#i loved digging into the emotions and feelings here

[serendipitous-imagines]

Can you do a Homicipher Mr Gap x transmasc reader smut fic? Maybe w him eating the reader out? Perhaps?

cws/tws: female genitalia verbiage, oral, fingering, begging, edging

omg,,, my first homicipher request!! i have been so in love with all of the characters in this game and it has been so fun playing through all of the routes! i do get easily jumpscared bc i am a coward but hey, fear and adrenaline adds to emotions I am pretty sure ;> as always~ the fun stuff is under the cut~

Where were you again...? Oh, right, you were stuck down here, running around mindlessly, looking for an elevator that may or may not bring you back to your world... And everyone surrounding you was a creature that was almost beyond human comprehension. But... they were kind, kinder than anyone had ever really been to you, and they cared, they cared so much about you, about how you felt, about how your body ached and reacted. Sure, it could have been because they wanted to do experiments on you, maybe even take your arms, but it being cared for like this felt so nice. Honestly, it would be a waste to leave everyone down here. How would you even live life normally again after meeting everyone? A soft groan escaped your lips as you rolled over on the bed, flopping your head down into the pillow that had definitely been untouched for a while, but it was better than laying on the ground. You could not imagine how it felt for Mr. Chopped- where even was he? Where was anyone? The room suddenly felt far more cold and empty than it had before. Anxiety crept into your chest and in an attempt to comfort yourself, you pulled the white blanket up to your head, wanting to hide from the vast empty echoes of the labyrinth where you found yourself confined. ... Why did it feel like you were being watched...? Lifting the sheet up hesitantly, you tilted your head downwards, unknowingly holding your breath as you glanced down at your legs. Nothing... You set the sheet down and let out the breath you had been holding, looking around the room. You were just being paranoid because you were alone, there was nothing to worry about, you were sure Mr. Crawling would be around at any moment and you would feel better. Shaking your head, you lifted the sheets to lay back down and- "AHHHH!!!!" Your whole body jumped, a scream involuntarily coming out, legs pressing together as you made eye contact with Mr. Gap smiling up at you from under the covers. "When did you get here?!" you yelled, fingers trembling as you held the sheets up, eyes wide.

"I help..." Mr. Gap mumbled, a smile on his face, his visible eye upturned with small crinkles in the corners of them. "Is there a reason why you are smiling so hard?" you asked, a smile on your face, wondering what organ or part of your body he was going to ask to take. Mr. Gap tilted his head, not understanding your question, his smile still ever-so-prevalent. "Give?" he asked. "Me want have." Mr. Gap repeated, his voice a little more firm. You could feel his warm breath hitting the insides of your thighs, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the warmth in the cold room. "Want what?" you asked, thighs shifting to close from the embarrassment of Mr. Gap's head being so close to such intimate areas. "Want you." Strong hands wrapped themselves around the inside of your thighs, pinning them open despite your attempts to force them closed. "M-me?!" your voice squeaked in surprise as your pants were ripped clear off of your legs. Mr. Gap's face leaned forward, huffing your scent, his fingers digging deeper into the squishy flesh of your thighs. "Smell good. Smell like. Want. Want. Want." Mr. Gap repeated, massaging your thighs in his palms obsessively, his words melting into mere mumbles as his teeth caught the fabric of your underwear, ripping them off (though you were unsure if he ate them or dropped them onto the bed, they were destroyed anyways). "Mr. Gap..." a breathless mutter came from your lips as Mr. Gap's mouth wrapped around your pussy, his tongue frotting against your clit. Your hips lifted at the sensation, a small whine leaving your lips as Mr. Gap's tongue started to speed up, greedily lapping up the arousal that started to drip from your vagina. How did he even know how to do this? Your hand slid beneath the sheets, wrapping your fingers around his hair as his tongue buried itself inside of your pussy, rubbing against your insides, easily gliding around in your arousal. Mr. Gap let out a low groan, a noise you had never heard him make before as his hand slid up your thigh before hovering just below his chin. His lips wrapped themselves hungrily around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves as two of his fingers circled around your soaked and sensitive entrance. A moan of pure desperation and a need like none other you have felt before came from your agape mouth, tugging on Mr. Gap's long hair, which had started to become knotted between your fingers. Your gazes caught one another, and you could see and feel his smile get wider before he sunk his fingers without warning into you. Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching around Mr. Gap's unforgiving fingers that slid deep inside like he was going to pull your internal organs out from you. Your hips rocked, riding his fingers as his tongue pressed against your clit, flicking up and down as he sucked. Those calloused fingers provided a much needed texture, curling inside of you and forcing your walls wider open. Hearing such beautiful mewls coming from you, and feeling your hips starting to tremble, closing in on your orgasm, Mr. Gap cruelly slid his slick-covered digits out of your pussy, rubbing your hole as you gasped and looked at him with eyes that could only be described as downright pathetic. In an action even more cruel, he pulled his mouth away from your swollen and throbbing clit. Your head lifted, your eyes wide in surprise as he rested his head on your thigh and just smiled at you, a taunting, cruel smile. "You know exactly what you are doing..." you whined out, rolling your hips towards his face. "Me funny." "No," you retorted back with a pout on your lips. Mr. Gap laughed, fingers still mindlessly rubbing your opening, which was now soaking the sheets beneath you. "Me funny. You cute." Mr. Gap looked up at your face, which was twinged pink before he pushed three of his fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of your hole far rougher than he had before. At full force, your orgasm hit your body at full force, crying out Mr. Gap's name as your cum squirted into his mouth and he greedily swallowed it.

FANDOMS ~ MASTERLIST ~ COMMISSIONS ~ REQUESTS

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love (fic announcement)

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, co-workers au, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

author's note: hello girlypops!!! this is my first fic ever written and published, and quite a lot of effort has gone into creating it, so i hope you love these babies as much as i do! please, please, please (shoutout my girl, sabrina) show some love by following, reposting, and all those good things.

Read part 1 here

(Teaser)

His heart really shouldn't do that weird thump-thump thing that it does every time you agree to come over, but it does, and it might just be heart disease, but he is yet to get it under control.

"Cool...cool...Is 7 okay for you?" he asks, taking out his keys as he approaches his car, leaning against the driver's door with a little smile on his lips.

"Yeah, I'll just go home and change out of these clothes and feed Miso then I'll head over," you murmur absentmindedly while you dig through your bag for your car keys, searching through the endless pit of earphones, a tangled phone charger, lip liner, lip gloss, and ten thousand receipts for things you don't even remember buying. He watches you with a faint smile, knowing how messy that bag is, but also knowing that if he lectures you about it, your response will be, 'you don't get it, you're not a woman' so he minds his business and stands by patiently.

"You can go, I'll manage," you mumble, your eyebrows furrowed, a soft pout on your lips as you rummage through the leather bag. He chuckles and cocks his head to the side, finding it quite amusing. "You sure? I feel like I could find the cure for cancer before you find your keys in that thing."

"You should quit teaching and go into comedy," you mutter dryly, finally finding the damn keys. "Ha. Found it," you quip, smiling sarcastically before unlocking the car. He shakes his head with a soft smile on his lips, rolling his eyes as he gets in his own car. He'll get you back for your sass, but he knows that his 'punishments' feel more like a reward than anything else.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 21 | Uninvited Judgements

summary: you were invited to a party by one of your friends, of course you brought Matt, your boyfriend along despite him being slightly younger, everything was going by smoothly and everyone was having great fun until you went out to the bathroom and when you came back you saw your drunken friends surrounding Matt, not suggesting anything good by their loud laughter…

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, arguing, party setting, drunk guests, bullying, age discrimination, age gap, all of the drinking characters are of age please drink responsibly and be aware of the possible consequences! & possibly more

authors note: nnn is soon coming to an end and the Christmas season will start which means… more Christmas fics! (And more smut) I am already feeling the spirit and love this season so much, also sorry for not posting this fic when I was supposed to but something personal happened and I couldn’t finish it that day and I hope y’all understand , but anyway luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The music bounced through the walls of the small apartment, a vibrant background to the laughter and conversation that filled the air. Matt adjusted the collar of his shirt, visibly feeling a little self-conscious under his excitement. He was still getting used to being around my friends, most of them were several years older than him. We had been dating for a few months now and while I loved spending time with him, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was still trying to prove himself.

I took his hand and squeezing it gently. “I’ll just be gone a minute,” I said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Just need to use the bathroom. You okay to hang out here?” “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, forcing a smile. “I’ll grab a soda or something.” As I slipped away into the crowded bathroom, Matt leaned against the counter and glanced around. Most of the partygoers were off in groups, cups in hand and laughter mixing with the music. He was about to reach for a drink when he noticed a couple of my friends gathering near him, their faces flushed and attitude high from the alcohol they have consumed.

“Look who it is!” one of my friends Mary slurred, her eyes shining with mischief. “Little Matt. What’s he doing here all by himself? Waiting for his mom to pick him up?” Matt felt heat rush to his cheeks, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and irritation. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to brush off the comments but the lack of a reaction from him it only encouraged the others. “Oh come on!” another friend chimed in with her laughter ringing loud. “You’re dating a woman who could practically be your aunt! What is she like, 25?” The group burst into drunk giggles, clearly enjoying the show of the younger guy, considering him as an easy target.

Matt clenched his fists at his sides, feeling a swirl of emotions and his gut twisted in upset. The teasing only got worse, the insults sharper, the references to our age gap digging deeper until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m not a kid for gods sake,” he shot back but his voice barely cut through the intense crowd. Their laughter only grew louder, cutting off his words. When I finally returned with a bright smile lighting my face while Matt was the opposite, livid and his skin prickling with anger. I noticed the tension immediately as I maneuvered through the crowd toward him.

“Everything okay?” I asked concerned looking from him to my drunken friends who had just finished their turn of jokes. “They think it’s hilarious that I’m younger,” he said, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. “Why do you even hang out with people who think it’s okay to make fun of someone like that?” I looked caught off guard while blinking rapidly. “I don’t think they meant anything by it, Matt. They were drunk and you know how that goes. They joke around, they don’t always know where to draw the line.” “A line?” he snapped and frustration spilling out of his expression. “It feels fucking disrespectful to make jokes about someone’s age! Like I’m some boy toy you’re just playing around with. Do you think I like being the center of their jokes?”

“Matt, just chill out for a second,” I ushed, raising your hands for him to calm down. “You know they didn’t mean for it to hurt you. It’s just banter! They were drunk—” “No, it’s not just banter!” he raised his voice louder than he intended. “It’s condescending and you’re just brushing it off like it doesn’t matter!” I felt my heart racing, a mixture of anger and hurt beginning to swirl in my veins “You’re making a huge deal out of this. They’re not bad people, they were having a good time! You can’t just get upset over everything people say when they’re drinking!” “It’s not ‘everything’! It’s just this! Ugh!” he exclaims, frustration lacing every syllable that left past his mouth. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t even see how it affects me. You just make excuses for them.” With that, one of my friends—a guy named Jake who had been listening nearby—snorted. “Who knew Matt had such thin skin? Can’t handle a little fun?”

Matt’s gaze flicked toward Jake, becoming stiff in his stance. “And you’re an ass.” “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s basically a kid,” Jake retorted and shaking his head. “Matt, just ignore him,” I pleaded but he was too far gone now. “No, fuck this…” he muttered, stepping away from the group who had been laughing at his expense. He turned to me with his eyes blazing. “I’m not playing this game. I’m not gonna sit here and take your friends’ bullshit. I’m done.” Before I could get a single word out past my lips, Matt turned on his heel and moved toward the exit, the door slamming behind him. The sound echoed in the now silent apartment as everyone exchanged glances, the party suddenly feeling much less exciting.

I tried to process what had just happened, a storm of emotions swirling inside of me. My friends still buzzing from the drinks, didn’t have the capacity to understand. They were just drunk and careless. But Matt? His feelings were painfully real and visible for anyone and my heart sank knowing I would have to find him and somehow make sense of this mess my drunk friends have put me in now.

