been since he last went stargazing until one evening, as he stood out on the porch, he looked up at the sky and thought, I wonder if Cas misses the stars, too.

He'd been tempted to call Cas downstairs and head off right then and there, let the Impala bring them somewhere miles away from the orange glow of the city lights.

Instead, Dean made a plan. He picked out a place he knew would be perfect, watching the weather reports for a clear evening. When the weather was just right, he packed a cooler and some blankets and told Cas they'd be going out for the evening.

"Where are we going?" Cas asked.

"It's a surprise."

They headed out just as the sun was setting. The drive was a little over an hour and as they drove, the sky turned from brilliant hues of pinks and orange, to a deep, cool blue and finally pitch-black. Cas was quiet the whole way, staring out the passenger window as their surroundings grew darker.

Finally, Dean saw their destination up ahead. He slowed down and pulled over in a small, empty parking lot. They exited the car, Dean grabbing a flashlight from the glove compartment as they went, knowing they’d need it not to stumble over their own feet in the dark.

He got the stuff from the trunk too, handing the cooler off to Cas, who accepted it without question. Then, because no one was around to see it, Dean grabbed Cas’ free hand with his. 

(If he looked like he was blushing just from holding hands with Cas, no he wasn’t, it was just a trick of the light. Dark. Whatever.)

They headed down a small trail, cutting through a field of tall grass. The air was completely still and though the day had been hot and humid, since sundown the temperature had dropped down to comfortably warm. 

A short walk later and they reached their destination. Dean tugged at Cas’ hand to signal for him to stop and then turned off the flashlight. For a few moments, they were plunged into near total darkness but their eyes adjusted soon enough.

The moon was almost full and it alone would have given off enough light but it had plenty of company. Stretched across the night sky was a field of stars, hundreds and thousands twinkling like a living tapestry. And at their feet, a perfectly still lake mirroring the night sky, one eternity echoing into another.

“Not bad, huh?”

Cas didn’t respond. Dean looked over, ready to repeat the question, but the words died on his lips. Because Cas was staring at the sky with the most open, awestruck, devastated expression.

“You okay, Cas?”

“I’m-” Cas’ voice caught. He cleared his throat. “Is this what it’s always like? For humans?”

“Not always,” Dean said. “You gotta find the right place, the right time. But yeah, a lot of the time it’s like this.”

Cas nodded, looking like he was barely listening.

“Come on, let’s lay out the blanket and get comfortable.”

Finally, Cas tore his eyes away from the sky. He looked at Dean, then at the cooler in his hands. “Is this a picnic?”

Dean snorted. “Nah, just brought a few beers. Figured we crack them open and look at the stars and maybe you could tell me about constellations or something.”

“Oh. Like a date?”

Oh. Huh.

“I, uh, I guess so.” Dean blushed. “Since we’re... dating. In a relationship. Together.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand, mercifully cutting him off. “Thank you, Dean. This is very romantic.”

Dean wanted to argue - he hadn’t technically planned this as a date, could you even be romantic on accident? - but before he could, Cas leaned in and kissed him.

“Let’s lie down on the blanket,” he suggested.

Dean stared at him. In this darkness he couldn’t see the color of Cas’ eyes but they were sparkling, dark and deep like the lake by their feet, like the sky above them, like if Dean dove in, he would never resurface and he’d be glad for it.

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

[sunaluvs]

hi shay!! i hope you’re doing well baby <3

i was wondering if i could have “i’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home” with either osamu or suna!! feel free to not do this if you don’t feel like it, but thank you soso much in advance if you do. ily mwah mwah <3

+ PROMPT: “i’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home” ft. miya osamu.

+ TAGS: fluff, gn!reader, osamu bein cute.

+ A/N: THIS IS SO LATE???? IM SO SORRY BUT HERE U GO BABY I HOPE U LIKE IT !!! <33 also this accidentally ended up with 1k+ words help it was supposed to be less than 500 JSGDHGHSDJ

send me a prompt + a character <3 — CLOSED.

“hey!”

the shout catches your attention, and you turn around, eyes widening when your gaze lands on a certain grey-haired boy running towards you.

“osamu?” you question, raising an eyebrow when he comes to a stop in front of you, panting with his hands on his knees.

