#i would ask who fucked up my brain like that but i am well aware who did it

[actual-changeling]

i think my new anti depressants are working cause i no longer feel like i am about to drown in my own brain and there's some semblance of peace in my heart so i hope they keep doing that. it's only been a few days but there's definitely a difference. about fucking time man, i don't wanna have to try all available meds bro i just need these to do what they're supposed to.

[egg2k16]

This may be the depression speaking + the earliest trauma I've ever gone thru (completely accidental as well), but I think it's kinda pointless to give me gifts. I have clothes that still fit me and are in excellent condition. I have shoes. I have a sizeable movie collection (that tbf I can always add to), and all the books I'd want. I don't paint anymore so it's useless giving me art supplies. And unfortunately even giving me money is hilariously pointless bcus I'm not even gonna spend it on anything, I'm just gonna put it into my savings account and keep living day by day as I do: doing nothing...interesting

[glamourscat]

౨ৎ "Tell me, Isagi-chan, what are you going to do about it?" PT2 ౨ৎ

✮⋆˙ Content: smut, isagi being a pathetic cutie, fem reader, surprisingly romantic

✮⋆˙ Synopsis: where isagi’s thigh fetish leads him to realise something he had been oblivious to

PART 1

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

He knew he was in trouble when his heart pounded so fast at night that he couldn’t sleep. During the day, it was easy to ignore what had happened the week before. He pretended it didn’t happen, pretended that your lips didn’t almost touch his, and ignored how badly—how desperately—he wanted to bite your thick thighs. He could push the urge aside during the day, focusing on training, arguing with Kaiser, the usual stuff.

But at night, alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but cringe at himself. He avoided you, saw the confusion in your eyes and felt the disappointment that hung between you two. It felt like he was making you believe that your advances last week weren’t reciprocated, when in reality, he was just so pathetically in love with you. Yes, love. The realization hit him hard, like a flying brick, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Despite all the signs being there, he had been so bluntly oblivious to his own feelings. And now, aware of them, everything was too much. From your scent—the perfume you always wear that seems to linger every time you walk by—to the way you looked, but most importantly, you. Just you. He started to notice the little things, like the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh, the small pout on your lips when you’re concentrating, and the habit of twirling your hair when you’re deep in thought.

“Hi,” he said, his voice quiet, almost too quiet. He had managed to find you alone in that same meeting room the week prior you two almost kissed.

You ignore her for a week and the best thing you can say is hi? His brain wasn’t working in his favor.

“Isagi-chan… do you need anything?” you asked, your words quiet, nodding in acknowledgment of his presence.

Yes, I need your heart, please. I need you physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually simp

“Well, do you have a moment? I would like—” he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“I am sorry,” he blurted out, exhausted. “I am—I didn’t—it wasn’t intentional. Me ignoring you. I am a mess,” he said honestly, cringing at the stuttering.

“Why so?” you asked, your voice curious yet quiet.

“Because… I’m rather—emotionally overwhelmed.”

emotionally overwhelmed… that’s one way of putting it. When just yesterday he was sobbing in the shower, forehead against the cold tiles, as his hand wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and it was driving him insane. He needed you, your kisses, your hands, your body and everything. He needed to feel it against his. He was so frustrated from not being able to orgasm, from the tears he was shedding and how foolish he felt for not making a move on you sooner.

Your eyebrows knitted together in a mix of concern and confusion. “Emotionally overwhelmed? Isagi-chan, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. “I’ve been avoiding you because I couldn’t handle my feelings. It’s all so confusing and intense. But it’s not because I don’t care about you. It’s the opposite, actually.” You were about to reply but he continued

“Last week.. your advances, I want you to know they were not misplaced. I— yes, I did enjoy them. I wanted, I want, to reciprocate them. But truth is I am fool. A fool who’s in love with you. And I am scared, scared because I do not know if you feel the same way. Scared of messing up more than I have already. Scared of ruining the friendship we have and fuck, I am a selfish prick, but I don’t want to lose you.” His words coming out all at once, as he held back the tears that threatened to come out.

You stayed silent, taking in the heartfelt admission. He felt the weight of your gaze, and it was both comforting and nerve-wracking.

Your eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at your lips. And it was possibly the best thing Isagi had ever seen. The way your eyes softened because of him. He just knows he doesn’t want this to be the last time. He could spend a lifetime just staring at your eyes and the way they light up.

“Yoichi.” That’s all you muttered, your voice soft. His face red as a tomato, because it was no more Isagi. Not Isagi-chan. It is Yoichi. His name.

“You say you love me. What are you going to do about it then, Yoichi?”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

He had many things in mind, but for one, you two had an unsettled debt from last week. So, no surprise, when his hand found yours and you two ran off to your dorm giggling to yourself like idiots. In the comfort and private space of your dorm his lips crashes against yours, finally meeting, after too long. All of the tension and confusion melted away, replaced by a feeling of pure, unfiltered joy. It was the beginning of something new and beautiful, and for the first time in days, Isagi felt at peace. It was like an explosion of colours as his hands cupped your cheeks to deepen the kiss.

“Yoichi..” you whisper panting, your nose touching his as the kiss briefly stops

“Yeah?” He responds equally panting

“Make love with me”

Your words, for how rather simple they were, they set off something in him. His breath hitched for a moment, then his lips were back onto yours. Slow yet with a hunger that almost scared him because he had never felt it before. A hunger of need, passion and love. Clothes go flying in matter of moments, his lips touching your skin, mapping it with kisses. His hands found home on your body, squeezing, touching, feeling the shapes and curves like an artist sculpting on marble. Finally getting to touch those damned thighs he had been dreaming for far too long. So soft. Your moans and pleads ingrained in his brain, from the way you moaned his name when he sucked on your nipples, to the way you whined when his fingers barely teased your clit.

And it was all beautiful, but nothing would have prepared him for how intense it would have been once he was fully inside of you. He had to physically restrict himself from bursting too quickly. think about anything thinks about that moronic idiot of Kai— alright maybe not the time.

He focused on the sensation, the way he slid perfectly in, like you two were made for each other and each other alone. He could feel himself already twitching. You are so vocal, but he is right with you. Shamelessly pounding into you, hands on your thighs, keeping them further apart so he could slide in deeper.

“Don’t you dare stop. I am so close” you moaned quietly, head tilted sideways on the pillow to cover up your sounds.

“Not that I was planning to stop anytime soon either way” he teased as he leaned closer, leaving little to no space between your bodies. “Let me hear you, don’t hide your sounds from me now pretty thing” he whispers in your ear, lips moving to bite your neck. One of his hand bringing one of your thigh on his shoulder.

“Yoichi?!” you moaned while simultaneously gasping. Damn, this version of him was hot

“Yeah, that’s my name. Keep saying it, it sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” He grinned against your lips before kissing you again and again.

He may not know many things, but he knows this as you two keep making love: no matter what, how, or why, you will be a part of his life from now until forever. There is no doubt, here in this lifetime and across the multiverse, you two are destined to be together. There’s no force in existence that could take you from him—not now, not ever. And he will make sure you know it.

TAGS: @frankiesmangomilk

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

Okay so hear me out... [Massive spoilers and speculation on Wicked films ahead]

It's apparent that Wicked Part 2 is going to have new, expanded, and altered scenes — but by far the most tantalizing is implied by the first scene of the first film.

We see a cloaked figure on horseback fleeing from Kiamo Ko after the Melting, and then we see Dorothy, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, and the Scarecrow on the Yellow Brick Road back to the Emerald City. This is in keeping with the 1939 Wizard of Oz, which implies something hugely important about the plot of Wicked Part 2: the musical's original ending has been changed.

In the original stage version, Fiyero comes back to Kiamo Ko after getting his diploma brain from the Wizard and all that, and Elphaba comes out from her little trapdoor, and then they leave Oz together without telling anyone. It's unclear (on purpose, obviously), but it seems very apparent that the cloaked rider we see at the start of the 2024 film is Elphaba. This leaves us with a few possibilities for how the plot will unfold in Part 2.

1.) Elphaba simply leaves alone, telling nobody — not even Fiyero — that she's alive. I am okay with this, since honestly the way that the finale of the musical was written has always felt kinda clunky and borderline plot-holey to me.

2.) They still end up having the original ending happen, just switched around the order of some of the events. Maybe Elphaba escapes first but then finds Fiyero alone elsewhere somehow, and in the end still leaves Oz with him. I'd accept it — it is probably the most likely version they might go with — but with all the changes being made, I would be a little disappointed if it ends up this way ngl, when they have the chance to make a new ending that far surpasses the original.

