#in my defense I read most of the label

[ruth-posts-pokemon]

Oh man, I’m gonna have to tell the rock shop story eventually, huh… Trainer tip, you should be sure to read the labels of the pretty tumbled stones before buying them and especially before showing your gang of curious Pokémon.

Just trust me on this one.

[in-class-daydreams]

Note: Gojo & the reader are ~40 in this, Sen is 18, and the guy you're seeing (if you don't already know who it is) is aged up accordingly (~30)

Imagine your and ex-husband Gojo's son Sen finding out you're seeing someone.

"You're going on a date?!" Sen asks in disbelief. "With who?"

You smooth out your outfit and check yourself out in the mirror. This look is one of your best, if you do say so yourself.

"Does it matter?" you ask neutrally. Sen is just mature enough to not blatantly freak out at this revelation, but only just. The less he knows, the better.

"Of course, it matters! I need to know who to hunt down if you disappear!" he replies, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "I need to vet this guy!"

Your ex-husband appears in your bedroom doorway. "Who are we vetting?"

Clenching your prospective clothing in your hands, you grumble, "Doesn't anyone knock any more?"

Satoru leans against the door frame like he's someone's booktok boyfriend (he used to be your booktok husband but that's beside the point). He takes in how you've cleaned up and instantly recognizes your date look. Of course, he's only seen it a million times.

"Oh, the kid didn't know you had boyfriend?" he asks.

"Boyfriend?!" Sen cries. Your temple throbs. "Who is he?"

Satoru shrugs. "I dunno, I just know he exists and his one move is sending flowers because he's basic."

"He's not basic and he is not my boyfriend!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air. "We go on dates, yes. We're seeing each other. 'Boyfriend' implies exclusivity, and none of the people I'm seeing are my boyfriend."

Your son and ex-husband stare at you wide-eyed. As Sen gets older, the black roots of his hair have become his last line of defense against looking like a carbon copy of his dad, and having both a young and old(er) Satoru look at you with their stupid big blue eyes is unsettling. Someone hurry up and blink.

"What?" you ask tiredly.

This time it's Satoru that has something irritating to say. "'People?' As in plural?"

"Satoru, don't start."

Sen raises his hand. "I'm with dad on this one. I don't trust anyone with you, not even dad--"

"Thanks, kid."

"--much less strangers."

Part of you understands that your son and ex-husband are the two people in the world that love you the most. Growing up as isolated as you did, your younger self would never have imagined having the both of them in your life. They're just trying to protect you.

The other part of you is on the verge of telling them both to step the fuck off.

You're all saved by the doorbell ringing and before you can even react, both of them are at the door interrogating whoever's on your porch. But you always met up with your dates instead of them picking you up in case of this exact scenario. There was no way he came to the door without your permission.

Sprinting to the door, you find your son, your ex, and a terrified-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. You shoo the boys away from him and accept the flowers with thanks and a generous tip for dealing with them.

There's a handwritten note attached. It reads:

You didn't think I'd let you walk out the house without a present, right? Pretty girls need pretty flowers.

You can't hold in a grin. He always found ways to go above and beyond even without an official label.

"Well, at least he's a sorcerer," Sen says. He gestures to the note, "There's a teeny bit of residual CE on there. Not enough for me to recognize, though."

You try not to make your sigh of relief obvious. Sen was still in training and Sukuna said his ability to recognize specific cursed energy needed some work. Getting advice from his dad would help, but your son got his stubborn streak from you.

"Well, good. I don't need you tracking him down." Handing the flowers to Sen, you ask, "Put these in a vase for mama, please?"

Sen, ever the obedient son, runs off to do so immediately. You fondly watch him round the corner into the kitchen, then double back to grab you and place a kiss on your cheek.

"I don't like this, but please be safe, mama! Call me any time, I'll be there," he says, then returns to his task.

Once he's out of sight, you slip your shoes on, holding Satoru by the shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"I'll be back before 11. There's pasta in the fridge and I just washed the sheets in the guest room if you want to stay over," you tell him. Pulling up the back of your shoe, you look up at Satoru to find him stock still looking past you. You can't see his eyes, but you can tell they're fixed on the card you received.

That's when you remember that while your son may not yet be at full potential, veteran sorcerer, strongest in history Gojo Satoru knows damn well who sent you those flowers.

Shit.