“how are you this tired from running such a short distance?” you tease, firmly pushing away the feeling in your gut at the unfairly attractive sight in front of you, instead grinning when he gives you a middle finger.

“shut up,” he gasps out, “—was runnin’ after ‘tsumu before coming here,” he explains, standing up, “fucker wanted me to stay back and practice with him—got mad when i didn’t and stole my phone.”

you snort and start walking again, staying a little ahead of him to avoid looking at his stupid, perfectly dishevelled hair, “surprised you’re even here. don’t you have practice?”

“got cancelled,” he sighs, “sum’n came up with kita’s gran, so he had to go. aran was gonna take over, but kita decided to jus’ give us a break today.”

“ah,” you nod in understanding, “that’s good. i feel like he’s been running you guys ragged lately, too.”

he shrugs, scratching at the nape of his neck, “i guess, but nationals is comin’ up an’ all, so he kinda has to.”

“makes sense,” you hum, and the conversation falls, but the silence isn’t awkward or stilted. it’s comfortable and light, and it’s one of your favorite things about being around him—you don’t always need to fill the air with senseless chatter because the atmosphere never feels forced.

you’re reaching the crossroad where you and him usually split up when he speaks up again.

“so—uh,” he begins, “have you heard about the recent string of vandalisms?”

“the ones near the mall?” you ask, watching as he nods.

“yeah, apparently there were also a couple a few blocks over where you live.”

“oh,” you blink, “i didn’t know that.”

you watch as he swallows and looks down, kicking at a stray rock, before clearing his throat.

“well it, uh—only came out this mornin’, so,” he trails, and you furrow your eyebrows a little at the slightly weird tone of his voice.

“i see,” you say slowly, before finally stopping at the end of the street and turning to him, a small smile at your lips, “well, guess i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you’re about to turn and leave when a hand at your elbow and his voice stops you.

“w-wait,” he stutters out, and you look back at him, casting a questioning glance to the hold he has on your arm. you watch as his eyes widen and he hurriedly snatches his hand back, shoving it into his jacket’s pocket and looking away from you, “sorry, didn’t mean to.”

you try to ignore the cold that spreads on your skin from the loss of contact, forcing a small chuckle when you reply, “no worries, ‘samu, but—did you need something?”

“uh—” he pauses, still looking anywhere but at you, when the weirdest thing happens.

the lightest tinge of pink appears on the skin of his cheeks, spreading across his face and darkening with every silent moment that passes with you staring at him.

your jaw goes slack.

that’s a blush.

miya osamu is blushing.

what the fuck.

he quickly clears his throat, hands tightly clenching at his sides, and forces his eyes up to your face, where they lock with yours as he opens his mouth to speak again.

“i-i’d like to walk you home. if that’s okay.”

your eyes widen, and suddenly you feel a lump in your throat, mentally cursing when you feel yourself heatedly flush.

you look away, forcing a cover of nonchalance to hide the way your heart beats harder against your chest and your stomach turns over itself in hope.

“uh—why?” your voice comes out a little pitched. fuck.

“well—it’s because of the vandalisms, y’know,” he rushes to say, stumbling a little over his words, “it was near where you live so—could be dangerous an’ all.”

oh.

you can’t help the disappointment that slowly seeps into your form, or the awful way your heart plummets to the ground.

“oh?” it’s only then that you realize that you accidentally let it slip out loud, and you quickly rearrange your features, plastering on a smile that you hope looks real enough.

“sorry, um—ignore that. but you don’t need to worry about me, i’ll be fine.”

his eyebrows pull down for a second, and he looks almost—disappointed? but then the look is immediately gone, and you discard the silly thought, chalking it up to your imagination and need to look for something where there’s nothing.

moments pass before you give him a short smile and turn around again, but then he firmly calls out your name. you close your eyes and silently pray for this to be over with, so you can go home and peacefully wallow in your loneliness and curse your incapacitating feelings.

but when you look back at him, his stance has completely changed. he’s straightened his back and stands taller now, and his eyes—they’re set unflinchingly on yours, and he looks so inexplicably determined, although about what, you’re not quite sure.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he speaks.

“please—i’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

it’s said clearly and honestly, and you feel yourself get a little flustered under the boy’s gaze, swallowing harshly and biting your lip.

you let out a silent sigh, making up your mind, and give him a small nod.

