#i have too many things that i would have to go over just to preface what i wanna talk abt?

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

-

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand. 

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around. 

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room. 

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink. 

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him. 

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled. 

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself. 

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks. 

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely. 

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves. 

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung. 

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.  

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed. 

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground. 

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.” 

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask. 

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender. 

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further. 

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out. 

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement. 

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise. 

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?” 

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung. 

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.” 

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers. 

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!” 

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.” 

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.  

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it. 

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside. 

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs. 

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.” 

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.” 

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out. 

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body. 

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting. 

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you. 

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?” 

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it. 

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare. 

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking. 

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight. 

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying. 

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?” 

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour. 

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled. 

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.” 

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity. 

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face. 

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late. 

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?” 

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off. 

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process. 

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin. 

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off. 

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?” 

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.” 

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.” 

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that. 

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate. 

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.” 

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees. 

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit. 

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants. 

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning. 

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge. 

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun. 

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you. 

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.” 

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself. 

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.” 

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches. 

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps. 

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear. 

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again. 

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

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[tkwrites]

It Doesn't Matter - Part III - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part III

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Nico Hischier x Original female character 

Summary: Though they’ve finally confessed their feelings for one another, a 7 day road trip stands between Nico and Lena finally beginning their relationship. When Lena sends a photo of herself Nico never expected to receive, it springboards them into new territory. Upon arriving home, he and Lena are finally able to be together in ways they’ve only dreamed of. 

Warnings: Lots of fluff, followed by lots of smut (18+ only): oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), talks of feeling singled out and a really dick ex-boyfriend.

Word count: 13,400

Comments: Phew! We made it. Just barely.

I gave myself a deadline for this series, liking the idea that I’d publish each installment on the last day of the the month, and I’m really proud that I was able to stick to that goal. 

This piece is LONG, so strap in. It was so much fun to write and string together, though. Writing Nico and Lena finally getting together has been such a joy for me. I really hope you enjoy it, too! If there's anything you'd like to see in their universe, please let me know!

If you do enjoy it, please consider letting me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

It Doesn’t Matter - Part III

Two days into the road trip, Nico was feeling restless and unsure. He wanted to call Lena and tell her he missed her. He wanted to talk to her about everything and nothing. Hear about her day in class and tell her about practice. Now that they’d crossed that initial physical barrier, he wanted to have phone sex and listen to her getting herself off. He wanted… he wanted so many things, but he wasn’t really sure where they stood. Could he just call her up and initiate a conversation that spanned both their friendship and their newfound sexual connection? Even when they were just friends and roommates, he hardly ever called her to just say hi. That felt too much like something he would do if they were dating, and he couldn't take the disappointment that came with not having that part be true. 

Except maybe now it was true?

Staring at her contact photo, he wondered how people did this. 

For Lena’s part, she was pacing the apartment, wondering if she should go through with it. Earlier in the day, in a fit of missing Nico so much it ached, she put on the lingerie set she bought the first week she’d moved in, set up her phone and took some photos to send to him. There was one in particular she liked, and she even had it queued up in a message. Now that she had someone to wear it for, and it, amazingly, turned out to be the guy she’d always hoped it would be, she couldn’t get the idea of wearing it for him out of her mind. And why wait until he was home when she could send a picture now?

He was off this afternoon, which meant he was likely napping. She could send it during the game, but there was more of a chance someone else might see it if she did that. And this was for his eyes only. 

She thought about prefacing it with a Don’t open this until you’re alone, message, but wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?

Finally deciding it’d be better to send it now, while he was more likely to be alone than after the game, she hit the blue arrow. The whooshing sound let her know it was delivered, and her heart immediately jumped into her throat. 

It was too late to take back now, and trying to explain her reasoning over text seemed impossible. She’d just have to wait for him to respond. 

Walking to her easel, she decided she needed to distract herself until he did. If she didn’t, she knew she would obsess powerfully and end up sending him something written from pure anxiety, and those messages never turned out well. For all she knew, he could be asleep and wouldn’t see it for another few hours. 

The thing was that Lena had never done this before. She'd never sent a picture of herself that hadn't been requested first, and she’d never wanted to. 

Past boyfriends wanted to ‘see her when they were apart,’ but that really translated to ‘I want something to show off to my friends.’ She'd been shocked to find Milo showing one of his buddies a picture she’d sent him while they were at a party. Together. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. The picture showed Lena in nothing but her underwear, one arm wrapped around her chest for some semblance of modesty when she didn’t really want to send the picture in the first place. The fact that he had it pulled up and was showing it off so casually made her feel objectified and cheap. 

That night, she did the sneakiest thing she'd ever done in a relationship and used his sleeping face to unlock his phone so she could delete all the pictures she'd sent him before breaking up with him the next morning. She even told him what she did. He complained that she was an uptight bitch who didn’t understand he was showing her off, and shouldn’t she be flattered. 

Nico would never do something like that. She knew him too well. He would know and had told her that photos like that were for the recipient only and shouldn’t be shared with anyone else. He told her once that one of the guys on the Mooseheads tried to show him a picture of his girlfriend, and the rest of the boys teased him for turning away. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he complained to Lena later that day, “I don’t want to see that.” It was one of the first times she knew he was different, and her rule about not dating hockey players was going to be broken.

It was because of that. Because she knew he wouldn’t show anyone else, and because she had the suspicion he would never ask for something like this that she’d sent it. 

The whole time she’d known him, Nico had been the nicest cute boy on the team. Always easy going and quick with a smile, even when he didn't understand what anyone was saying. He never treated her like a piece of meat like some of the guys did, always seeing and celebrating her humanity before anything else. He was genuinely interested in her art, and not just as a means of getting into her pants. 

When she met him, and they began hanging out with mutual friends, she remembered thinking, I'm going to tell people I met the love of my life in my senior year. 

Setting her phone face down on the end table, she picked up her palette and brush and turned her focus to the mountain sunset she’d been working on all week. 

When Nico's phone buzzed with a text from Lena, he opened it right away, anxious to hear from her. He didn't think anything of the preview that told him it was a photo. She often sent memes or funny photos of Cookie around the apartment or progress on her latest painting. 

Had he thought this might be anything close to possibility, he would have opened it in the bathroom. 

An embarrassing noise, overflowing with longing, crawled up his throat. 

Jonas shot him a confused look, and Nico had to act like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t taken completely off guard. Like he didn’t have a hard on in their hotel room. Like Lena hadn’t just sent him a picture of herself in pink lingerie, winking cheekily at the camera.

He wanted to bury his head in a pillow and groan. He wanted to call her and tell her how beautiful she was. He wanted to detail each and every way he was going to make her come when he got home. 

“I’m —” Nico coughed, “I’m gonna go on a walk,” he told Jonas, bolting out of bed and into the hallway. Maybe this was worse. Now, he had a boner in public. He needed a place where he could talk to her alone. 

There was a conference room the coaches were using this morning, wasn’t there? He ran down the hall and found the room empty and blissfully unlocked. 

The whole wall facing the hallway was glass, but it’s not like he was going to do anything indecent. 

The call went to voicemail. 

Frowning, Nico pulled the phone away from his ear. Certainly, in the time it took him to run down the hall, she hadn’t gone away from her phone. And she didn’t send that thinking he wouldn’t respond, right? That would be crazy. No woman would send a picture of herself like that if she didn’t want a response. 

The device buzzed in his hand, and he felt a sigh let go in his chest. “Hey,” he greeted, bringing it back to his ear. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding a little breathless, “I didn’t want to drop my palette all over your living room.” 

“Thanks,” he said, laughter in his tone. He was amazed she could just go back to painting after sending a message like that. He’d be a nervous wreck.

The awkwardness that passed over the phone line between them made Lena’s heart race with indecision. How was she supposed to broach this subject? Did you get the photo I sent? Do you want to talk about it? Are you calling me because it had the desired affect? 

Finally, she decided to go into neutral territory, “so, how are you?” 

How was he supposed to answer that question? 

“I got your message,” he said, wincing at the accusing tone in his voice. He didn’t even answer her question.

“Did you…” she felt suddenly self-conscious, “I mean, did you like it?” 

Did she think he was blind? “Yeah, I wouldn’t have minded some warning, though,” he admitted. The sound that had come out of his mouth when he opened it rang in his head, and he felt himself flush out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” she said, voice sheepish. “I was debating about telling you to open it alone, but I just kind of freaked out and sent it.”

Laughter rumbled from his chest, “you don’t need to apologize. I really liked it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know a man alive who wouldn’t like getting a picture like that from the woman he loves.” 

The casual way he said he loved her made her heart pitter-patter. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Lena,” he said.

She liked that he used the word seen. Not the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Heat raced into her cheeks, “really?”

“Yes.” It almost came out a groan. Just thinking about it got him worked up, but now that they were on the phone, he didn’t think it was the time to broach phone sex. Maybe that was her intention in sending it, but their conversation was too sweet and awkward to steer in that direction. He didn’t want to ruin it, or for her to think he only wanted her physically. He wanted every part of her.

His simple answer turned her insides to goo. 

She sniffed, and panic spiked in his chest. “Are you crying?” 

“A little.” 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothings wrong,” her voice was wobbly, “I just…I can’t really believe this is my life, you know?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that I spent six years pining after you, thinking you didn’t like me, and now you’re telling me I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. It almost doesn’t feel real.” 

“Yeah,” he swung his legs up onto the sofa under the windows and lay back. “The whole time we were kissing, I kept thinking I needed to pinch myself.” 

She giggled, knowing the feeling all too well. 

“I wish I told you sooner,” he said quietly.

“Tell me about it,” she groaned. 

He knew he would beat himself up about this, and his siblings would hold how they were right about Lena over his head for the rest of time. 

“I can’t believe you sent me a picture of yourself in lingerie,” he said, voice full of wonder and longing. “I don’t think I ever even let myself imagine that.” The reality of it was too much. It made their relationship more tangible somehow. 

“I missed you, and I just kept thinking about how I finally had someone to wear it for other than myself, and I don’t know, I just…I wanted you to see it.”

Her admission made his insides feel gooier than a raclette. “I miss you too,” he said, glad he hadn't steered the conversation to sex. That would come, he knew, but he was glad for this reassurance. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Nico pulled in a calming breath. 

“How was class on Friday?” 

“Good. Professor Brown really likes my sketches.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, she said I really turned a corner and understood what she was trying to get us to do.” 

“That’s great.” 

Posing for her would have never been in vain when it brought them together, but he was glad the art wasn’t going unnoticed by her teachers. 

“She wants to put them in the student showcase for this semester.” 

His mouth went dry. “What?” 

“She said they’re such a cohesive story and series, she’d like to put them in the showcase. It’s a huge honor. I told her I had to talk to you before I could say yes, though.”

Mind racing, Nico wondered what on earth he’d gotten himself into. 

“I…” he paused. “How —” his voice squeaked over the word, and he had to clear his throat, “how long would they be up?” 

“Basically through December. I think the show goes up that first weekend.” 

That was only a few weeks away. 

“And they take it down when we come back after the break, so mid-January, I think.”

“I just…” he gulped, “I — what if someone recognizes me?” It was highly unlikely people who attended art shows at the New York Institute of Art would know him on site, but the thought of a fan seeing the sketches and recognizing him posing nude still made his stomach turn. 

“Well, they won’t be up for sale, so no one will be taking them home but me,” she assured. 

That was a relief.

“I could try to take out your tattoo, make you a little less recognizable.” 

He didn’t respond. 

“You don’t have to decide now. You can take time to think about it.”

The hesitation in her voice made his mind up for him. He wouldn’t be the thing holding her back. He’d figure it out. 

“You should show them,” he found himself saying. 

He’d have to tell the teams PR about it in case someone posted them on social media. 

“Only if you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure. I’m…” Why hadn’t he led out with this? “I’m really proud of you.” 

Her insides turned to pudding again, “thank you, Nico.” 

He would figure it out. It would be fine. The most important thing was that she was getting the recognition she deserved. “We can go see it together?” he asked. 

“They have a gallery opening I’ll have to attend. I’ll have to make sure, but I think it’s on the 6th.” 

He pulled up the team calendar. They were, thankfully, in town and didn’t have a game that Friday. “I can come.” 

“I would love that.” 

“I want to be there to support you.” She supported him through so many things, he was glad he could return the favor. “I can invite some of the guys?” 

“Only if you want,” she said, feeling a little taken aback. “If you’re okay with them seeing the drawings.”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” he said with a laugh, “and I want them to know how talented my girlfriend is.” 

“Oh, am I your girlfriend now?” she asked, teasing.

If it were up to him, she’d be his wife before too long. “Yes. Finally.” 

She giggled, “I never thought I’d actually get to call you my boyfriend.” 

The excitement in her voice pulled a giddy feeling in his stomach. 

Someone knocked on the window above him, and Nico sat up, startled. Jack was on the other side of the glass, exaggeratedly asking him if he wanted to go into the city.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said, nodding at Jack. 

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon?” she said it like a question. 

“Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

“That sounds great.” 

He could hear the smile in her voice, and it filled his chest with a warm, buoyant feeling. Turning away from the window, he said, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Nico. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.”

Lena hung up the phone, shaking her head. She'd gone into that call expecting phone sex, and instead, she got emotional reassurance. How was he even real?

He hung up the phone, grinning.

“What’s got you all cheery? Who was on the phone?”

“Lena,” he said, slipping the device into his pocket. 

“Dude, you’ve got to make a move.” 

Nico smiled to himself. He’d tell Jack and the guys eventually, but for now, he was just reveling in the fact that he had, and it turned out better than he ever imagined. 

The photo haunted him for the rest of the road trip. It wasn't even the picture itself, which did live in his mind rent free, and he'd jerked off to at least three times. No, the thing that really haunted him was the fact that she sent it in the first place, that she felt comfortable enough to send it, that she wanted him thinking about and desperate for her. And he was desperate, in a way he'd never experienced before. 

He wanted her to feel the same way, but knew from experience that she didn't like dick pics. 

In a fit of indignation after receiving one on a dating app, she'd handed him her phone to unmatch the guy as she told him, “I don’t know why men think everyone wants to see their dick. I can promise you, no one wants to see your dick. Unless a woman tells you, ‘send me a picture of your penis,’ she doesn't want to see it. Even if she sent you a picture to get off to, she doesn’t want to watch you do it unless she asks for it.” 

He'd asked her what a woman did want. 

“Send her a picture of your hands or your forearm while you’re doing something. Men's forearms are sexy.”

So he'd done just that. A video, actually, strategically cropped to show the flex of his forearm and wrist as he got himself off in their next hotel while her name fell from his lips over and over again. He didn't even need to look at his phone anymore. The photo was burned into his brain and etched onto his eyelids. 

She responded within minutes of him sending it. That's the sexiest thing a man has ever sent me, Nico. I can't believe you remembered. 

The video popped into her mind all the time. She couldn't stop thinking about his big hands and the veins winding up his forearm, standing out under his skin. She couldn’t stop hearing the hushed, breathy way he moaned her name.

It even happened in school if she let her mind wander, which resulted in her creaming her underwear and having to clench her legs together until the feeling eased off.

Touché, Mr. Hishier. Touché.

Four days later, Nico walked into the apartment, surprised to find lights still on. It was Friday night, but still, Lena usually went to bed early. No matter the day, her biological clock kept a rigid schedule. 

Perhaps she left the lights on when she went to sleep, not wanting him to come home to a dark house. As he walked through the living room, however, he found her on the couch, asleep with Cookie tucked against her like a little spoon. 

“Lena?” he asked, squatting in front of her.  

She didn’t even stir. 

“Lena,” he repeated, gently brushing a lock of hair off her forehead.

He loved this simple version of her - the peaceful, soft lines of her face and the gentle curve of her mouth. Her nose ring was slightly off center with her on her side, but it still fit on her face like it was a permanent feature that had always been there. When she showed up in Bern, having had it done just a few weeks previous, it had taken him a full half hour to realize what was different. It fit her and her personality so well, it didn’t stand out as a major change in his mind. 

He hadn’t thought it was possible he could think about kissing her more than he already did. 

“Nico?” she asked in the most adorable sleepy voice he’d ever heard. The visions he had of waking up next to her were suddenly much more real and much sweeter than he originally imagined. 

“What are you doing out here, hase?”

Her eyes finally fluttered open, and her stomach clenched when they met his. His hair had flopped into his eyes, but she could still clearly see the soft care in them. He was in a gray Devils hoodie that looked supremely soft.

Cookie stretched, yawned, and slinked out from under her arm as she reached forward to trace her fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “You’re so handsome, Nico.”

The dimple in his left cheek deepened with his bashful smile. He wasn’t used to her complimenting him so openly. “Danke, hase. What are you doing out here?” 

“Waiting up for you,” she said with a chagrined smile, “or trying to at least.” 

“Lets get you to bed,” he said, standing before he worked an arm under her legs, the other under her shoulders, and lifted her off the couch.

Lena snuggled into him with a contented little noise. She hadn't been carried like this since she was a little kid. 

He lay her on her bed, then pulled the covers out from under her body before settling them over her. 

“Will you stay?” she asked, quietly.

Something behind his sternum fractured a little. “Natürlich,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over her hair. “Let me go get ready, ja?”

She nodded. 

Nico thought for sure she would be asleep when he got back after washing his face and changing into some pajama pants, but though she was still in the same position he left her in, her eyes were open and she gave him an adorably sleepy smile. 

In some sort of dream came true, he walked around the bed to slip in behind her. 

Except Cookie was laying there, pressed against her back, blinking at him slowly as if to ask why Nico was there and what he thought he was about to do. 

“Uh,” he began, not sure what to do. 

“Just move him over here.”

So Nico took the cat around the middle and lifted him over Lena. He squirmed and made a grumbling noise but didn’t swipe. Before he could jump off the bed in a fit of indignation, Lena gathered him against her chest and kissed his head. 

Cookie grumbled again. It was apparently all for show, though, because he settled in her arms almost at once and began purring and nuzzling her chin. 

Now that that was settled, he lifted the covers and slid under them.

Lena felt a contented little sigh escape her as he fitted his body against hers. The oxymoron that was Nico Hischier hit her again. He was big and strong, but he was so gentle and warm as he wrapped his arm around her waist over the blanket. She felt cocooned and protected. 

Cookie turned around and nuzzled his head under Nico’s hand. Chuckling, Nico scratched behind his ears and heard the purring start up again. 

“I’m glad you're home,” Lena said in that slow way people do while they’re falling asleep. 

“Me too,” he responded, tucking his nose into her hair and settling in for the night. 

Though he’d lived the past week, it still felt a little like he didn’t know how he ended up here, or like he should be dreaming. Yes, he dreamed of making love to Lena, but more often than that, he dreamed of these things: of not going to bed alone, of taking care of her, and being taken care of. Not only was he not going to bed alone, she asked him to stay. He felt comfortable holding her, and she felt comfortable enough to lean against him, letting him support her. More than anything else, it felt incredible to be genuine about his feelings and to have them lead to this moment. 

It was the best thing he could have asked for. 

The fatigue that always came with coming home from a road trip caught up with him abruptly, and before he could think about anything else, he was falling asleep. 

Lena woke before Nico did. Which wasn’t unusual. She almost always woke before anyone else in the house. No matter when she’d gone to bed, or what she’d done the day before, she was almost always up before 6:30. It’s why she’d been so shocked to find it was already 9 the morning after their portraiture session. 

Her watch told her it was twenty-two minutes past six. 

Sensing movement, Cookie stretched and put his face in hers, brushing his whiskers over her cheeks. 

She wrinkled her nose at the tickling sensation. “Okay,” she whispered as he put his wet nose to her brow and licked with the tip of his tongue, “okay.” 

Nico’s arm was still heavy around her waist, but he only stirred a little when she lifted it so she could slide out of bed. 

She fed the cat, drank a glass of water, and went back to the bedroom. 

Nico was still asleep, now sprawled on his back, legs and arms spread wide to take up as much room as possible.