3.) Elphaba leaves alone BUT makes Glinda and/or Fiyero aware of her survival somehow. This is actually a surprisingly plausible option I think, since Elphaba in the original show immediately wanted to tell Glinda she was alive (with Fiyero talking her out of it — which may not be a thing that happens anymore); and just IMAGINE how poignant heartrending it would be if Glinda were to find the old Emerald City guide with the note she wrote her in it, but with "I hope you get what your heart desires" in it in Elphie's handwriting, or something like that. Maybe even with Glinda singing her final "Good News!" after seeing it — leaving the door open that Glinda might have a chance to find her Elphie someday. Or hell, if they wanted to they could use the closing lines of the book in some form: the classic "did she ever come out?" and "not yet" (which of course itself has some delightfully sapphic undertones)

4.) Mostly wishful thinking on the part of my very very sapphic ass, but... can you fucking IMAGINE if they dared to rewrite an ending where Elphaba finds Glinda and asks her one more time "come with me..."?? And then they LEAVE OZ TOGETHER??? Not as plausible an answer as the others, I know — but can't a girl dream? I mean they set it up so well, if nothing else it's THERE for them to use if they decided to have the courage. In the first movie Elphaba says "come with me" twice to Glinda: first when she asks Glinda to come with her to the Emerald City (her 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽’𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮), and lastly when she asks Glinda to come with her on her broomstick and escape (which of course Glinda refuses). If they decided to give Glinda a second chance to say yes and go with her, and this time she takes it... I mean, it would just be a really solid payoff to the material already established and obviously would also short-circuit all our gay little hearts. And the fact it's even conceivable they COULD do that is really exciting in and of itself. It isn't 2003 anymore, the stars are very on board for queerness — the only thing really reining in my hopes is the fact a major Hollywood family film blockbuster (even in 2024, sadly) usually can't bite the bullet and go full gay: BUT, who said it would have to be explicitly gay if Elphaba and Glinda leave together? Who's to say we couldn't get them And They Were Very Good Friends-ing away into the sunset together? No Homo as the plausible deniability needed to pull off the best sapphic victory in movie history? Oops, there go my hopes again, trying to defy gravity, lol

[mira-s-bookclub]

Beneath a Veil of Shadows

Azriel x Reader

Note: First time I've ever posted anything I've written, so be aware of that when reading hahsh. I'd love requests or tips <3

Warnings: Mature language, fighting, injury and blood, captives, drugs.

Summary: Y/n knows very well how Azriel feels for her; detest. What happens when Rhysand sends Y/n alongside Azriel on what was supposed to be a "normal" check?

Word Count: 2,7k

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

“Oh Gods,” I huff out. I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my shirt. Having long forgone the idea of looking clean for the duration of this hike. I would not exactly call it a hike. Azriel did though.

“Fucking Hell.” I say, as my foot connects with the branch strategically placed to trip me. There is absolutely no way the male in front of me does not hear my huffing and puffing as we ascent up the hill. I lay in a dramatic Sigh to my complaining. Catching his attention.

Azriel stops beside a tree looking like it desperately needs water, I imagine I am not looking far from that, turning to look back at me.

“Ever occurred to you that complaining doesn’t help?” He mumbles. Looking all energetic and not-at-all sweaty like me. I had to stop during the first 10 minutes of the mission to change my leathers into a plain t-shirt and some knee shorts. I was not exactly the powerful, badass, beautiful-at-any-part-of-the-day warrior I had told the mirror in my bathroom before winnowing to the mountain range. I am fairly sure I did my makeup before leaving. Cannot focus enough right now to remember.

I stop by Azriel and swing off my pack. “Helped you stop, didn’t it?” I look up at him, smirking. He says nothing. Gods damned Illyrian warrior. Could not even bother to break a sweat.

We were sent by Rhysand to scout the area between the two south camps. There were a couple of ingrown roads leading between each camp. Illyrians may have wings and all that glory, but they are not capable of transporting heavier items or foods. The roads were not used by many, but Azriel managed to catch a lesser fae the other day, smuggling some other rather interesting items. It was not news that the Illyrians were importing questionable substances you would not in a thousand years find at the healers. I will give it to them, living in those camps would even make me resort to drugs. But I knew better, it could be poison. Poison for the brain, and poison for the body. It could be addictive.

“We’re close to the Camp, take a break, we’ll wait until nightfall.” Azriel said. Shuffling food and water out of his bag. Looks like we are resting in incline. I start packing out my own food and some fur to sit on. Making it rather cozy under the tree. My back to the tree, eating an apple, I watch him.

I did not lie when Feyre asked me before we left if I would be okay traveling with Azriel. It was not a secret how he looked at me, and how I looked back. I am sure, if he had any choice on the matter, he would choose any other companion. It hurt when he watched me. It felt like whatever I did would never be good enough, I was not good enough.

The Inner Circle all had their own little families inside the Circle. Feyre had Rhys and Nyx. Nesta had even settled down with Cassian and her friends. Her friend who also had, finally, taken the extremely subtle hint Mor had given her. Mor who had shrieked and hid under my blankets after I had convinced her to send out her Love letters to Emerie. Gods, even Amren had finally moved in with Varian and lived part time in the Summer Court. Rhys had even gifted her a healer prescribed sunscreen after she got badly burned. Elain had taken up Lucien’s offer to move to the Day Court, I had even heard rumors of a beautiful garden challenging even Tamlin’s. I was happy for them; I am happy for them. It could get a little lonely at times, but what could you expect? I was not even High fae.

There was a time when I had found solace in Azriel’s company, I like to think he did too. He became close, quiet nights in the library, breakfast at the nearby Café. He helped me a lot at the start.

I had grown up in Cretea, ruled over by Queen Miryam and her mate. An emissary from the Autumn Court had taken me in after finding me out alone by a brothel, abandoned he had told me later on. Neither of us could pinpoint exactly what I was, lesser-fae or mortal, it did not matter to me, he did not care enough to find out. I ended up in the Hewn City and later taken in by Madja after a dramatic incident resulting in Keirn’s broken arm. She had sought after an apprentice for quite some time, luckily for me.

As I watch Azriel I contemplate how my life would have worked out if I had stayed with Madja, and not taken up Cassian’s offer to train. Would I have met Feyre and Rhysand? Would fates have pushed me to Azriel? Or perhaps I would be inside now, safe, drinking tea and reading. I contemplate how Azriel has grown used to evading my every attempt to reconnect, he wasn’t mean per say, but he wasn’t friendly either. A wave of heat comes over me as Azriel bends down, way to close, to scavenge through his pack.

A fast inhale results in my apple choking me. I cough. And cough. And cough. Looking up through my wet eyelashes I see Azriel looking down at me. His face is set in a mixture of uncertainty and humor. Like he is trying so hard not to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I wasn’t about to.”

“I can see it on your face!” I can feel my cheeks redden.

Azriel loses the battle. He barks out a laugh and turns around, finding a cloth in his bag. “You have drool down your chin.” He snickers.

I snatch the cloth out of hand, drying my face. Azriel sits down beside me, back to the tree. There was an idyllic sort of silence in the mountain at this time, only birds and other animals out and about. This made it worth it - the hike.

“We’re going to slip into the current war-lord’s house and search it for the listed drugs.” Azriel hands me a slip of paper consisting of different substances.

“I didn’t know you write cursive.” I say, tracing his writing with my fingertips.

“Focus.”

“Yes, sir.” Azriel whips his head at me, hitting my head in the process.

“Fucking hell!” I scoot away and hold a hand to my head. “Fine, I know you don’t like me, but you don’t have to act on it?!” I watch his shocked face and wide eyes.

He puts a hand to his face. His voice is hard; “did you hurt yourself?” He looks up at me with those honey brown eyes, causing a shiver down my back.

“No, it’s fine.” I say, rubbing the bump on my head. “I’ve always had a thick head.” He snickers at the fact, though I know he thinks so too. It took me years of training to get to where I am now, it came to a point where even Amren said I was just being careful and considerate of my own body when training, hence why it took so long. But training did not mean being fit, which bites me in the ass on the rest of the way up, and the trip down this god forsaken mountain. Why we could not just take the road was beyond me. Feeling his eyes on me I turn again to Azriel.

I lift my brows. “You know a lot of females would call it creepy when someone is staring at them, especially when they don’t know.”

“You think I don’t like you?” He says. I do not know if I dreamed it or if his eyes were sad, mouth downturned.

“I know you don’t.” The painful truth is hard to swallow, but I have accepted it. “You cannot even find it in you to say ‘Hello’ to me in the morning.” I laugh, a little self-conscious that I notice this. His brows furrows even more and he leans forward.

“I do like you – “

“Gods Azriel, no you don’t,” I bite out, taking a bite out of my apple again. “Have you ever noticed how everyone, but you, compliment my food? Or even my training, which, God forbid, you notice occasionally has gotten good enough to challenge Nesta?” I feel deflated. There are not enough skills in the world to make Azriel look at me any different. I had begged Rhysand not to send me together with Azriel, using the excuse that I was feeling down. Did not support my case that I offered to go to the Mortal Realms to check up on Lucien and Elain, I could not be that sick. Either way, Rhys looked through me and told me that if it really was that bad, then they needed to find a solution to our problem. And I would never go to Couples-therapy with Azriel.

Azriel pulls forward and grabs my hands. “You have no idea, any idea how much you mean to me.” My breath hitched, and he is close enough to hear my thundering heart.

“You are lying.”

“You are delusional to think otherwise. There is not a day when it does not hurt to see you with anyone else, Cassian, Rhys, even laughing with Feyre.” His hair is messy, and his skin is glistening. I cannot help looking down at our hands. His hands, covered in calluses from years of training, scarred, but, oh, so beautiful.

He misunderstands and snatches his hands back, standing up. “You never speak to me, or even look at me. This does not make any sense.” I say.

“I look at you plenty.” He says as I stand up, towering over me.

“But Elain – “

“Elain was not like that. Elain was desperation, from both sides. It was a desperate attempt to get over you. She knew it too. We used to be best friends, you and I, but- “

“But we got too close.” When I look down, my hands are shaking. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? Still hurts?  When you became distant and started ignoring me?” My voice cracks slightly at the hurt look on his face.