“alright.”

the sudden relief that floods his frame surprises you, and when he grins at you, quipping a satisfied “great!”, and starts walking, you can’t help the genuine smile that unfurls at your lips.

he’s so weird.

falling into step with him, you lead the way to your house, the conversation between you two smooth and familiar.

and if you notice him looking a little too softly at you whenever you’re turned away—well, it must be just your imagination, right?

[kerink]

dundeelemonade

I KNOOOWWWW i am just like. you know. sending vibes across time and space. hoping that he gets a clue and he can start figuring shit out sooner than later. au where he gets an inkling of how this place works a little bit faster and he gets over himself and he. and martin, martin he’s. he’s happy. keri, au where martin finds a niche for himself without all the pain and heartbreak and miscommunication. now i know that one of the tenets of the wtse au is that martin doesn’t get what he wants but i just think he could have fun running a thrift shop or smth, and being passive aggressively polite at people who dare try to shop there. britishly bitchy, in a way that brings him satisfaction, and he can come home at the end of the day feeling like he’s got a full life, instead of being dependent on jon & co to be the structure he builds his life around. idk i just love him and i am depraved enough to want to give him nice things, even just theoretically.

dee i am going to 🅱️ite you

between martin and jon, martins the one who ends up with a satisfying life. he's the one who heals and grows and changes the most. he's the one who controls his own destiny.

martin gets a job first, sure it's at carlos' lab, but he gets that job because of his knowledge and expertise. he becomes an adjunct scientist and is able to understand night vale's strangeness in ways that the other scientists can't because they have no foundation or frame of reference to work off of. to them, night vale is Strange and that's it. but martin knows this strangeness, he's familiar with this strangeness. and he is missed after he leaves because he is valuable, immensely valuable. and it's so corrective for him, to have a job where he's important and respected and he gets to tell people much more qualified than him that they're wrong and then he gets to quit

martin makes friends first. real actual friends, not the weird thing jon and cecil have going on where they connect through the hallways of the beholding's library and think each other's thoughts and feel each other's feelings. he makes friends the awkward and stilted and excited and anxious way real people do. he has his own calendar and does things the other's don't know about and has stories to tell at dinner.

martin understands night vale first. he refuses to be an unwitting victim again, he refuses to be a pawn again, he refuses to blindly trust jon again. he knows now that jon is the archivist before he's anything else. he's omniscient and thinks he knows best and will try to control everyone and everything. and he's not a bad person martin knows that, but, well. he needs to have a handle on his own shit. he needs to have independence. he can't just sit around the office filing paper and fetching tea. hes the man who walked through hell and murdered god. he wants to carry that power with him forever, cultivate it, nurture it. he wants that to be true. so he walks night vales streets and literally maps everything out. he tries to leave, over and over and over. he listens to NVCR until cecil's cryptic doublespeak makes sense.

martin grows first. he has to brave night vale and tolerate his interloper status. he walks the side walk, smoking but visible, corporal, there, because he won't be shut away again. part of being truly seen is risking being rejected and he knows he has to become okay with that. he knows that if he doesn't risk the mortifying ordeal of being known then he will end up being Lonely again. so he goes out and shows up over and over and over. he visits every shop, he (desperately) tries every tea, he goes to the grocery just to try to figure out what here is actually food. he brute forces his way into the community, hammering against his own desire to disappear and his need to make this new life work until he finally breaks through as a pillar of the community.

martin who formed his own bowling league, martin who's an active member of the PTA, martin who gets an authorship credit on the research papers coming out of carlos' lab, martin who has boys nights at big rico's speak easy, martin who gets car sick so he has to learn to drive

whenever benny and i talk about jon traveling through the doors, whether its the old oak ones to desert bluffs too or helen's, martin's always the door stop.

martin's not just a pillar of the community but he's the pillar of the family. he's jon's anchor, as he explores what it means to be a person, even if he's no longer human. he's cecil support person, as he begins to gain comfort in stories about his childhood, and how what his mother did to him changed him so irreversibly. he's carlos light house, keeping him firmly grounded in humanity as he keeps running away with night vale's madness.

and martin can be all of these things for them because in the first few months of them being here, martin took a good long look at himself and said "what is the life you want to have" and he did everything in his power to become the man he wants to be