The blankets only covered part of his naked torso. Allowing herself a moment, she admired him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed set of his fingers, his slightly open mouth. He was a beautiful man. the fact he was in her bed, that he'd held her all night, made her feel as giddy as a school girl.

Sneaking back into bed was always harder than leaving it. 

She’d just managed to tuck herself into his side, resting her head on his chest, when his arm curled around her back. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said quietly. 

His lips smacked softly. “S’okay,” he mumbled. 

“Do you have practice this morning?” 

She felt him shake his head, chin tracing over the top of her hair at the movement. 

“No practice and no game?” she asked, tracing a finger up the valley between his pecs through the course hair that had been getting thicker through the years. “What are you going to do with yourself?” 

Tightening his arm around her, he nudged Lena on top. She went willingly, draping herself over him. 

“Can think of a few things.” His voice was low and sleepy, and when she looked into his face, she found his eyes were still closed.  

Wonder at how comfortable they were filled her. Of course they were — they’d known each other for more than half a decade. But all these milestones, like waking up in the same bed, were new. She’d never experienced this in a relationship before. There were no nerves eating at her stomach, and no worries about how she looked in the morning plaguing her. He’d seen her in much worse morning states before and never said a thing. It was just Nico, comfortable as always. 

Lying her head on the front of his shoulder, she listened to the steady beat of his heart and the strong rhythm of his breathing. 

That music was lulling her back to sleep when his hand slid up her back, under her sleep shirt. She didn’t know if that part was intentional or not. She supposed it didn’t matter. She still savored the feel of his calloused fingers. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he mumbled as his fingers splayed wide over her spine. 

“So is yours,” she said, adjusting a bit so she could tuck her nose into the base of his neck. He smelled the same as usual, soap and sweat, and that something cedar-y, plus a musky smell she somehow knew only came with sleep.

He chuckled and said something in German. 

“Come again?” she asked, lifting her head. 

One half of his mouth lifted in a smile, dimpling his cheek, but he didn’t offer any other explanation. 

Shaking her head, Lena rested her ear against his shoulder again, sighing when his fingers traced lazily up and down her spine.

Nico couldn’t believe this was his life. Waking up next to Lena was so good. Having her comfortable weight on top of him on a lazy morning? It was such a dream. Even the very fact that he got to touch her like this now felt like a miracle. 

Before he could think it over, his sleepy brain was running his mouth, “I can’t…” 

“You can’t?” she repeated. Her other hand came up to trace the straight line of his collar bone. 

“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he said. 

She smiled and turned her face just enough to press her lips to his skin. It sent an explosion of fizzy, giddy bubbles racing through his stomach. 

“I should have told you sooner.” 

“Me too.” 

Each of them had said some variation of these same sentences each time they’d talked on the phone over the past five days.

“But we’re here now,” she said, fingers trailing over the round musculature of his shoulder and back. She felt a little amazed that she could touch him, too. She’d wanted to for so long, and now, she could. There was nothing holding her back. It felt a little like she’d dropped into a dream.

He took in a deep breath, and she loved feeling his muscles move and shift beneath her. 

“What do you have today?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” he repeated. 

“Nothing but you,” she said, pushing herself up so she could look into his face. 

The smile he gave her was lazy and tired, but it still sent butterflies into flight in her stomach. 

Because she could, because that’s where they were now, she leaned down and kissed him. 

His other hand came up to cradle the back of her head.  

She was kissing him. In the morning. After sleeping next to her all night. Feeling his brain come to life while her sweet mouth was on his? There was nothing better. Nico wouldn't mind waking up like this every morning.

They spent a long while in a sweet, lazy exploration of each other. 

Lena worked one of her hands into his hair as she tipped to the left to deepen the kiss. 

When Nico caught her tongue, sucking gently, a soft moan fell from her mouth into his.  She'd never had someone do that before, and now couldn't imagine kissing without it. 

“I love that sound,” he mumbled, lips whispering over hers. 

She hmm’d and silenced him again with her mouth.

Though they still remained soft, their kisses grew more urgent, as did Nico’s growing erection, which pressed insistently against her thigh. 

The deep desire purring in her belly shifted into a higher gear. 

“Can I use my mouth on you?”

She'd been thinking about it for so long, imagining the pleasured noises she could pull out of him. She’d thought about it so many times while he was gone, she couldn’t wait to bring it to fruition.  The memory of the way he groaned her name when she was touching him had been the fuel for many lonely night sessions with her vibrator.

“Was?” he breathed, certain he hadn't heard her correctly. 

“Can I use my mouth on you?” She repeated, trailing kisses along his jaw for good measure.

Fuck. 

FUCK. 

Was this his real life? He pinched his side and flinched from the pain. He wasn't dreaming, then. Not that he’d really thought that. When he dreamed of her going down on him, it usually started with her lips wrapping around him, not with her asking permission. 

His eyes fluttered open to meet hers. “Has anyone ever said no?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I don't know. This is the first time I've asked. Every other guy I’ve been with requested before I could offer.”

“Did you think I would say no?”

“Maybe? Sometimes, I'm just not in the mood for stuff, you know? I don't want to just start in on something you're not ready for. That's not fair to you.”

He'd never had someone ask before, and the sweet thoughtfulness of it broke him open a little more to her. 

“Only if you want to,” he whispered, leaning up to brush his lips over hers, “and only if I can return the favor.”

Her breath hitched, and her wide eyes darted to his. 

“I’ve been thinking about how you taste since last week,” he confessed, voice gone gravely with the memory of cleaning her release off his fingers.

“Nico,” she whispered as heat pooled between her legs.

“When you sent that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you.”

“Oh yeah?” 

He nodded, hands sliding up her sides. Her shirt bunched atop his wrists. 

She leaned down so her lips were a breath away from his ear, “and what do you want to do to me?”

Though she had him practically panting, his voice somehow still came out a low tambour. “I want to lick you over that lace before I take it off and make you come on my tongue.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered, core throbbing at the mere thought of it. “I…” 

If someone told her, even just five days ago, that Nico Hischier had such a dirty mouth, Lena wouldn’t have believed them. He was usually so polite. She’d never even imagined him saying something like that.  

She liked this filthy-mouthed side of him she’d never seen before. Why had she waited so damn long to tell him?

Rolling them onto their sides, he pressed his lips to her neck, unable to keep his mouth off of her anymore.

“Do you want me —” her voice dropped into a moan as he pushed her onto her back, licking and sucking along the column of her throat. 

“Yes,” he growled into her skin, “so damn much.” 

“Do you want me to put it on?” she finally managed to ask, gasping the words out before he could steal her breath again.

Lifting his head, his brown eyes met hers. He had that same wide open, loving look in them. “Put what on?” 

Why would she put anything on? He was far more interested in shedding her clothes.

“The lingerie.” 

Oh. 

Well. 

That was a bit different. 

Lena watched his eyes go dark with lust. 

“You’d do that?” he whispered, touched and incredibly turned on.

Nodding, she bit her lip before deciding she could just blurt it out, “I want you to do what you wanted to, and I want to see your reaction.” 

Now that he’d brought up the idea of licking her over her underwear which, what the hell, sounded so hot she could hardly stand it, she needed to feel it. She wanted THAT to be her first experience with his mouth. 

Nico was such an excellent kisser, she knew he would be good at oral. Plus, the idea of wrapping her fingers in his hair as he went down on her? That fantasy had been in regular rotation for years. 

He paused, seemingly caught between saying yes and just continuing as they were. 

Maybe he needed a little more incentive. “What if I put it on to suck you off?” she asked, voice seductive and low in his ear. 

With a soft groan, he buried his face in her neck. He had to admit, fulfilling the initial fantasy that had flooded his mind when she sent that picture was incredibly tempting, and if it included her wearing it to go down on him? That was a fantasy in and of itself. He couldn't find his voice, but he nodded all the same. 

“Meet you in your room in five minutes?” she suggested. 

Five minutes felt like an eternity when she was under him now, but he knew they would be worth it. 

“Okay,”

A few minutes later, she knocked on his doorframe, and he spun. She had a soft looking robe on. Green with matching lace trim. 

He looked almost instantly disappointed. 

“I thought you might want to take it off,” she offered quietly, taking a few steps toward him.

He was still just in his pajama pants, the band of his boxers peeking above the waistband. God, why was that always so sexy? 

Though he appreciated the gesture, Nico shook his head. 

Stopping abruptly, Lena confirmed, “no?” 

Shaking his head again, Nico managed to clear his throat and tell her, “want you to.”

Fingers trembling with excitement, she pulled one end of the tie, slipping it from the bow. 

This was an exercise in a kind of vulnerability Lena had never experienced before. Yes, Nico was her best friend, and she trusted him with her life, but she’d never undressed in front of someone like this. This wasn’t just about seduction. This was about bearing herself to a man she loved and who she knew loved her. There was anticipation, but no nervousness, longing, but no worry. There was love and more love and more love under that. She’d never felt like that before.

This wasn’t some kind of strip tease meant to thrill. No, she was bearing a piece of her soul.

Nico found he was holding his breath and made himself pull air into his lungs. 

Lena grasped the two sides of the robe and pulled them apart until they slipped over her shoulders. The fabric puddled to the floor around her feet. 

 A noise he couldn’t control flew out of his mouth. God, if he thought she looked beautiful in the picture, it was nothing compared to this. To the reality of her standing in front of him. She was real — supple skin and hazel eyes and curves he wanted to spend his entire life traversing — right down to her hands, which were splayed over the flesh of her hips as if she didn’t know what else to do with them. 

She was…she was a goddess. He would worship her every day of the week. “You’re so beautiful, Lena,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” she said, a blush pinking her cheeks. 

“Can you —” he had to pause to clear his throat. 

She nodded encouragingly. 

“Can I see the back?” 

She let out a little giggle and turned for him, looking back over her shoulder.

The back of the bra was fairly standard - straps and a band that was secured by a row of hooks. The underwear were anything but. They cut high on her cheeks and perfectly accentuated the curvature of her hips. His jaw went slack. 

This was a better response than she could have asked for. When she’d bought this set, one of the selling points was how good the panties made her ass look. Having Nico appreciate it to the point of open mouthed silence, sent a delighted thrill through her. 

“Now you?” she said, turning back around and nodding at his pants.

Taking a deep breath, he worked his thumbs under the waistband of his pajamas. Pushing the elastic over his hips, the cotton fell down, and he stepped out of it. 

Lena let out a thick sigh, eyes roaming over him, from the bob of his Adam’s apple and flex of his stomach to the dark hair trailing from his belly button into the elastic band of his briefs and the lighter hair that crept up his thighs. She'd seen all these things before as an artist, but now, she was seeing them as a woman. She didn't have to stuff down her desire or try to channel it through her pencil. She got to admire him as a woman who wanted him. 

When their eyes met again, his were nervous, as if waiting for a verdict. Instead of saying anything, she took the few steps forward, slid her hand to the back of his neck, and nudged him down as she raised herself on tiptoe. 

Their lips met, and that feeling of rightness filled Lena again. As her tongue swept into his waiting mouth, she pressed herself against him. 

Taking the time to savor the feel of the lace beneath his palms, Nico caressed her hips slowly before sliding them around to cradle her rump. 

She broke the kiss, and his hands were suddenly sliding up her body as she lowered onto her knees in front of him. “Shit, Lena,” he breathed. 

A coy, sexy smile took over her face, and Lena leaned in to press her lips to his right thigh. The muscle jumped beneath his skin.

“Wait.” 

Pulling back to sit on her haunches, Lena looked up at him, surprised. No man had ever told her to stop when she was setting up to suck him off. 

Half of Nico’s brain was in his dick, but he needed to get this right. “I went first last time,” he said.

“It’s not like we have to take turns.” 

“I know, but I want to give first.” When she didn’t move, he added on a slightly desperate, “please.” 

She nodded, and he took her hands to pull her to her feet. They turned so her back was facing the bed, and he smiled indulgently at the way she had to do a little hop to sit on the mattress. 

“Lay back,” he said. 

She scooted up to the pillows and did as he instructed.

She was a fantasy in his dark sheets. 

Biting his lip, he paused to admire her for a moment before climbing onto the bed and covering her body with his. As their mouths met in a passionate, desperate kiss, he settled between her legs. He rutted his hips into her, and she moaned. The sound made him heady, and he did it again just to hear it. If they kept that up, he would be begging her to let him fuck her right then. But he knew from fingering her the week before that she would need to be relaxed and stretched a bit before she could take him comfortably. Plus, now that she was in his bed in this lingerie, he had to bring his desires to life. And he really fucking wanted his mouth on her. 

He broke from the kiss and trailed his lips over her chin and down her neck and chest. Too impatient to wait, his mouth found her pebbled nipple, teasing it through the fabric of her bra. 

Lena had never felt anything so hot in her life. Her hands wove into his hair, and she moaned. “Nico. Oh my god.”

He moved on too quickly, but before she could complain, his lips were skimming over her stomach, down to the band of her panties. The memory of his confession crashed into her mind. 

I want to lick you over that lace before I take it off and make you come on my tongue.

She writhed beneath him.

He nosed her mound gently, playfully, and glanced up to her face. “This is still okay?” 

“Yes!” she hissed, voice pulled tight. “Please, Nico.”

Who was he to deny what she wanted? 

Spreading her thighs with his hands, he leaned in and trailed his nose up the gusset of her underwear. His mouth started to water. Shit, she smelled so good. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer. His tongue met the lace, licking a slow stripe up the center. He could almost taste her through the fabric. The sweet, tangy flavor he'd been craving for a week was so close. 

Lena could almost feel him. There was pressure, and the heat from his breath was there, but the full stimulation of his tongue wasn't. Experiencing him like this was so hot, the anticipation of feeling him built and built until it felt like she may just explode. She let out a wanton moan of his name.

He teased her until her hips were grinding up, and her breathing was coming out in hot puffs. He teased her until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

She whined when he pulled back but cut the noise off when his fingers slipped into the band of her underwear and started pulling it down. Desperate to please, she lifted her hips, allowing him to peel them from her body more easily.

He took his time, running his hands down her legs, and when the fabric was free, he brought it to his nose just to work himself up a little more. His dick twitched.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Who knew her polite, cheerful Nico had this side to him? 

He almost wished he was still wearing pants so he could slip her panties into his pocket. Instead, he tossed them over the side of the bed. He’d pick them up later. 

Settling between her legs again, he looked up to meet her gaze over the expanse of her body. Propped up on her elbows, her chest rose and fell, testing the limits of her bra with every inhale. He could hardly stand it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She blushed. How did he know exactly what to say? Could he read her thoughts or something? 

“You’ll tell me if you don’t like something,” he verified, “or if you want something else?” 

Only after she nodded did he get to work, plunging his face between her thighs like he’d been dreaming of for years. 

A sense of deep satisfaction rumbled in his chest when she cried out.

She tasted the same, like he remembered, and better: sweet and tangy and fresh. He couldn't get enough. He licked and kissed and teased and tasted.

Falling back against his pillows, Lena moaned his name. 

Her left hand found its way into his hair again, weaving the long, soft strands through her fingers. The reality of this fantasy coming true made her shake as much as his clever tongue did. 

He moved to lap at her entrance, which was not where she wanted him at all.

“Nico, I –” her voice cut off with a moan as his nose nudged her clit. 

Fuck it. Tightening her fingers into a fist, she tugged on his hair, guiding his mouth where she needed it.

He grunted into her as his lips surrounded her throbbing pearl, so eager for his attention.

“There,” her voice was a breathy pant that made his heart race, “right there, Nico.” 

Hands tightening on her thighs, he feasted. 

Her hips shifted, and even though it made it near impossible for him to breathe, he kept on, intent on his mission. 

“Suck.” 

It took half a second for his brain to understand her word as a command. He obeyed, and the groan she let out made him light headed. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen. It didn’t matter. There was no way he was stopping until she was falling apart beneath him. 

He thought briefly about using his fingers, but no. He wanted to make her come like this first. 

His lips and tongue continued working their magic on her. Pressure built and tingled in her pelvis until it spread, shooting down her legs and making her toes curl. 

“Nico,” she gasped. 

When he glanced up, he found her right hand cupping her breast, thumb and forefinger teasing the peak of her nipple through the lace of her bra. The sight of it — of her adding to her own pleasure — made his eyes roll back. 

The vibration of his groan lit her on fire. It was the final push she needed to tip over the edge. 

She crashed in an explosion of color and sound as his eager mouth kept working, sending wave after wave of ecstasy rushing through her body.

The pleasured noises she chanted were the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. She pulsed under his mouth, and he lapped at her release. He wanted to drink from her fountain for the rest of his life. 

Coming back to herself, Lena pushed him away from her core before the overstimulation could turn into pain. 

The sight of him — eyes hooded with desire, mouth and chin wet with her orgasm — made her moan again as he pushed himself up. 

Nico felt drunk. Drunk on her pleasure and the fact that he’d been the one to pull it out of her. 

He licked his lips, pulling more of her release into his mouth before wiping his face with the back of his hand.

He lay next to her and slid his hand over her stomach, letting it come to rest comfortably cupping her breast.

Lena was flat on her back, trying to get her breathing back to a normal rhythm. 

“Oh my god,” she finally managed to gasp. 

“It was good?” he asked. 

“Yes!” she smacked his chest when she said it. “I don’t… I mean…” 

He smiled as she tried to find the words. 

Turning her head, she met his gaze. “I never knew you were so nasty.” 

“I wasn’t mean,” he defended, hurt that she was accusing him. 

“No, like kinky.” 

He hated this part of speaking English. Why did so many words have so many different meanings that they already had words for?

“It’s kinky that I like the way you smell and taste?” 

“I’ve never — I mean no one has ever…”

“It was my first time with you,” he said, nuzzling his nose into her neck. “I wanted to savor it.”

“Speaking of, I think it’s your turn,” she said coyly, pressing a hand to his shoulder. She shoved, and he flopped onto his back without protest. 

She climbed over him, straddling his torso. 

Finally feeling the weight of her on top of him was heaven. She was tethering him down to earth. 

Her hot wetness against his skin made him twitch. He couldn't wait to bury himself inside her. Just imagining how tight and wet she'd feel around him made him moan.  

“I haven't even touched you yet,” she smirked. 

“I want you so bad.” The words slipped out in German. He started to translate, but she cut him off. 

“I got the idea,” she said seductively as she leaned down to kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue as she did her best to work him up with her mouth alone.  

The way he moaned sent a bolt of desire through her. Unable to stop herself, she rutted her hips against the hard wall of his stomach. 

He choked out a curse, head tipping back into the pillows. 

Taking advantage, she connected her mouth to his throat, feeling his Adams apple move under her lips as he swallowed hard. 

“Lena.” 

She moved to the other side of his neck. 

His hands slipped to her hips, desperate to touch her. 

As she slid down his body, her core passed over his, causing gentle pressure on his cock through the confining material of his boxers. His hips thrust up, desperate for more. 

Bracing on his chest, Lena pushed herself up and ground her hips down on his. 

Lashes fluttering, his eyes rolled back, and he gripped her hips with more ferocity. 

She’d never had this kind of power over a man before. It made her heady with the want to tease him until he begged.

“Lena,” he groaned, almost as if in pain. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m —” he gasped as she reached around, unclasped her bra, and took it off. She threw it across the room.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warned as she rocked against him.

“Is that so bad?” she asked, her voice thrown into mock innocence. 

“I — fuck.” She was riling him up and he loved it. “Want to feel your mouth,” he finally managed to say. 

“What if I want to hear you beg?”

His eyes shot open, pupils blown wide. Her tone was playful, as were her eyes, and mirth dripped from her smile. He knew if he said he didn’t like it, she’d stop right away. Except, with her on top of him, he found he was ready to do whatever she wanted. 

“Lena.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Fuck, Lena. Please.” If she wanted him to beg, he’d beg. 

“Please what?” she asked innocently, lowering her mouth over his nipple. He twitched against her as her tongue circled the small peak before flicking over the top of it. 

His breath practically huffed out of his lungs. 

“I want your mouth,” he groaned. “Please.”

“You do have very good manners,” she complimented, pushing herself up again. 

They were going to go out the window if she didn't do something soon. “Please.”