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 26: I Hate You, I Love You

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty-six of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. , Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Self Deprecating Thoughts, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: I know that this isn't the final battle, but I wrote most of the battle and the chapter was so long (it was over 13K and I wasn't close to ready) that I needed to break it up. So now this is just a wonderful helping of angst in which the reader and Ben do the thing that they do best… fight with each other and then make up.

READER POV

The silence that follows Homelander's disappearance with Lou and Rosemary's pursuit after him is deafening. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been seconds. You feel cold and hot, nothing and everything. Fear, anger, anxiety, and terror all congeal into an ice cold ball in the pit of your stomach. Rubble is covering the thick shag carpet on the bedroom floor, the air filled with flecks of dust and drywall from Homelander's departure. You weren't thinking about how Legend would react though, couldn't think of anything else except the fearful look on Lou's face when Homelander grabbed her and refused to release her.

The thought that Lou was trapped with someone like him broke you. The fear that came with the thought was almost mind-numbing, because Homelander was dangerous and now that Ben and you had told him that you didn't want anything to do with him, there were no other bargaining chips. Homelander couldn't be placated because you had crushed the glimmer of hope in his eyes by telling him that he wasn't your son and that he was monster. You knew that Homelander was smart enough that he wouldn't believe you now if you promised him family, not when he had Lou and probably had Rosemary.

Rosemary had minimal training when it came to fighting, yes you'd made sure that she knew the basics of self-defense, but she'd never fought another supe before. She was never interested in that sort of thing. And it wasn't always about using your powers when it came to fighting another supe, it was about tactics and knowing the weaknesses of your opponent. In a fight with someone like Homelander, you couldn't just rely on your abilities, you had to understand what you were up against and see the little ticks that he tried to hide. You'd watched stronger supes fall because they relied too heavily on their abilities, and you worried that Rosemary would be the same way. That she would be filled with a blind rage because Homelander had Lou and that he would use her anger and frustration to his advantage.

Tears were streaming down your face and you were still struggling in Ben's grip, where his arms were wrapped around you, holding you back from chasing after them. And the longer he holds you, as more seconds tick by, everything else goes and you're left with something else.

To say that you were angry was an understatement, you were livid. You hated that Ben had done this to you again. That once again Ben was acting like you weren't a supe, like you weren't powerful, and like you needed to be locked away from the world in a glass cabinet. You were sick of it.

Because you understood that Ben loved you, that he wished to protect you and that he feared losing you, but you refused to allow him to walk on eggshells around you and put you in a glass bubble because of his insecurities.

Yes Ben had told you that he saw your strength in the past, that he saw how powerful you were, and only wished for you to need him, but you were done with this. He didn't have any right to do it. And yes, he was the man you loved, but he was not your master. Perhaps that's what made all this worse for you, that Ben said how much he loved you and that he saw your power, but every time things went South he did shit like this.

"Ben, let me go." You growl, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"No. Not until you promise not to go after them." Ben's eyes are narrowed. He knew that if you promised him, you wouldn't do it, that you cared too much about what a promise represented to break one.

It was true, which was why you weren't going to promise him shit.

"I won't promise that."

"Then I guess I'm not letting you go." He says it casually, but the look in his eyes is meant to convey that he is just as upset with this turn of events as you are.

"Oh I think you fucking will." Your teeth clench together and as you say it, you turn your palms face down in front of you and break his hold. Having Homelander's strength made it easier to face Ben. In the past the two of you had sparred together in training. Back then you didn't think too much about it, but now you understood that he did it to make sure you knew how to protect yourself when he wasn't there, that he worried about you more than he wanted to say and that was the only way he could prepare you without telling you how much you meant to him.

Ben stumbles back a step, his eyes flashing with anger and you’re sure that he can see the same emotions written on your face.

“What the fuck is your problem?�� You snarl at him.

“My problem?” Ben sputters.

“Yes!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If anything it’s you that’s having a problem-“

“Oh I’m sorry Benjamin. Am I being difficult?" You press a hand to your chest feigning remorse. "Forgive me for having a fucking problem when our granddaughter has just been KIDNAPPED by a psychopath. And our daughter is going to face him alone!"

"She's not alone-"

"Wrong. She is alone, because you wouldn't let me help her."