[kumzume]

glam ft. todoroki shotō [smhub]

wc. 2.8k :3

warnings. ownership, soft-ish!dom reader, edging, v v lowkey pet play (u call him bunny lol), quiet whiny shoto, begging, miss k*nk (?), slight humiliation k*nk, crying, um

an. SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY S WORD I HOPE ITS OK I DIDNT GET ANYONE TO BETA IT SO IF THERE ARE ISSUES M SO SORRY LOVE YALL TY FOR WAITING

▼・ᴥ・▼

shoto todoroki was so pretty.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware — he’d heard the whispers amongst the girls back at U.A. about how attractive he was. that didn’t keep him from believing those words, his insecurities gripping him so tightly that he was unable to even imagine that anyone found him remotely appealing.

that is, until he met you.

when you first transferred into 3-A, the class was thrown into an uproar. you were beautiful, kind, and funny with a powerful quirk to boot! and yet, you never believed that you were better than anyone else, always treating every single person with respect — even bakugou (shoto couldn’t even pretend to understand how you did it but still, the behavior was so undeniably you).

it was all of your remarkable traits that ended up being shoto’s downfall. he believed you were way out of his league — you deserved someone emotionally available and sweet, things that todoroki felt, no knew, he was not. besides, with every single guy in the nearest vicinity falling for you, he knew he didn’t even have a chance.

so, shoto resigned himself to observe you from afar, watching your interactions with his closest friends and classmates, wishing that he could make you smile as wide as kirishima and deku or laugh as hard as sero and denki.

he knew he didn’t measure up and while he tried to make himself okay with that, he felt jealousy bubbling up beneath his skin when he observed shinsou helping you with your homework or bakugou training with you after school.

of course, he realized he didn’t belong to you or you to him and he had no real reason to be envious of whoever you chose to spend your time with but that didn’t stop him from fucking his hand late at night at the thought of you hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his mangled scar and calling him beautiful.

shoto came embarrassingly quick with that fantasy, the shame and disappointment overwhelming him to the point where he’d purposefully ignored you for days after.

he could tell you were hurt by his behavior — he wasn’t entirely oblivious — but he knew it was for the best. you deserved so much more than him.

the both of you graduated and moved on to your respective agencies, shoto swiftly making his way up to the number 2 spot while you sat comfortably at number 17. neither of you saw each other very often but when you did, conversation was stilted and a bit awkward due to the intense attraction and inability to act on it on shoto’s part.

shoto was willing to go the rest of his life like this; seeing you briefly in passing, stumbling through a discussion with much difficulty, and then returning to his penthouse to hump his pillow and cry out your name.

it was a pretty good system for the most part. shoto had no worries about ever having to face his feelings for you and was content to live out his days suppressing his inner turmoil just for you.

unfortunately, the universe hates him.

at least that’s what he told himself as he stood in the center of a boardroom next to you, clad in your hero outfits and listening to instructions on an upcoming mission that required you and shoto to work together. alone. for days at a time.

what the fuck.

to be honest, shoto completely tuned out the minute he heard “one bedroom,” his mind racing with all the horribly tempting ways his fantasies could play out.

by the time the meeting was over, he was hard in his pants and entirely distracted as you attempted to make friendly small talk about your mission. shoto sort of felt like he should apologize for being an absolute brick wall, giving you curt one word answers until you decided to leave him alone.

he felt bad but what else could he do when you stood there, wearing your obscene hero costume that revealed way too much of your skin?

well, shoto was being a little dramatic but that’s how he felt! your suit was a play on the playboy bunny costume but instead of being black leather (he thinks he would actually die if you wore leather in front of him), it was a white, lightweight fabric that helped with your quirk.

it was entirely too sexy and reminded him a little too much of one of his secret kinks that he was determined to never let see the light of day.

it was going to be ok! he reasoned. all he had to do was do his job, ignore you like he’s done for the past 3 years and everything would be just fine — right?

wrong. so fucking wrong.

the mission had gone well on all accounts. you both had kicked ass, much to your enjoyment, and were able to go back home a day early!

you were so excited to finally be back in your own bed and away from the weird tension that being around todoroki brought. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him — in fact it was quite the opposite.

you found shoto alluring and gorgeous, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms drawing you further into the mystery that was shoto todoroki. regrettably, it didn’t seem like the man in question was on the same page.