If he didn’t know her sliding further down his body likely meant he would feel her mouth soon, he would have whined at the loss of stimulation. 

Once she found herself over his legs, Lena leaned down to kiss that trail of dark hair that wound its way down the center of his abs and dipped into the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” she asked as her fingers tucked under the elastic. 

“Please,” bracing on his heels, he thrust his hips up so she could remove them, breathing a sigh of relief when his cock sprung free of the confining material. 

“How do you like it?” she asked, hands caressing up his thighs. 

He gulped. “I —” 

“Or do you just want me to start, and you can tell me if you don’t like something?” 

He nodded vigorously. The thing he wanted most was for her to just put her mouth on him. He’d dreamed of it so many times, and now, here she was, leaning over him. 

The guttural groan that tore from his chest as Lena wrapped her lips around the head of his cock surprised them both. Her eyes shot up to look at his face, making sure he wasn’t in pain. His eyes were glued to her, wide with adoration and lust. The sight of her with her lips around him — he could die a happy man. 

“You feel so good,” he groaned. 

She loved that when he got worked up, his accent thickened.

 One of her hands was braced on his thigh, while the other swept up to cradle his balls, stroking the sensitive skin with her thumb.

The only thing Nico could do was chant her name. Every time he tried to say something else, she did something new, hollowing her cheeks, or sensuously licking the tip, or moving her mouth to the underside of his cock so her open lips traced the vein there, the tip of her tongue whispering between them. 

When her lips wrapped around him again, he was gone. “Gonna –-”  he only managed to get that one word out before he was exploding into her hot, heavenly mouth.

She squeaked in surprise but relished sucking his release off and feeling it slide down her throat. 

She lay beside him, watching Nico gasping in breaths, contented to have brought out this side of him. 

“Holy shit,” he said. 

“It was good?” she asked, repeating his earlier question and trying not to giggle. 

Turning his head, he glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. 

Before either of them could respond, her stomach grumbled loudly. 

Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to cover it, “Sorry, I’ve usually eaten by this time.”

“You don't need to apologize,” he said, laughing. 

“Why aren’t you all grumbly?” she asked. 

“I…ate a protein bar while you were getting changed,” he admitted. 

“You – what? And you didn't even think to share?” she demanded, playfully shoving away from him. “Some boyfriend you are.”

He smiled at being called her boyfriend,  even through the insult. 

“Sharing your food is like boyfriend 101.”

“I did order breakfast,” he offered. 

“When?”  

“Last night. It should be here in,” he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, “fifteen minutes. I kind of forgot how early you wake up.”

“Nico Hischier,” she said, voice full of teasing admonition as she crawled over him, “did you plan to seduce me this morning?”

He grinned, and she laughed as he pulled her down. She bounced on his chest. “Maybe I did. Aren't you glad I at least planned ahead?”

Pulling back to look into his face, her smile was soft and full of love. “Yes,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. “Yes, I am.” 

While waiting for breakfast to arrive, they made out, slowly and passionately, hands tracing each others bodies with a reverent tenderness Lena had always dreamed of. 

He was starting to stiffen up against her thigh again. It seemed impossible he could be nearly ready to go so soon after coming. He really did have the body of a God. 

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he pulled away reluctantly. 

“That’s breakfast,” he said. 

“Guess we should go get it,” she said, though she didn’t make any moves to get off of him. 

“I’ll go,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her pouty, over-kissed mouth, “you stay here.” 

She watched as he threw on a new pair of boxers, some joggers, and a t-shirt before strolling out of the apartment. 

“Have you seen my underwear?” she asked when he came back through the door, a bag from her favorite bagel shop in one hand, and two coffees in a carrier in the other. 

“Hu?” he asked, slipping the coffees onto the table. 

“My underwear,” she said. “I couldn’t find them in your room.” 

“Weird,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the hot flush of his cheeks. 

“Do you have them?” she asked. When all he responded with was a non-committal grunt, she surmised, “they’re in your pocket, aren’t they?”

He couldn’t keep the little smile off of his face. 

She rolled her eyes and took the iced coffee. “It’s a good thing I love you.” 

His smile grew brighter, and he handed her her sandwich. 

“No one’s ever made me feel like you do, Nico.”

 He’d just been telling her he felt like he won the lottery, and she wanted to assure him she felt the same. 

“Like no ones made you come?” he asked, licking ketchup off his thumb.

“No. Well, I mean, yes. You’re better because you listen —”

A smug smile took over his face. 

“I mean that you accept me. Like all of me. That hadn’t really happened in my life before you.” 

His brows shot up.

“I don’t think my family really knew what to do with me,” she said, picking up the other half of her ham and egg sandwich. 

“What do you mean?” 

“They’re all sporty, you know, and I’m…not. I’ve always been this creative free spirit, and I think my parents were at a bit of a loss when I was so bad at skating and said I wanted to take drawing lessons instead.”

“They love your art, though.” Nico had met her parents, and both of them seemed extremely proud of her. 

“They’re better now, but when I was in primary school, and even up to the point that you came in, it always felt a bit like they resented that I had these talents.” 

“Resented?” he asked. 

“Yeah, like they wished I was more like the rest of the family.”

His brows drew together. 

“And don’t get me started on the boys on the team.” 

“Everyone really liked you. I think every guy on the team had a crush on you.” All the more reason to feel contented he had her now.

“Listen, you don’t get it.”

“Don’t I?” 

“No. You were always good at sport and popular, right?” 

He made a non-commital noise. Popularity in North America was very different from how he grew up. There was much more comparison than he ever experienced. 

“I was always the artsy girl in a place that worships sports.”

“But you came to sports?”

“Yeah,” one of her shoulders shrugged up, “I came to support my friends, but they hardly ever came to things to support me. I remember Robbie told me once, ‘I don’t have enough culture for that,’ when I invited him to an art show I had some pieces in.” 

Robbie had been their goalie, who had brought Lena into the friend group. He and Jessica were now married and had several children. 

Nico’s heart broke a little. 

“And then you came in and not only did you not treat me like the only thing I was good for was being looked at, you knew some things about art, and you actually talked to me about it.”

In fact, She still vividly remembered her first encounter with Nico. 

She’d been sitting on the refreshments counter at the rink, drawing in her ever-present sketchbook while Jessica puttered around the tiny kitchen. He’d walked up to her, asked if he could see, and said, “that’s very good,” when she showed him.

She’d blushed and thanked him, and he asked where she learned to draw. 

Jessica had interjected then, bragging about Lena’s painting skills, and telling him he should come see them at the school the next time he was there.

He’d then given Lena his trademark dimpled smile and said he would. 

She was used to this. Boys said this all the time, but then would never actually show. 

Lo and behold, three days later, she was shocked to find Nico outside the art classroom after school, studying one of her paintings Mr. Jacobsen had hung in the hallway. 

“Hey Nico.”

He startled a little, “hi, Lena. You did this, right?” 

She nodded. 

“It’s very good. I like the shape,” he said, then frowned, shaking his head slightly, “not the shape. The,” he gestured with his hands as if dividing the three sections of the painting, the sky, forrest and field. “What’s the word for this?” he asked, repeating the gesture. 

“The composition?” she guessed. 

“Yes, the composition,” he said, relieved that she understood what he was trying to say. “I like that the sky is bigger. It feels like that here.” 

“Thank you.” It was exactly what she’d been aiming for. 

“You’re very talented,” he said, turning to look at her. He met her eyes and smiled. 

“Thank you,” she said again, wishing she had some other way to respond to his compliments. She didn’t have much experience with the nice, cute boy in school talking to her about art and pulling out words like composition and knowing how to use them properly in a sentence. 

It had started their friendship. It was amazing how that simple interaction of him following through made her feel. Not only seen in so many ways, but also that it kicked the budding crush she had on him into hyperdrive. She’d never met another man like him. 

Pink splotches rose high on his cheeks, and he gave her a chagrined smile. 

“What?” she asked, laughing. 

“I didn’t know much about art,” he said. “I went home and looked it up so I could talk to you about it.”

His confession made her heart burst, “really?” 

He nodded, “you were passionate about it, and I wanted to know you, so I had to learn so we could talk.”

“Nico, I can’t believe you did that for me.” 

He blushed and smiled some more. 

“How are you even real?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. 

It called up memories of not that long ago when she had her fingers tangled in his hair for a different reason. “Real?” he asked. 

“You’re like a dream,” she said, hand slipping to cup his jaw. “Kind and thoughtful and dedicated, and handsome to boot. It’s like you’re too perfect to be real.” 

He laughed, loud and open. He couldn’t think of anyone further from perfect than himself. 

After their meal and brushing their teeth, Nico spent some more time between her legs, eating a second and third breakfast, using his beautiful hands to aid in bringing her to a crest twice more. 

“Fuck,” she breathed as he lay next to her, “how did you get so good at that?” 

He laughed, wiping his face with his hand. “I don’t know. I listen.” 

“You listen?” she repeated. 

“Yeah, you make this little ‘uh,’” he imitated a high pitched grunt, “noise when you feel good, so I do whatever I just did again when you make it.” 

Rolling onto her side, she looked at him, “I do?” 

He nodded. 

“When did you notice that?” 

“Last week. You told me what to do and then made that noise when I did it. So I tired it again,” he said with a shrug and a secret little smile.

She knew Nico was used to noticing things other people didn’t. It’s what made him a good hockey player. He noticed and noted things about players and teams and used them to put together his best game possible. He even noticed things about her - like the fact that she liked pistachio flavored things, and liked to paint on the right side of the living room and that she liked a margarita. She couldn't remember ever telling him these things, but he had pistachio creamer in his fridge, moved the living room furniture around, and brought her a margarita whenever they went out together. 

“You’re something else, Nico Hischier,” Lena said, bringing her hand up to the side of his face. 

He smiled, nuzzling his cheek into her palm. 

“What do you want?” he asked. He wanted her, but if she wanted more foreplay, he would give it to her. He just wanted her to be happy. 

Scooting closer, she slung a leg over his hip. She held eye contact as she said, “I want you to make love to me, Nico.” 

His hand slid onto her thigh, up to her hip, and over the curve of her waist in a reverent exploration. “How do you want it? Like, what position?” he asked. 

“Missionary,” she said, her fingers tracing over his collar bone and onto his chest. “I want to see you.” 

It struck him as a tender thing for her to request, and he was glad for it. He wanted to see her, too. They could try more intense positions later. For now, that was how it needed to be. 

“Where are you going?” she asked when he rolled away from her. 

He glanced back at her with a cheeky smile. “Eager,” he teased with a lingering scan of her body as he reached into the drawer of his bedside table. 

She snorted. 

“I’m getting a condom,” he said, holding up the foil wrapped package once he’d dug one out. 

“Oh,” she said. “I have an IUD if you don’t want to.” 

His next breath came shallow. 

“I mean, unless you’re not clean. I haven’t had unprotected sex since I was last tested.”

He didn’t like to think of her having any sex at all unless it was with him. “We get tested at the start of every season,” he said. “All clear. I haven’t had sex since then.” 

“Then,” she reached forward to pluck the condom from his fingers, relieved she hadn’t been the only celibate one for the last three months, “I don’t think we need to use one.” She tossed it behind him. It landed on the nightstand, skidded across the surface, and fell somewhere they could find later. “I don’t want anything between us.”

Her eyes were dark with desire, and he felt it through his whole body. 

“You’re incredible,” he said reverently, bringing his body next to hers again. 

She reached between them to stroke his erection and his eyes fluttered closed. Feeling her hand reminded him how quickly he’d come in her mouth. “I’m scared I won’t last,” he admitted. 

He’d dreamed of being inside her for so long, gotten himself off to the thought of it so many times, he might just explode the second it became real. Reality shortening his fuze to next to nothing.

“Nico.” 

He met her gaze. 

“I don’t care how long you last.” Lena was struck once again with how handsome he was. Those big, brown doe eyes and pouty mouth. How was this her life? 

He scoffed. 

“I’m serious,” she said, giving him a look that told the truth. “I just want to feel you.” 

He looked almost as if he might cry. 

“And I know if you do come too fast, you’ll make it up to me. You’ve already given me four orgasms and it’s not even ten in the morning.” 

He chuckled, glad for her reassurance and humor. 

“Is this helping?” she asked, continuing at the same, gentle pace, “or no?” 

He nodded. It probably was helping - getting him used to the feel of her.

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

He shook his head, finally getting up the strength to pull her hand away. They’d waited long enough. 

Lena rolled onto her back, and he followed, bracing himself on his forearms above her. 

As he reached down go guide himself, Nico pulled in a deep breath. Slow. They were going to take this slow, and everything was going to be fine.

Even nestling his tip against her entrance sent sparks pinging through his system. 

He tore his eyes from where their bodies would soon be joined and looked into her face, “this is okay?”

She nodded.

“You’ll tell me if —” 

She leaned up to cut him off with a kiss. “Make love to me, Nico,” she whispered as she settled back against the pillows. 

And so, he eased forward. 

Her hips tipped to his, a pleasured sigh escaping her lips. There was a stretch, but he’d prepped her so well, there was no pain.��

She met his gaze as his hips settled against hers. He was looking at her with all this love and adoration. No one had ever looked at her like that but him. Reaching up, she swept some of his hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall right back. 

A laugh chuffed out of him as if to agree that was a losing battle.  

“You can move,” she said after a few more moments of his trembling stillness. 

He swallowed and shifted his hips back. 

She took in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“Feels good?” his voice was tight with restraint. 

The fullness of him was good, but feeling him move inside her was better. “Yes,” she moaned. 

A thousand little dreams came true.  

The sight of her beneath him was a replay of so many fantasies, his resolve was unraveling too fast. He knew she meant what she said about him coming too soon, but he wanted to be good for her, and, dammit, he wanted to feel her fall apart around him. He slammed his eyes closed. 

“How does it,” she gasped as he withdrew to the tip, “feel?” 

“You feel so good, Lena,” he panted. “You’re so tight.”

“Or you’re so thick,” she countered, back arching as he thrust back onto her, a little harder.

That’s when she heard it, that little grunt. It was something her body seemed to do naturally. She would never have noticed it if Nico hadn’t pointed it out. And he’d picked up on it almost immediately, filing the information in his beautiful brain to help bring her pleasure. What had she ever done to deserve this man?

Nico risked looking at her. She was beautiful every time he saw her, but this took the cake.

“What do you need? What will make you come?” 

Of course Nico was mature enough to communicate and know he needed her help to get her there.

“Keep going,” she panted as her hand slipped between them in search of her clit. Nico felt so good. So incredible inside her, but she'd never been able to get off by penetration alone. 

His jaw dropped as her walls fluttered around him. “Fuck can't do that,” he groaned. 

“Need it,” she whispered, pressing purposeful circles over the sensitive bundle. 

He moaned her name and buried his face in her neck. She felt so much better than he'd even fantasized. 

She made a noise that made his hair stand on end. God, how was he going to get through this without embarrassing himself when she sounded like that? Like more than all of his dreams combined?

“Nico,” she moaned his name the same way, and he felt his resolve crumble a little bit more. 

Pulling from every self discipline lesson he'd learned in hockey and beyond, he stilled, reminding his body his mind was more powerful. 

Once he had some semblance of control back, his competitive determination snapped into place, and his desire to please her took the drivers seat. He needed to see her come beneath him.

“Can you…” she trailed off before demanding, “Nico, harder.”

He braced lifted himself higher and drove his cock into her with more ferocity, grunting with each show of strength. 

“Oh my god. Nico, yes!” Feeling his strong hips drive into her over and over again made her back bow.

Sweat broke out along his hairline just as much from exertion as the restraint he was clinging to. 

“I’m almost there.”

“Let go,” he growled. 

Her mouth dropped open. She never expected to hear Nico order her around at all, but hearing the gruff command in SwissGerman sent her body into a frenzy. She had no idea what he said, but it was the hottest fucking thing she'd ever heard. 

Her hips rose to meet his, and he could still feel her fingers between them, working for her own high. 

He watched pleasure roll across her face and continued on.  “Lena,” his resolve was slipping, and he heard desperation creep into his voice. “Come.”  

That one word order — she knew it had to be — tipped her over the precipice, and her body seized.

Feeling her walls clench around him pulled a shout from his gut. Fuck, she felt so good. As he continued, the rapid pulsating began. 

“Lena,” it came out a desperate moan.

This was…she was… “Lena.”

Careening over the edge with a shouted, “Fuck!” he flooded her in a haze of bliss. 

Afterglow turned his limbs to jelly, and he collapsed atop her. 

Walking to his locker the next morning, Nico tried his best to be as inconspicuous as possible. If he didn’t draw attention to the hickeys on his neck and chest, no one would notice. He’d just change with his chest facing the stall. 

“Ooh!” Dawson called out as soon as he’d stripped off his shirt, “Cap finally got laid!”

He went rigid. The memory of Lena’s nails raking over his back as she unraveled beneath him for the fourth - or maybe it was the fifth - time flew into his mind. 

He'd nearly howled like a wolf when she'd done it. The pain, together with the pleasure of her walls constricting around him – not to mention the very reality that he was the one making her come so hard – made him see stars. 

“Whose the lucky lady?” Jack asked, sauntering over, “was it that blonde from the bar? I bet it was the blonde.” 

He felt himself snort. “No,” he said, voice louder than he expected. Of course it wasn’t the blonde from the bar. Some girl he’d just met could never compare.

“Who was it then? We all know it wasn’t Lena.” 

Nico couldn’t help the smug little smile that spread over his lips. 

Jonas picked up on it right away. “it was Lena wasn’t it?” he asked, eyes going wide. 

Feeling himself blush, Nico tried and failed to keep the grin off his face.

“It was!” Jack exclaimed. “You finally got the balls!” he clapped a hand on Nicos shoulder and spun him around, taking in the marks on his chest and neck. “Looks like she enjoyed herself at least!” he said with a laugh.

“Aw man,” Dawson moaned, sinking onto the bench at his stall. “Why are all the hot girls taken?” 

“You didn’t seriously think you had a chance with Lena, did you?” Curtis chirped, one sarcastic eyebrow raised. 

Dawson shrugged, feeling his face and neck get hot. 

“Didn’t you see the way she and Nico have been eye fucking each other the past four months? Neeks was practically on his knees at Halloween.” 

“I was not,” Nico defended. 

“No,” Jack broke in, “you were. You were practically drooling, to be honest.” 

Coming home after practice, the apartment smelled heavenly. Like spicy sausage and something creamy. Lena was cooking. 

He followed his nose to the kitchen and found her at the stove in a pair of running shorts and a gray Devils t-shirt, stirring whatever she had in the sauce pot. 

As he watched, she brought the spoon to her mouth, tipped her head to the side as she tasted, then reached for the salt. She shook some in before stirring and repeating the process.

She must have deemed it done because she set the spoon down and flipped off the burner. She grabbed some hot pads and lifted the pot off the stove. 

A yelp escaped her mouth when Lena turned to find Nico in the doorway, looking at her. She nearly dropped the whole pot of sauce. 

 “Oh my God! Why do you do that?” she demanded, managing to set the pot back on the stove. 

An amused smile lifted his mouth, dimpling one cheek more than the other. “Do what?” 

“You keep just showing up in the kitchen without any warning!” she said, flapping a hot pad in his direction, “and it scares the hell out of me when I turn around.” 

“I just get too distracted to say hello,” he admitted. 

“Distracted?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, you’re…” he paused, gesturing to her as he tried to find the right words. “You’re so pretty it steals my thoughts sometimes.”

She blushed. 

“That time I came in when you had that pink underwear on, I thought I might faint.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious, Lena,” he said, finally stepping in so he could put his hands on her waist. The fact that he could touch her like this now was still banging pots and pans around his brain each time he did it.

“You thought you might faint?” she repeated. “that seems a little dramatic, Nico.” 

He shrugged, “it was like this stolen moment.”

“What?” 

He paused, working his thumbs under the shirt hanging loose on her petite frame. He loved that she’d started wearing his shirts.

“I loved you for so long, and it was like this little, secret gift.” His thumbs drew circles on her skin as he thought through the words, “it was like I was seeing you like I might if we were together, and I just couldn’t…I couldn’t bear to say anything because it would break it.”