@hearts4werka |

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🏷️ | @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknott - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - @sturniolosiphone - @sophand4n4 - @zombiesturniolo - @luvleyangeldust |

[chaoortu]

listen i know i yap a lot about nick and neurodiversity in my fics but it's like. every time i reread heartstopper it really jumps out at me and i'll probably reblog this again with more thoughts as i continue my reread but like.

it strikes me as interesting that despite the fact that nick gets called a chav pretty early on by tao, we never actually see nick acting that way on page. i think the show does a good job at showing how nick has sort of chameleoned himself and stuffed his real personality down but the show is a topic for a different post. in the webcomic we see it once when charlie is teasing him about being laddish and nick decides to act that way for a laugh. on one hand, i chalk this up to most of the early webcomic/heartstopper in general being in Charlie's pov. he wouldn't have noticed these things about Nick because they didn't really notice each other until their meet cute, which is realistic. I think it also speaks well to Charlie's character that he takes who Nick is at face value and challenges Tao's opinion of him. but what jumps out at me is that in harry's birthday party we sort of see the first instance of nick's "meaner" side and it's in the context of defending Charlie. Still! The first instance of this really sunshiney character taking quite a big turn!

But notice how the dig isn't personal? These are all observations about Harry that can be deduced in the context of the material before it. That is to say, despite being friends with Harry since he was like 11, Nick keeps it simple. It reminds me a lot of how you correct a dog's behavior in the moment and I can go on for ages about Nick and dogs but again-- that'll be another post. What follows this really intense moment is another really intense moment when he and Charlie are alone and like yeah, they're teenagers, being teenaged is intense enough. But after their kiss, we have this panel and my God is it one of my favs:

I really love how Nick is framed with flowers in this scene because it really feels like it's him blossoming into himself in this moment where it's just him and Charlie. Charlie is shown over and over again to be Nick's safe person in comic and while they are obviously falling in love way before this, I still feel like this is the moment where Nick decides it's safe to love Charlie (I mean duh, they kiss a LOT in this episode), or rather, to hand Charlie his emotions and feel like they won't be fucked with or used against him. And that's huge! Nick wears all his feelings on his sleeves, he's not even slick about it either-- the fact that Christian, Sai, and Otis pick up on the fact that Nick has a thing for Charlie before he does speaks a lot to the fact that Nick doesn't seem very aware of how much of himself he gives away on the regular. Which again, in juxtaposition with the fact that he's perceived as a judgmental rugby lad by Tao (which, grain of salt here. I love Tao a lot but he's also quite judgmental in his own ways so this is a pot and kettle situation), and the fact that his own mother comments on the fact that he's much more himself since befriending Charlie? That's MASSIVE. I dunno. I could be projecting here but as an autistic teenager who did everything in my power to be like my peers and lowkey hated myself for it, I find this incredibly relatable. We see Nick starting to realize that a lot of his friends are dicks several times before he and Charlie kiss for the first time, and that's also relatable. It took me so long and still takes me so long to realize that people I thought were friends are actually quite shit. Again, I could be projecting but it reads very neurodivergent to me that it takes Nick being exposed to someone who is actually kind to him (Charlie) to realize that his friends aren't kind people. Insane tbh! Something else that got me is that we see Nick struggle with the fact that he really likes Charlie and wants to stay with him vs. the responsibility he feels to regroup with his friends. I don't actually think it's responsibility. I read it as Nick putting his mask back on and resuming the expectations he's been bearing since before he met Charlie and it's a visible struggle for him.

Nick, while pretty unaware of the fact that he can be read like a book, is also incredibly aware of the role he plays in his own friend group and the ways in which he has to perform. But he doesn't like it now. His early love for Charlie really puts things in perspective for him that he doesn't have to accept where he's at currently if he's unhappy and we get that moment of regret where we see that he knows he fucked up by leaving Charlie.

It looks like he's disassociating here. That, or his mind is still in that room with Charlie. It's a battle of expectations vs. what Nick wants. And Nick's wants are never Nick's first priority. He's a pathological people pleaser after all. And despite the fact that he just fully made out with another boy despite barely having figured out that he likes guys and the ethics on Charlie kissing him without asking (teenage stuff, I'm not arguing about it rn especially because this doesn't bother Nick in canon. idk why this discourse exists but maybe i was just making out too much as a teenager) The next day, Nick clears the air. Literally runs to Charlie's in the rain so they can talk it out and so he can be understood properly. He's desperate to make things right with him because 1) he's in love and 2) he cares a lot about Charlie's feelings to the point of putting them above his own later in the story. But the way he does it and the way he sort of overexplains his feelings almost constantly really strike me as neurodivergent. Nick goes above and beyond explaining how he feels to make sure nothing can be misconstrued and that really gives me the sense that Nick is... somewhat aware of the fact that people assume how he feels? Granted, this is coming off the heels of everyone saying he was in love with Tara, so maybe he felt the need to explain himself more since some people think one pre-teen kiss = fairytale love. (ignore the fact that Nick's fairytale kiss with the flowers totally equaled fairytale levels of love for him, lol.)

He literally explodes! Charlie is physically taken aback by his words. This happens right after Charlie has his big "I shouldn't have kissed you this was all my fault" etc. explosion. Which! The fact that Charlie explains how he feels down to feeling at fault and sharing that with Nick, who is very much like no.. no nO WAIT. I LIKED IT. (so much that he kisses Charlie to get him to understand that pre-explosion). And again, we sort of see Nick trying to bottle and be a bit more normal about it immediately before when Charlie tells him he's getting mixed-signals. Nick's response was to unmix the signal and then cry about it because THIS. IS. A . LOT.

For a cis-male character who is involved in a very masculine sport, surrounded by masculine people who are not nearly as emotional as he is(on page at least) the fact that Nick goes above and beyond in this moment where he's so vulnerable to ensure Charlie understands him is hugely neurodivergent to me. He's making sure Charlie gets that Nick loves him, he's making sure he gets that he's not mad about the kiss, and he makes sure Charlie knows he feels bad for leaving him behind. His bases are covered! There's no room to make assumptions about how he feels and I imagine for Charlie, a chronic overthinker, the fact that Nick is so blunt about his feelings all the time must be fucking incredible. He can actually take Nick at face value (at least at this point in the story ). But especially after Ben's gaslighting shit? Like fuck! I'd want to jump into a relationship too if the guy I've been crushing on for like two months ran to me house in the rain, kissed me, cleared the air, and then cried in my arms. I love emotional honesty! It's also interesting to me that it seems like his confusion towards his sexuality bothers him a LOT more than his feelings for Charlie do. He likes being in love with Charlie, that much obvious, but it's this conflict within himself that bugs him. And idk, I could be projecting again but I just can't see a neurotypical teenager reacting like that. To me, it really reads as Nick going. "Okay, I like kissing Charlie and being around Charlie. I'm in love, this is good. Check." but then his sexuality is a huge gray area until he does more research on bisexuality and decides that's the label he wants to use and I think the not knowing is what really bothers him. There's a lot of pressure in queer spaces especially nowadays to be labeled and for Nick, a character who buried his personality to be accepted by others, to specifically be upset at being confused about his identity reads as neurodivergent to me. Nick, by all accounts, doesn't seem to really care about his sexuality except for the way it challenges who he believed himself to be up until this point and what that means to the people around him who think he's just some straight laddish dude, you know? Largely, he also seems rather apathetic towards sexuality and gender in general except when he has to confront his sexuality and how other people will perceive him if they knew what his sexuality is-- hence keeping things between him and Charlie a secret despite the fact that he's never ever been shown to be ashamed of the fact that he loves Charlie.

Anyway, this post got way too long. Enjoy one of my favorite OCD/AUDHD moments between Nick and Charlie. THEY LITERALLY KISSED LIKE TEN MINUTES BEFORE THIS MOMENT... INSANE BEHAVIOR... I love them. The sillies.

[5-puthyyy]

You're Looking A Little Green

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 5k

Summary:

Rio waits a moment, sniffing deeply then sighing out and nuzzling her nose to Agatha’s skin. Gods, she missed this scent of dark Magick, of lavender and honey, of maple trees and something so distinctly Agatha. “Tell me you want me.”

Agatha’s jaw tightens, though her head movement opens up more of her neck for Rio. “I don’t.”

The Green Witch chuckles, her soft lips brushing against Agatha’s sensitive skin. “Ah, ah, ah…what did I just say? No lies,” Rio’s hand digs into the curve of Agatha’s hip, “Tell me you want me…and not her.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Rio's drawn to the powerful Magick of the hex and finds Agatha flirting with a powerful witch that isn't her. I cannot be blamed for the filth that follows

WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT, CHOKING + BLOODPLAY + BREATHPLAY

Rio Vidal did not feel. She simply came into existence, filled with a singular purpose to collect the lost souls of the dead. Death was not made to feel. But, Gods, if anyone were to challenge the very rules of the universe, to disrupt the natural order of all things? Of course it would be Agatha Harkness. Who else?

She has to call it love because Agatha’s love is all she has ever known. It is cruel and gentle, angry and serene, it is wicked and sinister and everything in between. And Rio could not get enough of it, enough of her torturous little witch. It was one thing to use the Darkhold and hide from Death. Besides, she enjoyed the chase, the hunt, being the predator running after its prey. But what she could not stand was this.

Rio was drawn to the raw, chaotic magic of this place – what kind of all-powerful Green Witch would she be if she could not sense it? – and was unsurprised to see Agatha had found her way here too. Her clever girl could always sniff out power, always greedily eager to take as much as she could.

“Ridiculous,” Rio scoffs quietly, watching through the window of Wanda’s living room. She could do nothing but watch, the anger in her belly brewing into something even darker, dangerous, twisted and ugly. Jealousy.

That is one of the many emotions she had not felt until Agatha and she can wholeheartedly say it is the absolute worst one. Her black heart can stand heartache, can stand betrayal, can stand the endless torture of Agatha’s glare of hatred because those feelings had to come from somewhere. It has been a form of comfort to know after all these centuries she can still affect her witch, still make her feel, just as she makes Rio feel.

Jealousy is ugly. It makes her feel ugly, inside. It takes a blow at her security and makes her question herself, whether she is good enough for Agatha, whether the witch has decided to move on from her to someone solid, something real, something tangible and within her grasp. It is what she deserves, after all. Despite the playfulness, the chase, the books of history the two have together, Rio could never shake off the belief that Agatha will never truly want her for all she is. She cannot. Agatha hates that she wants Death, and that hatred will fester until there is nothing left. No love, no hate, just indifference.

“Do you really?” Rio recalls the first time Agatha told her how she felt for her, the two of them having floated around each other for weeks, a youthful, anxious mess, “Do you really love me, Agatha? Me?” Rio asked, voice shaking, hands trembling as she held Agatha’s blushing cheeks.

The witch sighed, a sound deep and upsetting that struck Rio uncomfortably. “I fear I do.” 

Fear. She feared it, hated it, did not want to feel what she felt. And Rio? Rio had not wanted a single thing since the beginning of time until she looked into Agatha’s eyes and decided she could not go on without having her. She loved her, wanted to be consumed by her, felt nothing but her.

It wasn’t until…until Nicky that it went terribly wrong and Rio saw their relationship for what it was. Agatha could not force her feelings to disappear, so she did, and she made it perfectly clear that she did not want Rio. But with their feud and many fights that inevitably led to Agatha’s teeth biting her lip until they tasted like copper, Rio realised that Agatha needed her. And Agatha hated Rio for it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rio is pulled out of her dark thoughts by an angry voice she cannot help but smile widely at.

“Hello, my love,” She greets Agatha smoothly, huffing as the angry woman grabs her by the arm and guides her across the lawn, around another house, and then into the quiet privacy of her four walls, “Hmm,” Rio takes in a deep breath of relief, her bones feeling more at ease in Agatha’s home. She can feel the thrum of her lover’s Magick in here, “I like it here. It tastes like you.”

Agatha grunts angrily, shoving a fist against Rio’s chest as the Green Witch licks at the air with wild and wide eyes. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? It is so on-brand for you to show up here and ruin everything for me.”