“It was never my intention, know that. I thought you did not want me like that, and when you and Lucien became friends- I could not watch you with anyone else, I would not have survived it.” My throat constricts, my breath comes in shallow gulps of air.

“I didn’t like Lucien; I didn’t like him like that at all.” I say quietly.

I look up at him and he gives me a sad smile.

“Would you back away if I kissed you? Runaway like the rest?” Azriel says softly, his face so open and sincere.

I walk the short distance towards him and take his hands in mine. Leaning up, “Never,” I kiss him. My heart had not felt this full in months, I am sure I would not be overreacting if I said years even. Something fell into place when I dragged my hand through Azriel’s hair, his hands sliding down to cup my backside.

“Azriel, I-” An arrow shot through the trees. My eyes widen as he spins us around, shielding me with his front, with his life. He grunts. An arrow protruding from the edge of his left wing, from the bone and meat around the elbow joint, an inch down and the arrow would have flown right through. My heart beats wildly. Azriel turns and pushes me behind him, shielding me from the position of the archer. What he did not take into consideration was the archer positioned behind our camp, shooting a series of arrows, hitting me. A whimper slips past my mouth and a look down at the arrow in my thigh. A green tint surrounds the wound, I must get the arrow out, fast.

“Y/n!” Azriel yells. He is across the camp in seconds, whipping out a sword, using his pack as shield as he sprints back for me.

“I’m fine!” My breath is fast and shorter by the minute. “Just a flesh wound. Behind you Azriel!” A male slip from the trees and runs straight for Azriel, firing arrows as he goes.

I limp for the trees on the other side, providing cover. Kneeling in the dirt, I grab a hold of my shirt, ripping off a piece, I find the nearest branch and bite down. Taking hold of the arrow, I keep my mind clean of the bloody battle happening just out of this bush, knowing I am of no use reduced by an Ash-arrow; I rip it out. I groan. Blood pools out of the now open wound, and I tie my shirt around my thigh. Blood is already seeping through in red specks on the white fabric. I turn around to watch the battle.

Azriel is locked in a fight with two males, one seemingly high-fae, his movements sloppier than his friend. Convincing me that somebody’s system is not very clean. Another male comes strutting out from the bushes on my right, I duck lower. This one with wings. His movements reveal him to be confident that I have left Azriel. Knowing he stands to win against Azriel three to one.

Seeing an opening I make my move. Sprinting to the left, picking up my knife from my pack, I aim for the Illyrian and throw. My knife hits target, catching his side. He whirls around, not fast enough to duck my punch straight for his nose, breaking the bone. I try for a series of hits and punches, landing some while he evades the rest. I duck and swipe my leg out to catch him as he throws a punch, seeing my mistake a mile away I prepare. His trap works and he catches my foot, throwing me on the ground and lays his weight on top of me.

I steal a glance towards Azriel. Seeing the drugged one on the ground crying out from a serious cut across his abdomen. Another losing in hand-to-hand with Azriel.

A punch to my cheek snaps me out of it. My own knife, swiped, coming to rest against my throat in warning. His face is red and angry, bloody from my hit. “You are going to be a good girl and follow my lead.” He spits in my face.

Knife to the throat, there is not much I can do. I stand still against the Illyrian, not giving me an inch of space to turn on him. “Drop your weapons or she dies.”

Azriel, letting go of the male, slowly turns with his sword yet again in his hand. Looking over him I cannot find any serious wounds other than his wing, knowing that it is not fatal, but must hurt like a bitch. His gaze settles on the knife to my throat. I try to beg him with my gaze to finish these guys off, no matter if my neck is on the line, literally. “Drop. The. Weapon.” He speaks behind me. Azriel stands unmoving, his opponent, laying at his feet, had been wounded enough that adrenaline had kept him going.

“It looks like your boyfriend does not want to cooperate,” He whispers in my ear, his harsh voice making me shiver. “And how can I motivate him?” His knife stabs my throat, and I feel my neck giving away to the knife. I squeeze my eyes shut as blood trickles down my neck. And I hear a clash, as a sword is thrown to the ground.

“Let her go,” He seethes. “I am of more value to you. Rhysand is your problem, isn’t he?” Azriel says. “He stopped the trafficking of substances, but that is not why you are here, is it?”

“No, Shadow-singer. It is not.” His voice is softer, making me open my eyes again. Confusion clouds my mind. What could this mission be about, if not for piracy? I look at Azriel who stares at the male, his knife still against my throat. “You are coming with me.” And neither I nor Azriel is fast enough to respond to the hit, as we are both knocked unconscious.

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

To be added to the Taglists, comment:

All ACOTAR - 🌹

All Azriel - 🥀

All TOG - 🌼

[antiquarianfics]

Dark and Bloody Ground

So you violently murdered a man? So what? You did it in the name of love.

a/n: This is super loosely inspired by the song "Dark and Bloody Ground" by Ruston Kelly. Great song if you haven't heard it. Anyway, this is super gory and violent, but it's still a little fluffy... Hope you like it.

warning(s): Profanity, gore, extreme violence, sort of a hostage type situation, only kind of proofed.

note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliate characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Blood. Blood everywhere. It’s on the ground, on the body, on your hands, on your face. The scene looks as if a toddler was given a box of crayons—all shades of red—and a coloring sheet. It’s horrific. Blood splattered, crayon scribbled—however you look at it.

Your breathing is erratic, heavy breaths shake your body as your lungs struggle to take in air. You’ve over exerted yourself, but you can’t find even a smidgen of a fuck to give.

There’s a dull ache in your knees where you’re sat on them; you lean back to distribute some weight onto your heels. Once your knees are slightly alleviated, you become more aware of the constant ringing in your ears, the ringing that has been constant since the moment you pulled your weapon. Then, you notice the soreness in your fingers and glance down to where your hands are clenched in fists, your knuckles busted and bruised. Looking around, you see a bloodied knife a few feet away: your gun is still in its holster.

You look up at the bloodbath in front of you—the dead men in front of you.

Did I even pull my gun?

The ringing in your ears is deafening, and you can’t focus on anything other than the carnage. Or, you can’t until you hear Bucky call for you. Wait. Bucky.

The moment your brain processes Bucky’s voice, it’s as if someone hits the fast forward button until your brain catches up with what is actively happening around you. The ringing squeals until it doesn’t; your head swivels until your eyes lock on their target.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeats. “Doll.” He slides next to you on his knees slowly, grimacing slightly as he moves.

Bucky’s eyes are filled with worry, his every movement cautious. He takes in your current state, but he saw the whole thing. He saw you kill the man who lay dead before you. He watched as the deceased attempted to fight back, how he got a few minor licks in, and how it was for naught. Still, though, Bucky is cautious as he looks at you--as he tries to make sure you're okay.

"Oh, baby," you say, voice low and hoarse. You smile softly and raise a hand to cup Bucky's cheek. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Bucky smiles sadly, his own hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "I've missed you, too."

"Are you okay?" You ask, concern palpable.

"I am now. You've got me, Doll."

You nod. "Yeah, I've got you."

Bucky looks around the facility he'd been held prisoner in for weeks. The drab appearance had changed quickly in your fury; he'd never seen you like that before.

—

Bucky coughed as the HYDRA operative kicked him in the gut. In most cases, Bucky would have already killed the guy, but he'd been starved and neglected for days, pumped full of a chemical that lessened the effectiveness of the super soldier serum, and his body thus has been struggling to fight off a nasty infection from a three day old stab wound.

"I'll ask again, Winter Soldier. Where is it?" The man in charge, an unassuming man in a pressed gray suit, asks in an even tone.

"I'll tell 'ya again," Bucky spits, "fuck. you."

"Very well. Again." The man waves his hand carelessly in a 'go ahead' motion.

The HYDRA operative kicks Bucky again. That's when the door to the torture chamber opens, and there you stand with a stolen keycard held to the door.

Your eyes land on Bucky on the ground, then they shift to the operative carrying out the torture, and then they settle on the man in the suit. Bucky knows you see red.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward and hit the button to shut the door behind you, stopping an escape. Then, in a flash, you've thrown your knife into the HYDRA operative's head. The operative drops, his body twitching slightly before stilling, and blood slowly begins to pool from his cracked skull.

The moment the knife leaves your hand, you step forward and swing at the man in the suit. The man side steps, lets out a 'Who do you think you are?' before being silenced by your fist to his jaw. You punch the man again and he stumbles backward; he quickly manages to get his footing and takes a swing at you. He lands a punch to your gut and one to your face, but neither deters you. You pivot around him as he lunges forward and then kick him in the back. The man falls to the ground, manages to turn over onto his back, and he is immediately met by another right hook to the face as you jump on him. You straddle the guy as you repeatedly hit him: you feel as the man's jaw cracks, as his cheekbone splinters. You're vaguely aware when each hit feels less solid, when the man beneath you finally stills. You feel weightless, a bit gone, as you slide off of the man onto your knees, sitting back on your heels.

—

"We gotta get out of here," Bucky says, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts of you murdering for him.

You nod and stand up with a light groan, grasping Bucky's hand and pulling him up with you. You let him wrap his arm around your shoulders, helping him walk as you make your escape.