"I told you that I didn't want you to fight him alone. I told you that we would do this together-"

"I wouldn't have been alone if you'd stop being so damn overprotective!" You snap, stomping over to the chest of drawers, searching through them angrily for something to wear. It was difficult not to rip the handle off the front in your anger. You were still wearing your sweatpants and an oversized paint splattered t-shirt, and the last thing you wanted was to face Homelander looking like that.

Why can't he just understand that I am powerful too? Why can’t he let me go for once? Why does he keep doing this?

You hated that he was acting like you couldn't handle yourself, especially after he had seen you destroy Legend's backyard single handedly the other day with your mind. You were so sick of being underestimated. First Vought, then Stan, and now Ben, and you didn't want to be seen that way anymore. You were powerful and damnit you weren't going to "sit" and "stay" because some man ordered you to.

"I am not being overprotective!" Ben's voice is a low growl. "The other day I told you that I didn't want you to do this by yourself, that I didn't want you to do any of this alone. That I'm here-"

"Well congratulations Ben! Our daughter is doing exactly that right now, facing fucking Homelander alone, because you couldn't just let me go." You grab the end of your shirt and take it off, shucking it to the floor before you begin to put on the tight long sleeved black t-shirt. "You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Underestimate me!" You take off the sweatpants and quickly step into the dark jeans. By now your eyes were flashing bright purple and you could feel the thrum of your abilities under your skin, begging to be released. The energy was growing with each passing second, the lights in the room flickered and you could feel an unnatural breeze rustling the curtains that were hanging from the windows, coming from you.

"I do not fucking underestimate you. I know how powerful you are-"

"Well you have a funny way of showing it." You spit turning around to face him again.

Ben is also getting dressed. His sweatpants have been replaced with the bottom portion of his supe suit, his knife, pistol, and top half of his suit is laying on the unmade bed. "We have already talked about why I have a problem with you doing shit like that alone." His words are almost a growl, but you can hear an emotion on the edge of them that isn't anger. It was worry.

You knew what he was referring to, when he told you that he hated watching you die because it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, that every time you were hurt, Ben struggled with that.

You knew how he felt.

The other day at Herogasm when Homelander had him by the throat all you saw was red. You didn't want to witness Ben's last moments just as he had witnessed yours multiple times. But it didn’t mean that you held Ben back from doing what he needed to do. You saw his strength and supported him. All you wanted was for him to support you.

A part of you deep down registered that he acted like this to protect you, that he didn't want to lose you as much as you didn't want to lose him. And as happy as you were that Ben was finally getting comfortable showing and talking about his emotions in front of you, you still wished that he would let you be strong for yourself. You had to be strong without him for forty years, protecting Rosemary and Lou.

Does he really think that Stan and Countess are the only people who I've killed in the past forty years? That there haven't been other people and supes that figured it out? Did Homelander really think that Stormfront's death was a suicide? 

"You let me face the twins!" You shout.

"Those incestuous fucks couldn't handle you when they were full powered, let alone when they were dried out." Ben states pulling his shirt over his head.

"I don't understand why Homelander is any different." You cross the room to grab the long dark green leaver overcoat, the same one that Ben had scraped the blood and bits of flesh off when you returned to Legend's after you killed Stan. "You saw me handle him the other day-"

"Because he is different!" Ben practically stabs his knife down into it's holster on his belt.

"Oh really?" You tap your lip as if deep in thought. "Huh. Because I remember you calling him a pussy when you were thinking about killing him. When you told me that Butcher asked you to."

"He is." Ben's eyes are blazing now.

Your sarcasm always did that to him, and it did tend to rear it's ugly head in the most inopportune moments. In all the years you'd known him, Ben never really did like it when you got like that.

The room was quickly heating with the force of Ben’s anger, a slight glow radiating out from his chest, but Ben was keeping it under control. At least for now.

"Oh, so he is a pussy, but not when I have to fight him?"

"Yes." He seethes through clenched teeth.

"I hate to break this to you Benjamin, but of the two of us, I'm the one who has fought him and kicked his fucking ass." You spit back at him, sick of his attitude.

Ben crosses the room in two heavy strides so that he's standing over you, his hands on his hips. "The only reason why you fucking fought him, was because you felt the need to step in when I had him handled."

"Did you have him handled? Could have fooled me. When someone has you by the throat I find it hard to say that you have a handle on the situation!" You mirror his stance, refusing to back down.

"Don't fucking do that."