A sinister smirk splits across Death’s face. “Now why would I sit back and let you have all the fun?”

Agatha grunts yet again, this time stepping towards Death with a raised pointer finger. “This is more than just fun, Vidal, this could be–The power she has is–You know what she is. You can sense her Magick. This could change everything for me,” Agatha stutters her way through the sentence, clearly taking a more calculated route against this witch. Rio can see how serious this is to her, and she honestly had no plans to ruin it. All she wanted was to see her.

With soft eyes, Rio steps forward, her fingers daring to brush down Agatha’s jaw. “You are all I sense. Your Magick is all I ever want to taste.”

Agatha sucks in a sharp breath at the confession, never quiet growing used to Rio’s blunt nature. There are never any lies here, never a nervous thought that blocks the truth from tumbling out of her mouth. The honesty was always refreshing. But in moments like this, all it does is make Agatha want to kiss her until Death herserlf needs a breath of air to stay alive.

“Not now, Vidal,” Agatha replies coldly, forcing her eyes away from Rio’s impossibly sad ones. The power those eyes have had over her…

“Why don’t you want me?” Rio asks with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest, in typical Rio-fasion.

Agatha can’t help but scoff. “What is wrong with you?”

Rio’s face suddenly hardens in realisation, forcing distance between them as she steps back towards the door. “Do you want her? Is that it?” Rio doesn’t know why she asked. The very idea of answer that says to ‘yes’ has her first imagining she has insides and those insides are twisting like snakes.

“I want her power.”

At that, Rio growls a terrifying noise, deep and dark. “You want her! I saw the way you looked at her in there, Agatha,” She accuses, unable to shift the images out of her head. She watched them through the window: she cannot forget Agatha’s easy smile, so carefree and playful; the light touch of Wanda’s hand brushing Agatha’s hand; the blush tinting Agatha’s cheek.

Her witch suddenly smiles knowingly, eyes low as she tilts her head. “Oh, honey…” she mumbles in fake sympathy, holding Rio’s chin in her hand, “You’re looking a little green,” she spits out, her hold tightening.

Rio gulps, always being one to submit to that storm in Agatha’s deep blue eyes. “Well, I am the Green Witch,” she mutters rather weakly, huffing at the flash of amusement reflecting back at her.

“You are.” 

Rio straightens her back. “I am.”

“You’re Death.”

She glares darkly. “I am.”

“Her power is no match for yours.”

Rio growls, teeth snapping at the woman still holding her chin like a pup. “It’s not.”

Agatha raises a brow “No?” she says infantalisingly. 

“No being is more powerful than me,” Rio declares, flipping the two of them around.

Agatha gasps as her back is pushed against the front door. “So act like it,” she demands, raising a leg until her thigh is pressed against Rio’s, “Sulking at me, pouting like a sad puppy…” Agatha pouts mockingly, cackling at Rio’s huff and glare, “Here I was thinking you couldn’t get more pathetic chasing me around when I clearly don’t want to be found.”

“Oh yeah?” Rio’s eyes flick to the basement where she knows Ralph’s dead body is, “Explain him,” she asks with a smirk. This has always been their game. Kill, collect, fuck, over and over again, because that is the only line of intimacy Agatha is comfortable with, all Rio can take.

“I kill because I want to, not because I want you.”

Rio can see the quiver of her lip, the twitch of her brow. It’s subtle but she knows her witch by now. “Hmm…” she hums before leaning in to breath against Agatha’s ear, “Okay, Agatha. Have it your way. Be in control.” 

Agatha wavers at this, suddenly shoving Rio back. “I am,” she defends herself, marching off to the kitchen.

Rio follows, keeping enough distance to make Agatha uncomfortable. She knows how much her witch hates being observed. “Sure you are.”

Agatha spills the water she tries to pour into a glass, grunting in frustration as she slams her fist against the countertop. “Are you that jealous?” She snaps her head to Rio, turning on the attack, “God, you’re so desperate you need to tell yourself this lie to fuel that delusion in your head. I do not kill for you, Rio. I have not killed for you in deca–”

“Do you remember the first time?” Rio interrupts her casually, leaning against the fridge door, “You were so nervous to present me with that old witch’s soul. A gift, you said, remember? For me…” Rio’s words slip out like honey, sultry and smooth, “Courting Lady Death herself, you said.”

Agatha scoffs, arms crossing over her chest. “I say a lot of things.”

“And not a single lie. Not to me,” Rio manages to lower her voice even more, almost down to a whisper. The husk is something Agatha always struggled to resist, but she does her very best to deflect.

“How would you know?” Agatha snaps defensively but Rio sees right through her.

“Hmm,” she hummed, stepping close enough for her nose to brush against the back of Agatha’s pale neck, “Tell me.”

Agatha sucks in a breath. “Tell you what?” she whispers back, nails digging into her palms as a last resort, screaming inwardly to keep her hands to herself.

Rio waits a moment, sniffing deeply then sighing out and nuzzling her nose to Agatha’s skin. Gods, she missed this scent of dark Magick, of lavender and honey, of maple trees and something so distinctly Agatha. “Tell me you want me.”

Agatha’s jaw tightens, though her head movement opens up more of her neck for Rio. “I don’t.”

The Green Witch chuckles, her soft lips brushing against Agatha’s sensitive skin. “Ah, ah, ah…what did I just say? No lies,” Rio’s hand digs into the curve of Agatha’s hip, “Tell me you want me…and not her.”

At those words, Agatha allows one moment. Just one moment of vulnerability where she holds Rio’s freezing cheek in her hand, lets Death lean into her touch. She sheds a cold layer away from her harsh eyes, the last cloud of the storm fading to bring forth the Sun. Rio takes it all in, soaks as much of Agatha as she can before the inevitable goodbye.

“Show me,” Agatha says instead, breaking the silence as she pulls Rio’s face close to hers, “Show me why I should want you.”

Rio has never been one to back down from a challenge; a soft smirk stretches her lips before she finally attaches their lips together. She can count the exact amount of hours, weeks, years since their last kiss. Agatha was in her leather phase then, her hair curled with a rebellious purple streak. Each first kiss ignites that same fire within her, just like the first time they ever kissed all those centuries ago. 

“I will never tire of kiss–”

Agatha rolls her eyes at Rio’s interruption. “None of that today. You want to be jealous? Show me just how possessive you can get.”

Rio frowns at this, brushing her nose against Agatha’s softly. She misses her dearly, so intensely that her hollow chest aches from being far from her.

Agatha can see the conflict written over Rio’s face and knows the one thing she can say to flip that switch. With a wicked smirk, she shoves Rio’s chest again hard enough for her to stumble back.

“If you can’t, I’m sure Wanda wouldn’t mind helping her neighbo–”

Before she could even finish, Rio’s hand gripped her neck and shoved her against the fridge. A filthy moan escaped her throat before she could control it, which would typically please Rio but the Green Witch could see nothing but red at this moment. 

“Say her name again, Agatha. Go on.” Rio plays with her prey, fingers tightening their grip as her other hand dug painfully into Agatha’s side.

“Mmm, why, I’m tempted, so tempted,” the witch teases, chuckling darkly with purple swirls in her eyes, still trying to take back a little control, “If you don’t fuck me hard enough, I may even think about her.”

Rio slams her lips to Agatha’s in a brutal, angry kiss. She shoves her invading tongue into the witch’s gasping mouth with no warning, attacking, claiming, swiping every surface she can. Every action screams possessiveness; she needs Agatha to know who she belongs to, who she will always belong to.

Nails scratch along Agatha’s stomach as she pulls her shirt up, lifting until it’s covering her face. Before Agatha can take it off, Rio’s lips are already attacking her new skin. She mouths at the top of her full breasts still covered by a forest-green lacy bra.

“Wow,” Rio suddenly chuckles, pulling the strap with her teeth until it snaps back against Agatha’s reddening skin, “You wore this for me. You knew I was coming the moment you killed that man, didn’t you?”

Agatha huffs, finally dragging her shirt over her head, her hair a dishevelled nest which makes her look even more alluring. “Oh, you wish,” she denies, but her eyes say otherwise, refusing to hold contact with Rio’s for more than a second.

The Green Witch remains consistent in her gaze, twisting her head to catch Agatha out in her movements. “You expect me to believe you just happened to be wearing my favourite colour?”

“It happens to be Wan–” Agatha’s words are swallowed up by Rio’s tongue again, this time paired with hands that rip her bra to the ground and immediately squeeze as if claiming her new territory. Agatha knows Rio will take her right then and there if she wanted to, but she was still wary of this sitcom reality and how much of this Wanda can really see. She did place her runes very carefully but that witch’s power is unimaginable chaos. “Maybe we should–”

“Shut up,” Rio’s tone drips with authority as she pinches Agatha’s hard bud. Her face flickers to her true form for a moment, the dangerous look being enough to send a quick heat between Agatha’s legs.

Agatha utters no other word, just a frustrated groan at herself for reacting this way to Rio. It’s a hopeless feeling knowing there was nothing that made her weak but her.

“Spread them.”

Agatha clenches her jaw as she reluctantly spreads her legs apart. Rio sends a pleased smirk her way, those chocolate eyes darkened with desire.

“Good girl.”

Agatha bites her bottom lip hard to suppress the downright pathetic moan, but a whine slips out widening Rio’s already cocky smile. The embarrassed witch turns her head away but Rio forces it back with a flick of her fingers, black and green tendrils of Magick finally making an appearance.

Runes won’t work on her. Agatha found that one out the hard way a few decades ago, a rookie mistake which ended with Agatha tied in the air, high and not-so-dry. But that’s a story for another time.

Agatha arches her back into the touch, making an executive decision that if she is to play with Rio, she will be the one manipulating Death into doing what she wants. “I’m always good for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you feel how good I am?” Agatha husks seductively, biting her bottom lip in the way she knows drives Rio to madness.

Death pants at the shift, feeling Agatha spread her legs further apart, begging for her touch. “Wicked…” Rio mumbles as she buries her face in Agatha’s chest right between her breasts. The woman is quick to push them together, using herself to gently push Rio over the edge of control. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” Rio moans into her chest, licking, biting, sucking as she claims her. It only takes a moment for her hand to leave Agatha’s hip and slither between her legs. She teases over the lace, both of them sighing at the first touch.

“That’s right, baby, feel me, take me,” Agatha chants and pants, covering Rio’s hand with one of hers. The latter presses her thumb to Agatha’s clit, leaning back up to swallow her gasp. They kiss languidly as she lazily trails her thumb up and down, feeling Agatha get wetter by the second as their tongues glide together. Gods, she loves kissing this woman. Kissing Agatha is the closest Rio will ever get to Heaven.

Soon enough, though, Agatha’s patience runs thin and she shoves her own panties to the side. Rio feels that slickness on her fingers immediately, growling into Agatha’s lips. She bites at her wicked witch’s bottom lip once in punishment before descending to her knees.

Agatha tries to resist making a comment, really, she uses all her willpower. But Rio looks up at her with such adoration, eyes as wide as a puppy’s. It’s so pathetically cute.

“I knew you’d end up on your knees for me. You always do,” she tries to soften the blow with a gentle finger brushing the hair out of Rio’s eyes, but it does nothing to soothe the now angry witch. Suddenly, Agatha’s hands fly up, wrists bound against the fridge with Magick. “Come on, play fair.”

“You want to talk about fair?” Rio huffs, shaking her head as she decides not to tread on this topic. Instead, she focuses on the glistening mess in front of her. She drags Agatha’s panties to the floor, practically salivating by the time she’s done. Though she wants nothing more than to have that delicate slick on her tongue, she needs to punish Agatha, needs to make her want her, make her beg.

Rio starts slow with a wet, delicate kiss to the inside of Agatha’s thigh. It immediately quivers at the touch, Agatha attempting to spread her legs further to entice the tortuous witch into giving her what she wants. But Rio remains strong, grounding herself with the taste of Agatha’s slick that dripped down to her thighs. She glides her tongue over, moaning at the taste, circling her skin, painting out her name over and over again. The moment Agatha growls in frustration, Rio’s there to bite down hard enough to bruise, silencing the witch. It’s a warning, a shout to be patient or else.