—

Hours later, you and Bucky have not said much to one another. When you made it back to the jet, you were more worried about patching Bucky up and getting him something to eat than talking. Then, when he tried to say something, you shushed him and told him to get some rest. Now, though, as you're sitting next to his hospital bed in the med bay, and now that you know he's alright, you finally choose to talk about what happened.

"Bucky?" You say quietly, trying not to disturb him if he's asleep. You're hoping, selfishly, that he is.

"Hmm?" He hums, turning his head slightly and opening his tired eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry. About today. I, uh. I know that was a lot..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You saved me. I should be thanking you; you shouldn't be apologizing."

You give him a tense smile.

"It's just. When I saw what they were doing to you... I saw red, Buck. I was so angry at them for hurting you, and I was scared. I just... I didn't think. But they didn't have to do all those awful things to you."

"I know."

"It makes me sick to think about."

"I know."

"You deserve so much better."

"I know."

You raise an eyebrow, disbelievingly.

"You do?"

"Well, I better. My girl violently killed two men because she thinks so."

You giggle. Despite everything, you giggle. Bucky smiles.

"Anyway," Bucky says, a light tone enveloping his words, "you know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he teases.

"Especially when she has on her killing shoes," you laugh lightly.

"Mhmm. C'mere, Lizzie Borden." He holds out an arm for you as he scoots over to make room. You climb into the small bed with him, tucking yourself away into his embrace.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you, too," he replies, pressing a kiss into your hair.

[etoilesombre]

Hi im a new here i finally watched black sails after someone convinced me. And im changed. I'm. Yeah. I'm not who i was before. It's a bizarrely good show?

I'm so so so glad that so many ppl on ao3 agree with me that flint and silver need to fuck. Have fucked. Will fuck.

This will be all i think about for the next month or so.

If you have fic recs do let me know. I'm in dire need.

Hi my friend and welcome to hell! It's the best, right? ("Month" is a HIGHLY optimistic estimate about how long this will consume your brain...)

So honored that you asked for recs! I don't think I've ever compiled a general list of favorites, I had a great time and I think I'm happy with the results. This is by no means comprehensive, and obviously HIGHLY reflective of my own tastes, which are... uh.. I am known to not enjoy nice things very much. I invite others to reblog with their own favorites. Here we go...

Notes: These are in vaguely chronological order. I'm including word count and brief descriptions so you know what you're getting into but no warnings or anything, that's all on AO3. They are all silverflint and all explicit (I think, there might be one or two 'mature' in there but, this is the they need to, have, and will fuck list.) I didn't include any of my own work because presumably that's how you found my blog so you're aware, but I do have a pinned list, and if you want recs for mine or to talk about any of these just message, I will talk about silverflint all day.

Overall Recommendations:

The Most Unexpected Things by forbiddenarchives (~20k words) I think this one is a great starting point. It is very.. fic flavored fic, if that makes sense, in a great way. Hits the spot. The author's description is "season 2 if everyone were 5000% hornier" and that is accurate. Note this is marked as unfinished, but the place it wraps up feels totally reasonable to me.

As Good as Gone by spinninginfinityboy (~5.5k words) Complicated hot weird semi-hate sex on the way to Charles Town. A thing with a Spanish Dubloon that is emblazoned on my brain forever.

Combat by equestrianstatue (~10k words) A two part series, which I think captures the push-pull early frenemies vibe of s1-2 perfectly. Also the writing itself is stellar.

All alone in a moonlit shanty by PrimalScream (4.3k) Celebrating a good day hunting, Flint gets very drunk and tells the crew a dirty story. Silver tries to put him to bed, but he has different ideas. By far one of the lighter things on this list.

after the winnowing by princesskay (~14k) Set after Silver loses his leg, early in his recovery. Silk pajamas, multiple orgasms and overstimulation as well as their usual codependent fuckery.

What It Feels Like Not to Hurt by Robotboy (~9k) Another recovery fic. As the author says, it's 9k of slowburn watersports but really it's about Silver's pain and autonomy and humiliation and. Just. Even if it's not your usual cup of tea it's hot, give it a try.

vigia by doomcountry (~3k) A short, perfect rendering of their dynamic during early s3 raid times. Heartwrenching character study, excellent porn.

The Sack of James Flint by princesskay (~107k) So, yes, this is a novel length sub!Flint cock and ball torture series. I would make the argument that it is one of the best character studies in the fandom, for real. Absolutely worth your time, but fuck, it hurts your heart as much as your captain's balls in the end.

Concurrence by ember_firedrake (~2.5k) Mid s3. The first time they call each other by their first names. Now, that's not actually a thing I think they do, but, good porn and lower angst.

appreciation by nysscientia (~8k) Flint cultivates a certain aloof persona, but Silver sees right through it, and eventually they kiss about it.

Don't Fear The Ships (Fear The Black) by Farasha (~10k) - Silverflint use learning to sail as a coded way to flirt and talk about feelings (and eventually they kiss about it).

A Ship Is A Republic by Robotboy (~20k) A slow burn fic set during the inter-season sword training times. Love this dynamic, this author does power bottom Flint and sub Silver so fucking well.

deliverance is ours by the light of the stars by piratecaptainraven (3.1k) Flint sees Silver and Madi together, and doesn't stop watching when he should. They don't technically fuck in this, but its SO much pining, and the writing is poetic and gorgeous.

frail and fragile bars by ajaxthegreat (~21k) Possibly the hottest thing I've ever read, this rewrote my brain chemistry. Slow burn-ish. It captures that late season love and dependence and resentment and power struggle.

Cold, Dark, Depraved by notfelix (~10k) When fucking fixes absolutely nothing. This hurts in a way that feels, to me, similar to canon. I hate it (affectionate).

Opportunist by anonymous (~6.1k) This was part of the kinkmeme event (see below) and it fucking changed me. If I recommend one fic and only one fic to process the ending, it's this. It's awful. It's necrophilia and light cannibalism. It's the only thing I can imagine happening after, if Silver actually shoots Flint on that island. It makes me feel bad in the best way.

hand in unlovable hand by brinnanza, Jaynovz (~9.9k) Affectionately known as the worst ending AU, this is actually a great followup to the last one. How Silver copes, after Skeleton Island.

Bonus: AUs. I don't generally read AUs, but these two worked for me, in very different ways that still felt very silverflint.

did the twin flame bruise paint you blue by Jaynovz (138k) Novel length mod AU where silverflint broke up, and we see their relationship along two different timelines, before and after. Toxic fucked up goodness, lots of BDSM dynamics, bonus silvervane! All set in NYC.

holy ghost fire by ajaxthegreat (~52k) Appalachia horror au! The author clearly knows the area, and silverflint is already a ghost story, so it works really well. If you've ever been there you'll know how right it feels, if not, just trust me.

extra bonus: fic event collections and rec lists

kinkmeme

built on sand

beach blanket black sails

@jaynovz has also compiled a number of much more specific rec lists, which can be found at #jay's esoteric rec lists

[baby-tini]

i present my idea ✨knife kink dabi✨

TW: knife play, toxic relationship, Dabi hits her once, blood, threats, licking of said blood.

It was a weird request at first, he'll admit that. Then again, he's asked worst from you. His handprint branded into your ass proves so. While he does give you a little side-eye, he's absolutely not opposed to holding a sharp little thing to your throat while plead for him to not press down so hard. His pretty little princess wants him to hold a knife to their throat? Say less.

"Which one you wanna use, angel- actually, I probably shouldn't call you an angel anymore, huh? I think masochistic slut fits better, yeah?" Your lips form into a little pout, eyebrows furrowing as you pull on his coat. He chuckles at that, fingers fisting in your hair to pull your head back. His right thumb gliding over your little pout, index tapping your lips and slipping in to press down on your tongue. Sticky drool running down his hand as he finger fucks your mouth. Slipping his wet digit out to gloss your lips with your own spit.

"Why are you so mean Dabi," he scoffs at that. With a flick of his wrist, you're left with a stinging cheek and your head looking to the right. There's an immediate cry that's rips itself out of your throat, feet stumbling back. Quickly snatching your arm before you could fall, he brings you over to the set of knives he has laid out for you. "I won't ask again, either choose one or I will, and trust me... you won't like my choice. I promise you that."

With a meek nod, you glance at the assortment of switch blades, there's pretty black one with blue flames on it that you're positive Dabi would've chosen. But your mind's already made when you see a black steel-blade with rubies embedded into the handle. Pretty vermillion glare at you from its place on the counter. You slide your thumb over it at first, finger playing with the pretty gems. Picking it up to test the weight, you glide your palm over the blade. Sharp. So very sharp, Dabi could kill, given he presses deep enough.

"That one? The blue one is so much prettier," he finishes with a scoff as he pouts. You ignore his comment, nodding your head, you hand it over to him. Taking it from you, he gestures to the bedroom, twirling the deadly blade around his fingers as he stares you down. Glancing at him in uncertainty, you walk past him towards the room.

The room is warm, remnants of Dabis heat still trapped in the comforter, smells like him too, strongly of ash and cigarette smoke. It makes your brain foggy, he always smells so good, his musk is a comforting scent. There's the harsh sound of combat boots walking towards you, eyes snapping to the door, in a first-hand witness to his taunting eyes.

"You look shy doll, I couldn't possibly understand why, you came to me with this request, 'member?" You give a nod, inhaling a shaky breath as you lie on your back. He coos at you in faux sympathy, stepping closer and closer, like a lion, hunting, prowling.. but Dabi isn't one to lie and wait for very long. Especially when you look so innocent, like a helpless fawn who isn't yet aware of dangers like him. You're basically teasing him at this point, eyes too wide for to not think about fucking you, destroying you 'till there's nothing left.