“I thought you were shocked at my thighs,” she blurted, effectively running the moment. What he was saying was so incredibly sweet, but him bringing up that moment brought her straight back. 

He laughed quietly. “I was shocked at your thighs. I don’t think I’d ever seen you in your underwear.” 

“I mean…I thought you didn’t like them,” she said quietly, hoping he didn’t think she was fishing for compliments. The way he’d tenderly kissed her there the night before told her she’d been wrong. 

His gaze grew soft, “you’re so beautiful, Lena. How could you think that?” 

One of her shoulders shrugged up. “I’ve never really liked them.”

His hand slid down over her hip to tenderly grip the flesh, “I love them,” he said, leaning in closer to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I especially like what’s between them.” 

“You’re insatiable,” she teased, even as her heart fluttered. It was a strange thing to have her insecurities turned inside out so easily. 

“Can you blame me?” he asked, lips whispering over hers, “when I’ve wanted you for so long, and now,” he slid his other hand to her other thigh, and tightened his fingers, nudging her to jump. She did, and he moved to cup her rear to hold her up as her ankles hooked around his waist. “Now I have you?” The truth in his statement, along with the feel of her body pressed against his, made him a little breathless.

The steps they’d taken to get here were clear, and she followed them again and again in her mind, but in moments like this, it still felt like a dream. Instead of answering, she kissed him.

They’d kissed a lot now, but it still felt so new that each time she initiated, each time she caught his mouth, and especially each time her tongue brushed against his, his knees went a little weak. 

Stumbling just slightly, he backed up and ran into the fridge. The bottles in the door clinked and rattled in protest. 

The sauce and baked potatoes were long forgotten as he carried her to the bedroom.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

[horrorsequel]

remembeted the othet thi g

aalso being scared to talk abt how i feel and like my perceotions vis a vis "(thing you did/said) hurt me" because every time i have tried to have a productivr convo like that it turned into a huge and traumatic thing because the people i tried to do it with fucking suck and obviously i had those convos with those ppl cos they hurt me SO MUCH that myyy doormat ass was like "i cant let this continue" so obviously ppl who care abt me that little would react in bad ways and not everyone is like that, in fact most ppl probabaly ARENT like that and if i said they hurt me they would apologize. but idk its scary cos i thought that abt the ppl who did really dramstic awful things to me too so its scary. i am such an unwanted dog i an such a kicked dog i am the thing you hurt because I'm there and you dont see me as autonomous

the

dont feel your feelings -> oh no my feelings are coming out in a regretable way -> reinforced idea that my feelings are bad and i shouldn't feel them

wow mob psycho knew what was up

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 7

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/ the topic of suicide.

First - Prev - Next

CH.7

“You really need to tidy this place up, Stanford. I know you live by yourself, but that’s no excuse to have papers and books scattered around like a dust devil came through.”

“It’s organized chaos, Fiddleford. I know where everything is.”

“And this pile of unwashed laundry?”

“I’ll get to it. Washing clothes is a waste of time, and I’m a busy man.”

“Uh huh, and this pile of unopened letters on your counter? What are all of these, Stanford?”

“Several of our colleagues started sending me letters en masse.”

“And you didn’t open or read them?”

“I received so many at once, it must have been an invitation for a convention. I wasn't interested in attending one at the time. I’ll get to them eventually.”

“These are dated over a year-.”

“Eventually.”

“You’re stubborn as a mule. At least wash your dishes. You’ve been categorizing your notes for the past hour - what are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to find the definitive event.”

“For Stan?”

“Yes. You said that something extremely traumatic caused the memory loss; if I can identify what event exactly caused this, maybe I can fix this. The problem is, however…”

“Is that you’ve handled the situation in the most extreme way you could think of?”

“No. That isn’t it- and that isn’t true.”

“Mhmmm.”

“The problem is there’s too much.”

“Too much?”

“Trauma. He’s offhandedly mentioned terrible things- even when I met him in town, he had three stab wounds and acted like it was no big deal. And the more we ask, the more we prod, there’s more. The ones we heard were just the ones he was comfortable enough to mention, there has to be worse things he will not or can not speak of. And that thought… scares me, Fiddleford. I knew he wasn’t doing fantastic, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

“That’s not your fault Stanford - didn’t you say he left home? It is sad he was too stubborn to ask you or anyone else in your family for help, but I suppose you two have that in common yeah?”

“...”

“I’ll admit that might have been tactless of me- Stanford? What’s- Hey! Hey now, it’s okay! It’s okay- I’m here for you.”

“...Five.”

“What’re you whimpering into your hands, now?”

“Five times. He wrote me a list of people who have tried to kill him in the past. There were thirty names.”

“That’s terrible, but not entirely surprising from what he’s-.”

“He listed himself five times.”

(...)

“How could you be so selfish?”

“I’m a selfish guy, I dunno what you want me to say.”

“Why do you only ever think of yourself?”

“Can’t afford not to. It’s dog eat dog out there, you know.”

“Will you take this seriously?”

“Will you tell me what you’re upset about this time? I can’t read minds, and I’ve known you for four days! Throw me a bone here, PhD.”

“You tried to- to take your own life?”

“Yeah. A couple times. Never succeeded, but that’s the story of my life.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you try something like-”

“Okay I’ve had enough of your judgemental bullshit. I’ve been playing along with your ‘missing twin’ narrative, the least you could do is not fucking go there. I’m a homeless criminal on the run all the time. You tell me why you think I’d want to die sometimes.

Use that big fucking brain of yours for two seconds and think statistics - homeless people kill themselves more than ‘regular’ people, so do prisoners and convicts. You’re both? Oooh boy you’re in for a time. You have to fight to survive all of the time, and sometimes… sometimes you just get so tired, you want to stop fighting you… you just want a break from it all. You want it to just end.”

“Stanley…”

“...”

“...Talk to me. Please. I’m not trying to judge you, I just want to understand.”

"...Let's say I am this mystery twin-"

"You are."

"I'm being hypothetical here, listen. Let's say I am this mystery twin of yours. Specs was saying he didn't even know you had a twin."

"How did-."

"You pressed the mute button, not deafen; I could still hear you. Anyways, your best friend didn't know you had a twin. So to your own best friend you never mentioned 'me' over what, at least 4 years or however long it took you to get a degree? Or in the years that followed? Not even once?

If I'm your twin, I can't have been that important for you to do all of this. I screwed something up, and you don't want me in your life."

"..."

"I don’t know what you're trying to prove here- if you’re going through some guilt or pity or whatever. I'm just some drifter! I don’t have anything, and I don’t have anyone. You shouldn't be wasting your time like this. I'm not worth any of the time or effort you’ve put into this. Even if I was who you think I am. Because that guy? That guy fucked up so badly you didn't think about him for ten years. And I'm just as big of a fuck up."

"Is that... is that what you think about yourself?"

"Stanford, that's all that I know about myself."

*Ford abruptly opens the barred door and walks through the forcefield into the cell*

"Woah woah, I'm not looking for a fight-."

*Ford hugs him, Stan just stands there*

"I wish you called, reached out to me, I-. I wish I reached out."

“...He probably wishes he reached out, too.”

To be continued...

[storm-angel989]

🎀IM SORRY FOR BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX! But Val/Vox(idrc which one) x Anorexic Daughter Reader?🎀

PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND

Hi Friend,

You’re not blowing up my inbox- I keep every request in a google doc and when inspo hits I work on it! If I ever decide I won’t do a request I won’t just delete it- I’ll post and say it directly <3 

Preface for this work:

 I’m considered a plus sized equestrian/plus sized human. Eating disorders come in all shapes, sizes and issues. I believe it’s Blythe Barid who said “If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with you go to the hospital. If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story.”

Stories like these are based on my own experiences and issues- and on this topic, I’ve had quite a few. Please remember that all bodies are worthy of love and respect, care and concern. It's a tough concept to wrap our heads around, and admittedly I still struggle with it. 

A little background info: 

ED’s are a huge part of my writing that I haven’t published. Ana and Mia are characters I have created (or maybe my own food issues created them). Either way, they’re  separate entities for separate stories- demons that I imagine have their own place in hell as well as in my writings (all of which have been in existence far longer than Hazbin). That being said, naming your ED is something I did and I have done. Even for the purpose of writing this story, the entire thing felt wrong without Ana running the behind the scenes. 

With this one I tried to pain the pain, the anger and frustration behind that never feeling good enough feeling. I would be open to doing part two if folks would be interested. Please also know I’ve written on this topic in several other forms if you explore my masterlist (or I can directly send you the links if you PM me). 

<3 Mandy 

I stepped on the bathroom scale and looked at the number that flashed below. The words of my coach echoed in my mind- I needed to lose the summer weight, or else I would be benched for the rest of the season. She had helpfully provided me with a journal to keep track of my weight, what I ate in a day, activities I did and how many calories I burned in accordance with my VoxTech watch. 

A month ago, I had met her goal, thus ending the weekly weigh-ins. According to her, I had lost enough weight to maintain my place on the team. It was on me now to make sure that I maintained that weight, or lost more. In her exact words, you could never be too skinny. 

“Bebita? Breakfast,” my fathers voice called from the hallway. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

The number told me I hadn’t gained weight, but I hadn’t lost weight either. I picked my backpack up and slung it over my shoulder. 

“Sorry, Dad! I’m late! I’ll eat at school, I promise,” I answered back as I rushed out the door. 

Surely skipping breakfast wouldn’t hurt. 

Skipping breakfast turned into skipping lunch. Skipping lunch turned into avoiding dinner. Sugar free jello and skinny pop became my go to snacks as the numbers in my book slowly but surely began to get smaller. Somewhere, a little voice inside my head began to cheer my successes on the scale. Over time, I learned that she had a name. 

Ana. My secret diet partner. My invisible cheerleader. The willpower I needed to keep going on the hardest days. And most importantly, someone who paid attention to me, 

With each passing day, Ana grew louder. She encouraged me to keep my diet a secret from my family. After all, they wouldn’t understand. Pleasing her, it became almost like an addiction- a game I played with myself to see just how little I could become. Food became nothing more than numbers, an obsession that consumed every minute, every second of my thoughts and desires. 

In my household, it wasn’t hard to keep it to myself. Hell, one could argue that I wasn’t technically even keeping it a secret. My father had a very important job, after all. And my Auntie Velvette and Uncle Vox also wouldn’t have had the opportunity to make the connection. A quick, I ate earlier, sorry! And I got off scott free. Ana cheered with each no thank you I uttered. My head between my knees after practice had become a ritualistic practice. Waiting for the black spots to fade, taking deep breaths to try to regain the energy to stand up and walk out to the awaiting limo. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting at home for me anyway. 

On the daily, I kept a careful eye on my voxtech watch. The first time my blood sugar dropped, I got a call from Vox. Paniced waves rushed through me. A suggestion from Ana to bribe to a friendly tech demon. A brief trade later, I had constant vitals being sent from my watch, my real ones hidden behind a password. With this newfound freedom, outside of homework and practice, my time normally devoted to hobbies or hanging out with friends became time to sleep. After all, I was working on the perfect body. I needed my rest. 

For almost six months, Ana and I were best friends. 

Saturday morning. Game day. One of the busiest days for my father. After all, lust and depravity raked through the weekends like wildfire. Or at least, that was what he claimed. I stood in front of the mirror trying desperately to tighten the drawstring 

“Hey bebita?” I heard my fathers voice call from the hallway. “Baby, are you up?”

“Yeah, Dad. I have a game today,” I snapped as I tied another knot in the string. 

Why the fuck wouldn’t these stupid shorts stay up? I fumed to myself. Every part of my body ached, and even yanking on my shorts sent black spots and exhaustion rushing through my body. I leaned my head against the mirror and tried to take a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this. 

The next thing I heard was my fathers voice, felt his hand shaking my shoulder. It took every ounce of energy to open my eyes. 

“Bebita? Reader, can you hear me?” Valentino asked frantically. “Princessa, wake up, now!”

“I’m fine,” I muttered as loudly as I could. Somehow, I managed to push myself upright. 

“You most certainly are not fine,” he replied sharply. “I’m taking you downstairs to the doctor, right now.”

Doctor. That meant I would miss the game. No, I had an obligation to my teammates. Somewhere in my head, Ana screamed.

Get up, fatass!

You really want to fuck this up for everyone?

You better not let him take you to the doctor, you do that and you’ll never find perfection. 

“I’m fine,” I growled, louder this time. I pulled myself to my feet and black spots dotted my vision. I felt my fathers arms around me and in seconds, I was off the floor and in his arms.

“Put me down, I can walk,” I tried to yell. Inside my head, Ana screamed louder, demands and insults about my current predicament. I pressed my hands to my head and curled my fingers in my hair, “Dad let me down NOW!” 

He ignored me as he carried me down the hallway. 

“Vox? Velvette? Both of you, with me. Now. We have a problem.” He said loudly. 

“Woah, what’s going….” Vox’s voice began. 

I shoved my hand against my father as he walked through the living room.  To my relief, he set me down on the couch. 

“What?” I snarled as three sets of eyes stared at me. “What the fuck are you looking at?” 

Vox checked his phone and then walked over to me. With one finger, he lifted off my Voxtech watch. 

“Hey! Give that back!” I demanded. “I’m going to be late to my game!”

All three of them ignored me. Wordlessly, Velvette walked away and returned moments later, bathroom scale in hand. She set it infront of the couch and gave me a hard look. 

“Step on.” 

“Fuck you,” I snapped as I stood up. I tried to ignore the black spots that danced just out of sight. “My weight is none of your fucking business.”

“Reader!” Valentino said in dismay. “That’s no way to talk to your Aunt.”

“I’m leaving, I’m already late. Thanks, Dad,” I continued sarcastically as I kicked the scale aside. 

Inside, Ana cheered. I bent down to pick up my backpack and the world around me spun. Three steps,  and Vox’s hand gripped my upper arm. The last thing I heard was Ana’s voice screaming indistinguishable words. 

When I came to again, I found myself in a room of gray and blue. Wires stuck out from my chest, and I tried to cough and spit the feeling of something painful in the back of my throat. I tried to reach up, to shove my fingers down my throat, and my skin met padded white cuffs. 

What the fuck?

You’re going to have to work hard to get yourself out of this one, Ana taunted. Great job getting caught, fatass. 

“Hey, baby, it’s alright, Papi is here,” I heard my father’s voice say somewhere far away. 

“Mr. Valentino, I promise we’ll be in touch when she’s more stable,” a new voice said. “For now, it might be best to give her some space to…”

Indistinguishable arguments. My fathers refusal and reminder of who exactly was in charge here. My Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette chiming in, a mix of talking him down and agreement. 

Panic shot through me as the haze slowly began to wear away. Realization. Through the fog, only one word came to mind. 

Fuck.

[thegreymarveljedi]

Permanent Scars

(Hunter + Omega + Echo (NO ROMANCE!!))

This is a fic that was requested to me by @genericficerblog

I apologize for how short it is and for how long it took me to finish but I am actually quite proud of how this turned out!

Characters: Omega, Hunter, Echo

Type(s): Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Setting: Rex's Ship

Era: Shortly after Season 3 Episode 7

Other Small Details: Omega mentions something about her time on Kamino when talking about Tantiss. When Hunter and Echo probe a bit later, Omega gives an insight into the horrors she endured.

Please also include Omega showing her extensively IV Scarred Upper Arms/

(I hope this isn't too heavy for you)

This is not my usual type of story but I think branching out and writing different things is good and I think it helped me a lot.

I also want to preface again that there is NOTHING ROMANTIC BETWEEN THESE CHARACTERS. Whatever is in this story is strictly between siblings. If anyone tries to say otherwise you will be blocked from my page indefinitely.

Warning: ANGST!!, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of medical procedures, needles, scarring, medical equipment, neglect, mistreatment, loneliness, Hunter and Echo being dads.

(DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING MENTIONED IN THE WARNINGS ABOVE!! There are plenty of other fluffy stories on my Masterlist that are not angsty)

Words: 1.2K

—————

The ship was quiet for now, not many words to be spoken between the group after their losses on Teth. Rex and Hunter continued to speak in hushed voices as everyone else tried to shake off the awful feelings of the close calls.

Omega had woken up and was still leaning against batcher, just looking at the needle scaring on her left hand. She was used to endless needles from her time on Kamino and just like those scars, these would fade but never go away.

Omega stood up and walked over to Echo, taking his hand in hers. Echo jumped a little at the contact, not expecting Omega to be up.

“Everything okay kid?” He asked and kneeled down to her height, checking her over briefly.

“Do we have any bacta on board?” She asked quietly. Echo’s eyes went a little wide and he gave her another once over but Omega stopped him by raising her hand.

“I’m not hurt, I just want to put some on to help the scars fade,” she said and Echo visibly winced at the many needle marks etched into the young girls hand.

“Yeah, let’s go get you some,” Echo said and ushered Omega to the back of the ship, helping her sit up on the cot they had there.

Hunter had heard the whole exchange and from where he stood with Rex, excusing himself to check on Omega when he walked into the space, he closed the door to give the three of them privacy, walking over and giving Omega a short hug.

Omega returned the embrace readily, let her shoulders relax. Echo returned with bacta not a moment later and Hunter helped Omega out of her jacket, only to be left in her outfit from Pabu.

“How are you feeling Omega?” Hunter asked, checking Omega over just as Echo had done.

“I’m doing fine,” she replied shortly as Echo pulled up the sleeve of her left arm to rest in the middle of her forearm. He took her hand a gentle began to massage the bacta into it, being mindful not to apply so much pressure to the still slightly tender skin.

Omega closed her eyes and tried to breathe, not used to having anyone but AZ to help her with this process. Hunter Nnoticed and put his hand on Omegas shoulder, encouraging her to take deep breathes.

“I’m sorry if it hurts kid,” Echo said as he finished up, closing up the tube of bacta and going to put it away.

“It’s okay. Nothing I haven’t gone through before,” she said, looking down at her now bactaed and wrapped hand.

“What do you mean?”

“What?”

“What do you mean it’s nothing you haven’t been through before?”

Omega hesitated with her response, not having fully discussed with her brothers the exact treatment she received on Kamino. She trusted them immensely but this was something she didn’t like talking about. Echo had returned and was now standing with Hunter, not wanting to push Omega but also curious as to what she meant. She sighed, knowing it was futile to hide anything from her brothers.

“Tantiss wasn’t pleasant by any means. But somehow I was able to endure what they put me through. The needles everyday, the sight of my brothers beaten down and broken, the stoic faces of the doctors and the unforgiving loneliness I felt,” she spoke softly and Echo and Hunter listened. Both of them felt guilty for her capture after Eriadu, the lost of Tech hitting everyone hard and making them vulnerable.

“It felt almost like Kamino in a way. I was alone except for Nala se, the other Kaminoans were never mean but they also weren’t welcoming to me. Watching everyday as more of my brother came in from the front lines injured or shaken up was awful,” she took a deep breath, wiping away some of the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Recounting her time on either planet was hard, but she wanted to push through talking about it.

Omega rolled up her sleeves further and both Hunter and echo gasped at the shear about of scars that littered her arms. There were about 100 needle scars between both arms, some patches of skin bruised to indicate some kind of patch being used as well. There were a few scars along her forearms that indicated a scalpel had been used and burn marks here or there. Her arms were covered in them, all reminders of her time on Kamino not just as a science experiment, but as a prisoner.

“Omega,” Hunter whispered almost silently. She put up her hand to stop him as she kept talking.

“I was an experiment to them and nothing more. To Nala se, I was like a daughter but one that she could use as a test subject without feeling guilty about it. My blood was take, parts of my skin were tests, I was hooked up to wires almost everyday,” the haunted tone behind her voice made Echo turn away briefly to wipe his own eyes, flashes from his time on Skako Minor returning to him. She stood up and moved the hem of her pants down just the slightest bit to show the scars on her hips as well.

“They took bone marrow, part of my liver, so many things were taken and they always left scars. With time they faded and with AZ’s help I put bacta on them to help them heal and fade faster but the scars are permanent,” Omega said and readjusted her clothes, making sure that her scars were covered up once again.