“Will you be good for me?” Rio asks as she looks up, her eyes dilated and high on the power she has over Agatha.

“I thought you called me a good girl,” Agatha rebuttals, voice trembling slightly though still filled with sass.

Rio pretends to contemplate for a moment. “I suppose I did. But I think a real good girl would beg. Wouldn’t you agree, sweetheart?”

Agatha doesn’t bother hiding her reaction to this, bursting out into laughter at the audacity. Her? Beg? She hasn’t begged for Rio since before– “No.”

Rio lifts a brow, fingers tightening around Agatha’s thigh. “No?” Agatha stands firm in her answer, a seriousness in her eyes that Rio can’t help but shake her head at. Her stubborn little witch. “Fine, Agatha. Have it your way.”

The first swipe of her tongue transports Agatha to another fucking universe. Blue eyes immediately disappear into her skull; her heart catches up in her throat at the sensation; her legs lose all control and she’s sure she’d be on the ground if it weren’t for the Magick binding her wrists. She has always been loud, proudly so, and this is no different. Screw Wanda. Let her hear.

“Fuck, yes, fucking finally,” she whines, moans filthily, rolling her hips to the rhythm Rio sets.

Fuck control, Rio thinks. Fuck it all; this is real power. Having Agatha like this, hearing her like this, being the one to string these sounds out of her. This is fucking power.

She slides her tongue expertly through Agatha’s folds, circling her clit but refusing to touch it yet. She teases as much as she can, feeling gush after gush of wetness and bringing her tongue back down to lick up as much as she can. Her tongue traces along Agatha’s entrance, teasing for a moment, waiting, waiting…

“Rio,”

Her name. Her actual name, not Vidal, not Death, not sweetheart or baby or whatever diversion. Rio.

Without a second to waste, she thrusts her tongue up, immediately moaning at the throb of Agatha’s tight, wet walls.

“Rio, fuck, oh fuck, don’t you dare stop,” her goddess of a witch moans above her and Rio looks up with eyes filled with worship. What she would do to this woman, for this woman, what she had already done. She will spend eternity wanting nothing but her.

Rio thrusts, twists, curls her tongue until Agatha is writhing, rolling her hips, begging with her body. She waits until that moment, until she tightens just so, before Rio pulls back completely.

Agatha immediately groans at the feeling, almost predicting it. Her groan twists into a frustrated, angry scream, face and cheeks red, eyes wild as she glares down. “Fuck you!”

Rio’s eyes darken as she slowly ascends. “Watch your fucking tongue,” she warns, voice low, controlling.

Agatha leans towards the danger. “Why don’t you make me?”

“I think you’ll beg me to make you.”

Agatha laughs at this again, her need to retain control and protect her ego too high. “This again? I’d sooner let you leave me like this than beg for you to–” Her words catch in her throat as soon as she feels something familiar pressed against her thigh. Agatha doesn’t need to look down to know what it is.

“Cat got your tongue?” Rio smirks that fucking smirk, victory already in her eyes. “You know which one it is?”

Agatha gulps, her teeth pressed together hard. Of fucking course she knew which one it was. It’s the only one Rio would use. Dark green, deliciously thick, just long enough to hit that one spot that sends Agatha over Mount Everest, and, the most important part…it’s enchanted.

Rio can feel every little touch.

“You sure you don’t want to beg?” Rio tempts her again, this time adjusting between Agatha’s legs so the length of her strap presses against Agatha’s slick heat. They both grunt at the feeling, their mouths an inch apart.

Agatha breathes in a laugh. “You’ll be the one begging in a minute, hun.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rio pants, starting a slow grind. It was a calculated risk, snapping her for this strap to appear. It drove the both of them mad, Rio already feeling her grip over her self-control loosening. Agatha felt so fucking warm, so wet. Rio’s mind is filled with memories of her heat, nights spent pressed so close together she’s shocked their Magick never somehow merged them into one. She craves that closeness with her again.

Agatha twists her hips as subtly as she can, trying to get it to slip in as Rio distracts herself with dirty thoughts. “Don’t you want to feel me, baby? Don’t you miss it? Miss…me?”

Rio groans, the sound a mix of pain, want, sadness, joy, everything. Agatha makes her feel it all. She pulls back suddenly, eyes wildly pulsing with desire as she looks over Agatha’s marked body.

Agatha recognises that look of possession. “That’s right, sweetheart. If you want me to be yours, all you have to do is take me.”

Rio only had one card left up her sleeve, and it better fucking work because Agatha uses her words to play Rio like a fucking fiddle. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and what it was going to get her. Using her bodily strength this time, Rio unbinds Agatha’s wrists and spins her around. Within seconds, the witch is bent over the kitchen island, back arched, legs spread obediently for Rio.

“Shit.”

Rio smirks, immediately dropping a hand to spank a pale cheek. Agatha moans loud and open, greedily pushing her ass back for more. Rio gives her nothing, though, only scraping her nails along pale skin.

“Rio,” Agatha warns through gritted teeth, gasping as Rio teases her with the head of her strap. It presses against her entrance, pushing that tiny bit through before pulling back completely. “Rio!” she scolds, feeling desperation crawl up her throat. She wants to be filled by her so badly, craves it, misses it dearly. It’s always been her darkest, deepest desire, to be taken and used, treated like meat and bones by Lady Death herself. And that fucking witch knows it.

“You know what to say, Agatha. Good girls get what they want.”

Rio teases her strap again, grinding her teeth together to hold back her own moans at the feeling of that wet slick dripping over her head. It’s so simple for Agatha to say one word, one fucking word just so Rio could sink into that heat and never fucking leave. Gods, she loves her stubborn witch.

“Fuck, okay, just fucking fuck me! I want you to fuck me!” Agatha yells out, fingers gripping the edge of the island, turning whiter by the second.

With that, Rio thrusts hard, deep, whimpering at the sudden tightness, moaning with her lover as she screams in pleasure at the invasion. But she stills after that.

Agatha feels so fucking full, hasn’t felt this full in years; it’s exhilarating, it’s endless pleasure and pressure, it’s that maddening stretch that has her panting like she’s in heat. But Rio won’t fucking move. “Move. Fuck, Rio, you can move, baby,” Agatha says, reassures, letting Rio know she doesn’t need a moment of adjustment.

But the Green Witch has outdone herself today with her tricks and self-control. “I don’t think I heard you say it yet,” she husks, chuckling wickedly into Agatha’s ear as she presses up against her. Her hips are too close to Agatha’s for the witch’s hip movements to do anything and it has her almost sobbing in frustration.

“Rio,” she pleads, her tone sounding far less controlled, the sass almost gone completely. 

“You have two choices, my love,” Rio risks her choice of words, knowing so when Agatha freezes completely, “You can either say the magic word now, or I can fuck you until you’re screaming and leave you just as you’re about to–”

“Please,” Agatha breathes out, so soft Rio almost misses it. Rio freezes, not expecting Agatha to give in that easily. But Agatha takes her lack of response as a want for more, and she can’t risk the second option. She can’t. “Rio, please, I…I need you, my love.”

My love. Love, love, love…

Rio breathes out shakily, failing at shoving the feeling inside her chest away. She embraces it instead, gripping Agatha’s hips with strong, controlling hands. “I got you,” she whispers soothingly, pulling her hips back, groaning at the delicious drag of those tight, wet walls. “I got you, baby.”

Agatha won’t sob, she won’t, but she’ll shake, and she’ll whimper and whine, and she’ll bite down on her hand so fucking hard she draws blood. She lets her body go, trusting Rio’s hands to hold her, to control her hips, her pleasure. It feels like she’s floating as Rio rolls her hips over and over again, moaning behind her, whispering soft praises. It must be Magick, she thinks, to feel this way. To feel so free yet controlled at once.

She moans greedily at every thrust, begging for Rio to go, “Harder, fuck, please,” and “Faster, just like that, fuck, please don’t stop,” as she’s pushed closer and closer to the edge. She was close enough with Rio’s tongue inside, but this? Being filled and stretched to her limits, and hearing Rio’s loud, untamed moans of pleasure behind her knowing she can feel every inch of Agatha wrapped around her soul? Nothing could beat this feeling.

“Tell me,” Rio suddenly demands, her mouth to Agatha’s ear, panting filthily, biting on her earlobe. “Fucking tell me, Agatha,” she growls into her ear, teeth sinking into her neck, tongue licking the blood, lips sucking until she’s marked bright and red. 

Without another thought in her head, Agatha pants as she’s pushed back and forth by Rio’s hardening thrusts. “I want you.”

“Again,” Rio demands, groaning as Agatha’s walls tighten at the authority in her tone.

She’s weightless, her mind knowing nothing but Rio, her body feeling nothing but Rio; Rio’s strap buried deep inside her, stretching her walls so painfully good; Rio’s nipples, hard as they brush against her back; Rio’s hand suddenly creeping up and around, gripping her throat giving her that thrill of danger. All she can taste is Rio on her tongue, Rio’s Magick, Rio’s hot breath against her neck, can smell the scent of death and soil, fresh grass and the smallest hint of jasmine. She knows with every bone in her body that she belongs to Rio and she always will. She cannot escape Death.

“I want you,” she pants, her tone leaving no room for doubt, “I want you, Rio, I want you, only you, always you, I want–” She’s unsure if she can’t speak because of the intense wave of pleasure that hits her when Rio’s other hand sneaks between her legs and thumbs at her clit, or if the pressure of Rio’s grip around her back took her breath away. All she knows is Rio.

The ringing in her ear doesn’t cease as her eyes roll to the back of her head, body shaking, trembling as Rio ignores her, continues thrusting as hard and fast she can. In Agatha’s haze of pleasure, she realises Rio’s using her to chase her own high and that only pushes Agatha over the edge again. She can’t stop falling, can’t stop the guttural, almost animalistic moans from echoing in the space. The only thing that grounds her is Rio’s safe hands, Rio’s erratic, high moans as she thrusts faster and faster until her hips still, pressed to the brim inside Agatha’s pulsing walls. 

Her eyes close at some point. She’s still in the same position, Rio’s still buried deep inside her. But she’s holding her, still, face pressed into the back of her neck as her body shakes gently. She’s crying, Agatha realises. And she blames this moment of vulnerability for the tight, sad feeling in her chest at the sound. She knows how badly her love wants to be with her, knows how much it is killing her to be apart, knows of the torturous pain.

Agatha sighs, pressing her cheek to the cold marble of the island. 

Death comes for us all. 

Well…she comes for Agatha the most.

masterlist + guidelines

this is so filthy im embarassed anyway

[wexhappyxfew]

hi shannon!! marianne is calling my name so... can i request "it's 4am. you need sleep." with her? 😁 hope you're having an AMAZING day!!

HI BLUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!! you already are very aware of my excitement towards this prompt because i have not talked as much as i have wanted about my queen marianne salinger, resident tail-gunner of silver bullets who loves three things in this world (1) the silver bullets crew, (2) frank sinatra and (3) her orange cat, frank. AND OF COURSE -- i took this opportunity to talk a bit more about co-pilot of silver bullets, francis montez - co-pilots are just....they're so interesting. there is so much depth to them, especially what their relationship is with the pilot, and we dig into that here. also -- we get some birdie faulkner mentions! my queen (lost but not forgotten)!! francis montez, my tragic hero, i am HUGGING YOU!!!!! please enjoy this look into life before annie bradshaw became replacement command pilot for silver bullets! it is such an interesting space to work in, especially considering what we already know about life with annie bradshaw as the pilot!!!

we all lost birdie

(a/n): marianne salinger POV of the limbo time in between the command of birdie faulkner and annie bradshaw as francis montez struggles with the weight of leadership in a time like this. let's just say....she's not coping well, but the silver bullets crew is there to help with that. also -- marianne is just a gem for real, like observant, chaotic af, non-smoker but is the 'do it because my friends did it' person tbh she's great LMAO! please enjoy!!! (and thank you blu for this....i sincerely hope you enjoy!!!) <3333333 co-pilots my beloved!!