You blink for a second, only for a second. It's quick, no- he's quick. The blade feels cold against your throat, sharp tip pressing a little too deep into your jugular for comfort. The smooth metal running down your throat to your tits, smoothing it over your nipples, perked for attention for the sharp tip. Your skin lifting in goosebumps, hair standing at the back of your neck when he twirls it around your left nipple.

"...I wonder, what do you think would happen if I just-" he presses the blade down harder in-between your breasts, "- ah, well.. would you look at that, hm? You're just as pretty inside as you are on the outside, oh how lucky I am." It doesn't hurt, just stings a little. The sticky scarlet immediately staining your clothes, dripping down your chest in little rain-drops. He eyes the wound for a minute before leaning down and licking it off your tits.

He hums, pulling back to look you in the eyes, "better then I thought, but not nearly as good as that little cunt I love so much." There's blood staining his teeth- your blood at that. The tip of his tongue licking away the remainder on your chest as he moves the tip of the handle of the blade to press into your clit.

There's an immediate jump-back, hand shooting down to grab onto his own, and he doesn't like that. Not even a little. "What? You got a problem with this but not when I'm lickin' blood off your tits? Some priorities you got, huh?" He swats away your hand as he presses the handle back into your clit, sliding it down over your underwear to press into your slit.

"I'm gonna fuck you with this blade, you know? See if it makes you cum quicker then my cock." You want to close your legs but he swats at them before you can even think to do so. "Try an' close 'em, and your chest won't be the only thing leaking pretty red for me." Your eyes twitch close when you feel the solid press into you, fucking you through your panties.

"Ahh, there we go, got that pussy leaking real pretty for me now, huh slut? You like this shit? 'Course you do, you're my bitch after all, ain't that right?"

[megabuild]

bit of a ramble below! tl:dr; i have insane person problems and realised that this blog isn't healthy for me so won't be coming back until i'm in a better place, i have no intent on deleting it but may password protect it in the coming days for my own peace of mind :P love yall!

the absolute basics on my situation is that i almost certainly have OCD, have been vocal about this likelihood in the past, and while i was aware i was susceptible to obsessions and compulsions irt online interactions and my posts on here i was not actually aware of how debilitating the effect this was having on my life was until i went completely cold turkey and blocked tumblr from all my devices. like genuinely night and day. i have so much more free time when i'm not spending it constantly name searching on every platform available and scrolling through my blog over and over to be sure that i didn't post a slur by accident lol. i'd rather not get into some of the stupider details of shit ive done in the name of perceived moral purity because that's nobody's business but trust me when i say it was like a weight got lifted off my fucking shoulders lol like i was having regular delusions about making a post so bad grian himself would say i should kill myself on stream and believing it was possible 😭 really good disorder guys i love having this

i have a lot to say about the way this community treats each other, both good and bad, but i think i'd rather hold off and make more informed and thought out posts on that when i'm not still reeling from all the bullshit life's been throwing at me. i do love and value this community so much, especially all the mutuals and friends i've made here. i've also been made extremely uncomfortable in the past by the easiness that people slip into very strange relationships not just with CCs but with their fellow bloggers. including me ! and i am a relatively small blogger in the vast scheme of things. this is no hate to anyone who's sent an anon or whatever, many of you are lovely people, but it's also like, well i have been literally stalked on this blog before so i feel i have justification for being a tad uncomfortable . again, a lot to be said on the celebritification of average people and the obsession on making sure one makes "Objectively Correct" choices when doing something as simple as watching a minecraft series and having opinions on it .. but alas, no brain for it right now, and also i would rather not risk the ire of twitter teenager #48 lest i be qrted by thumbnail artists telling me to lighten up and accept the steady decay of all that is good in this sphere in order to make room for more #Content. Sit down and eat your yaoibait you stupid faggot! sorry this is a serious post ignore that part

to any of my beloved oomfies you are free to message and ask for my discord though i am also being a bit difficult to reach over there rn my bad (and i may not get back to you quickly because as soon I post this I am logging straight the fuck back out).. i have made a separate tumblr account from this one which is less social media and more a little archive of images and art i like (and also is not related to mcyt at all, outside of maybe one or two art reblogs if i see something that really catches my eye) so if we've hung out and you don't exclusively post mcyt you might see me around in your notifs but i'd prefer not to be linked back here. any projects, fics, other blogs etc. i have been working on consider on pause for eternity, with the only exclusions being 3rd life miraheze (which i'm currently looking into options for but will certainly never go away! much love still to all our contributors who have worked tirelessly through wild life to update our various spreadsheets and tables) and aoyuer which i'm sort of picking up and taking away and hitting with hammers until it's sufficiently divided from mcyt and i can call it an oc story for real. peep my toyhouse if ye are so inclined and wont tell the adoptbrained callout squads over there that my oc once upon a time was lowkey rpf.

anyway this has already gotten far too long as i'm a chronic yapper and overexplainer but thank you very much for hanging out with me and talking about these stupid ass blocks. i have a handful of posts in the queue i wont be getting rid of and don't doubt i will come back to chat more shit in future but at the end of the day i'm here to have a fun time on the computer and i just was not having that anymore. i was having a scary and fucked up time on the computer, and life is too short to put yourself through that out of some butchered sense of responsibility to the niche follower base you've cultivated. if you also have ocd delete your blog as soon as it hits 1k like actually. if you worked in the askbox mines and are now facing redundancy then go follow my enemy thecoolerliauditore. or dont im not your boss anymore. im too busy homebrewing my 3ds. smooches mwahs !!!!!!!!!

[crsssie]

oops... i got married || TO THE CUTE DUDE IN CLASS?!

word count: 1.2k || Fic 4 of oops... i got married

summary: ... you do not understand how a man made god wants to marry you but frankly you don't care as long as you aren't dying to his hands

You get married as a joke.

Yes, there are limits to how much you can drink. Yes, there are limits to how insane you can get while drunk— but apparently getting married is not within that limit. You get married to some random guy— NOT SOME RANDOM GUY. SOMEONE YOU KNOW. WELL. KIND OF. You wake up to a legally signed marriage document and him in your kitchen, and you blink at the red booklet in your hands and then at your new lover at the door.

"You're going to be late for class."

"Oh. My. God."

"Yes, I am aware that is an expression of shock." Kamukura catches the mug that you've just hurled at his face.

"HOW ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?"

"We are married."

You blink at Kamukura. "WHY DID YOU EVEN AGREE TO MARRY ME?!"

"Perhaps you will bring a semblance of amusement to my day-to-day life." He pauses. "Also because you would have asked someone else had it not been me, and I would not have trusted you to not ask one of the old men in the bar."

You sigh, throwing your head back into the pillow. He has a point. 

"Shall I let the professor know that you are skipping class?"

"No." You snort. "Tell him my head feels like it's been cracked open from drinking too much yesterday."

"Anything else?"

"Will you divorce me if you get bored?" You turn your head to face him. "I mean, I got drunk, no?"

Kamukura nods, door clicking behind him as you bury your head into the pillow, screaming. You married the class genius. How the hell did he even agree to marrying you? What does it even mean that he married you for some semblance of amusement? What does it even mean that you got him to agree to marrying you? In what world does this happen? You scream back into the pillow, deciding that this would be a problem for you to face after your nap. What a great day to NOT have anything to do.

Except Kamukura comes home and you find that there's an assignment due by the end of the day— which makes you seriously contemplate your existence right then and there. Your new husband refuses to help you, and he watches you struggle in silence, lips pulled into a fraction of a smile, almost as if he were enjoying the way you were fighting for your life. Maybe you will beat him up next time (you would not win). So, you stare at Kamukura from the couch as he stares back, unblinking, unbothered.

"Help me."

"You are simply being lazy."

"Okay and?" You huff. "Is a husband's duty not to help his spouse?"

"Oftentimes, it is used as an excuse to not do something. If I were to do it for you, there will be a second, and then a third, and eventually, I will be the one doing all of it for you. Then, you would—"

"It's an elective." You deadpan.

"Perhaps this is, but who am I to say that you will not abuse your new husband and make him complete your major for you?"

"Izuru fucking Kamukura." You deadpan, voice even. "Will you cosplay as me to take my classes? Will you put on makeup so you can look like your beloved and take my tests for me? Will you take on the task of double life so I don't need to do anything?" 

Kamukura blinks at you, unbothered. "No."

"There you go." You sigh. "Will you at least teach me?"

"That, I will do."

You go through the homework with your husband, brain fried by the end of it, eyes spinning, annoyed as he explains everything with eerie precision catered to you. 

"Next thing you tell me is going to be something like "I attended Hope's Peak High School" or something of equal insane value."

"I shall do you one better." He tilts his head. "I was created by Hope's Peak Academy."

You pause. What.

"They took a talentless kid," Kamukura coughs lightly, "and transformed him into me."

"So they— They basically rewired your past in order to create you? I knew you were suspicious for taking 24 units." You deadpan. "You're an escaped government spy, aren't you."

"Government spy, no. Escaped, yes." His eyes dig past your soul until you are bare before him, but you do not look away. "Hope's Peak can not own a person under the law."

You raise a brow. "So why then did you marry me?"

"That is something for you to find out."