“It’s not something I like talking about but I guess it gets easier when I do. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” She said and Hunter enveloped her in a tight hug, leaving no room for argument.

“You have nothing to apologize for Omega, none of this was your fault. Not Kamino, not Tantiss, not any of it,” Hunter spoke softly, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he held his sister. Echo wrapped his arms around both of them, trying his best to contain his emotions as he patted Omega’s back gently.

“You’re safe now Omega. You’ll never be alone again. No one will hurt you anymore and you won’t have to go back to either of those awful places,” Echo said and he felt Omega nod into the hug, her shoulders shaking with raw emotions.

“Thank you. Both of you, for never giving up on me.”

“You’re our kid Omega. You always will be.”

Echo nodded in agreement as he pulled away from the hug. Hunter slowly did as well, keeping close to Omega as she wiped her eyes.

“Thank you listening to me. I know it’s not easy to hear about this, especially for you Echo,” she said and looked to him. Echo shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Like you said, it gets easier the more you open up about it,” he said and squeezed he shoulder very gently. Omega smiled at him and wiped away the last of her tears.

“We’ll protect you kid. I promise,” Hunter said and helped Omega down from the cot once more. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist again, wanting just one more hug. Hunter happily Obliged, wanting to reassure Omega that she was safe and sound.

—————

If you or someone you know has gone through a traumatic experience, please reach out to a helpline. DON’T go about suffering in silence. You’re loved by people and there are people out there who want to help you❤️

[danwhobrowses]

I'm not sure how much good this vent will do, I'm not even sure I want to post this vent after my last one, but I'm writing it just so it's out of my head and into words because it seems once again fandom has chosen to send vitriol Ashton Greymoore's way.

What for? They talked to a 'specter' of the primordial titan within them, through their connection to the earth, the natural flow of creation and destruction. They ask what will happen to the world, it responds that it'll endure, they ask what of the people, it responds that the strong will survive and the weak will be remade into something stronger, to which Ashton replies they think they understand. To fandom this means that Ashton is becoming a fascist, that they have a 'Make Exandria Great Again' attitude for wanting the Primordials back, that they need to be beaten up or 'get what's coming to them' in order to change their mind, and I can only sit here and stew and wonder if this hate is really well-founded? Ashton is among my favourite characters in C3, I get frustrated by them at times too but if I think about it a big percentage of my frustrations is more towards people disliking them than me disliking things they do, or Matt setting up scenarios that doesn't do them any favours towards the fandom that hates them. Some of these are knee-jerk reactions of course, but for others it does feel like they have it out for Ashton, and I don't wanna engage with that, which makes it quite lonely when most of the fandom hones in on it.

For the most part I can understand how the whole 'the weak will be remade' bit can be taken badly; it's definitely iffy, but every other plan we have is also very iffy. The Release Predathos option literally involves unleashing an entity that wants to genocide the gods, the Maintain Status Quo option ('option' the status quo imo is impossible, in my mind the Gods can stay but the dynamic will still have to change) maintains a relationship where the gods pick and choose who they feel deserves help, using their power to covet more power, strongarm and demand loyalty, and overall choose fellow gods over mortals when the chips are down and not owning up to it. We should also remember that entities can speak in riddles, 'remade into something stronger' doesn't necessarily mean death; it could mean to adapt and grow, to become strong enough to bear and overcome it as many of the PCs of Critical Role have done with their hardships and trauma. It's worth reminding that the sad truth is that people will die whatever outcome happens - the aim is always to lessen the amount but if the Gods leave it's a power vacuum, if we linger too long it's a Calamity, and if the Gods stay it's a holy war on a more wild and less organized scale - and that Ashton isn't saying they approve of such death, merely that they think they understand. The commune doesn't tell Ashton which way to go; it only tells them that the world will endure, there will be change and it will change people, trees will still grow, the wind will still blow, the waves will still flow along the coasts of the sea, and people will survive. I know the interpretation can differ from people thanks to Matt's patented vague or riddle-mounted choices in phrase, but I also think if it was the Wildmother who told Orym or some other follower that 'nature is a cycle, everything must adapt to change or else it'll die - this world will change, but it will also survive' nobody would be calling Orym a fascist, people would accept it because the Wildmother's domain is nature, and nature is not always kind.

While we're mentioning Orym - and because this is gonna come off as critical I must preface that I like and enjoy All of the Hells, that's not changed - I also gotta call it out here because it does very much feel like the people who hate Ashton hate them for the reasons they love Orym. Both are stubborn, they're diligent in their personal code, they care deeply for their friends and would give their whole being just to keep them safe, they believe in the Hells' power and greatness more than each member does and more than they believe in their own, but Ashton gets the hate mainly because these fans agree more with Orym on the god stuff. What confuses me though is how these same haters can despise Ashton for being consistent but love Braius, the literal Devil Worshipper who secretly is on board with the Chase Away plan only so he can help the Devil rule the world, the compulsive liar. Where's Braius' scrutiny? A world under Asmodeus will be a far worse 'survival of the fittest' scenario, why does Braius get a pass in all this stuff huh? Because he's funny? Seems people ignore the whole morality talk when they're discussing Braius' dedication to Exandrian Satan.

I find it irksome too that even the group seem to criticize Ashton reaching out to Primordials too - as if that wasn't what we wanted them and Fearne to do anyway. They don't dislike the gods simply because they're a 'great entity', it's because they're a great entity that holds power and doesn't use it equally or fairly; they pick and choose who to help, a lot of the time in Ashton's experience for their own self-service, but they won't prioritize mortals over another god no matter who cruel or heinous the god is being, and the following of these gods are so intertwined with politics that most religious motivation also ends up being political. Ashton has no connection to the gods, they reached out and got nothing, an Angel looked at them and made them feel like nothing, but they do have a connection to the Primordials; from the Earth Golem to the Titan Empress they're literally a vessel of, they experienced something significant in their connection to the Earth, so I don't like how that they're almost mocked for having it. In addition, Ashton's behaviour during this commune differs because of that connection, but also because the titans are a natural flow; they don't demand or test or politic or prejudice, and despite being a Great Entity in its own right it never made sure Ashton felt small for their own satisfaction, they asked a question and got an answer, it's the same reason Ashton has disdain for most political leaders but likes and respects Keyleth, Allura, Kima, Pike, and (eventually) Percy despite also being people in power. To call on Orym and the Wildmother as an example again; Orym's an Air Ashari, the Ashari are guardians of the Elemental Planes - made from the Primordials - not tied to a god, but nobody criticizes his connection to the Wildmother despite both not being a follower and his culture being more tethered to Primordials and their descendants. I'm not saying it's all correct for Ashton to want things to go back to how Primordials ruled, but we must remind ourselves also that we only know a story written by victors when it comes to the Schism - a story which could very easily have been altered and edited to make it feel more justified for the Primes and mortals to actively genocide all the Primordials, the native species and creators of this world, and desecrate their remains to make weapons, soul anchors, and cities - the specter didn't say 'fuck em, all mortals should die' after all, if they believe mortals would survive then they must be at the least tolerant of mortal existence. Why is it okay for god followers to say they wanna keep the world with the gods they have a connection to (and I'm not saying they aren't) but Ashton is out of line for wanting to have a world which has something active that they also have a connection to? It seems rather unfair to allow one side to have and the other to have not, picking and choosing because our audience's bias has spent more time with the gods, Ashton wanting something they can connect to doesn't feel all wrong either, the Eidolons still exist with faint worship hiding away so they're not smited by the gods, why can't faith exist so they're not in hiding? I sincerely doubt the Punk Rock that is Ashton is asking for the Primordials to fill the Gods' roles the same way the Gods have been running things either, they want to break the throne remember? There needs to be a balance in ideals and practice of course, and in an ideal world there could even be a more fluid and all-inclusive Exandria where gods and Eidolons live harmoniously with mortals without hierarchy and class systems, I think Ashton could happily live with something like that, they did say the world needs 'a little chaos' to call back to Matt hinting that the current world doesn't have enough.

Which leads us to those wishing violence upon Ashton - and I really don't like that. People who say 'hitting them over the head is the only language they understand' seem to misinterpret Ashton as if everyone around them have been on their hands and knees begging Ashton to reconsider and them ignoring valid points and pulling a Leroy Jenkins. In reality, nobody is actually talking to Ashton about it, a lot of the frustration with Bells Hells right now is that they aren't talking to each other, even about the end goal! Ashton has valid reasons for their thinking, so being violent isn't gonna change their mind; undermining, dehumanizing and trying to effectively bully anyone let alone someone with chronic pain and low self worth will never truly convince them to your way of thinking. All people understand the language of violence, but that language is not used justly, those who truly wish violence upon Ashton don't want it in hopes it'll force Ashton to change their mind, they want it for their own satisfaction of seeing them in pain; so they can further push them away from the rest of the group and go 'that guy's not one of us', make it so the people Ashton calls family after a lifetime of loneliness, confusion and abandonment - the people they promised they won't abandon, and have kept true on that promise even at their lowest - make them feel small and worthless, and force them into box where they can't be themselves, and I hate that people would want to treat them that way. Ashton IS capable of listening; they've stepped back and trusted the other Hells to do their own thing even when it's ridiculous like staging a play where they pretend to be Ludinus to trick Unseelie emissaries into thinking that he attacked them, they listened to the gods even when they didn't have to like they promised they would and despite it being very personal they held themselves back for the benefit of the group, and if the group talked to them calmly where they were all allowed to healthily discuss the pros and cons, the ideals and compromises, and the risk and reward of all plans that have been proposed then they would listen, and they would try - you don't need to slice bread with a broadsword.

Will Ashton 'get what's coming to them'? Maybe, but what is that exactly? We only assume to know the full vision of what Ashton wants to act on. All of Bells Hells are gonna face the consequences of the choice they make on Ruidus - when they finally make one that is - in and out of the world they live in, so won't that apply to everyone? So what for Ashton? do people want Fractures 2.0? Does everything Ashton wants in life have to blow up violently in their face? Family, Closure, their best friend's safety, why does 'what's coming to them' have to be something aggressive and harmful? People change through positive reinforcement and good experiences too! Caduceus Clay would remind you that it's love that makes people. Don't mistake this rant as me wanting Ashton to be exactly as they are now, I too want to see growth from Ashton and we ARE seeing it happen; I see it in small instances where they think twice about rash actions and try not to fly off the handle, when they sit just to listen or understand or to defuse tension, and that when they're going somewhere or doing something they let the group know in advance, those who think Ashton hasn't changed since ep. 1 aren't paying close attention, but that doesn't mean that they don't still have more ground to cover. I believe that Ashton grows the most through kindness; when they're treated like a person and not a blunt instrument or a nuisance, and I hope what's 'coming' for Ashton isn't rejection, bitterness, and isolation, but acceptance, empathy, and for someone - if you know me you'd know who I'd want it to be - to convince them that they are worthy of living, that they're special not because of their powers or blood or because they have died and been put back together again (honestly, it does irk me a little that both Keyleth and Imogen chose that for titles and to brag to the Matron, I know it isn't intended this way but sometimes it feels like saying 'your best defining quality is that you've died a lot') but because while they have every reason to hate everything they still chose to be kind to those who deserve kindness, they have a good heart and they mean well. Are they perfect? No! They're in their 20s very few people irl have their lives together at even twice that age, but I want them to have good things in their life; things that help them feel happy and safe and like they can still feel comfortable in their own skin without having to appear more 'palatable' for people who've already decided that they don't like them. I want them to know that they've always deserved to live and they still deserve it now, I want that not just for Ashton but for all the Hells, and hopefully they'll all live to have it.

And most of all I want the people who hate them to be wrong about Ashton Greymoore, and I want Taliesin to prove them wrong.

[toutvatoujoursbien]

midnight thoughts (i hope i don't regret this)

Let me preface this by saying that these are just (very, very long) ramblings I’ve had in my head over the past few days and are MY opinions. I never post to Tumblr, but my level of emotional unhinged-ness right now needs an outlet so that I can process everything and feel, well, less unhinged.

I have never been this enamored with any celebrity or promo for a show like I have for this season of Bridgerton. Admittedly, I am a fan of the books and Penelope & Colin are my favorite couple. I’m going to age myself by saying that I read the series almost 20-ish years ago; past me could have never imagined I would actually get to see a Regency romance on my screen. Romances are for the girlies, and what the girlies like tends to be mocked, ridiculed, and not taken seriously - I’ve seen this time and time again across many different fandoms. I also really enjoy the tv series for being its own creative adaptation. I’ve liked many (though not all) of the changes they’ve made to the show; and I’ve liked all the little nods to the books that have been sprinkled in. Are the books or show perfect? Of course not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love them for bringing me some entertainment and joy and escapism. I think that’s the beauty of it, I get to have the best of both worlds, so to speak. And for me personally, it’s been so fun to watch the press coverage over the past six or so months. As a fandom, I think we’ve been EXTREMELY well fed. 

Having Nicola and Luke as the leads has been a true blessing; I think/hope folks can tell how much they clearly love and understand their characters/roles. I know everyone has been talking nonstop about their chemistry and their close friendship, which I think is beautiful, truly unique and special. How can you not enjoy watching two people, who seem to genuinely like one other, talk endlessly about a project that they love and have poured so much into? And the way they have supported one another, not only during promo, but during their years of friendship? Astonishing, really. So while I am old enough to know better than to ship real people, I would’t blame anyone (myself included) if they got caught up in the whirlwind excitement and couldn’t help but wonder a sincere “What if?” (At least that was the case for me.) Isn’t that the beauty of hope and possibility and potential? Like, I knew rationally and intellectually that the likelihood of them being together was low, but damn if I didn’t feel giddy seeing their interviews, reading articles, and watching video after video.

“Oh, but it’s all PR!” they cry. Maybe, but like most of life, I don’t think it’s so simple or clear. I think there’s been a lot of nuance and perhaps some blurring of the lines during this promo tour. As long as we are respectful about it and realize that at the end of the day, the only opinions that matter in regards to their relationship are N & L’s, I don’t think some lighthearted dreaming is unheard of. We have to remember, though, that what we’re shown is only a fraction of their true selves, carefully and deliberately curated to accommodate their status as actors/celebrities/those in the public eye. 

(And yes, I know this is the internet and therefore everyone has an opinion - again, myself included. But I struggle to understand why some people think that their opinions should be deemed THE most important to the discussion or would have an impact on any type of outcome, especially in this particular scenario… I hope it’s obvious I’m referring to the very vocal people that chose to expend their energy in hateful, negative ways. Aren’t you exhausted?

However, as a longtime lurker, I have to admit it’s been absolutely fascinating reading all the different perspectives and takes on this too. I think reading other POVs and seeing people articulate points that challenge me and make me think is a good thing - again, as long as it’s all in a respectful manner. 

Also I have spent literal years curating and cultivating a social media bubble that doesn’t make me want to cry or give up on life. I don’t seek out negativity and hate - constructive criticism for a thing is a different matter. It may be “putting blinders up,” but honestly, real life can be a shitty enough place that I would like to spend my limited time online looking at cute things and learning or reading about stuff that makes me feel less alone in the world.)

Last week, I stayed off social media to avoid Bridgerton spoilers until I could watch Part 2. I did open Twitter on Thursday to check on something that was entirely unrelated, saw the absolute meltdown of a shitstorm brewing and quickly NOPED out of it. (I was also reminded of why Twitter scares me at times. And I'm not calling it X because that is stupid.) When I finally caught up over the weekend (both with Bridgerton and… all the other stuff 😅), I felt like I was experiencing mental and emotional whiplash.

Look, ultimately, I don’t know them personally and know even less about their private lives. As an outside observer (even though, yes, I have a vested interest in them), Nicola is fucking amazing and Luke seems to be a nice, sweet guy. I think they are each others support, and it has been mentioned many times that she has helped him deal with the intensity/anxiety of being in the spotlight this season. So here are some potentially hot takes: I just think, when they’re together, it’s like he’s a different, better person. When he soaks up even a little bit of her light (sorry, I had to), I can see all the qualities in him that she is constantly gushing about. But, and again this is my take on it, I also think he has a lot of growing up to do. I don’t know much about his supposed “hot/fuck boy summer,” but it seems to me that he’s perhaps going through his own Colin phase, which he can totally do. I genuinely want to see him and Nic succeed. However, I do think he’s got to get a better handling on his media image now (this whole thing reeks of a PR nightmare, but I need to take off my comms professional hat). The way this has all played out has been, imo, a clusterfuck. There are other issues that I’m also not going to get into at the moment. 

The thing that frustrated me the most is the timing of those “leaked” photos. You’re telling me that N&L went through SIX months of a - literal - worldwide promo tour, building up hype, doing countless interviews and appearances, etc., only to have these pap pictures “captured” on the night of the Pt. 2 London premiere??? And yes, while I’m aware there were rumblings of a gf being at various events/locations, I didn’t pay much attention to it (read: my curated social media bubble, lol). And I think the lack of confirmation up to that point from Luke and his team just mades things even more tricky/messy. So when the inevitable backlash played out online, piled on top of the hate Polin seems to get from many corners of the internet (Is it ship wars? Regular trolls just trolling? Polin and/or Lukola antis? People who, for whatever reason, don’t like the actors themselves or, worse, don’t like the creative choices/decisions made by the higher-ups and therefore deem it okay to spread hate online? All of the above, most likely.), I know I felt like I had been hit by a train.

Here’s my point: I think what should have been a moment of triumph and a joyous occasion for Nic, Luke, and Bridgerton season 3, was sadly overshadowed by the aforementioned shitstorm. And that’s a damn shame. Too many cast and crew put in a lot of time, effort, and blood sweat and tears, to pull this all together. I was happy with Season 3, which perhaps I will deep dive about in another post because this one has already spiraled out of control. Were there things I wished they had included or, rather, things that could have been left out? Yes, of course. But at the end of the day, I think we got a beautiful story led by two actors who love Polin as much as we do. And I cannot wait to see them back for Season 4. Plus, seriously, those viewing numbers alone should have been mostly what people are talking about. I hope all this doesn’t take away from the overall impact of the show and season.

I think it’s okay to be disappointed by all the stuff that has come out over the last few days. I think it’s perfectly human to want/need to process your thoughts and emotions. What is NOT OKAY is sending hate to anyone, period. And I hope you don’t let all that has happened sour your enjoyment of Season 3 and/or Polin.

Lastly, if you take anything away from this long ass post, it’s that Nicola is a GODDAMN QUEEN. Anyone who says otherwise is speaking slander and we do not stand for that in this house. She has carried herself during this time with grace, charm, and poise, consistently and constantly. And she is always ready for a mega fashion moment. She must be exhausted - already on to her next film/job but also perpetually online, and even stepping up to defend her costar. I may have to do a whole separate post just gushing about her and add to all the people already singing her praises. (And as a big fuck you to all the haters.)

Geez Louise, I clearly have a lot of feelings (more than I allowed myself to believe I did…). But I would love to hear what others think! Please, I need friends with whom I can have rational (okay, maybe slightly unhinged), spirited, deep analyses and discussion of this whole thing, or anything else we might have in common!

[keepingmyoptionsfluid]

I don't know who needs to read this, but people who are pro Buck and Tommy having a healthy relationship with good representation on screen, whether it goes the distance or not, are not automatically against Eddie having a coming out arc.

Like guys chill the fuck out.

I would argue that 7x05 had too many storylines and felt rushed. I'd honestly rather have fewer stories an Episode and each is given proper time (so they don't skip over shit like Buck and Eddie talking post basket ball, or Chim and Buck talking post punch, or Bobby and Athena talking post ship disaster etc). They actually showed the Karen and Hen talks after the Eva storylines and that's so important and good.

Tommy isn't getting screen time without a main with him so stop pretending he is. He's a background character who is currently there to prop up other people's storylines. It's unlikely he will ever be a main as they already have 7 of them. Can you think if you've ever seen a Karen or a Ravi or a Lucy or a Taylor storyline that wasn't there to really be about one of the mains? No.