Birdie Faulkner had been on levels even some men would never get to in their lifetime. Highly respected, rather decorated and equally intelligent as any man flying a B-17 as anyone. It’s probably what made Silver Bullets so reliable.

The first she picked was her co-pilot.

Francis Montez - a good Californian, who had top marks in school and a knack for opening up her mouth when prompted, she was an easy choice for co-pilot, a second in command, another leader who would undoubtedly be useful in unforeseen circumstances.

The navigator and bombardier came next: Bessie Carlisle and Carrie Achterberg or Bergie, of Queens and Brooklyn, New York, respectively, from two sides of the same town. Damn good at their jobs, efficient, the glue to the crew and the ones with the brains. Necessary investments.

Then came the flight engineer. Not only must she know all she can about the B-17 but how to fix it on the ground or in the air if needed. Marjorie Harlowe - or Margie - from Michigan, took up that role with ease. A smile, a flick of the finger, an easy-going and competent nature - it wasn’t any surprise that if you flew with Margie Harlowe, you were safe.

Radio ops was next - Paulina Stagliano of Philly was one to talk. Loud mouth and an even louder mind, she got her point across in short question and answer scenarios for her crew, and was always of the opportune to play music when the morale was low.

Then - her turret gunners.

Waist gunners were first - Kennedy Farley hailed from Boston, a rather passionate, raging Red Sox fan, who was a fierce and loyal protector and friend. And a damn-good gunner - she knew that gun inside and out and if you needed a hand with repairs, she'd show up with a smoke, a screwdriver and a small frown and get it done in 5 minutes.

Vivian Ratcliffe from Colorado had grown up with a father teaching her the ropes in mechanic garages - and it was no wonder she was so used to the cold up in that open-air belly - nights and mornings spent skiing in the Rockies, gaining rough-and-tumble love from nature, from the air to the sea. The best of the group, truly.

Then she went for the ball turret gunner - they had to be pretty small, reliable, quick-witted, and no doubt, Birdie wanted someone with a funny personality - Judy Rybinski was practically over-qualified for the role. Showing up with a grin on her face, offering Birdie a bouquet of wildflowers hand-picked, shaking hands and talking about how quickly she could blow a target from the sky seemed to sell Birdie and the rest of the crew immediately. She was a peach.

Then there was herself; Marianne Salinger.

Tail gunner.

Sort of oddly lanky, but not super tail, slightly scrutinizing of others that weren't her crew, painter and animal lover when the war wasn't on, and a Frank Sinatra fan that even if his mother showed up, Marianne would've professed her love greater onward than that. She even found a stray orange tabby named Frank to join her.

She was a lot of things in ways, but very observant. Incredibly observant. Overly observant. And sometimes - to be like that hurt.

Because right now, Birdie was dead.

And the Silver Bullets crew was pilotless - the vacant spot staring the 90% crew in the face, the empty cot where Birdie's things had been like a sore bruise on the body - aching, but almost gone.

In moments like this, Marianne always admired Lieutenant Montez.

Probably since she was first brought into Silver Bullets and introduced to the Silver Bullets co-pilot; Lieutenant Francis Montez.

The good-hearted Californian.

Called you five different nicknames before sticking with one.

Keeping the brave face on in front of the rest of the Silver Bullets crew after Captain Faulkner's death.

Especially when she'd been right next to her when it happened.

So, in shifting herself to the left side in her cot, yawning widely and letting out an overdramatic 'hmph' as she snuggled into her pillow, hearing a rather distressed and choked cry leave someone's lips sent her sitting straight up in her cot. The quick movement made her heart pound, a pressure building behind her eyes and the sudden realization, from a quick glance at her watch, that it was only 0400 with the moonlight still peaking through.

Marianne swiveled her head around the barracks, squinting in the darkness, attempting to seek out who it was. Truth be told, after losing Birdie, nightmares became a normal thing - and some nights, no one slept. It'd been a tense and uneasy atmosphere for nearly a week and with no new pilot, things were even more worrisome and weary.

The only person holding them together was co-pilot Francis Montez. And currently, she was the one breaking down. Marianne could tell because it came from the far corner of the bunk room, closest to the door. And Francis didn't ever let it on that inside she was hurting. It's probably what hurt Marianne the most to see.

At dinners and lunches and breakfast - Francis would be sat, that blank look in her eyes, that ache buried deep inside, barely eating and trying to laugh it off seconds later.

Slowly standing to her feet, and nearly tripping over Frank's little pillow on the ground that he'd taken to, she picked her way down the rows of the crew towards Francis.

Deep-down, she probably should've stayed in her cot, kept her mouth shut and let Francis deal with her emotions. But a sudden urge to protect her and hold Francis through a moment like this was all she wanted to do.

Marianne approached the outlined form on the cot, bathed in a sprinkle of moonlight and held her breath, debating if she should turn around now.

"Lieutenant Montez?" Marianne whispered, her voice causing Francis' form to freeze-up entirely, turning to look over her shoulder towards Marianne stood there, as if a ghost had appeared - Marianne almost choked out her words, "I just heard something and wanted to make sure you were okay and then I saw you were awake and-"

"Salinger." Francis said, voice slightly hoarse, silencing her rambling, "I'm fine. Just, some fucking nightmare. But, it's fine. I'm going out for a smoke anyway. Take the edge off." Marianne stood, cheeks heated red in the darkness, as Francis stood to her rather tall height and picked up her A2, throwing it on roughly, before grabbing her smokes' box and heading towards the door. Marianne's heart hammered in her chest before she wiped at her nose and cleared her throat.

"Need a buddy?" Oh, God, now how awkward do you sound? Francis turned and looked at Marianne and she balked. "Uh, need a buddy. Ma'am." Francis stared at her in the darkness and Marianne swore that she could've died on the spot if it was possible.

"Sure." Francis said and then turned to the door stepping outside. Marianne skittered to follow her out, slowly shutting the door behind herself and settling down on the stoop in front of the barracks beside Marianne.

Outside, with the moonlight, Marianne could get a better look at Francis' face and saw the dark circles under her eyes, the fading scar from the incident on that fateful day and the blankness of her eyes all at once. Her heart ached.

"Want one, Salinger?" Francis said, placing one on her own lip before offering the box. Marianne - resident and very adamant non-smoker in the group - stared at the box before looking at Francis again. Francis usually never offered because she knew Marianne didn't smoke, but Francis seemed on a whole different planet right now. And something made Marianne want to take one.

"Yes. Yes, ma'am." Marianne said, reaching forward to pluck one out of the box and place it on her own lip - the paper taste wasn't nice. Francis chuckled slightly.

"You don't have to keep calling me ma'am or….or Lieutenant. It's fine, seriously." Francis said, glancing at her, "Here." Francis leaned forward and gently lit the edge of Marianne's cigarette before leaning back to light her own. Marianne's warm cheeks failed to dissipate and she couldn't help but watch as Francis clicked the lighter closed and then popped the cigarette off her lip and blew out a drag of smoke. She didn't realize her staring until Francis looked to her and waved a hand.

"You there, Salinger?" It didn't take long for Marianne to blink herself out of it, before inhaling the cigarette chemicals too fast, breathing it in and hacking up a lung, loud and noisily, before gasping for breath, the cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

"Sorry," Marianne croaked out as Francis gently tapped her back, clearing her airways, "I don't smoke."

"I forgot about that," Francis said, sounding slightly defeated and guilty, "just not with it right now."

Marianne recovered her bearings and slight moment of embarrassment and looked to Francis sat beside her, staring out towards the airfield at night, planes silhouetted in darkness. It was an eerie feeling - knowing she had died on that plane, after getting up into it thinking there'd be many more times after. Knowing that cockpit would remain empty until the replacement showed up.

Knowing that plane was still sitting out there, soaked in that feeling, those memories, that moment.

"Probably because it's 4 am. And you need sleep." Marianne said quietly, looking over at the co-pilot, "Brain won't work and wire itself right without it."

"Can't sleep most nights anyway so," Francis said, popping the cigarette on her lip and clenching her jaw, "if I do, the nightmares come so, prefer not to if I can."

"Of Birdie?" Marianne asked. Francis grew quiet and continued staring out, blank-eyed. It grew quiet and Marianne wasn't going to push her - fresh in the mind, only four days ago - she almost regretted saying Birdie's name, but she knew Francis needed to get it into her mind what was going on. She needed to be able to talk instead of bottling it inside.

"Yeah." Francis said quietly, pulling the cigarette from her lip, "It replays in my mind. Every night since it's happened." Marianne watched as Francis looked towards her, tears in her eyes. She watched as Francis shook her head, biting back her lip and looking towards her again.

"It was our second mission. We just got out here. And….and she's already gone." Francis whispered quietly before looking out at the darkness again, "They won't allow us to fly until they've got someone new in here, and…I don't know, going up there again and she's not next to me. I….I don't know." Marianne glanced sidelong at Francis again and watched as the co-pilot reached up to angrily wipe at some tears in her eyes and sigh.

"I gotta get myself together - there's some pilot from San Diego coming in tomorrow anyway - Atchinson….something or other. I gotta…." Francis let a hand linger lightly over her body, a display of dissatisfaction on her force, "I know I won't go back to sleep so. Don't want to keep you awake. I'll be fine." Marianne watched Francis - did she actually think Marianne would leave her sit out here alone and suffer in silence? In the darkness?

"I can stay." Marianne said, her cheeks growing warm uncontrollably. Francis looked over at her, slightly surprised. Marianne stuttered. "I mean, I can stay and we can talk. So you're not alone. I don't mind. Mind being here with you. With…" Marianne watched as Francis looked towards her a small smile on her face, dark eyes watching Marianne with mirth.

"When in doubt, Mari Salinger's gonna make sure you're not alone," Francis said, her eyes never leaving Francis' as she reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, "thanks, Mari."

Marianne sat there, incredibly aware of the feel of Francis' hand on her shoulder, the warmth from the co-pilot's hand now infiltrating her body, along with the look in Francis' eyes that simply only watched Marianne in this endless darkness. It took a matter of seconds, but then Francis was pulling her hand back, unflinching, and removing her cigarette from her lips again and nodding to her.

Clearly, she wasn't unchanged, but Marianne felt like her entire world had shifted on its axis and suddenly, she wasn't sure if she knew how to breathe right or if her lungs were working.

"So, you hear anything about this Atchinson?" Francis asked her cooly, waving around her cigarette between her fingers and rubbing her temple, "You always got the scoop on this sorta stuff, so." Marianne cleared her throat and looked at Francis.

"I…I must say it's the first time that I really don't know much to anything about her. Just that's she's a pilot. From San Diego. Captain ranking I believe. Nothing more." Marianne said quietly with a shrug, focusing on a spot of dirt on the ground and attempting to pull herself together, "Say, Francis…what happens if this doesn't work out?" Francis glanced at her and raised a brow.

"Come again?" Marianne balked and cleared her throat.

"Atchinson. Uh, Captain Atchinson. What happens if the fit isn't….the right one?" Marianne asked her, "You heard Harding. He said 'We gotta make it the right fit.', the hell is that supposed to mean?" Francis watched her and offered her an upturn of a smile.

"They don't just want anyone up there, Salinger." Francis said to her with a nod, "Birdie was more qualified than any of us. Best of the best. And she hand-picked the group of us. Now. We're down our command pilot and the spot's vacant. They're not just throwing names in a hat and picking out the first piece of paper they touch." Francis smirked.

"Which, I'll give 'em credit, they're looking out for us," Francis said and Marianne's cheeks warmed as Francis smirked at her wider this time, "but that don't mean much, I gotta say. Until that replacement's in the sky with us, until you really know what they're like….I don't know. May not know the right fit until they come back after a mission and know what it's really like." Marianne slowly nodded and glanced back at Francis.

"You think Atchinson's gonna work out?" Marianne asked her, her mind thinking, if Birdie were here tomorrow, to meet her, would she like her? Francis shrugged.