You find that the answer is that people tend to steer clear of you when you are with Kamukura. Perhaps it is some sort of primal urge to mark their territory, or the primal instinct to stay away from predators bigger than you, but Kamukura next to you equates to individualism. You find that even his unofficial fanclub that used to bother you stays away. Kamukura might have just thought of you as some strange trophy... or just someone he would not mind spending the rest of his life with. 

The answer comes at home, perhaps.

You stare at the man at your door, Kamukura not home, and you tilt your head as you start taking your shoes off.

The man speaks up when you start opening the door. "Does a man by the name of Kamukura live here?"

You blink twice. "No? I live alone."

"You have men's shoes at your door."

"They are there for safety."

"What about the two bowls of rice on the table?"

"Rather rude to look inside my place, isn't it?" You start to shut the door. "You can not search my house without a warrant. Besides, you aren't in Japan, you know? Welcome to the land of guns and eagles."

"Duck."

Kamukura holds your head down as the sound of a gun rings out on your floor. You've never been so glad you actually threw your whole life savings into a penthouse. Yet, you try turning around, his hand covering your eyes naturally.

"Is he dead?"

"Leave it to me." He ignores your question.

You listen to him as he has you step into the apartment, door shutting behind you as you start eating, biting the chopstick and blinking at the door absentmindedly.

Kamukura comes home, clean of any sign of what could have been a murder.

You don't know if you want to ask what he was up to. 

He stares at you, almost as if waiting for something to come out of your mouth before he moves to do anything.

You rack your brain for what you could even say to him.

"Good job." You raise a brow, staring at him and then the seat. "Now hurry up and eat. What were they even here for? Was it enough to warrant a gun to their head?"

"Yes." He blinks. "They were here to find me."

"Isn't it more suspicious that they're dead now?"

"I have disguised it as a slip on the stairs."

"With a gun wound?"

"The probability of a bullet bouncing off a wall into your own brain is small but never zero."

Ah.

Well, you suppose at least your husband won't be killing... you.

[hotdamnhunnam]

hey babes- i want your headcanon on something, if you’re down?

INCOMING-

I was thinking about what Charlie’s like in bed (as one does), and thought- I wonder if he’s into women being vocal? Like is it a passing thought? Or does he actively try to pull every sound out of you that he can?

And what about jax? And Will? AND Raymond?! I imagine there’s a common thread among them, but also, what would they each have a particularly soft spot for?

I would love to hear your thoughts!!!

Ohhh girl I am so down!!! 🙂‍↕️

I feel like Charlie is definitely into his woman being vocal when he takes her to pound town!! That man is NOT fucking around 🙂‍↔️ (or maybe he is, but you know what I mean by this 😆)

He’s so expressive and in tune with his emotions and I think he carries that into the bedroom too, and craves the same from you… whether it’s moans and groans and grunts, or using words to praise the ways he fills your cunt… damn he enjoys you showing him and telling him just how divine it feels when he destroys you with his cock because it’s everything that you could ever want.

And there is no doubt in my mind that the above applies to every one of his characters too!!! Sooooo since you asked about a few…

………………………………

Jax

He has a particular kink, for ravaging you so good that you can’t form words or even fucking think. And then because he’s such an evil pussy-killer bastard he will taunt you as he breaks your brain and takes it past the brink — he’ll be all use your words, darlin’ when he knows full well that you’re physically incapable of such a thing. You’ll whine and whimper like a nasty little whore, and that’s exactly what he lives for, and the worst best part is that he’ll make you say you’re sorry for being such a stupid cockslut who can’t even take an order from your fucking sex god king.

………………………………

Will

The captain has a kink for control. Not only for the way that he so completely controls your whole body and soul and all three of your holes — but more importantly for self-control. Restraint and discipline and mastery of basic human instincts. These are his biggest kinks. He’s mastered this himself and thinks it’s critical that you master it too, especially because it’s dangerous how you have no limits when it cums to all the kinky shit you’d let your captain do. So all the while as he’s wrecking you he wants you to be self-aware and careful and vocal. The signals don’t have to be verbal but they do have to be clear, straight from your lips to his ear, so that he always knows just when you’re ready for him to take things to the next level of making you his personal fuckhole.

………………………………

Ray

This bearded, bespectacled, revered and respectable gentleman is nothing if not nonchalant. Once you’re his woman he’ll most likely be reluctant in the bedroom to admit that there are certain things he really really wants. Does his debonair dick get rock hard when you scream like a mad bitch in heat as he rails your wet cunt? When you pornographically beg him to cum in that cunt do those words make him burst at his buttoned-up seams all at once? Yes and yes. But he’ll never confess. So sometimes when you need him and desperately plead him for sex he’ll just stand there and stay fully dressed, keep on casually sipping his tea and say feel free to talk. Thankfully it will be plain to see how turned on he is once you get down on your knees for his cock.

………………………………

And that’s all really! lol thanks for the ask bb 😘

[copperbadge]

RE watching thoughts: I’m not 100% sure, but it might be that the whole “I am not my thoughts” is about engaging and identifying with your metacognition MORE than your initial thoughts. Because I get where you’re coming from - what is a consciousness but a collection of thoughts and feelings? But you can also have thoughts about your own thoughts that are more useful for dealing with whatever situation you’re in, I guess. (Random aside - every time I start thinking about thinking about thinking my brain inevitably starts thinking about Tiffany Aching and The Wee Free Men.)

I really should have replied to this ask sooner because it's going to seem like a non-sequitur now (this was sent much earlier in March) but I'm kind of glad I didn't, because I've been chatting with people about this and I think I understand more why there's an emphasis in some therapies on the idea that we are not our thoughts.

(I uh, haven't read the Tiffany books so I'm not much help there.)

I am coming to understand that many, perhaps most, people judge themselves, comprehensively and harshly, based on their thoughts. Perhaps it's just a lot of people who struggle with mental health, but given the commonality of the sentiment I don't know if I'd confine it that tightly; generally it appears that people cannot conceive of themselves as anything other than a binary of good or bad. So many people I've talked to about this portion of DBT, the watching-questioning-identifying thoughts portion, say that it helps to snap them out of a spiral of "I'm a horrible person, I deserve to suffer/die, I can never be redeemed" after they've failed at something, or had a negative thought, or reacted poorly to an unexpected event.

That is not something I've ever experienced. I mean, jokingly maybe, but not in a real, internal sense.

And that's not to brag -- I'm not saying I think I'm a good person, either, because I don't think I'm a good person. I don't conceive of myself in terms of good or bad. I never cuddle my cats and think "I'm such a good cat dad" or forget to feed them and think "I should die now." I have a perpetual morally neutral attitude towards my own existence; my thoughts and actions might trend me one direction or another but I'm aware of the temporary nature of that. If I fuck up I'll worry about who I might have hurt or whether I'll be fired or what's going to happen as a consequence, if I am polite to someone who didn't deserve it I know I was acting kindly in the moment, but I don't make an inherent moral judgement of myself based on that. And it seems like the vast majority of people do. Which you would think would make me feel pretty good about myself, but honestly...I don't know.

A lot of people I know who have ADHD or are Autistic have talked about seeing themselves as other, as alien -- like that one webcomic artist who draws themself with little antennae to indicate they're strange and different. I've always understood why one might do that, but I never felt that way myself, before or after the diagnosis. After all, let's remember, I was The Normal* Child of my siblings, and if I was The Normal One before the diagnosis, why wouldn't I remain Mostly Normal after?

* As ever, I'm using "normal" as a cultural term, to indicate what we think of as mainstream, not because normal is a thing that really exists.

My life has been relatively solitary -- I have friends and family and I love them but I'm rarely part of a large group, I don't spend a lot of time out in public interacting with people, I'm not a big socializer. Before the Adderall, I really couldn't be, I took too much psychic damage from interpersonal interaction, so I chose those very carefully. And now my DBT class has been a rare moment when I'm encountering contradictions to a lot of my assumptions about the way human beings in our society interact, react, and behave. I just...don't fit that mold very well. I think of it as having crossed wiring, not in the sense that I'm faulty but just in the sense that I'm very, very different. Not Normal. It's not exactly a bad feeling but it's certainly not a great one, internalizing the sensation of alienness.

DBT is proving to be a mixed bag but not in the way I or my therapist intended -- it seems to be either things I was already instinctively doing or things that simply do not apply to me. In one way it's disappointing because it means there isn't much help to be had (we're a little over halfway through the course and I keep thinking "Maybe next class will be useful") but on the other hand it's validating that so much of what I came up with myself as unconscious coping mechanisms is literally what I would have been told to do anyway.

Sometimes it's a combination of both, though, which really blows. I guess most people, if they reframe another person's actions, actually find emotional relief in that, and I don't. An example from the class is that if someone is rude to you, you can consider how they might be having a hard day, and be polite in return; that's great, in terms of defusing a situation, and it's something I do a fair amount of. But apparently it's also something that for most people results in feeling less awful about the interaction, and that's not the case for me. Which is why so much of DBT feels to me like lying to oneself. It's not lying for most people.

So, yeah. I'm going to finish out the course and keep trying things with the therapist but I suspect given everything, I might already be at "as good as it gets" in terms of emotional work. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, and there is still the option to try medication that could help, but I think there will come a point where I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of just how different I am, and how that has impacted my life. Might end up a good thing; something I've really been trying to resolve is unhappiness over being unpartnered and highly likely to remain that way, and at least if this provides a better understanding of why, then perhaps I can process that and put it to rest in a way I've been trying to do but not succeeding well at.