"Do what?"

"Be sarcastic! You know that I hate it."

"That's just too damn bad!" You snap. "I'm not your dog Benjamin  you cannot tell me what to do."

"I do not treat you like a damn dog. I will say that you're being bitchy." His teeth are grinding together, so hard that you can audibly hear it.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me! I think I'm allowed to be bitchy," You seethe the word. "Because you're acting like a sexist dick!"

"I am not-"

"Yes you are." You poke your finger into his chest. "And I don’t want you to come with me."

"Like fucking hell I'm going to sit here and wait around for you to come back."

"I don't want you to come with me because I don't want to spend the whole fucking time worried that you're going to get in my fucking way and prevent me from doing what I have to do."

"I do not get in your way." Ben roars.

"Yes you do." Your eyes narrow. "And I don't need some "big strong man" to do things for me!" You make air quotes around 'big strong man' to emphasize the point, but Ben was not getting it.

This was one of the worst fights you'd ever had with him, you knew that. The two of you had many over the years, Legend was not lying when he told Butcher that, but this one was quickly nearing the same magnitude as the fight the two of you had the night of the premiere. This was more than just the two of you going through the motions of being frustrated with one another and more than the two of you shouting over a little problem, this was about Ben's continuous need to hold you back and keep you out of harms way like you weren't a supe and perfectly capable of doing thing by yourself.

"All I do is try to protect you." His eyes are dark now, not a trace of green in them, looking more like darkened pits. When Ben was really angry you'd seen them go that dark before, only the night of the premiere had you seen them like that when he looked at you, all the other times you'd seen that look when he felt the need to put someone in their place, to beat them into submission.

"I don't need you to protect me!" It comes out in one breath, uttered in an exasperated tone, because again Ben just didn't understand.

Ben stops. "You don't need me?" The words aren't in the same harsh tone that he used before, it's softer, and the anger in his eyes shifts to something else for just a moment.

You could feel regret swirling in your chest, because you did need Ben. You needed him more than life itself, didn't want to spend a moment away from him. You hadn't meant to say it like that. And you know that it was something Ben struggled with, the idea that you didn't need him anymore or never did need him.

"No. Ben, I do fucking need you, but I don't need you to protect me all the time." You emphasize with a sigh. "I've changed. I'm not the same person I was in Philadelphia. I'm not the same little girl. I've been taking care of myself and Rosemary and Lou for years. I needed to change and so I did."

Ben still looks like he can't fully understand what you're trying to say.

"Ben do you really think that Stan is the only person that I've killed in the past forty years?"

Ben blinks surprised.

"There have been others. People who asked too many questions. Supes that just didn't believe the lie that Stan and I made up." You sigh. You weren't ashamed of that, weren't ashamed of the things you had to do to keep your daughter and your granddaughter safe. "You think that every death leaves a scar, but not always." You murmur remembering the fight with Stormfront, the one you never talked about. When she showed up on your doorstep and threatened you and Rosemary. And the others who threatened you, tried to blackmail you because they didn't fear you the way they should have. Stormfront had expected the same woman she knew from the past, but you weren't her anymore.

"What do you mean there have been others?" Ben's expression hardens, malice swimming in his eyes when he realizes that other people have hurt you.

Flashes of the past come creeping up, years you spent with Ben and the cold ones that you'd spent without him stumbling around like someone trying to find light when they were buried underground. And you did love him, but you hated that he did this, because every time he did it made you feel small, it made you feel again like he didn't see you or comprehend who you were.

"They don't matter now." You sigh. "But I am not something to be possessed. I am not someone who’s going to hang on your arm make you look good and laugh at all your jokes. I am not something to be controlled or shielded from the world. If I wanted to just be a trophy or a doll for someone to use any way they wished I would have stayed and married Howard. But I didn’t. I came with you, but I never imagined that you would treat me that way. I never imagined that you would treat me like he did.”

Ben looks stunned. He should. In all the years you’d known him you’d never compared him to Howard like that. It was a low blow and you knew it, but you were pissed. It hurt you to say the words, hurt you to open up that wound all over again, but it was the truth. You didn't lie to Ben and you weren't going to start now.

The words ring through the air between the two of you, the space between your bodies suddenly miles apart even though you were standing in the same room. It was the first time you'd ever felt that distance with him, not since the night he came to your apartment the night that he almost killed Noir and after the two of you talked you cried in the shower frustrated and angry with yourself because you couldn't tell him how you felt and upset that he didn't love you the way you loved him. And now you were just as frustrated and angry with him.