"You can only hope," Francis said quietly, "I don't know though." Francis sighed and scratched at the back of her head for a moment, her dark hair tied into a bun that rested gently on her neck, where the scars of that final flight for Birdie had occurred. They both fell quiet, Francis smoking her cigarette, Marianne trying to get a wrangle on her head and her heart.

"Hey, Francis?" Marianne asked quietly, watching as the co-pilot turned to look towards her. Francis' eyes were always dark and consumed with something no one could ever quite distinguish, but for the first time in what seemed like a while, they were clear and quiet. That chaos, that storm inside was calmed for once.

"What's up?" Francis asked her, as Marianne watched her.

"If you ever need to talk to someone in the future, whatever it is, I'm here. We all here." Marianne said quietly, tapping her fingers against her up-bent knees against her chest on the stoop, the warm night breeze running over her bare legs, "We all lost Birdie." Francis watched Marianne and slowly nodded, tears forming in her gaze. It was those few seconds in between recognition and having a breakdown that Marianne caught as Francis squeezed her eyes shut and bit back her quivering lip.

"I just don't want you all to think this is it for Silver Bullets, for all of us," Francis whispered quietly, her voice breaking, "that without Birdie, we're done for. We all worked to get here, you know. We all deserve to be here, sticking out necks out, dealing with all the shit from everyone else. We're all here because we earned it. And I just….I don't want to show that in front of everyone. That it fucking sucks trying to keep it together, trying to cooperate with a replacement that won't ever be like Birdie. Knowing Birdie won't be coming back." Marianne watched her, tears welling in her own eyes. Her throat tightened as she tried to speak.

"You're not alone, Francis," Marianne said quietly, "Birdie's always gonna be up there, alright? Watching over us." Marianne pointed to the sky. Francis managed a stifled cry and wiped at her tears and sighed.

"I know." Francis whispered.

"Birdie would want us to keep going, too," Marianne said quietly, "remember when Birdie told Judy that one time about how years from now, when people think about this war, our names are gonna be apart of that. Silver Bullets is, too. Even if there's a replacement. Birdie's name is gonna be sticking in that, too. She'll always be here."

Marianne wasn't sure what happened, but in a span of a few seconds, Francis had scooted over and wrapped Marianne in a hug, holding her close, a few silent trembling cries somewhere near her right ear.

Slowly, Marianne wrapped her arms around Francis, holding her there, and letting her feel those emotions for a moment where the only thing watching was the cloudy moon. Francis wasn't a heavily emotional person, so when she pulled back after 30 seconds, Marianne wasn't surprised that she was clearing up and nodding herself back to life.

"Sorry, Mari," Francis said, patting her arm and sighing, "just, thanks for that. Just needed to hear it from someone else, ya know?" Marianne nodded with a small smile, for the first time seeing their co-pilot come a bit more to life, especially in the past week more than anything.

"We're always here." Marianne said, with a small smile, "We are a 10-woman crew. Not a 1-man." Francis chuckled wetly, wiping a few more tears from her eyes as she smiled again.

"I know it's barely 5 am, but they might have coffee out. Wanna join me?" Marianne watched Francis and it only took about a millisecond for her brain to respond.

"Of course." Marianne said with a smile, following Francis to the mess hall for a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee at 5 am to ponder the horrors of the week was all one needed to ready themselves for another day, another mission, another breath of air. It's all Francis needed and something Marianne needed to. It's what they all needed.

[casualavocados]

We are brothers. It's my job to take care of you— I don't need it. If you are that free, go find Zhang Teng. Or you can go back to the headquarters and take care of our boss.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 04

[fisheito]

really enjoy seeing the comments whenever i post sopping yakumo the reactions are immediate like all the yakumo enjoyers wriggle out of the dirt and experience Emotion together , loudly the chorus of AUUWWGHHHGHGHHH we are one

[chirpsythismorning]

Realistically do you still think Milvn will breakup in the first couple of episodes? I feel like the fabdom is focusing on fanon so much at this point that they are missing canon and actual narrative on the show. It seems very unlikely to me for Mvln's breakup taking place in first couple of episodes. But the fandom are still stuk in their previous thoughts and cannot seem to think differently at all and never even consider the possibility of mlvn breakup happening way later on in the next season. Most of the Byler's analyses about El's character has turned out to be wrong. El doesnt seem to be done with the relationship. She still loves Mike (or thinks she does) and she drew strength from his monologue. A mildvn breakup right into S5 does not make any sense canon narrative wise. We can argue that the show was different that the script, while i agree with it to an extent i reaaaly think people are trying way too hard to discredit the writers intention and the script here. El was not angry at Mike. She was sad about Max and Hawkins' situation. 🤷‍♀️

What i am saying is that i feel like most Bylers are misinterpetating what is happening with the narrative here and it leads to unrealistic and baseless expectations for the characters and S5 regarding how Mlvn vs Byler will take place. And i am greatly sorry but i dont think Mike lied in his monologue, like at all. And the situation reads like "Mike loved el romantically but they wont be together bc of incompitability". El is not even still over Mike. And people expect her to be like "i breakup with you bye" right into S5. Mike still has underlining feelings for El. Like... all i am saying is people shouldnt base their expectations on headcanons and fanon misinterpretations.

Lastly, while i really would like a more detailed gay coming of age and sexuality storyline for Mike, realistically going by canon i dont think its happening. Sorry. They will mostly focus on Will's sexuality and coming of age it seems like and Mike will mostly have a "realization" arc where he realizes El and him are not fit for each other and then he decides to be with Will.

Based on the show’s trend of doing break-ups (or at least implied break-ups) early in the season, yes I do think it’s likely that the audience will at least have the impression that Mike and El are broken up early in s5.

That’s based on a technique they have done repeatedly, whereas the assumption that they will break-up midseason is based on what exactly? The Duffers saying that s5 is jumping right back into the action?

I mean, if anything shouldn’t that be an indication that the arcs heavily built up in s4, that were left deliberately unresolved, are going to be dealt with in a timely manner, as opposed to being put on pause and then squished into mid s5, when we’re arguably going to have even more stuff the characters are dealing with? Like, them literally fighting for their lives?

When it comes to Mike’s monologue giving El strength according to the script, this is actually really easy to explain and so I will! 

For starters, they did not disclose El's feelings about the monologue in the Piggyback script, bc they released it knowing it would go public, at least two years before s5 is set to actually come out. They would not just throw in a huge spoiler like that, seeing as it was intentionally left unaddressed in s4, with the intention to be addressed in early s5. That’s the whole thing about s4 kind of leaving things so shaky and uncertain, with s5 jumping us right back into that, bc there was just so much set up for all of those dominos to inevitably fall.

To understand Mike’s monologue and its impact on El better, it might help to recall the memory of El’s birth and how her mother’s love is what gave her the strength to defeat Henry the first time in 79’.

I mean look at the lighting of that scene, it’s probably the brightest fucking lighting we’ve ever seen in the entire series (you know what light means... pure, genuine, true love…). And it’s because strength from love is much more powerful than strength from anger. That’s something she is literally throwing back in Henry’s face that day of the massacre, going against what he told her to do and instead using the memory of her mother’s love to beat him. 

During Mike’s monologue, we see El using anger to give her strength to finally break free and stop Vecna, all orchestrated by events that Henry has had a role in impacting, meaning he was actively going up against her this second time, all while knowing that in order to actually beat her, she needed to be vulnerable and unable to use love as strength, with her only option being anger. And so what we see is anger about Mike still woefully misunderstanding what she had tried to explain to him earlier in the season, along with watching her best friend be murdered in front of her. And look at the lighting of that scene, she's literally seeing red. The atmosphere is eerily uncertain at best.

This monologue was SOOO necessary for the narrative in order to keep the public away from considering Byler. Because they already don’t want to consider it as it is, and that monologue gives them an excuse not to. You saw how they reacted to the piggyback script? Like it was this huge sigh of relief for them? Meaning that they were having doubts…

The thing is, I have considered the possibility of a mid-season Milkvan break-up. I’ve talked about how waiting until mid-season, something that would be unprecedented bc they’ve never done it before, would be odd considering we will be dealing with vastly different concerns and conflicts by that point. 

For them to hold off settling a break-up, that was built up all of s4 (arguably since s3), until mid-s5, would fall flat. If anything jumping right into the action means all the major stuff built-up, but left unaddressed in s4, is what we’re jumping back into.

They need to address those things so that they can move on to the aftermath of all of that and then beyond that. 5 episodes of ignoring that, and then 4 episodes of it happening and processing all of it AND dealing with endgame right as the finale is coming to a close, would be hard to juggle and make satisfying.

The reason they like this approach so much, is because it allows the audience to root for the other option in the love triangle. And with Will getting home-wrecker allegations as it is, a milkvan break-up is extremely necessary this time around as well, especially with byler being endgame and them really wanting us to root for them finally. 

How can we do that if the Duffer’s break their own trend of early break-ups and in turn make it difficult for us to root for byler, all while leading on milkvan’s unnecessarily even longer (with no intention of going that route), making it even more unlikely for viewers to accept Byler endgame?

They’ve been building up to this inevitable break-up since s3, with s4 ending in a way that made it sort of obvious El is not happy with Mike and with Mike clearly struggling with something.

Are we just going ignore the implications of the inevitable painting reveal or the fact that Mike called El ‘his’ superhero (the most insulting thing he could do honestly, least of all during a love confession) at the end of s4, and have that confrontation be stretched out? For what? El hasn’t even responded to it or told us her side at all? She told Mike she missed him and that’s it… That’s all we’ve got. Like, let her speak and actually say how she feels about their fight in her room and the events at Surfer Boy and everything leading up to this inevitable moment for them.

While Mike and El didn’t outright break up in s4, there was heavy implications of it, and that was for a reason. They wanted us to watch those Will and Mike scenes throughout the season and see something more. Even though it didn’t end with a kiss between them, nor them officially getting together, they still did it because they wanted us to interpret those scenes as romantic comfortably. That's also why they kept Mike and El seperate at the end of s4, because they wanted us to look at Mike and Will in a way that made us go 🫣🫣🫣 at the very least.

Now, if s5 is leading to Byler endgame, just imagine how much more important it is to make it really clear that Mike and El aren’t happening?

Another even more important reason to have break-ups early in a season in general, is to allow the overall season to have a vibe that is cohesive as it’s own entity. Major stuff happens at the beginning and major stuff happens at the end, with the middle making up the overall vibe and feeling they want us to subscribe to the whole time, with certain pairings being constant that time more than the end/beginning. It makes more sense for us to root for byler most of the season, the whole middle, and for the first time at the end now as well, while letting go of El and Mike early on, even if it’s ambiguous like it was in the previous season. Personally I think the prospects of a dump your ass parallel are high… (can we do something interesting and fun like speculate how the break up would go down? Will it be angsty? Will it be lighthearted? Like I want to see all of those hot takes bc that's actually something that is more fun to think about than the 'when').

I know some people are here because they love romances or love queer romances and just enjoy shipping in general, but I’m genuinely here bc Byler makes sense based on all that stuff you would probably consider to be reaching. That stuff is the best part to me. So, if you don’t like others doing that, then consider muting those that you deem as people ‘misinterpreting the narrative’, again, according to you. 

At the end of the day you can believe whatever you want to believe. 

This idea that it’s okay to tell other people they are wrong and have baseless claims, all while ignoring the actual evidence they are presenting… Like I mean this just comes off like Milkvan’s telling Bylers they’re delusional for considering Mike and Will as being a possibility at all. If you have to constantly use, it’s not that deep as your core argument after being presented with evidence, while only yourself giving maybe one or two reasons at most for why your interpretation makes the most sense, then you’re probably not actually open to considering things based on evidence. You want to believe what you want to believe and you're projecting onto others for not following along with it.

Especially when it comes to the whole Mike having a coming of age story or whatever, where some fans have tried to make the argument that there is nothing to support that, when that actually couldn’t be further from the truth. Bylers have provided heaps of evidence. If all of that is not enough for you, that’s something that you have to contend with at this time. Just like us believing what we believe based on evidence we’ve gathered is our concern and something we have to deal with, not you. No need to apologize! Just try to worry about your own interpretation of things and feeling confident in that, but without having to tear down others' because they don’t subscribe to yours interpretation of things.