So, we'll see. But I find it both fascinating and kind of horrifying how many people can believe they are irredeemably bad, even if the belief is only temporary, simply because they had an uncharitable thought or impulse. It makes me somewhat grateful for the crossed wires, at least.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 61

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Autistic Lance (Voltron) [series] by dontthinkiwont

"Look, okay, I get it, I like peanut butter, you like sharks. It's a thing, whatever. But seriously, dude - what the fuck?" - Or, Lance has Autism Spectrum Disorder and this can cause him to fixate on some things. Like, maybe, for instance, great white sharks. For example.

yes i like this series for projection reasons. whatever. it was also one of the first autistic lance fics out there!! and its v heavy in platonic relationships yall are gonna love it

2. Revelations and Reactions by @azapofinspiration

Keith couldn't believe it. He was part Galra. That was hard enough to deal with... But then he realized that he would have to tell the rest of the team. He couldn't help but fear how they would react. In which Keith reveals that he's part Galra after facing the Blade of Marmora's trials.

azap truly never misses. they KNOWWWW how to do found family like a CHAMP and i will never get tired of reading canon corrections where keith is like. loved and accepted lol

3. A Memory Like a Snapshot by MemeKonVLD

Pidge is still close —closer than is entirely comfortable if he has to be honest— giving him an evaluating glance. Lance doesn’t really know where to look, other than up her nose— but that grows old pretty fast. So he looks at himself in the reflection of her glasses. And squints. He touches his own face for the first time since waking up— and feels the roughness of his chin. “I have stubble,” he says, and the words are as alarmed as they can be even though they still sound slightly slurred, slightly off. Pidge blinks a couple of times at him, and finally retracts into a more comfortable distance. “Well, yeah,” she says. “You are like, what? 22? 23 in a couple of months?” “I’m feeling— I’m feeling a little queasy,” he says then, with bright spots of color dancing in front of his eyes as he thinks 22. Suddenly, a bucket gets shoved against his face. He takes hold of it with clammy fingers and he leans on his side so he can... use it. Thoroughly. “I’m having Garrison flashbacks,” he hears Pidge say.   (Or: Lance is stung by an alien bug, loses his memories temporarily and makes assumptions about his and Keith's relationship. Also, Pidge cheats at Uno.)

losing your memories. and waking up. and someone treats you so kindly and lovingly that you know, immediately, in the bones of you, that they love you. and the feeling in your chest even if your brain doesnt remember of love for them tells you clearly that this person is your soulmate. i am going to LOSE IT

4. Love in the Times of (Intergalactic) War by MemeKonVLD

Lance: Oh, man. [I see him grow visibly excited here, leaning forward and putting his hands up— he’s big on gesticulating, as anyone who’s watched the pilots of Voltron host SNL a couple of months ago knows.] Space is vast. I know that’s not groundbreaking knowledge there, and everyone’s somewhat aware of it, but— being up there? traveling around space for years, and knowing we never even— we never even came near to touching upon a tenth of what’s out there? That’s cool, weird and scary all in one.

WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT 2016 FICS. HUH. ICONIQUE?? AMAZING??? SHOWSTOPPING?? INCREDIBLE??? bc pov outsider is the BEST and watching how much lance SHINES to anyone who looks at him...yeah

5. Skin by MemeKonVLD

He’s aware of Lance talking to him, but he’s still too asleep to try to decipher whatever it is he’s blabbering about. He only starts paying attention when one of Lance’s hands goes to the drawstring of his pajama pants. “Whoa, what are you doing?” He asks, slapping Lance’s hand away, cheeks warm. “You,” Lance starts, pointing at him (and Keith notices that for all he’s made fun of him for the last forever for them, he’s wearing his fingerless gloves), “are not screwing up my skin care routine, man.” (AKA: the one where Keith and Lance switch bodies.)

suave keith and flustered lance my BELOVED. swapped bodies truly has to be one of the top ten tropes of all time. love watching them be in love and also stupid

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[youcouldmakealife]

Fic snippet, Fiona&Holden(/James); from the series that never was

So one of my favourite things is when characters twist out of my grasp and announce themselves to be something different than I initially thought they were. I absolutely love it. The moments I'm aware that I am not in control of the story are some of the very best ones as a writer, because I don't know what's coming, and that's exciting.

But it's also annoying as hell. Because everything I've written that comes next? Yeah, it's not canon anymore. Of all my series, Cards on the Table had the most material already written before I started to post the series, some of it occurring significantly later in the narrative, because Holden came easy, but James was proving recalcitrant, so I wrote a lot of scenes, mostly dialogue (dialogue almost always comes first for me), trying to get my finger on his pulse.

And not a bit of it is canon anymore, even though it's still the same Holden, and mostly the same James (I think the biggest pivot point was when I realized that at his core, James isn't driven by anger, as I originally thought. It looks like that on the surface, especially at the beginning of the series, but it's not anger, it's irritability from being constantly fucking overstimulated and exhausted. He's Fed Up. And okay, yes, angry, but that is a Holden Chase specific trigger he's responding to, not his general state of being.)

ANYWAY.

This scene was jossed a long time ago, but I held onto it, because some scenes you're just fond of. And I'm sharing it for the same reason.

I meant to post this after the 'Fiona knows' reveal but it completely slipped my brain until now.

This is completely AU, thanks to James pulling a Bryce on me, but in another universe, just slightly different, Fiona still makes sure her knowing is a mic drop moment.

(Context for the scene, he has told her he's been fucking a teammate, because he's the same as he was from the start, and so is his brain-to-mouth filter, but he hasn't identified who)

(Forgive me, this preamble is longer than the fic snippet)

“How long did we go out, exactly?” Holden asks.

Fiona’s quiet. “Uh,” she says. “Let me see, it was right before prom—“

Holden winces. She forgives, but she does not forget.

“Six months?” Fiona says. “Give or take?”

“Okay,” Holden says. Still his longest relationship, then. He’s got time.

“Share with the class?” Fiona says.

“Can’t,” Holden says.

“Oh, it’s mystery man,” Fiona says flatly.

“Sorry,” Holden says. He really would tell her if he could.

“Minnesotan Mystery Man,” Fiona says.

“Yeah, I—“ Holden says. “Wait, what?”

“Captain of the Whalers Mystery Man,” Fiona says.

They actually only have one Minnesotan, as far as Holden’s aware, so she made her point the first time, but he does appreciate the commitment to the bit.

“How’d you know?” Holden says.

“Babe,” Fiona says. “You are not a subtle person.”

“I think I’m very subtle,” Holden says, but he can’t even finish the sentence without laughing at himself.

“And you stopped complaining about Erickson right around the time you started fucking a teammate,” Fiona says.

“I still complain about him,” Holden protests. “Have you known this whole time?”

“Pretty much,” Fiona says.

“Well,” Holden says. “Fuck.”

[multifandom-worlds]

Hey honey! Can I request reader x Bucky with some period comfort? Mine are always horrendous and I’m sick the whole time. 😭

The Pains of Being a Woman

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: well you know, period sex, self-conscousness and talk of inadequacy.

Authors Note: Well, this defitely took a turn I was not expecting when I first saw your request as you are well aware. I hope this is enough... comfort for you! Written from Bucky's POV

Every month, like clockwork, my fiance ends up curled up in bed, miserable and sick due to her period. Those seven days are absolute hell for her; she’s unable to work, can barely keep food down, and can handle moving from the bed to the bathroom. Every month is terrible, but she seemed to have a worse time than usual this time. I will never understand her pain, but I know someone who could - actually, a few someones. 

“Natasha! Wanda! I need your help; where are you?” 

I walk around the compound, trying to find the only two other women I like despite having several women around at a time. I found them in the kitchen, interestingly enough, discussing my wife. “You two, I need help. She’s worse today than in several months, and I don’t know how to help. She’s currently napping in bed with the heating pad, but I want to do more. What can I do?” 

“Do what you do best. Make her cum.” Natasha said very matter-of-factly. “Orgasms help with cramping, and the dopamine rush will help, even for a few moments. Plus, she doesn’t like to admit it, but her period leaves her feeling incredibly undesirable to you; this is a way you can prove too that you are still attracted to her.”

I thought about it, trying to work out the logistics of how it would work before deciding on a warm shower. It’s not like we’ve never done it in the shower before; I know the best way to make it work.  “Thank you, Nat; I appreciate the advice,” I say before quickly dashing upstairs to start the water before waking her up gently. 

Kissing her cheek gently, I whisper in her ear, loud enough to wake her up but soft enough not to startle her. “Hey, babydoll, get up. I have a shower going for you; it’ll help, trust me.” She groans in response, sliding deeper under the mountain of covers she has piled on her body. A soft laugh escapes my lips as I slide my arms underneath to retrieve her from her cocoon of warmth and comfort. 

She groans but doesn’t put up a fight to get out of my grasp. I place her on the bathroom floor's cold tile before grabbing two towels. She looks at me curiously. Before she even had to ask, I already knew what she was curious about. “I thought I would join you if that’s okay by you.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t…I don’t wear tampons when I’m home. Are you sure you want to join me? Plus. I’m so bloated; why would you want to look at me, let alone touch me?” She questions, nervously looking down. I walk back over to her, hooking my finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at me. 