I am literally seeing BuckTommy enjoyers having to fucking preface their posts with the fact they obviously ship buddie too just so they don't get abused. It's genuinely disgusting that people are more fixated on their specific (and I would defo class it as fetishistic at this point with the obsession some people have with buddie) ship that they would actively damage other people's enjoyment of the show.

This accusation that people don't care bout buddie anymore because Tommy has kissed Buck and Tommy is white is fucking insane. This fandom regularly accuses anyone who says good things about Buck or Bobby of being racist. Maybe, and hear me out, people are happy that they are getting some bi representation? People who have been pro buddie since 2x01 are getting sent hate because they are happy that a character has come out, despite never turning against buddie.

It's literally normal to be watching a show and be like "yes, I want characters X & Y to end up together but currently they aren't and that's not an issue for me". It's a fictional show.

I want Eddie to get a coming out story line and I would not be upset if it didn't revolve around Buck because 1. Eddie is his own person, and 2. I KNOW that if it did revolve around Buck, you guys would immidiately say it's worthless because it's not an Eddie story but actually a story about the "white boy". Like you literally cannot have it both ways.

You can't beg for coming out story lines and then say "wait that's the wrong person they're kissing." It's a coming out story line. It's literally a gateway to a whole new world of stories in the show.

Chill out, go outside, maybe try to enjoy the show you claim to love instead of shitting on it, the actors and the other fans

[scummy-writes]

Things I've learned about being in fandoms on tumblr

Sometimes when I am navigating fandom, I will have bouts of... depression? negative feelings? regarding it. I think a lot of people go through this, but in the areas of fandom I buzz around in, I don't see many people talking about ways to sort of re-center yourself and take care of yourself in an online space. I thought I would attempt to share some of my habits I try to follow when I hit one of these moods. So here are 14 of them covering various subjects I run into the most. They will not work for everyone, but I do encourage you to think a bit about each point and see if it would work for you.

Feel free to add some of your own, but I am looking for positive advice that is not meant to put down others in a harmful way. I would also like to preface that I've been in fandoms for over seven years, most of them smaller rather than huge, but a lot of this advice is centered around someone just trying to enjoy the space/enjoying it as a fan creator (writing fanfics in my case). The 'you' used in this is a general usage of the word 'you'.

-> It's good to celebrate milestones, whether its how many followers you have, works you've made in a year, or similar.

However... Don't let this become a competition or reasons to compare yourself to others. We're here to have fun and to celebrate us doing so- don't put completely unneeded and unnessacary competition on it. What's the point of that competition other than to make yourself feel bad or to belittle others? This extends further to notes - no number games. none. You can be proud of the numbers you have gotten, but curb all impulses to swing that in a negative way. The second that starts happening, talk to friends. talk to someone IRL. do something that isn't staring at your notifs, immediately. Even if its listening to silly things while washing the dishes- get out of your notifs tab!!! The numbers game isn't a game you have to be a part of, ever.

-> Don't put other bloggers on pedestals.

It's fine to be a fan of someone's work, and to be excited when they post or even talk to you and you're surprised by it. However, we're all just nerds together in a fandom- maybe don't put them up on a pedestal and hold their opinions/words as gospel rather than things you agree with. There's an unhealthy disconnect there for both parties, and can lead to unhealthy habits of a bad comparison game with one party not even knowing you're comparing yourself or others to them. And I promise that no one likes being pitted against others in those.

-> separating my main blog from my fandom blog has done wonders for me.

This one is a lot more of a 'me' thing that MIGHT be helpful towards others, but it's such a nice thing to have a 'normal' space where I don't have to worry too much about fandomisms but want to be online. I want to reblog other things that are not just fandom related and I don't want people from the fandom blog bothering me for. For the longest time I wasn't very upfront with my main blog purely because I wanted that separation, but for others to block me properly I put it up more bluntly.

I also think that this is good when you want to write about some things, but are nervous. In my example, I get nervous writing about my ocs. So what did I do? Made a sideblog for one, briefly mentioned it, and I post untagged drabbles at times when trying to explore her character. It's more practice on not caring about the note amount each post gets for me, and it makes me more at ease with things not getting any notes while exploring different subjects I don't usually write about.

-> Does everyone seem horrible, or are you just not in a good mood?

This is silly and maybe redundant for some, but it's good to keep a track of IRL verses Online. If IRL is weighing you down so much that you use online as an unhealthy habit (self destructive behaviors towards things you worked hard on, lashing out at friends for things out of their control, lashing out on other bloggers for inane things, focusing your bad mood on notes or fake popularity contests...) then try and figure out the big important things: Have you eaten, slept, drank enough water through the day, or are in pain/annoyance with something offline that you're not realizing? Is it one person online making you feel like this? Have you blocked them? Have you taken healthy breaks offline to reground yourself? When i am randomly bitter about the online world, this is typically my frustrations with smth IRL leaking out, and so I do something to help process that or to breathe through it. My personal go to is getting out of the house so I can listen to music, watch silly videos while putting together a simple craft I bought, or doing chores/playing games.

-> Is the fandom full of cliques, or are you witnessing friends just talking to each other?

I get it, it fucking sucks not being involved in a friend group. You know what makes that worse? By looking at other's friend groups bitterly and making up shit in your mind to justify it. The reality is this: people will be friends with a limited number of people, and frequently talk to them because that is who they are comfortable with.

You not being in that friend group does not mean there is anything wrong with you OR them. The honest truth is that it's hard to keep up with a ton of friends at once, and so people may not respond to your messages, or they might mean to but it gets lost in their hectic IRL, or they just don't mesh with you- and all of that is normal!

And... Really... It takes work to build up a friend group. You have to get out of your comfort zone and send the first few messages. You have to embrace the fact that it's possible a friendship won't pan out. It's natural, it's normal, and doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you or the other person. After trying and naturally just talking to people in the fandom, I promise that you will find a friend group of your own.

We are all socially awkward people trying to nervously talk to each other. Yes, even the people you follow that seem like 'everyone' likes them- they are nervous too. we're all just nerds here, remember that.

-> Understand that no one is obligated to do anything.

This ranges from so many things. Here is a list as short as I can manage it to get my point across: No one is obligated to comment, read, like, or reblog any posts. Any posts. No one is obligated to scour for new creatives in the fandom spaces and reblog their work. No one is obligated to tag their posts/creative adventures to your liking. No one is obligated to follow by your DNIs and BYFs. Obligation does not exist. Even your friends are not obligated to do any of this.

It is courtesy to do these things. Blogs will do their best to be supportive by nature, and to try and at least do some of this at any given time, but it's not a requirement. It's NICE to do so and encouraged, but the second you drill it into your head that no one, not even you, are obligated to do this, it's a bit easier to breathe and accept that no, it's a bit insane and difficult to read through 50 fanfics a week and comment a paragraph on all of them while also working on your own things and trying to manage 15 conversations while working 40 hrs a week and and and---

Instead, focus that energy on friends and yourself when you can and accept your own limitations.

-> have other fandoms you enjoy where you DON'T feel pressured to do ANYTHING.

Due to my hard fixation at usually one to two games at a time, I am usually only writing for those at a time- but I need other things to enjoy where I don't feel like I need to make something to post online. I don't feel that pressure from myself, i don't feel the need to try and engage with others. Just a quiet enjoyment for me.

-> If creating is really stressing you out and making you feel worse than better, reflect on the reasons this may be.

Are you hanging out with people who are regurgitating really bad beliefs regarding creation ("shame, you only got twenty notes, that's nothing", "wow fifty notes? that flopped.", "how did this person's shitty work get 30 more notes than me?"). Are you getting anons putting you down? Is your depression convincing you what you've made is worthless? Look at some of the points in this post regarding friends, blocking, and if you're neglecting your body's needs. If that still persists, there may be some self-reflection as to why things get to you so badly. Try to journal out the reasons why until you believe you hit one that is not your depression speaking.

An example: I would freak out about notes because I had friends that would talk around or to me in the examples listed in the previous paragraph. Cutting them off, focusing on friends who focused on the joys of creating, and focusing more on what *I* wanted to write rather than requests... I still get depressed at times but it's been so much more managable now with better support and feeling free creatively. Usually calling myself out at staring at notes helps me shake my head and move on now.

-> Blocking/Filtering is your friend, but maybe don't over do it.

Blocking seems vaguely controversial at times, but I do believe it's needed for a positive fandom experience. Outside of the obvious, the reasons I block people are typically related to how upset I am by something the person has done or said, even if it's related to fancreations. If it's something like them berating others for not believing their headcanon/fanon? Or grossly demonizing some character's mental illness? Or harassing people who dislike some characters and vice/versa? That's all a block for me.

I personally try not to overdo it and make educated decisions based on like, hey, is this just someone misunderstanding and not realizing how they're coming off? Is this someone who I am misreading their tone? Is this just a weird one-off behavior? Ok, then maybe no block button. But if seeing poor takes makes you angry for longer than, say, 20 mins? an hour? It's a week later and you're still all huffy about it and legit pissed? Maybe dig into that while also blocking the person for now.

The Filters aspect of this is similar, but it's a lighter version of blocking for me. Maybe I don't want to block this person but seeing them talk about bugs really stresses me out, so I look at how they tag those posts and filter it out for myself. Maybe I love their fandom blog but they're multi-fandom, so i will filter out a fandom I don't want to see them post about. That's it.

-> Don't be afraid to cut anon off, even if it's for a few weeks at a time.

I feel like those of us who take requests for fan creations are terrified of this a lot, but truly, taking breaks from the anon function should be encouraged. It is indeed a button for shy people, but there are assholes everywhere regardless. When they occupy your time too much or just annoy you, take away their ability to actually say anything to you.

For a creative, sometimes this can feel like the end of the world. But... you Can turn it back on later. I frequently shut it off during major life events, fanfics I am worried I might get weird anons about, when I'm in a randomly bad mood and don't think I can handle it. I Sometimes have it off for months at a time. You can cut it back on. But if anons make you anxious just imagining getting one right now? Flip that off for now. (also please utilize the block function for mean anons!!!)

-> turn those tumblr notifs OFF!!! (mobile) Additional: Turn your status OFF!!!

The only notifications I get on my phone from tumblr is when someone IM's me, and I've had it like this for years. I cannot imagine having my phone constantly going off with random tumblr notifications, I think I would have a bad spike in anxiety having that happen. It would make any negative feelings with notes/followers/number worse for me.

The online status is debatable, some people really don't have an issue with this, but I tend to feel pressured to respond to people asap if they see that my status is online and similar. Those people have not said anything to me regarding it, it's just my personal issue. So..I turn that status off. And it helps me feel better about answering in my own time.

-> Look at who you are communicating with.

Do your friends regularly dunk or mock people on the daily, over shit that is inane and petty? Are you a creative a bit nervous with your work because your friends are pretty rude with how they view other's works? Are you scared to like a character because your friend severely hates them/is attached to them to an unhealthy degree?

There are other subsets to this, but those are ones I find really troubling and try my best to avoid. I dont want to be friends with people who regularly mock others on the legit daily. I don't want to be friends with people who nitpick notes and use notes as a measure on how much worth someone has. I don't want to be friends with people who mock other's creative endeavors.

So... I don't! If I notice things are becoming a salt pit, I try to talk things out at first, but if its clear that's not gonna work, then it's outties for me. It's very true that everyone will salt over something eventually, but it's up to you to decide how severe it is with your friend circle, how it wears you down, and are they really people you want to hang around with if they just make you anxious or stressed all the time?

-> That vaguepost isn't about you.

Friend venting about someone who sounds oddly like you? Does your favorite blog mention something they dislike and you think you fit into that catagory- guess what. It's not about you!!

It's something I struggled with for a while, but eventually I came to terms with it by going "If they truly have an issue with me, they can talk to me one on one. Otherwise, i am assuming that this isn't about me" and gritting my teeth and forcing myself to repeat that until I feel at ease. Truthfully, I also just stopped hanging out with people who do this a ton in a harmful way, so my anxiety about this decreased. If it's an issue, friends should be willing to bring it up to you personally rather than make really meanspirited vagueposts.

-> A personal one I am putting at the end since I believe can easily turn bad, is... Stop looking in the fandom tags if they continiously bum you out.

I will be transparent, I've had bouts of running into a ton of 'why you should love/hate this character' posts over and over, posts that are random but use 50 different character tags, posts about how annoying my fave is, posts from/about bloggers I dislike, etc etc. After a while, I decided to just curate my feed via whoever I was following, and stop looking into tags as often. At most, I do it once every 1-3 months.

Yes, this does limit what all you can see, however... There's only so much information I can take in at once. If I follow people who reblog a ton of fandom content I love and it's different across the board, that's good enough for me and I don't feel negative looking at the tags sometimes.

[winndycakes]

I did not wish to make this, I do not wish to bring bad light to others, so I am doing everything I can in this statement to keep it as vague as possible to grant others the same privacy I should have. But because my privacy was not respected I have no choice but to come forward with this.

If you know what I am talking about, then this is my side of things. If you don't know what I am talking about, then please move on.

(Also to note, I realize what day I am posting this on. This is absolutely NOT a joke.)

To preface this. My dad died suddenly Feb 26th. I cannot begin to detail what it feels like to lose him, after I've lost many others, to try and handle my emotions and grief while also handling the logistics of his belongings and estate, all this while having to write this on top of it. If I come across as intense, this is why. 

I was in a discord server when it first opened. I dedicated a lot of time, energy, art and passion to it. I was even a mod at one point but stepped down due to my own reasons. 

While there, we had an anonymous survey posted to gather information from the community about the server, what we could do to improve, what was liked and so on. Instead, some used it as a means to anonymously complain about members. I was a target of these complaints. 

A quick note. This server was made within a community that has suffered MANY hardships due to anons. Keep this in mind.

One of the rules is that if you have a personal grievance with another member, to try to resolve it through DMs before coming to a mod or to even send in a ticket.

I must be clear; I was NEVER DMed by anyone how I made them uncomfortable. Not once. Nor were these complaints directly messaged to the mods. This was all through the survey (I will touch up more on this later).

I and other staff/mods that used to be on the team suggested we remove the anonymity. It's too risky for it to be abused, because as noted earlier, this community has suffered a lot through abuse from anons. This suggestion was ignored.

Now, I suppose I should say what the complaints were about. I was told I made others uncomfortable due to, and I am paraphrasing here; "talking over others, redirecting conversations back to myself and my ocs, and making too many jokes and insults about characters."

I will also say. I am autistic. What was mentioned are signs of someone with autism. My dad was autistic. I do not bring this up to deflect or excuse anything, merely to give further context.

I want to explain a bit of my process when I interact with others, in this case especially pertaining to an online space.

When I am talking with someone, anyone, I try to be as inclusive and welcoming as I can be. Saying hello, how they’re doing, that sort of thing. But a conversation is a two way street. If I don’t get a reply or any sort of means to keep the conversation going, I move on. That’s just… how talking goes. I can get very passionate in talking to folks, especially friends and things in line with my interests. It’s hard for me to notice if folks are uncomfortable in person, online it is impossible to tell. I need people to tell me directly if I am doing something uncomfortable and what it is, and if I can fix it.

My process for ocs is this: I see someone talking about their oc, they say something that reminds me of one of mine, then I share my oc. This is not to direct the conversation to me, but to share in it, it is in conjunction. I want to learn more of yours and I do that best by sharing mine. I cannot know if this isn't what you want if I am not told. And I wasn't.

I like to make jokes about characters, analyze them, critique them. I try to do this in a way that makes it clear this isn't an insult to those who like the character(s). But again, I need to be told directly by someone if I need to stop or tone it down. I would only be told sparingly by folks, and when I would, of course I'd stop, do my best to tone it down. But again, I was rarely told directly by people.

What is being described as my crimes are simply the experience of being autistic.

I cannot control it. I cannot stop it. I try to be as inclusive, warm and welcoming to all I come across. You do not HAVE to like me. But if you don't, just ignore me. You HAVE to learn to ignore people who you just… don't like. You have to learn to ignore pet peeves or to reasonably talk to the person. That's life.

So, when I received the above message, I was furious. I was at my dad’s apartment, cleaning out his stuff, and dealing with some harrowing emotions when I got this. I responded that getting this was extremely poor timing and yes, I was angry. But the one who sent this KNEW my dad died. They had seen me post about it, they acknowledged it, and still decided to message me. Who wouldn’t be angry?

Because of what I had been messaged, and the timing, I had decided to go to the owner of the server. I did not feel like it was appropriate for a mod, any mod, to message me about something that is a personal issue that folks should have messaged me themselves (and again, it is listed in the rules that things SHOULD be talked out privately between members before a mod gets involved), in a time that has been hell on earth for me.

I explained to the server owner what all happened with my feelings on the matter. I said that regardless, I would leave the server, because this was something that no one, absolutely no one, should experience. I requested for anything I contributed to the server to be removed, for I no longer felt comfortable for folks to use my art who could be the very same ones pettily using an anonymous survey to speak ill of me. So I sent my message, waited, and got a response.

I do not have anything against the server owner, but there are a few things that I must address with their response as well, because some are factually incorrect. There is full admittance to the complaints received through the anonymous survey, most recently at that. This goes counter to the rules stated that members should resolve private disputes amongst themselves first. (Again please note the screenshots of the rules.)

While perhaps not all of the mods knew of my dad’s passing, but enough DID that they should have known better. I posted briefly in the server in a slow thread so it could be better seen by people, including the mods. I had posted on tumblr as well. But the claim is no one saw it. 

Again. This is just not true. Look to the above screenshots.

I do not have a screenshot of when I had sent the message initially in the server of my dad’s passing (I apologize for this), but the point being is that people knew. Another member messaged me in DMs to give their condolences. While I am and have been open about his passing, I also tried my best to not talk too much about it in the server as to bring down the mood, and I sought out the server and talked there as a source of comfort. Saying this was not clear to anyone, is false.

Now, I am sorry that I made people uncomfortable, it was never my intention to, and I will take fault in that. That isn’t what I mean to address in all this. The issue is; if people were uncomfortable, they needed to follow the rules and come to me DIRECTLY stating such, NOT give these complaints through an anonymous survey. And that I should NOT have been told during such an awful period. How can I take this at face value when I am not offered the same?

I wish to point out as well, why I kept bringing up the anonymous survey, and to bring back a note I made earlier.

There is a great deal of falsehood in using an anonymous survey to gather information, when this community has experienced a lot of hardship from anons. I have seen many people torn down and even chased out of this community and others because of people hiding behind anon. Creators, fans, and yes members, mods and even the server owner have all been victim to negativity from anons. 

Now, I also must bring attention to this.

This is a screenshot I was sent of another mod posting, after I left. This is ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY. This is why I feel the need to make this statement. Giving details like this is completely unnecessary, and with this said after I left is unacceptable.

I am sorry to be redundant, but I truly am sorry if I ever did make people uncomfortable. All I wanted to do was to make friends and share in the joy in creating art and characters with others. To share space in a community with something I truly found enjoyable. It’s why I’d get enthusiastic whenever OC’s were brought up and I’d share mine. I also wanted to share joy in the topic of the server, and yes some of that for me IS making jokes about characters or even giving critique.

I am not saying any of this to bad mouth or slander anyone. I say all of this to express my side of things. Someone who is grieving the loss of their dad, and so many others who came before him that are making me remember now because of his passing.

[lestappenforever]

DROP THE TEXT EXCHANGE FIC 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

I would like to preface this by saying that threats are not a good incentive to get me to write anything, anon. But, you're in luck this time because I was already feeling inspired as hell.

The text exhange in question.

Dedicated to @f1writingbyme, for once again being my muse, allowing me to scream ideas at her, and helping me decide on the very important details along the way.

AO3 link.

---

There's a hand on his shoulder during his post-qualifying interview in the media pen; a firm squeeze followed by equally firm pats, and Charles knows who it is before he even lays eyes on Max. After all, he could recognize that touch anywhere, at any time.

His face lights up with pure glee at the sight of the Dutchman, the way it always does.

Green eyes meet blue, and despite Max's own disappointing qualifying landing him in a measly P6, the Red Bull driver looks at Charles with nothing but genuine joy and pride. Because in spite of his own struggles, Max is irrevocably, endlessly happy for Charles.