every time you tried to speak with him, he would either stutter and blush or refuse to look you in the eye and give you one-word answers. it was actually ridiculously cute but he would always disappear the first chance he got.

it hurt but you weren’t one to push boundaries where you weren’t wanted.

that’s why that night, instead of going back up to the room to watch tv (uncomfortably, might i add) and knocking yourself out, you decided to go down to the bar and celebrate a job well done.

one of the perks of being a relatively unknown hero was that you could enjoy a night in public without anyone approaching you, a luxury you knew not many top 20 heroes could afford.

with that thought — and the memory of the stifling hotel room awaiting you upstairs — in mind, you made your way to the sparsely populated bar, sitting down and immediately requesting a drink (bourbon, on the rocks).

you scanned the area, counting the number of exits and patrons before your eyes landed on the handsome bartender down at the other end of the counter.

with curly brown hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could kill, there was no way you could lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. even as your mind briefly entertained the notion of taking the brunette out into the alley and fucking him within an inch of his life, your heart just wasn’t in it.

your mind just couldn’t stop drifting to the tall, dual-haired, oh so pretty, man who was (inadvertently) waiting for you upstairs. of course, you weren’t even his to wait for but you didn’t know how to keep from imagining that he was.

a deep sigh escaped your parted lips before you downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn it left as it went down your throat. it was getting late and you weren’t planning on spending your night alone with the janitor.

you sent the cute bartender a soft smile while pressing a crisp $20 to the counter. he sent you his own grin back as his eyes trailed down your body clad in your tight hero suit, licking his plump lips in arousal.

you were flattered, truly, but you were a little occupied with getting back to your room, changing into some comfortable pajamas and conking the fuck out.

the trip back up to your room was long and arduous to your sore body, the elevators being out of commission leaving you to take the stairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were so worn out that you were ready to collapse but before you could manage placing your key against the lock, something caught your ear.

“p-please miss,” a breathy moan of your name followed by a wet slapping noise rang out through the door. “i’ll be your perfect bunny, just let m-me cum, please-!!”

holy fuck.

shoto todoroki, the man you’d been crushing on since your years at UA was now touching himself to the thought of you doing god know what to him and he was calling you miss?

you felt heat flood your core, your knees buckling under the heavy weight of your lust. now braced against the door, you leaned your ear against the wood, determined to hear exactly what was getting him off.

more wet noises permeated through the walls — did he just spit in his palm??? — before a long whine left his pretty pink lips.

“m-miss, i belong to you, y-you own me,” he gasped, the creaking of the bed just barely audible beneath his wavering voice.

by now, you knew you’d soaked through the crotch of your hero costume, your clit throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of your panties. you also knew you should turn around, head back to the bar and order another drink, leaving shoto to finish himself off but you couldn’t.

your feet were implanted in place, ear glued against the door as you listened to your partner masturbate to the thought of you owning him.

quietly, you lifted the hand gripping your key to the door, allowing the touchpad to register before slowly pushing the door open.

the sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

the blinds were parted allowing a dreamy haze of moonlight to envelop the room, casting the pale man before you in a somehow whimsical light.

he was stripped down to nothing, lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his gorgeous, swollen cock, furiously stroking himself to completion.

the plump lips that you had spent so much time admiring were parted, allowing whines and whimpers to leave them sporadically as his lithe hips bucked up into his hand.

shoto’s eyes were clenched shut so he was unable to see your dumbfounded, painfully aroused face as you crept into the room, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to your mouth.

it wasn’t as though you’d never seen a man naked before — you’d had your fair share of men naked in your bed begging for you — but this was something else.

this was shoto — somehow more intimidating than anyone else you’d ever brought to bed and yet you’ve never wanted anyone more.

which is why you were almost surprised at yourself when you opened your mouth and whispered, “stop.”

immediately, shoto’s eyes shot open, wide with fear and apprehension as he lied there frozen, his hand still wrapped tightly around his girth.

the both of you stood there staring at one another, neither of you able to move. you let yourself have this moment to look at him, your eyes tracking all over his muscular form before landing on his length, not missing how it twitched under your gaze.

“i-“ shoto started but he was quickly interrupted by your own voice. “s’this what you do when i’m gone? touch yourself to the thought of me? you’re so dirty bunny.”

it was impossible to hide the low groan that echoed out in the hotel room, shoto’s cheeks burning red in humiliation. a grin crept across your face as you made your way towards him, giggling to yourself at the way he moved up and away from you on the bed.