Because I feel like it would honestly be a lot more humiliating to insist other peoples theories are wrong and they’re only going to embarrass themselves in the end, only for that person saying that to end up being wrong… Everyone is making theories and everyone is bound to be wrong about some or even most. That's okay. That's natural. That's sort of an unwritten part in the agreement we all agree to by participating in this theorizing in fandom experience.

When it comes to Mike again and his arc, I always say this, but it really comes down to this more than anything.

Finn is 2nd top billed among the kids. He used to be THE top billed among the kids for s1-3, but then he got bumped down behind Millie in s4. There is a major possibility, that Noah is going to be ranked up, with him going from being paired up with Sadie, under Gaten and Caleb, to be bumped up under Finn with them sharing a title card. Though it’s unlikely they would rank Finn down under Noah, who was not even in the opening credits of s1, while he was the first name that season and the following two, meaning Finn's character Mike needs to live up to that top billed spot right behind Millie. He needs to have an arc on his own that is equally as substantial as Will and El's arcs, and separate from them just like theirs will have aspects that are separate from Mike as well.

Because Mike was the protagonist of the first season, he HAS to be important again in a similar vein in the end for the show to work as an overall five part story. When people go back to rewatch after s5, they are going to be met with Mike front and center. That will only be satisfying if we get genuine insight into his character in the final season, beyond the surface level.

Quite honestly, ALL of the kids deserve something deeper than what you are implying for Mike, and so applying that to him, the og protagonist, is just so absurd to me. If anyone is going to come out with a surprising arc we’re not expecting, it’s Mike. The audience is already not expecting Will to actually get the boy, that's the aspect that they aren't prepared for for Will, and so what about Mike's unexpected reveal?

Literally most of the audience doesn’t even think there is the slightest possibility Mike could be queer. You don’t think that warrants some addressing and unpacking…? You know… because he never really unpacked…?

I feel like people hear me say Mike is going to be important in s5 and go oh so you don’t think Will is the main character?? And it’s like?? Honestly my answer is yes and no. I think Will is literally the spine, the heart, or whatever you want to call it. In Finn's own words, he is the reason that everything happens and he is the most important character arguably, because of how important he is in terms of all of these events taking place throughout the series.

However, Mike is at the forefront from the very beginning and we arguably see everything from his eyes in s1 and 2 more than anyone else. But that goes away in s3-4. And that felt extremely intentional based on what is about to go down (byler endgame). You can tell that by doing this, they are trying to lead up to a reveal that brings him back to his original place in the story for the audience to see him as his most authentic self again, and with answers for why we lost that insight in between.

I could count up at least 20 Easter eggs hinting at Mike being in danger/targeted, which goes all the way back to the first episode of the series. 

This isn't even considering, that another trend they’re likely to bring back in s5, bc if they don’t they’d be breaking a series long trend, is Mike being late. He starts every season late. And so, what is Mike going to be late for this time? Could it have something to do with all of the unknowns about him that are yet to be addressed?

I think that sometimes we say that something isn’t going to happen because we don’t want it to. A lot of this stuff I’m saying happening isn’t based on feelings, it’s based on actual evidence.

If you don’t want certain things to happen because of x, y, z, you can just say that is the case instead of making arguments that there is nothing supporting it, when that’s not actually true?

Like nothing? Nothing at all? Baseless? Like, be serious rn.

ST5 is very likely going to give off s1-2 vibes. While Mike is going to be less in the background compared to s3-4, Will AND El are still going to have equal, if not more attention than him, bc I do believe that their bond is what is going to also be a part of saving Hawkins.

The ending is going to be surprising bc those primary color-coded bitches are the answer to it all. If me saying that upsets anyone because it goes against their interpretation of things, I'm sorry too I guess!

[waitineedaname]

I really appreciate how often jiang cheng full on angry sobs, like intense ugly cries. It's such a good character trait, that man feels things so strongly that he is going to burst

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 1

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

warnings: fwb should be warning in itself, jungkook is a simp and a hot nerdy professor (yummm), oc has a tabby cat named miso, bam makes his first appearance, jungkook has a big ol' crush on oc, some unrequited romantic feelings (?) we're not sure yet, explicit sexual content; making out, kook has heart eyes for oc's boobs, five second strip show, like a split second of male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), a teeny wheeny bit of fingering, oc rides that thang like a cowgirl, unprotected sex (oc is on birth control and they're both clean), plus some angsty vibes at the end :(((

word count: 3.5k

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

author's note: part 1 is out my dudes !!! 😭😭 i hope you enjoy this little introduction to jungkook and oc, and i can't wait to start exploring their dynamic a little more in depth in the next parts!! i'm so excited to go on this journey with you all, so pls make sure to follow me, repost this story, and send me an ask if you want to chat about these cuties 🤪 part 2 coming soon !

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the end of the day and Jungkook is on his way out, heading home after an exhausting day at the university. He walks down the corridor, his phone in hand, his eyes trained to his phone as he checks his emails.

You step out of your office, shutting the door and straightening your bag on your shoulder. You dig through it for your office keys, locking up once you find them. He looks up from his phone for a second and spots you, a smile tugging at his lips as he pockets his phone and walks over to you.

He leans against the wall next to your door, arms crossed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” he murmurs with a little grin.

“Hey, Kook,” you greet softly, walking away to head home, Jungkook peeling himself off the wall to walk next to you.

“Long day?” he asks with a sympathetic smile.

You love your job, really, you do. But some days are draining and dealing with young adults who don't even know how to reference their sources for an essay or spell parliament properly can actually drive you to drink. “Mm, thank God the day's over,” you chuckle, looking over at him as you walk down the stone walkway together, the sun slowly starting to set on campus.

He chuckles, looking over at you to catch the way the golden hour light casts a pretty yellowish-orange glow over your skin, his eyes quickly diverting down to the ground to stop himself from staring, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Hey, uhm...if you don't have any plans tonight, do you maybe wanna come over to my place?” he asks, feeling like an awkward teenager with a crush every time he asks you that, even if he's done it ten dozen times by now. He knows why he's inviting you over. You know why he's inviting you over.

“Yeah, sure,” you say casually, heading in the direction of the parking lot to get to your car. You see it in its usual parking spot, right next to his, just like it is every day, like a silent declaration that you're a package deal.

His heart really shouldn't do that weird thump-thump thing that it does every time you agree to come over, but it does, and it might just be heart disease, but he is yet to get it under control. “Cool...cool...Is 7 okay for you?” he asks, taking out his keys as he approaches his car, leaning against the driver's door with a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I'll just go home and change out of these clothes and feed Miso then I'll head over,” you murmur absentmindedly while you dig through your bag for your car keys, searching through the endless pit of earphones, a tangled phone charger, lip liner, lip gloss, and ten thousand receipts for things you don't even remember buying. He watches you with a faint smile, knowing how messy that bag is, but also knowing that if he lectures you about it, your response will be, 'you don't get it, you're not a woman' so he minds his business and stands by patiently.

“You can go, I'll manage,” you mumble, your eyebrows furrowed, a soft pout on your lips as you rummage through the leather bag. He chuckles and cocks his head to the side, finding it quite amusing. “You sure? I feel like I could find the cure for cancer before you find your keys in that thing.”

“You should quit teaching and go into comedy,” you mutter dryly, finally finding the damn keys. “Ha. Found it,” you quip, smiling sarcastically before unlocking the car. He shakes his head with a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he gets in his own car. He'll get you back for your sass, but he knows that his 'punishments’ feel more like a reward than anything else.

You go home and feed Miso, the grey tabby lounging around like she's the queen of your apartment, completely unbothered that you're only staying for a little while before eventually leaving again to get dicked down hang out with Jungkook. You put on some comfortable sweats and give her a few kisses and cuddles before heading over to Jungkook's place.

This is a regular thing for you guys. You remain professional at work, well, as professional as two people who are hooking up can be, and then you go over to his place, or vice versa, and sometimes there's wine, sometimes there's dinner, sometimes you go straight to the sexy part, or sometimes there's no sexy part at all because one of you just wants to talk or watch a movie. It works for you. It's easy. It feels good. Really good.

He's a good friend. He's kind, he's a good listener, and he's all those nice, sweet, lovely things. He's also really good in bed, which is always a bonus in a...friend.

Good friends offer to drive you home from the club when you've had one too many to drink. Good friends support you in times of need. Good friends go down on you until your legs shake. That's just how it is.

"Slow down, you're gonna choke," he chuckles, watching you stuff your face with Indian takeout. It's like a competitive sport when the two of you eat dinner, which is one of the things you like most about hanging out with Jungkook. There is no pressure to be perfect. You can act the way you really want to and not feel scrutinized for it. Maybe it's just because his big fat crush has completely tinted the way he sees you, but he'd happily watch you pig out if it means he gets to spend time alone with you.

“I thought you like it when I choke a little bit,” you tease, just wanting to get a reaction out of him, and that's exactly what you get. He nearly chokes on his food, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide as he looks over at you.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you can't just say stuff like that,” he coughs, trying to compose himself, roughly clearing his throat to not die via chicken biryani. It’s quite a strange thing how he can go from this to a sex god in bed, not that it's anything for you to complain about.

Jungkook does the dishes after dinner which allows you to enjoy some alone time with Bam. The brown doberman plops down on the couch, practically begging to be cuddled. He’s always been quite fond of you, since Jungkook adopted him three years ago. He’s the sweetest boy. He loves being loved on, much like his father.

Jungkook watches as you give Bam “lovies” as you call it, the dog absolutely basking in the attention.

“I’m starting to think he likes you more than me,” Jungkook jokes with a scoff, smiling as Bam does his ‘sit/lay down’ tricks for you. What a showoff.

“He’s never gotten that comfortable with anyone who isn't me,” he murmurs with a soft smile, watching the two excited puppies in his living room. “He gets really excited when he knows you're coming over.”

“Bam, cut it out. I’m Miso’s mommy, she’s going to get jealous,” you playfully scold him, although the scratches you give him say otherwise. He’s just a doe-eyed, dark-haired, soft-hearted boy. Again, much like his father.

Jungkook finishes drying the dishes and practically shoves Bam out the way to get the same attention from you. He lays down on the couch with his head in your lap and you already know what he wants. You lightly scratch his scalp, watching his eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, relishing in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Sex is great, but there's something about moments like this that just makes him want to get down on his knees and give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.

“I think Bam-ie’s upset,” you chuckle, looking over at him with a soft, apologetic smile, his father looking anything but sorry. He chuckles as he watches Bam quietly stroll back to the bedroom, his eyes fluttering shut once more when you do that thing with your nails that sends shivers down his spine.

“He’ll live,” he scoffs, wincing when you give his hair a firm tug, his lips puffing up into a pout.

You don't really remember how exactly you ended up on his lap with your hands in his hair and his lips peppering your jaw and neck with gentle, tender kisses, but you know that it feels good.

“We’ve been so busy lately, we’ve barely gotten a chance to do this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands trailing up your thighs to rest at your hips.

You scoff, your eyes fluttering shut as he sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear. It's true. You’ve both been so busy with work that you haven't hung out or had sex in two weeks.

“I know. I’ve been relying on my vibrator.”

He feels a shrill of heat run through him at the thought of you pleasuring yourself, as if he hasn't already seen the actual thing live in-person.

“Yeah? Is he better than me?” he teases with a little grin, pressing soft kisses to your pulse point.

“First of all; she, and I mean…she gets the job done,” you tease, not wanting to outright admit that nothing and no one can make you cum the way he does.

“You couldn't have just said no?” he chuckles, leaning his head back to rest against the back of the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at you. “Maybe I should get myself a toy too…y’know, for when you're too busy,” he teases with a lazy grin.

“What, like a pocket pussy?” you laugh.

“Mm. Something like that.”