Max knows how much this means to him — has been there for every single disappointing weekend the Monégasque has experienced in his home race over the past few years. He's seen the heartbreak in his eyes, listened to him raging about the mistakes made there in the past; both by Charles himself and by his team. As with practically everything else in his career, Max has been right there with him. And for that reason, Charles is absolutely certain that even if Max had ended up having to start tomorrow's race from P20, the Dutchman still would have found it in himself to be as happy for Charles as he would have been for himself had Max been the one to secure pole.

They clasp hands like they have done hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Max's grip is tight, but Charles' is even tighter, as he is overcome with a realization that has hit him so many times before over the years:

He doesn't want to let go. And he can tell by the way Max squeezes his hand one more time that the feeling is mutual.

Charles sees his own emotions, his own desires, reflected in those beautiful blue eyes — can feel the electricity simmering between them, just beneath the surface, the way it has done for so many years. Always there, close enough for them both to reach out and grasp and yet, just out of reach. It's a line neither of them have dared to cross, both highly aware of the fact that if — when — they do, there will be no going back.

The unasked question that has always been there, but never spoken aloud, lies heavy between them.

'Are you feeling this, too?'

'No,' the other would always answer, just as silently as the question itself. Even if it's a lie. Even if it has always been a lie; one they've both told themselves and each other as a way to ensure they don't step over that line.

But, in that moment, Charles is sure he would never even want to go back. Sure that if there is one thing he wants almost as much as winning his home race tomorrow, it's crossing that line with Max. To give into that oh-so-powerful pull between them they've both been trying and failing to ignore for God knows how long.

They maintain eye contact only for a mere few seconds, but it's enough for Charles to see that flash in Max's eyes.

He wants to cross that line, too. It's about time. It's long overdue.

Max lets go of his hand and walks away, and Charles looks down at the ground briefly, trying to will his cheeks not to flush with the intensity of such a brief exchange in front of the camera, before returning his focus to the interviewer.

His mind, however, never lets go of Max.

If Charles hadn't already felt like he was flying, he sure as hell is now.

***

His phone vibrates in his pocket a little while later, and Charles feels his heart picking up the pace as he reads Max's name on the display.

'Congratulations on pole! Well deserved!'

His heart flutters.

'Thank you! I'm so happy 😊'

He sends a second text immediately after.

'It's a shame you're not up there with me, though'

Max doesn't leave him waiting long for a response.

'Still 78 laps to go, mate. You think I won't do everything to get into the top 3 tomorrow?'

Charles glances around, making sure nobody is paying attention to him as he tries and fails to bite back a smile as excitement starts coursing through him.

'You really think you can overtake two Mercedes, at least one McLaren and a Ferrari?'

It's a stupid question, Charles knows, because if anyone can do it in Monaco, it's Max fucking Emilian Verstappen. But he can't resist the jab; can't resist the urge to try to get under Max's skin, just a little. Just like he hasn't been able to resist since he and Max first met back in karting when when they were literal children.

The bubble with the three dots appears briefly before disappearing and reappearing a few seconds later. Then:

'To get to share a podium with you in your home race?'

'I could overtake Michael, Seb and Ayrton if I had to.'

The smile turns into a full-blown grin, and Charles feels giddy as he reads the two messages over and over again. The anticipation thrumming within him, bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin, is so overwhelming he needs three attempts to send his next message that consists of a single word:

'Yeah?'

Then, with more confidence:

'Prove it.'

Max's response is immediate.

'Oh, I will.'

As he pockets his phone, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he knows Max isn't just talking about the race.

He hadn't thought he could feel even more excited about tomorrow than he already did, but as he has done so many times with so many things in the past, Max proves him wrong.

***

On Sunday, Charles is preparing to leave his driver's room and make his way to the garage to get ready for the race. But as he opens the door, he's met with the familiar face of Max Verstappen.

"Max, what are you—,"

The Dutchman places a hand on Charles' chest and firmly pushes him back into the room, following him inside and closing the door behind him with his foot in one swift movement. Charles barely has time to process what's happening before Max has grabbed a hold of his shoulder, turned him around and pushed him up against the wall by the door.

Charles has effectively lost his ability to speak as he watches Max lean in until their lips are mere inches apart.

"I needed to see you alone, before the race," he says, voice barely above a whisper. Max's hands drop from his shoulders, instead sliding down his chest, his stomach, coming to a halt on his waist. "To wish you luck."

Charles swallows past the lump in his throat. "You think I need it?" he asks, trying to sound calm and collected, but his voice betrays him almost as much as his dilated pupils do.

"No," Max says immediately, allowing his lips to brush featherlight against Charles'. It's not a kiss, and even if Charles so desperately wants it to be, he doesn't cross that line.

Not yet.

"But I wanted to do it anyway," the Dutchman adds, moving one hand from Charles' waist and raising it to cup Charles' jaw instead, letting his thumb drag gently over the Monégasque's bottom lip.

It sends a full-body shiver through him; one Max notices if the way the small smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

"Good luck, Charles," Max whispers, thumb still on Charles' bottom lip as he leans in closer, closer, until his lips are touching the back of his own thumb, the digit being the only thing separating them.

Charles' heart is beating so hard that he's sure Max must be able to feel his pulse against his thumb. The Dutchman's other hand tightens on Charles' waist, his pupils practically making the blue of his iris disappear altogether.

The thumb moves and Charles thinks that Max will finally — fucking finally, after far too many years — kiss him.

Only for Max to lean his head to the side and instead presses a gentle kiss to Charles' cheekbone; a careful brush of lips against soft skin.

"I'll see you on the podium," he breathes against the skin of Charles' cheek, before pulling away completely and turning to put his hand on the door handle. He pauses before opening the door, looking at Charles with an expression the Monégasque doesn't think he's ever seen before.

"Hey, Charles?"

The Monégasque blinks at him.

"Are you feeling this, too?" Max asks him then, voicing the question that has only been asked through looks up until that point.

And Charles, knowing there is only one correct answer — knows there is only one answer that conveys the truth — sticks with the lie.

For now.

"No."

Max smiles at him, a soft and private thing. Charles' own expression morphs into one of adoration and longing. He returns the smile.

"Me neither."

And with that, Max opens the door and walks out of Charles' driver's room, as if he hasn't just turned both their worlds upside down.

[amerricanartwork]

I saw your lilypad art post, and I got curious: why do you enjoy lilypad? it's not a common RW ship, so I'd be interesting to hear what about it you enjoy!

Hear me out, guys... I must explain myself before I get onto the Lilypad essay.

I made that original comment because, at the time, I wanted to just get the aforementioned headcanons out as soon as possible. Understand, my reluctance wasn't because I didn't want to talk about Lilypad, but rather the exact opposite: I had so many feelings about it, yet had put so little effort into expressing them in a coherent, presentable format that I just knew it'd distract me for the next week or two if I let it rent too much space in my conscious thoughts. But now that little comment has left me with several people asking me to share those thoughts, and, both thankfully and unfortunately, I simply can't resist indulging in thoughts about the characters I love—!

Keep in mind, I haven’t finished Saint campaign yet, and even then I’ve found like less than half the broadcasts in Spearmaster campaign yet, so there’s likely some extra canon info I may be missing that could add to or change some of what I say here. I also apologize if some of what I write here seems really out-of-character. I try not to let my passion for my little headcanons and scenarios make me disregard the canon, but even so, I might slip and think up some weird things occasionally. Nonetheless, I feel like I’ve got enough of the picture to start confidently enjoying this ship, so I’ll talk about it anyway! 

As always, feel free to add to these ideas if you can! Without further delay, enjoy this 3381-word essay, with a few initial headcanons sprinkled in, on why I adore Lilypad!

Oh, and just in case, if you couldn’t already tell, major Hunter campaign spoilers below.

Quetzalli on Loving Lilypad

I’m gonna start this out with a preface: I can generally find the appeal in a lot of different ships and the art other fans make for them, but for me to ship something enough to actively draw it and make my own headcanons about it and such (outside of, perhaps, gifts for other people), it usually has to contain a variety of “ship tropes” that I personally fancy. Many of my most-favorite ship tropes tend to be the ones that aren’t just cute, but that carry narrative significance and seem poetic in some way, usually because they can facilitate character arcs in the involved characters. The more of these a ship has, or the more ship tropes I can portray it with without it seeming too out-of-character, and the more I like those specific tropes, the better. This principle is a major reason why I’ve gravitated towards Artimand as my main slugcat ship, but for now, I’m going to focus on which of these I see in Lilypad — in canon content, other fan-portrayals, and my personal headcanons — that, as opposed to other iterator ships, has currently won me over.

I’m gonna describe the main general things I like seeing in this ship. Some of them are more due to fandom portrayals than what’s in the canon, but they all play a big role in my current love for Lilypad. 

Synergy

I’ll begin with how I really appreciate just how much synergy Looks to the Moon and No Significant Harassment are shown to have, at least in fan content! I always like seeing pairings where the characters aren’t just romantic, but also work really well together as a team or even just as friends. After all, just because the characters may be romantically in love doesn’t mean they must only show it in explicitly romantic ways. To me, Lilypad strikes me as a relationship where Sig and Moon would make an amazing team in many aspects of their lives, whether it's collaborating on projects, sharing their interests, or trying to maintain order in the rest of their group. And their compliment is just really sweet to me, though I’ll get to that later.

A Shoulder to Lean On/The Lady

One of my favorite ship tropes is “character with a lot of weight on their shoulder who finally gets to lift it off and be ‘normal’ for once when around the other”. I’ve always found it sweet when characters like this, especially ones who are normally very selfless, finally get a chance to indulge and enjoy themselves for once! And once again, this is another thing I imagine in Artimand too, and you could project this onto Trafficlights given Suns’s implied high status, but I think it works especially with Lilypad, given Moon’s role as group senior means she objectively has a lot to manage all the time with no permanent escape from it. Even beyond the whole Five Pebbles rot drama, Moon probably had a lot on her plate just in terms of maintaining order between the rest of the group and setting a good example to the younger generations, especially as the group expanded over time, not to mention trying to find the solution herself. Combine this with how I picture her to be the kind of person who cares a lot about her image as a “proper” and  “dignified” leader, and someone who often sacrifices her own desires to promote the group’s welfare, I just find it really soft for her to have someone to lean on, metaphorically (and in a worm-off-the-string scenario, literally), and who better to go to than her best teammate, who knows the power of a good laugh and will stop at nothing to have fun with those he loves? Not to mention, since I headcanon Sig as slightly younger than Moon (2nd gen, specifically), I just find it rather cute in an ironic sense that the older, more serious Moon is soft around the younger, far more chaotic Sig, especially as Moon would go through the realization that she actually kinda likes this little troublemaker! 

This also comes back to something I mentioned in the tags of that beepsnort post, which is that one of my other favorite ship tropes is “guy who loves/is good at making people laugh x girl who has a REALLY weird/embarrassing laugh”, and that just works so well with Lilypad! It’s admittedly a very headcanon-based thing for me, but given how I’ve already explained my perception of Moon as very proper and serious, I imagine one of the best ways Sig takes the weight off her shoulders is by being the only person who can consistently make her laugh so hard! And with the beepsnort headcanon it’s even cuter, because of course Moon would be super embarrassed every time she even so much as gives a half-chuckle at one of his jokes, because Sig is relentless when it comes to getting the giggles out of her, and he won’t stop until she’s rolling and shaking on the floor of her chamber, her beepy-snorts filling the room! My GODDD I love this trope so much, and for beings who are inherently such workaholics, I think getting to genuinely relax and have fun for a bit, once she gets over the initial shock and embarrassment, would be something Moon would really come to value.

Inverses Attract/The Tramp

I’ve mentioned it in my last Artimand headcanons post, but one of my absolute all-time favorite ship tropes is the classic “opposites attract”, although I prefer the name “inverses attract”. As I like to portray it, the trope not only involves characters who are opposites personality-wise, but those being opposites of the same core aspect, and ultimately helping balance each other out by offering the other half of the equation to each other (hence the name “inverses”). The trope I just wrote about above is how Sig helps Moon to relax and have fun, but as I try to do with all ships, how does it work the other way too? Well, I really like to imagine Sig learning to be more openly serious and dedicated! Don’t get me wrong, Sig is a hard worker (it’s pretty much the nature of all iterators), but given he seems to pretty strongly reject the quest for the Triple Affirmative, I imagine the next problem would be in him finding a new purpose to strive for. And what better new purpose than in standing by and protecting the group senior he thinks he just might wanna be more than friends with?

It already works because Moon, of course, would work to keep Sig in check and make sure he doesn’t go too overboard with his shenanigans. But just imagine how inspired he’d grow over time seeing Moon work so hard to keep the group together and keep them striving for their purpose, even if he doesn’t agree with it. I imagine it’s why Sig’s methods are still rather controlled rather than purely chaotic, and there’s a reason to his rebellion. Thanks to Moon, rather than slaving away at a seemingly impossible solution until his mind collapses with his structure, he’ll use his talents to, at the very least, keep the local group together as long as possible, because even if they’ll all be gone one day, that doesn’t mean they have to go alone!

It’s why I’m also labeling these two tropes together as “the Lady and the Tramp”, yet another ship dynamic that gets me every time! It’s a specific instance of “inverses attract” where the noble, proper lady finds a taste of freedom and courage from the dangerously charming tramp, who from her finds a new sense of purpose and honor! And in my opinion, Lilypad is most definitely the best opportunity for this dynamic among Rain World ships!

The Fated Couple

Slow-burn couples seem to be pretty popular in many fandoms, but what about a really slow-burn? There’s something just so romantic to me about the idea that Moon and Sig, from the moment they met, have always just clicked so perfectly, and have been by each other’s side so constantly ever since, to the point it seems practically inevitable to everyone (except them of course) that they’ll eventually get together romantically. Of course, there are two main roadblocks to their romance being 1.) their whole objective and purpose for being created is kind-of fundamentally opposed to strong attachments like love (I mean, if Karma 3 is Companionship, wouldn’t romantic love be considered the worst example of that?), and 2.) even if they did reject this purpose, being massive immovable structures with the only humanoid part stuck deep inside a box, a budding romance seemingly couldn’t really go anywhere anyway. In fact, because of these roadblocks much of my Lilypad imaginings take place in the ever-popular “worm-off-the-string” scenario, especially since the next couple of reasons for why I like the ship play a lot into the themes I like to incorporate in this story concept. 

However, these issues towards such a romance are also what make it so sweet in the end! Just think of Moon, alone in her chamber, beginning to worry about how she’s actually kinda sorta, maybe, hypothetically, possibly, just a little bit starting to like the carefree and charismatic Gen 2 in the local group as even more than just a work partner and a dear friend, but oh no, that’s indulging in a Karmic Sin, and as group senior she can’t just throw away their purpose like that and set such a bad example to the rest! What’s she gonna do?? And then on the other side, Sig puzzling in his chamber, pining so hard for the group senior yet seemingly unable to confess, because, even disregarding Karma 3 and the fact that giant immobile calculators aren’t about to be snuggling any time soon, why would someone as perfect and powerful as her want someone like him, so dismissive of their core purpose and unorthodox in his methods? Is there even a point in having these feelings at all, when they might very well end up simply fading to dust along with the rest of his structure?

Maybe, they both think, it’d be better to just keep these feelings to themselves and quietly love from a distance. That is, until…

Moon’s Collapse and the Slag Reset Keys

The fourth reason is, of course, the most steeped in canon. It goes back a bit to the “shoulder to lean on” concept, but even aside from that, there is something just so romantic about this on both sides.

Firstly, from Moon’s perspective. There’s no doubt that the collapse must have been very traumatic for Looks to the Moon physically, but I like to think about just how much it’d affect her emotionally, too. I mean, being so painfully destroyed by your own brother, with seemingly nothing that can be done to stop it and no one to help you? And then consider how lonely it must have been in her final moments. The only comfort she does get is from Spearmaster’s visit, and even then she sends him off to go deliver her final words, which has still got to be really depressing. And finally, think about how betrayed she must have felt, trying so hard throughout her operation to help her citizens and the local group and be kind to everyone, only to have it be repaid like this, forced to collapse in on herself, being buried under her own body, unfathomable pain all around, and with not a soul to help her.

So then, think about just how shocking and heartwarming (literally, if you think about it) it must be when that lovable Gen 2, always so playful and carefree normally, is the one to give her a second chance and being her back when all hope seems lost, and using such a unique delivery method no less! I mean COME ON, Sig literally brought her back to life, how could one NOT fall in love with someone who did that for them? It links back to the “shoulder to lean on” idea, in that, for once, someone finally looked out for Moon and gave back to her for all the kindness she gave to the world. Think about this as the moment she truly realizes she’s in love with No Significant Harassment, and how tragic it’d be knowing now, it’s too late to say it. But, even so, if he’s willing to go this far to make sure she’s okay, then maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance her love at least wasn’t alone.

Now, my thoughts about this from No Significant Harassment’s side (which also kinda turned into a mini NSH appreciation paragraph that links back to the earlier Inverses Attract and Lady and the Tramp segment), I think it’s very poetic to see him going out of his way to take his messenger concept, originally used for no more than a trivial prank and at most a very experimental and unfinished alternative communication method, and turning it into a noble last-ditch effort to rescue the one he loves. It doesn’t just clearly show how much he cares for Moon that he worked to save her when no one else did (and if that’s because the odds of being able to do anything seemed very low to the rest of them, that makes it even more sweet) I think it shows off a lot of Sig’s character beyond just being a jokester. Like, I’d seen this kind of personality for Sig in the fandom content before, but this action and the other broadcasts are what first made me truly realize not just that it is based in canon, but that, more importantly he’s not just stupid or unfocused, he’s rebellious. He doesn’t joke around because he just doesn’t care, it’s because he’s independent, he’s got other places he wants to go and plans that don’t fit into what most of his peers are used to. He makes light of the world because he sees what others don’t, and it’s honestly pretty frickin’ funny how blind others can be most of the time (case-in-point: him making a slugcat from a messenger, which no one else thought to do because those creatures seemed too “dull” and “primitive” to ever be capable of such a thing). So think about how significant it must be when he’s openly taking something seriously. This is where that dynamic of the Tramp, and how Sig would benefit from this relationship is really highlighted. I just adore it when the easygoing, carefree character finally finds purpose in their lover, and springs into serious action like they never were before! And it makes sense too given what I said about them not getting together before: seeing Moon collapse would show him directly that even beings as durable as iterators don’t last forever, so if he’s got these feelings for Moon, he’s got to make a move while there’s still a chance! And what better way to show his love than to bring her back when all hope seems lost? Which brings me to the final aspects I’ll talk about here, first of which is…

True Love’s Kiss

Yes, you read that right. The real reason I love the slag reset keys as a plot element so much is not just because it shows Sig’s secret strength of character, not just because it finally gives reward to Moon’s kindness, but because it is a real fairytale come true! 

I know this sounds crazy and probably totally unrelated to Rain World, but think about it! You guys have probably seen Snow White and Sleeping Beauty before, or at least one of the two? Isn’t the whole trope that the beautiful princess, fairest maiden in the land, gets cursed through some means or another to die (or in Aurora’s case, fall into an indefinite sleep), which is only undone when the strong and brave prince, riding upon his noble steed, awakens the princess by giving her true love’s kiss? I already love both those movies on their own for various other reasons, but after my description, is this starting to sound familiar in another way?

I mean, with everything I’ve said about Moon in this post so far, there’s no doubt you could perceive her as the “fair princess”, who through unfortunate circumstances is put to a premature and indefinite death. And there’s no doubt Sig fills the role of the brave prince by working to save her with the slag reset keys, which in this metaphor are undoubtedly the “true love’s kiss” that ultimately conquers all, always longed for, and finally delivered! And hey, given Hunter is the one to carry the keys to Moon, a small yet courageous beast who stops at nothing to meet his goals, Sig even has his own “noble steed”! And even if Hunter is technically the one to actually deliver the green neuron, and the death the “princess” succumbs to wasn’t out of genuine malice towards her, I think the sentiment is still there and the parallel is close enough! 