“now you’re trying to hide, bunny? you weren’t hiding when you were moaning out my name.” your hand slid up his thigh until it was resting on his sharp hipbone, an abrupt gasp leaving his chest.

your hand continued its trajectory, fingers trailing across his tummy before coming to wrap around the base of his cock.

“o-oh fuck, miss—“ a thick drop of precum leaked from his slit and onto your awaiting hand as a low moan departed from the dual-haired boy.

one of his hands shot out to hold yours, drawing your attention to his heterochromatic gaze. shoto’s eyes held so much emotion, small tears already littering his lashline while the moonlight illuminated his crimson scar. he was ethereal.

“pretty,” you hummed, giving him a gentle smile while your hand squeezed his in reassurance. you’d had enough experience to know that that kind of comment was guaranteed to get some kind of vulnerability but what you were not expecting was the expletive shoto muttered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

immediately, he was over-enthusiastic, his lips and teeth clashing with yours messily, almost painfully, before you took control of the kiss, slowing shoto down before slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

his quiet groan vibrated into the kiss as you deliberately laid him down, resting his back against the pillows. from there, you had more access to his body, your lips trailing down to his neck while your hand took its place back on his length, lazily pumping him up and down.

“m-miss!” shoto choked, his eyes widening yet again, holding you with his stare. you chose not to respond, instead stroking him quicker while pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“miss,” he tried again, this time more deliberately. “p-please tell me i’m yours...”

with him asking so sweetly, a few tears leaking from his gorgeous eyes at the overwhelming moment, how were you supposed to deny him?

“of course bunny,” you purred, leaning down to peck his nose, sending shivers through his body. “you are mine.”

shoto’s reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as he felt his pleasure begin to crest, determined to push him over the edge.

you, of course, noticed his body’s response and quickly pulled your hand off of him, painfully ripping his orgasm from his grasp. a disappointed whimper resonated throughout the room as shoto’s eyes found yours, staring at you with such betrayal that you almost found it funny.

“c’mon bunny,” you moved until you were kneeling between his legs, your hands leaving featherlight touches to his inner thighs. “you can hold out for me, right?”

shoto nodded before he could stop himself, desperate for anything you would give him.

besides, it couldn’t be that hard to hold off, right?

...

wrong. so very wrong.

it had only been 30 minutes but it felt like 2 hours since you started playing with him and keeping him from coming.

shoto was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both hands tangled in his bi-colored locks, eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks now drying on his cheeks and his cock standing fully at attention.

it was purple, throbbing, and covered in precum as you licked a stripe up the side making shoto sob in pleasure.

he had never been harder in his life and he was certain that he would just die if you didn’t let him cum soon.

“p-please, please, miss, please, let me cum,” he babbled, shaking his head mindlessly while bucking his hips up into the warm heat of your mouth.

you chose to ignore his pleas while you moved your mouth over his tip, sucking hard while your hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth.

“a-ah-!!” shoto shrieked, his back bowing off the bed, his orgasm coming on so hard and so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. “c-can’t hold back m-miss, i can’t, i can’t!”

your hand continued to pick up speed before you pulled your mouth off of him, toying with his tip while leaning up to breathe into his ear.

“cum for me bunny. you’re mine.”

with a cry of your name, shoto came, thick spurts of cum covering his abs, chest and thighs as his body convulsed under the weight of his bliss.

it was the most all encompassing orgasm he’d ever had and you, his former classmate, current partner, and future lover, was beside him through it all, helping him ride it out.

in the back of his mind, shoto knew he should be at least a little worried about how your relationship was going to change after all of this but he couldn’t bring himself to care. you were here and now, bringing him the most pleasure he’d ever undergone with nothing but kind words and a smile, filling his touchstarved heart with heat and, dare he say it, love.

shoto may not have been the funniest or the most open but you chose him, even if it was just for the night. and now that he unlocked how much he loved you, nothing else mattered — just you and him.

as he collapsed back into the sheets, his head just barely registering the cool rag wiping him down, he took pride in how he finally admitted it to himself; shoto loved you and he would be damned if he let anyone else take him away from you.

now, all he had to do was tell you but that was a conversation for another day.

▼・ᴥ・▼

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