“Babydoll, I have been with you for years; your period has never made me disgusted or uncomfortable. It’s a fact of life,” I smile, carefully slipping my hands under her shirt and pulling it over her head. She removes the rest of her clothes before stepping into the shower, sighing contently as the warm water rains down on her.

I watch her momentarily, admiring her perfect body, when she notices I haven’t joined her like I mentioned I would. “You’re not joining me, Bucky? It’s because I’m bloated, isn't it? God, why am I so stupid? Why did I honestly believe someone like you, looking like all sorts of sculpted from marble, would want someone like me.” 

“Babydoll,” I say calmly before slipping from my clothes. “Whatever your brain is saying to you is wrong. You are not stupid; I was admiring all your fucking perfect curves, and that's why I was not getting in.” I place my hands on her hips as I step into the shower behind her, slipping one hand around her hips, the other encasing her shoulders, pulling her body tight to mine. 

She squeaks slightly, feeling my lips brush against her neck, her hands gripping onto my thighs. “W-what are you doing, Bucky…did you forget I was on my period…?” She asks hesitantly, melting into my chest the way she always does. 

The hand that rests on her hips trails down her pelvis before gently brushing against her clit while I subtly grind against her perfect ass. “What do you think I’m doing babydoll? Can I not fuck my woman in the shower?” I punctuate my question by slipping my finger along her folds, making her squirm in my arms.

“But..?” She begins to protest, but I quickly relocate my hand from her shoulders to gently gripping her neck. “But nothing, doll.” Repositioning us so her hands were on the wall before her, I wrapped a hand around her thigh, lifting her leg. “I want to make my girl feel something other than pain.”

“But I’m not toned like I usually am; how could you even get hard when looking at me?”

How had I never realized how little she felt about herself? How had I gone years without realizing it? I carefully arrange myself, slowly grinding against her ass, rock-hard cock brushing against her folds, begging for entrance. “There is never a time I am with you that I am not imagining the feeling of you around me, sheathed entirely inside you, doll; you are the most perfect woman I have ever seen.”

She moans softly, grinding her hips against me, whimpering slightly. “Please, Bucky…please fuck me. I need to feel you stretch me out. I need some sort of release, please!”

That was all the consent I needed before aligning with her entrance and pushing into her. The gasp that left her mouth was erotic and almost broke the little control I had left. Slowly pushing inside her, I peppered her shoulder and neck with kisses until I was ultimately inside her, relishing in the tight warmth of her perfect cunt. A few moments passed, enough for her to get accustomed to me; she gave me the all-clear to start moving. 

“Bucky… fuck fuck fuck, please don’t stop. I’m so close, so painfully close.” She whined, her voice strained and filled with a deep need. Who was I to deny her what she craved? I speed up, rubbing quicker circles on her clit, pulling that well-deserved climax out of her. 

I groaned in her ear, craving the delicious drag her cunt offered as I slowly picked up speed, gripping her thigh, no doubt leaving bruises on her delicate flesh, but I didn’t care; I was going to make my woman cum one way or another. I rub gentle circles around her clit, earning increasingly more desperate moans to tumble from her lips. She places her hands on the shower walls, keeping herself upright and balanced.

“I won’t let you fall, doll,” I whispered in her ear, increasing my pace and slowly pulling her climax from her body. She whimpers and moans, her walls clenching around me deliciously. “Gods, you are so perfect,” I whisper again, gently sucking the sweet spot below her ear. It was taking all my self-control not to finish right now. I slowed but increased the power behind each thrust, rough and strong. 

Her walls spasm as a blissed-out cry falls from her lips as the coil in her belly snaps, opening the floodgates. Slowing down my thrusts, I help her ride out her high, hugging her tight to my body as I release her leg from my punishing grip, rubbing soothingly along her thigh and kissing her shoulder.

“You took me so well, doll. You never cease to amaze me with how well you can take me; I am in awe of you.” I mumble against her skin, running my hands up her belly, resting there while she comes down from her high. “I love you, doll, on and off your period. Now let's get you something to eat, then we can lay in bed for the rest of the day.”

[mixsethaddams]

Throwing my hat into the latest trend of Shovel Talk posts. tw reference to past child abuse (not detailed)

Eddie gets the shovel talk from no less than five people.

Dustin, Robin, Erica, Max and Lucas. (Those two came as a pair, as they so often did since the Vecnapocolypse) Actually, technically six, if you count the fact that Dustin kept saying And Will Said...

They all say in and around the same thing. Steve deserves the world, he's been the babysitter for longer than Eddie's been the DM, blah blah blah. Honestly, Eddie's getting a little tired of people assuming he'll hurt Steve and leave him heartbroken. By the time he closed the door after saying goodbye on the final He Means More To Us Than You Do conversation, he was left in no doubt that the kids expected him to fuck up royally and they would not hesitate to choose Steve when (not if, as far as they were concerned) it happened. They would never forgive him. It was good to know where he stood, he guessed.

What Eddie didn't know, was that Steve was getting a few shovel talks of his own.

Wayne was first, obviously. Steve wasn't surprised to be pulled aside at the Byers/Hopper barbecue to listen to some very unsubtle threats about what might happen to him if Eddie came home with so much as a pout Even One Time, Boy, You Hear Me?

More surprising, was Joyce.

Joyce came by one night under the pretence of bringing by some leftover lasagne. Steve offered her a tea and they sat in the kitchen together while she asked polite questions about how things with Eddie were going. When Steve was done telling her all about the constant butterflies in his stomach, she clasped his hand gently across the table.

"I'm happy for you sweetie, I am,"

"Thanks Joy–"

"But you need to understand that Eddie is a fragile boy, and he needs real love, Steve. He's not the type to be happy with a, what do you call it, a fling? He's not the type for that,"

Steve was taken aback.

"This isn't a fling, Joyce,"

"Can you promise me that? I remember him from when he was just a kid and, god, well, I'd hate to see him hurt,"

Steve's mouth was open and closing like a fish, totally at a loss for words.

"Steve, can you promise me that? I know you're grown now and things are different, but I need you to say it for me,"

"I promise, I... I'm not who I used to be,"

Joyce patted his hand.

"Good boy. I better get home,"

And then there was Hopper.

Hopper knocked on the front door of the Harrington house early one Saturday morning, three sharp thuds on the door that made you think, Yup, Cops Are Here.

Steve answered still half asleep, barely aware he'd even pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

Hopper didn't accept the invite to come inside. He noticed Eddie's boots by the door.

"He here?"

"Uh, yeah, has been since yesterday, why? Did someone say he done something?"

"No, he's not who I'm here for,"

"What? I haven't done anything?"

"Good, and I expect you to keep it that way,"

Steve didn't know how to react. His eyes were still adjusting to the daylight and his brain hasn't quite woken up yet.

"Hop, I don't know what you're talking about,"

"El told me that you all know about the night he went to live with his uncle, says he told everyone the basics when Jon was worrying about turning out like Lonnie,"

"Yeah, he told me some more about it after too,"

"Figured he might,"

Steve shuffled from one foot to the other.

"I still don't know why you're here..."

"I was the one who carried him out of that house that night, Steve,"

"Oh,"

Oh indeed. Hopper's voice was gruff and low. Steve was actually nervous.

"I listened to him cry for hours. He couldn't breathe it was so bad. I never wanted to hear another child even speak after having to sit in the room while he told Wayne what went down,"

"I–"

"And I don't think I'll ever be able to sit right with the idea of that kid being sad again, because of someone else messing with him. I never forgot what he sounded like when he cried. Don't make me have to see him cry again, Steve. Do you understand me?"

Steve was stunned. All he could do was nod dumbly. There was no point offering any sort of defence, Hopper obviously wasn't here to listen. He was here to tell. Of all the people Steve might have thought would be on Team Munson, the former chief of police wasn't exactly top of the list. Eddie's distinct lack of criminal record through his teens might have been some indicator though.

Hopper gave Steve a curt nod and turned back down the driveway without another word.

He closed the door and leaned against the wood, letting out a low breath. Eddie appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes.

"Baby? Who was that?"

"Uh, Hopper..."

Eddie huffed a sleepy laugh.

"Hmm, shit, Law Man swing by to make sure I was behaving myself?"

Steve went to Eddie and pulled him into a tight hug, nuzzling into his hair. He really had no clue, did he?

"He was just checking in,"

Eddie hummed and went towards the kitchen to switch the coffee pot on. He had told Steve about the shovel talks he got from the kids earlier in the week. Trivial threats about leaving Hellfire and never helping him write a song again or going to one of his shows, taking back his Walkie privileges, things that seemed like the end of the world to a group of minors. Eddie had wistfully mentioned that Steve would never have to worry about being on the receiving end of something like that, he didn't think anyone really cared enough. Maybe You'll Get A Weird Look From Wayne, But I Think You're In The Clear, Golden Boy.

Eddie had no idea about the people that were looking out for him without him realising it. It made Steve's heart hurt. He'd half expected Robin and the others to have words with Eddie. It was almost a joke, he hadn't thought twice about it because he just kind of knew it would happen. He knew they cared, and he couldn't imagine how it would feel to be so sure that they didn't. That no one did.

Steve made a promise to himself then and there to never let Eddie feel like no one cared enough ever again, giving himself his very own version of the Don't Hurt Eddie Munson shovel talk.

It was the least Eddie deserved.

(Also posted to my ao3)