But yes, as strange as it may sound, the fairytale parallel is the main reason Lilypad resonates with me so much! Those classic fairytale-esque romance tropes and that poetic storytelling found in Disney’s first feature-length animated films has always been dear to my heart, and is even more so now that I’m older and can truly appreciate the beauty of them. So now, even in my fandom experiences, ships that win my appreciation over all others are often those that manage to embody those classic romance tropes and themes as best as possible, and frankly, even Artimand loses ever-so-slightly to Lilypad in this regard! Or, as I also enjoy calling them, “Lifeline”, for reasons that are probably obvious now. 

And it’s even better when you consider…

Some Things Never Change

Another trope I’ve recently begun to love is the idea that some phenomena in the world never truly disappear, but simply manifest in different ways, sometimes unexpected ones. And given the whole Triple Affirmative quest and the Ancients’ mass ascension philosophy, this idea is something I especially love seeing in Rain World content. Even the canon events show this idea, but think about how wonderfully it would work with Lilypad beyond just the slag reset keys, especially taking up that “worm off the string” iterator AU concept some have explored in this fandom already.

Just think about how sweet it would be when Moon and Sig, operating primarily through their puppets now, get to finally hug and kiss and be with each other so directly now! Think of the way Sig would speak to Moon about how, even after her collapse, she's still somehow beautiful as ever, and Moon returning with how even all the trouble the group has faced hasn't put a dent in his charm! And it's even sweeter when you consider it’s against everything their creators stood for! Think of Moon, after everything she’s been through and how much she’s probably changed at this point, now willing to give some of these “worldly attachments” a chance, because you can never truly get rid of them, but she knows better than anyone that you won’t be around to experience them forever, so why not enjoy it while you’ve got the chance? And it’d make sense too, not just for her own benefit, but for Pebbles and the rest of the group’s sake too! She’s always strove to set a good example for them, and since their original quest has left them with nothing but pain and trauma, why not show them that maybe all these attachments aren’t so bad after all?

I just think it’d be really interesting to see Moon joining Sig in that rejection of the Triple Affirmative, and what better way to do that than by finally embracing that love they’ve felt for each other for so long? Because love never truly dies, it just appears in new people. And maybe they don’t have to spend their whole lives as grand iterators, the vast infinitely-advanced mechanical deities who embody perfection in almost every way. Maybe, even just for a bit, they can just be people, falling in love just as their creators did all over again!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And with that, I think I’m FINALLY done here. HOLY COW, this is easily my longest post yet, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint! Part of the reason it took so long was because I was trying to find the perfect way to express all these ideas without it just spilling out onto the page in some weird half-coherent mess. But eventually I just said “ah screw it, let’s just ramble about this ship and see where it goes!” and my god, did it go far! And I still managed to somewhat organize it, so yay!

But aside from that, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who asked for my thoughts on Lilypad, and everyone who made it to the bottom of this essay! I’ve never really gotten a chance to openly ramble about one of my favorite ships to the rest of the fandom like this, so seeing that some fans, even if it’s ultimately not a huge amount, actually wanted me to do it was such a welcome surprise!

I hope you all enjoyed the drawings and the art! I’ll be around in case someone wants me to write another ship essay or something! And who knows, it’s likely I’ll find more reasons I like Lilypad as time goes on and I see more fan-content and find the rest of those broadcasts! But at least this was a starting point! 

Expect more LIlypad content to come in the future, but until now, thanks again for the opportunity!

[snail-toes9]

(let me start by saying this is a very long post, and there might be typos)

hello hello! im Matthew, and since i dont have any new fanart to post, i wanted to provide my in-depth analysis of Captain Curly from Mouthwashing! this was originally posted to my tiktok page, and some of the original text has been altered to make more sense; also keep in mind that this can all be taken as personal opinion! this is just my personal analysis of Curly’s character and his relationship with Jimmy.

i want to preface this analysis with this statement: this analysis is not a defense against Curly’s actions (or lack there of). everything i say is the CAUSE behind the lack of action he took against Jimmy, and the reason he handled the situation he did. reason and excuse are not synonyms: this is why he acted the way he did, but it does not excuse his lack of action, and it does not free him from fault, nor does it take away the damaged that he (indirectly) helped cause. now, let’s begin with my analysis of Curly’s character!!

People tend to forget that things aren't just black and white, good and evil - Curly is an example of this; his need to keep the peace and make everyone happy unfortunately extended to Jimmy, partially because Jimmy had known him for a long time and had a lot of time (possibly years) to manipulate him.

I’ve seen people say Curly might have some for of Stockholm Syndrome with Jimmy, this is plausible as we can see in many scenes (the birthday scene, for example) that Jimmy talks down on Curly, constantly demeaning him, and Curly lets it happen.

Curly's need to keep Jimmy happy is part of what led to the events that take place; not to mention he was most likely afraid of what would happen if he confronted him. This, however, does not excuse his lack of action taken against Jimmy.

Anya confided in him, she looked to him for protection and he failed her. He DID want to help, he DID want to protect Anya, but he wanted to protect Jimmy, too. Curly had known Jimmy for a long time, and his course of action after Anya told him what had happened is very realistic: most men, when faced with that situation, will want to protect their friend.

There wasnt MUCH Curly could have done differently, but there were definitely things he could've done:

1. Put Jimmy in a cryo-pod

2. Hide any and all weapons

3. Hide the auto pilot keys

That being said, this, again, was somebody Curly had known for a very long time, and he had very little time to actually process what was going on. We see in the game that the time between when Curly got the news about pony express shutting down, to when Anya told him she was pregnant, to when Jimmy crashed the ship, was not a long term event; it happened very quickly, over the course of less than a week (POSSIBLY 8 days, dont quote me on that).

By the time Curly had finally realized what he should've done, what a monster Jimmy was, it was too late. The ship had crash and he was rendered incapacitated.

The game is about taking responsibility, which Curly failed to do before things took a turn for the worst. By the time he realized what he had done, he couldn't take responsibility; he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. There was no way for him to fix things (not that he could, but he couldn’t even try), there was no way for him to apologize to Anya, to the rest of the crew. By the time he realized what a huge mistake he had made, it was impossible for him to do anything about it.

Curly has some fault in the events that transpired, seeing as he didn't do everything he should've and could've done to immobilize Jimmy, to protect the crew, and to most

importantly, protect Anya.

However, that doesn't make him a bad person. Curly's fault doesn't lie in his intentions, but in his actions. He was acting with his heart, not his head. He was so caught up in making sure everyone was happy, that he lost sight of what was truly important: safety.

The events that took place would have never taken place if not for one key factor: Jimmy. If he had not been on that ship, none of the horrific incidents would’ve never occurred.

And the reason he was on that ship, was Curly. Curly helped Jimmy get that job. He saw what Jimmy could've been, instead of seeing him for what he really was: a manipulative, selfish, narcissistic, and honestly, evil man.

Curly knew that something about Jimmy wasn't right, he knew there was a reason he was at rock bottom. He knew, and looked past it because he wanted to believe that he could be better.

In his mind, Jimmy just needed help to turn his life around. Anya says in the game "I want to believe our worst moments dont make us monsters." I believe that Curly subconsciously had this same mindset towards Jimmy for YEARS.

Curly wanted to believe that his best friend was a good person, despite what he knew about him prior to the events we see in the game, despite all the manipulation he endured at Jimmy’s hands, he wanted to believe that he was good.

And ultimately, that was his downfall. He was too kind, too trusting, and too set on keeping everyone happy.

Curly lacks self respect, he let Jimmy walk all over him, all over Anya. He unintentionally enabled Jimmy not only out of fear of what he might do when confronted, but out of a lack of respect for himself.

If Curly had even an ounce of self respect, he would've stood up to Jimmy. But he lacked that respect for himself, Jimmy knew that and he used it to his advantage.

Jimmy is at fault for everything that took place. Jimmy SA’d Anya, Jimmy manipulated Curly, Jimmy crashed the ship. But Curly is not innocent. Despite his desire to help, to protect, he enabled Jimmy and by proxy has some fault in the events that transpired.

And these are the types of characters that you don't see often in media; morally grey characters, characters that aren't perfect but aren't evil either. Media is so flooded with pure evil and pure good, that people try to fit characters who are realistic and morally grey into that pure evil or pure good box, and it doesn't work, because they are not one or the other.

They are both and neither at the same time, and that is what makes them too human for a lot of people to properly understand and comprehend. (more on that in a separate post, later down the road).

and that concludes my in-depth analysis of Curly’s character!!!! to everyone that made it this far, thanks for reading!!! feel free to tweak anything you disagree with, and let me know if something is worded incorrectly!

i’ll post a more in-depth explanation about my “too human” end statement at some point, but i’m finishing school, and my birthday is tomorrow so i’m quite busy here lately!! more art, analysis’, and more ramblings coming soon^_^ bye bye!!

[rallentando1011]

about donnie making fun of Rom coms. What happens if s/o like them, but in a way where they watch them to make fun of them and it makes them and Donnie reflect on their own relationship without meaning too? 😂 . “It’s so bad. This love triangle. I gotta see how this trainwreck ends! All 3 are terrible and deserve each other”. “Geez I would hate that if a guy did that to me”. “Oh! He deserves better”. S/o does openly swoon over really sweet gestures sometimes though. “Oh. He gave her a library and fixed it up 😭 “.

The song is Nothing - Bruno Major, it does mention alcohol in like one line as well as making out but those are NOT in the story at all - just wanted to preface this with that (thanks for the request btw! I am working on all of them still I promise-)

Nothing

(rise Donnie x gn reader)

“Track suits and red wine

Movies for two

We'll take off our phones

And we'll turn off our shoes”

The evening opened at the lair.

A breezy night, the wind feather-light and warm, the sky had been dim and earth damp with a fresh rain, the frigid conditions of winter thawing into a complacent spring.

Below the concrete confines of the sewers, the weather was just as drippy, the continuous drips and drops of water trickling with a postnasal quality, drumming peacefully throughout the lair.

A dreary morning had bled into a dreary day had bled into a now dreary evening. With the dispelling weather, you had found it drudgery to even perform basic tasks like getting out of bed and dressing yourself and eating. But you had to. And you did.

After getting through the necessities and chores of the day, you had bound to the lair, renewed from your climatory blues with the expectation of good company and no obligations. Sounded good to you.

What you hadn’t anticipated was walking into the lab to see your “company” sitting, hunched over his desk, busy at work, with webcore music playing over the speakers and a rom-com, of all things, playing on his PC.

“Psh,” you half-laughed, the energy behind your amusement not completely convincing. You worked your way beside him and leaned against his desk. ��What’s going on here?”

“Oh,” Donnie, just the man you’d been looking for, startled and slowly, as if trying to avoid detection, moved a hand to shut his screen. “Hey, I didn’t see you there.”

Before the computer screen could shut, you nudged it back up. “You like these movies?”

Donnie paled, sitting up straighter, lips pressing into a flat line. “Absolutely not. They’re just good background noise.”

You hummed. If his posture and lack of alertness was anything to go off of, he’d been at this a while. He could use some R & R, and honestly, you wouldn’t oppose.

“Well, in that case, would you like to watch some ‘background noise’ with me?”

He slumped back down in his chair and looked at you blankly. “I am quite obviously in the middle of something. I think we both already know the answer to that.”

“And how long have you been at that?”

There it was: guilt.

You nudged his shoulder, flashing a grin at him. “Come on. We’re getting snacks and taking a well earned break.”

“But-”

“No sir, none of that. We’re going. Projector room. Now.”

“But-”

“First one there chooses the movie.”

That impetus was enough to spur both of you into motion.

“We'll play Nintendo

Though I always lose

'Cause you'll watch the TV

While I'm watching you

There's not many people

I'd honestly say

I don't mind losing to

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

Unsurprisingly, he beat you to the projector room. Sure, he was a genetically enhanced mutant turtle and the odds were stacked heavily against you from the get go, but you were still salty about losing your own bet.

Not as salty as you were about his choice of “movie” not being a movie, instead being playing Super Smash Bros.

And especially not as salty as you were about getting irrevocably obliterated.

Round after round of the game, you had been infuriatingly greeted with screen after screen declaring your loss and all but screaming how terribly you sucked. Normally, you got the one up on him at least once, but with how drowsy your motor function was today, not to mention how you kept getting caught up in how invested he was but that was irrelevant, the game was not gaming.

Furthermore, you tried to pin your inopportune streak on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., who had taken up residence on your lap after retrieving your and Donnie’s snacks and drinks of choice from the kitchen, but Donnie had disproven that theory. By holding his controller higher to simulate the space the drone took up and proceeding to desecrate you again.

You groaned and slumped down the couch as he once again laughed victoriously, boisterously. Seriously, his ego needed to be humbled.

“Another round,” you demanded, half-dead on the couch. “I got, uh, distracted.”

Donnie halted his gloating, tilted his head down at you and the little drone, though the smug grin had yet to clear his face.

You knew what was next, probably your favorite and least favorite part of your dynamic - banter.

“I know you’re only looking at me to have some semblance of an excuse to lose, but I’ll take that as a compliment of both my rugged good looks and superior gaming skills.”

You feigned injury with a hand over your heart. “Man, that is a harsh accusation. I am wounded. Mortally wounded.”

“Your Yoshi will be the wounded one after I annihilate you in this next round of Smash.”

“Oh, you are on.”

“Dumb conversations

We lose track of time

Have I told you lately

I'm grateful you're mine

We'll watch The Notebook

For the 17th time

I'll say ‘It's stupid’

Then you'll catch me crying”

After a few more times of crushing you in Smash, it apparently became boring. Either that or your pouting convinced him to hand the reins over to you and let you pick a movie.

Finally, you could relax.

Head on his shoulder, his arm around you, a plush blanket resting on your laps, a borderline unbearable romantic comedy on the projector, it was blissful.

“Hmm would you look at that?” you commented on one particular scene. You felt Donnie shift next to you, raising an ever so slightly judgmental eyebrow. “The love interest did something wrong and then compensated by making a library. And spending time with them. And apologizing.”

He stared at you.

You stared back. “Looks like someone could take notes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Donnie blinked, and you smiled.

“Oh, nothing.”

“We're not making out

On a boat in the rain

Or in a house I've painted blue

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

“I would die if you ever did that to me.” You shuddered at the absolutely foul scene unfolding on the television and sunk a little closer into his side, second hand embarrassment seeping into your bones. 

“Good connotation or bad connotation?” he pondered, all too genuinely. It made you want to gag.

“Good or bad?” you asked, incredulous. “Like, the worst connotation. I mean, if you showed up to my work like that I would actually spontaneously combust. Deceased. No hesitation.”

You plopped unceremoniously sideways onto his lap, the back of your hand dramatically resting on your forehead.

“That’s what spontaneous means,” he deadpanned, the arm that had been over your shoulder slowly slinking back to his side.

“I don’t need called out on my redundancy right now,” you jabbed an accusatory finger at him, looking up, “I just need you to promise to never do that.”

“Okay, okay,” he conceded with a content grin. “I’ll try not to show up to your work with some overly pedantic display of affection.”

You scowled.

“So shut all the windows

And lock all the doors

We're not looking for no one

Don't need nothing more

You'll bite my lip and

I'll want you more

Until we end up in a heap on the floor”

The room had grown dim, illuminated only by the faint blue on the projector screen. You blinked yourself awake from a half-asleep stupor as you realized the movie had come to a close. 

“Hey, are you still up?” you whispered groggily, noting his closed eyes and shallow breathing.

“Unfortunately yes.” His eyes peeled open begrudgingly.

“And you’re not working on anything?”

He seemed visibly more awake at that observation. “Huh. That is correct.”

“Hehe. I finally got you to be unproductive.” You poked his cheek jestingly, still lightheartedly.

“Yep. I concur - you got me.”

“And I finally got you to have a good time.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sat up, incredulous. Sure, it hadn’t been an eventful night by any regard, but it had surely been enjoyable.

“Just that all of the characters are stupid,” he elaborated with a gesticulation of his hands. “Just- all of them are total dum-dums.”

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with a shrug. “That love triangle was destined to fail from the start. They’re all horrible people and deserve everything they got.”

“And watching that is enjoyable for you?”

“Yeah, it just makes me appreciative of what we have.”

Donnie paused, reflected at that. “Huh. That’s… an incredibly introspective view.”

“So, you enjoyed the movie?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You could be dancing on tabletops

Wearing high-heels

Drinking until the world

Spins like a wheel

But tonight your apartment

Had so much appeal

Who needs stars?

We've got a roof

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

Busy personalities beget busy schedules, and who would want to be anything but? If the choice is between being mundane or multifariously vibrant, isn’t the choice obvious?

Yet sometimes the hustle and bustle and pressure build up, workloads stack up, a devastating fatigue sets in. And the best thing to do together is absolutely nothing.

“No, there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

[treeofnonsense]

So I'm going to preface this by saying: I am cis as all hell. I'm not any form of trans or nonbinary, I have never been any form of trans or nonbinary, and thus I tend to stay pretty quiet on that front over here. Ain't my place to tell people who know better what to do, and I'm not trying to do that here. However, after having made a lot of friends under the trans umbrella, after being lucky enough to have some of those friends share with me some of their struggles, their joys, their lives, and after noticing a couple of patterns in their journeys... I think there is one message I would like to share that may help some of you to hear, if you'll give me a minute of your time, and I think it may have to come specifically from a cis person.

The message is this: If your cisgender friends are good friends, you being your true self is not a burden to them.

For the people in the back: If your cisgender friends are good friends. You being your true self with gender. Is not a burden to them.

I didn't know my friend in high school was trans until he transitioned socially and I heard his new name. He didn't tell me first because I was raised fundamentalist Christian and probably did not look like a safe person to tell; when I pulled him aside in class so no one else could hear us, told him he could tell me to buzz off if he was uncomfortable, and politely asked for confirmation on pronouns, I remember the surprise and joy on his face. It took me about five minutes of chanting his new name and pronouns in the shower to get it to stick in my brain. That tiny amount of effort was nothing compared to seeing him pull himself out of the depressive funk dysphoria had put him in, of celebrating senior year when he legally changed his name, of drawing him a snowflake dragon for Christmas and hiding the trans flag colors in the shimmer of the ice so it would get past our conservative school's radar. We became closer friends after he came out because I knew him better and he knew he could trust me. He got me my first ace ring. I was not only supporting him, but learning from him, and sharing in his joy.

The genderfluid roommate in college took me a little longer to adapt to, I'll be honest, I was still learning, but hey - it turns out it's not really that hard to check the pronoun pins on a lanyard before you address someone. It's pennies when that person comes along to teach you the wonders of thrift shopping and takes you to meet a drag queen for the first time. I've met so many people online whose identities I do not always intuitively understand, but who I support anyway, and who have made me consider so many new things. It's not a burden to know about my friends' journey when it comes to gender, it's a privilege to know them more deeply and be trusted in that way. It's a new dimension to this person I already love, that's all.

Look, I am not saying that all your cis friends are going to be perfect, that we're not going to fuck up occasionally because we don't know better or we had a bad day, that we understand everything - we're not, we will, and we don't. I am not saying that everyone is a safe person to talk to either - god knows that's not true, unfortunately. But. If your worry about expressing yourself is of being a nuisance, of burdening someone with your problems or needs, of being too much or too out-there or too confusing, consider this: Your friends may not only be willing to learn and help you, they may be happy to. In a true friendship, both people benefit from one person's joy. If you're happy because you're able to be your honest self, they'll be happy too. Suddenly that weird shyness and sadness they saw from you but didn't know the cause of has gone away. Heck, maybe they'll learn from you and start following in your genderfunky footsteps. Or maybe you'll just have a cis friend who texts you celebration emojis when you have a good gender day, or is there when you wake up from surgery, or goes shopping for new outfits with you, or even brings over ice cream when you're having a hard time. And then you both get ice cream. Come on. This is what friends do.

Be safe, of course. Trust your judgment when it comes to sharing information. But if you're simply scared, try to balance out the fear of what you may lose with the thought of what you may also stand to gain. Don't let the anxiety beast turn your identity into a problem. It's not a burden, it's a part of you, and the people who love you will love to meet it.