“I’d prefer you to be inside me instead of a fake vagina,” you quip, leaning in to press a feather-like kiss to his lips, just testing the waters a bit. “Are you gonna think of me when you use it?” you tease, batting your lashes the way you know makes him go a little weak.

He swallows thickly, nodding like he’s hypnotised. “Of course I’d think of you,” he murmurs, his hips bucking up in a sad attempt to get you to give him some friction. “It wouldn't compare to you though. Nothing compares to you.” His voice is soft and airy, sounding almost pathetic.

You feel a little smile tug at your lips, your resolve slowly slipping. He’s so open about his thoughts and feelings. He’s not afraid to be vulnerable and lay it all out there, even if it is just sex.

His heart does that stupid thump-thump thing again at the sight of your smile, but now really isn't the time to psychoanalyse that, so he pushes that thought away for later.

“Can you take this off for me?” He slips his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, getting a bit antsy to see more of you.

He’s never really given it too much thought whether he’s an ass or tits typa guy, but when you pull your sweatshirt over your head and his eyes land on that black bra with the little pink bows, the one that you know he likes so much, he swears he’s never seen anything prettier.

“God, I love these.” He leans his head forward to press soft little kisses to the tops of your breasts, his hands trailing up the sides of your ribs. “My pretty girls.”

Your eyes fall shut, the butterflies starting to flutter in the pit of your stomach. Sex with him is so soft and sweet. He says nice things and he makes you feel good, both physically and emotionally, and that makes your anxiety spike just a tad, so you deflect.

“Do you always make conversation with a woman’s tits before you stick it in her or…?”

He chuckles, and it's deep and warm, a little comforting, like if hot cocoa had a voice.

“Take this off. Wanna see them,” he murmurs softly, lightly tugging at the strap of your bra to let it snap back against your skin.

You roll your eyes, but the faint smile on your lips tells him that you're more than happy to oblige. You reach back to unclasp it, letting the material fall from your body, his eyes growing a shade darker at your exposed skin.

He swirls his tongue around a nipple and sucks before repeating the same thing on the other side, giving both breasts the attention they deserve. His eyes flutter shut like he wants to savour every little moment with you.

You reluctantly get up off his lap, and before he can protest, you're discarding the rest of your clothing, sliding your sweatpants down your legs. He makes quick work of following your lead by removing his shirt and pants, his boxers following quickly behind.

You make a little show of removing your panties, and you would normally be embarrassed by the amount of moisture that has already accumulated inside the flimsy material, but right now, all you can focus on is his hand giving his cock a few lazy strokes while he watches you undress for him.

“C’mere.” He spreads his legs a bit, his cock already almost fully hard, the tip slowly turning a light shade of pink. You'd never thought of a cock as 'pretty' before, but damn, it's pretty.

You do as he says without a single protest or complaint, your pussy practically throbbing at the sight of him. Oh, how wonderful it is to be his friend.

You get down on your knees in front of him, his eyelids hanging low as he looks down at you, his hand pumping his cock.

You pride yourself in being good at oral sex, but it's never been something you particularly love doing. That is, until you started hooking up with Jungkook. Sometimes he’ll just be doing something as simple as watching a show on tv, and you’ll be on your knees with your hair up and his cock hitting the back of your throat. It's everything, from the sounds he makes, to the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in ecstasy, that makes it so enjoyable.

You take over for him, giving his cock a few strokes before swirling your tongue around the head, pulling a deep groan from the back of his throat. You start sucking, working your way down his length, occasionally looking up to see that look on his face that makes your pussy clench. He rests his hand at the back of your head, not applying pressure, just wanting to feel more of you as you bob your head up and down a few times.

You give the tip some attention, then go all the way down to the base so that your nose just lightly brushes against his pelvis, then back up again, keeping a nice rhythm. His groans, paired with the way his stomach tenses every time you take him down to the base, is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

“Fuck…baby, stop, please. Don't wanna cum too early,” he murmurs hoarsely, reaching for you to get up and straddle his lap. Your hips slide back and forth, your slick coating him, his dick glistening under the low light of the living room lamp.

“Already? Jesus, Jungkook, have some self-respect.” You can't help but tease him a bit, even in a moment like this, where you're in no position to be making fun of his desperation when you’re as wet as you are.

He scoffs, his hand disappearing between your legs, his middle and ring finger rubbing slow circles over your clit before sliding back to sink into your sopping entrance, shutting you right up.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he teases with a lazy little grin, his fingers slowly pumping in and out, your wetness allowing him to move them without any resistance.

“Don't speak about my daughter at a time like this.”

His laughter gets cut off by your lips crashing into his, his fingers slipping out of you as you lift your hips to align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Want me to sit on it?”

“Yeah.” His voice is breathless as the anticipation slowly builds in his gut. No matter how many times you have sex, he’ll never get tired of that rush of adrenaline that flows through him in that moment right before he slides in.

“Ask nicely.”

“Y/n, come on,” he laughs half-heartedly, tilting his head back against the couch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll sit down, Kook,” you whisper, leaning in so that your lips just barely graze against his.

“Please…please, baby. Ride me, please.”

The groan he lets out as you slowly sink down on his cock is enough to send shivers down your spine. It's thick and long, but it's not too big for it to hurt. It fits perfectly, nice and snug like a glove.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters hoarsely, his hands gripping you harder as you begin to roll your hips in that fluid motion that makes him go a little crazy.

It feels like an honour that he gets to see you like this, naked on top of him, riding him deep and slow on his couch after a long day at work. He doesn't know what he ever did in his lifetime to deserve to be balls deep inside you on a Friday night, but he knows that he’s a lucky bastard.

“Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, looking down to watch the way your pussy sucks him in, like something out of a wet dream.

You set a nice pace, riding him just the way he likes it. You reach down to rub circles over your clit, your walls clenching around his cock, pulling soft moans and whimpers from his lips.

“Keep going,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum, baby…”

You ride a bit faster, applying more pressure to your clit as you chase your own high. He fights to keep his eyes open, desperately needing to watch you as the pleasure takes over.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” The pleasure creeps up on you and you cum with a breathless moan, your walls fluttering around his length, throbbing and pulsating.

“Gonna…holy shit…gonna cum, baby, don't stop…”

You use the last of your energy to bring him to his peak, moving your hips until his cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath you. He cums with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into your flesh so hard that it might bruise tomorrow.

You continue to grind down on him to help him ride it out. You gently run your fingers through his damp hair, his skin slightly dewy, his eyes squeezed shut. He trembles as the aftershocks flow through him, his breathing coming out a bit uneven.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, looking like he just died and came back to life. He lifts his head to press a soft kiss to your lips, but you pull away before he can deepen it.

“Come on, let go. I gotta go clean up.”

You very rarely allow him to cuddle you after sex. It feels too intimate, too romantic. You don't allow yourself to be romantic with Jungkook. He's not your boyfriend and you like it that way.

He lets out a small hum of disagreement as you lift yourself up, his hands moving to hold your waist.

"Stay here for a little longer," he mumbles softly, his voice drowsy. He looks at you with big doe eyes, trying to persuade you to stay. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You're starting to soften inside me and I have to shower, Kook. You know I hate feeling sticky.”

He reluctantly lets you go, groaning softly as you get up off his lap. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, his eyes following you as you walk over to the bathroom.

You walk off to his bathroom and close the door, locking it behind you. Locking the door is something so simple but it means so much. It means, 'You're not my boyfriend so we can't share that level of intimacy. You can fuck my brains out, but you can't wash my hair in the shower or sit on the toilet while I do my skincare'. It's too coupley.

Jungkook slowly puts his boxers back on, staring at the bathroom door. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. He knows he probably never will be. He knows all your boundaries and your rules and your reasons for having them, but that doesn't make it sting any less. He can't help but wonder what it would feel like if you actually allowed him to love you, but he knows he’s just being foolish and hopeful. He knows that by physically locking that door, you're locking him out of ever getting closer to you emotionally.

[demonsfate]

it's a shame the writing was so bad because he was so strikingly beautiful in this game at times

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[spock-smokes-weed]

gonna get heavy for a min so scroll if you don't want to see that

it's really hard to open up to my parents about being suicidal because they always freak the fuck out about it. this is probably an ironic thing to say, but I wish I could just tell people "hey I really want to kill myself" without it being a big deal

like YES i know it's a big deal. That's why I'm talking to you about it! the last thing I need is you panicking and screaming at me "why do you want to kill yourself?!!?" gee idk cheryl, if i knew that I probably wouldn't want to kill myself.

suffering with extreme depression is bad, but my parents going in total freakout mode is somehow so much worse. because it stops being about me and what im suffering through, and becomes about not upsetting my parents.

so every day I just have to get up and tell them "oh yea im fine" when I have casual thoughts about wanting to die because I know if I told them, it wouldn't make a damn difference. i would just have to bottle those emotions right back up because my parents have the emotional maturity of toddlers

im just so fucking exhausted, ya know? I don't think I'll ever act on it cus im a coward and dying is scarier than being alive, but moving through life drained of all your joy, having your brain hold death and suicide over your head, is a miserable existence. I just want to be fucking happy again but the mountains look so large to scale

[vagueiish]

kind of unfortunate that the only trans support group in my area that isn't geared towards minors seems to be inactive :/

[prettiedup]

im sad so heres toru fuckin u after an argument.

the bed creaks under your shared weight. it only merges with the sounds of your breathy moans and skin connecting together. your legs are spread around his waist, his slutty waist that your legs easily wrap around. your fairly squared nails drag up and down his back, leaving marks that you know is going to show up angrily tomorrow.

his face rests in the crook of your neck. he’s breathing heavily onto your skin while he fucks all of his bottled up emotions into your pussy. his tongue occasionally darts out of his mouth to lick at your neck and his lips follow suit, sucking on the spot he licked. there are tears brimming in both you and his eyes. you almost broke up with him. he almost broke up with you. almost, almost, almost.

he pushes and pulls away his hips rhythmically, never losing the pattern. his dick fills your pussy up just right, scratching that spot you will probably never be able to reach alone with just your fingers. he fucks you like a man, like he means it.

“right there—right there!” you gasp. your eyes are rolling back and your legs are shaking already. maybe the adrenaline from the argument has you finishing so quickly. you stop dragging your hands and instead press the tips of your fingernails into his skin.

satoru hisses out a curse word. your nails digging into his skin accompanied with your pussy clenching tightly around his dick has his own eyes rolling back. needy whimpers escape from his throat as his pace speeds up and he thrusts desperately into you. you’re whining and crying under him from overstimulation but he can’t stop. not when he’s so close. not when you tested his patience so disobediently just some minutes ago.

your pussy is creaming and getting all over his dick and the sheets. you’re making such a mess around him and he loves it. no matter how much you say you hate him, your pussy will forever say otherwise.

suddenly, you’re trying to push his head up so that you could be face to face with your lover. “kiss. wan’ kiss, toru.” your voice so desperate and soft, it’s almost hypnotic.

he’s quickly raising his head and smashing his lips onto yours. the kiss is clashing as moans and curses slip out from the both of you. he slips his tongue inside your mouth, barely giving you any room to breathe. while he busies your mouth, his right hand searches for yours, when he finds it, he’s immediately intertwining his slender fingers with yours.

when he pulls his lips away from yours, a thin line of spit follows suit and quickly breaks away. satoru bites down on his lip as he focuses back on thrusting into your wetness. him looking at you low-lidded and a flush on his face has your pussy throbbing.

“i love you, baby.” he breathes out before catching your lips once again. instead of tongue kissing, he gives you a series of kisses that has your lips sizzling. your stomach clenches, and the feeling of butterflies floating around has you breathing heavy.

“i love you more.” you’re giving him that needy look that his his balls clenching and his back arching slightly as he realizes he’s about to cum.

“so fuckin’ p-perfect. ‘mma get my shit together.” he promises. it comes out rushed as he brings his face back to your neck to leave more marks. he begins promising and babbling sweet nothings as his orgasm crashes over him. “baby.” he repeats with a loud moan as his balls drain inside your pussy.

argument be dammed, there’s no way you would ever let him go and vice versa. you’re his just as much as he’s yours.