Ben opens his mouth to answer you, the look in his eyes heartbreaking.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Butcher shouts stumbling down the stairs and into the room. He looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed.

"Homelander." Your gaze leaves Ben. "He took Lou, Rosemary went after him."

"He took Lou?" Hughie sputters from behind Butcher, fear flitting through his eyes.

It was the same fear that had begun to trickle back in after the fight you just had, but the things that Ben and you had yelled at one another were still there, soaking through the air like a foul odor and seeping in to your heart. You weren't sure if it meant that you could come back from it or not.

"Yeah." Ben grunts.

"Then lets go get her." Butcher says. "Come on." He gestures with his hand and begins to trek up the stairs with Hughie in tow, leaving Ben and you in the bedroom alone once more.

But this time you can't say anything, can't bring yourself to apologize because you're still so damn mad, and so instead you follow after Butcher, without giving Ben a backwards glance.

SOLDIER BOY POV

The car smoothly followed the long stretch of highway under Butcher’s hand, the trees along the road flashing by in a green blur, but it still didn’t seem like it was going fast enough.

It had taken Butcher and Hughie ten minutes to get ready after they stumbled downstairs to where Ben and you were and now the four of you were on the road and driving to New York. Hughie and Butcher were in the front seat while Ben and you sat in the back, but unlike the other day when you drove to Herogasm together, you were sitting on the other side of the car, arms crossed over your chest staring out the window, and not touching him at all.

Ben's jaw clenched when he remembered the day you drove together to Herogasm, when he held your hand and you leaned into his shoulder, reveling in the fact that you wanted him there with you.

And he wasn't sure that you still did. As much as he hated to admit it, that scared him. He didn't know where he should be if he wasn't with you. Everything else felt wrong. To be without you was like being without the sun, living in the deepest darkest cave and refusing to see the light.

That being said, Ben knew you were pissed, he was too.

Watching Homelander take Lou all but ripped him in half. He hated that the pussy had used a fucking child as a shield and hated that he had gotten away with it. Ben felt his body tense when he remembered the fear in Lou's eyes and a jolt of white hot rage burns through him at the thought that Homelander was hurting her.

Ben cared about Lou as much as he cared about you. She loved him and always made him feel welcome, and even though Rosemary never did, he was worried about her too. Maybe it was because he saw how much it hurt you for them to go, for Homelander to take Lou and for Rosemary to race after him. He knew that was your worst fear, but that didn't stop Ben from holding you back, for refusing to let you go alone to a place that Ben couldn't follow.

He'd never resented his abilities before, but he suddenly wished that he could fly. He would have soared after Homelander, after Rosemary, and after you if you had followed behind them.  That was why he had held you back though, because he couldn’t and he was scared.

The word felt like a curse to think, but it was true. Ben knew that it was fear coursing through his veins in those few moments when he realized that you were going to go after Homelander and he wouldn't be able to follow. He didn’t want you to face him alone, didn’t want to watch you die again.  After all these years, each time you died he feared that it would be the last, he feared that it would be the time it stuck and that he would be left all alone. He didn't want to live in a world without you, he'd done that for forty years and he was done with that.

Ben believed that it was his job to be there for you and after forty years of him being away, he wanted to be there to help you and take care of you. He was ready to make up for the lost time and he had told you how he felt the other day when you destroyed Legend's backyard, that he wanted the two of you to do this together.

That was before today.

Ben's hands are curled into fists on his lap as he forces himself to look out his own side of the car, refusing to look at you. If you could do the silent treatment he could too. Of all the fights the two of you had in the past, Ben knew this one was worse or at least it was as bad as when he fucked up, fucked Countess and then pushed you away when all he wanted was to bring you closer.

Honestly, you'd never compared him to Howard before. Ben could still remember the words you uttered to him the night of your birthday before you allowed him to take you to bed:

"Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."

Ben remembered the way you'd smiled up at him when you said it cheeks slightly flushed, lips red from when he kissed you.  He remembered the way he felt like he'd swallowed pure sunshine, because that was what you always did to him. You always made him feel like he was the only person in the world that was allowed to see the real you. He knew that you loved him, knew that he loved you more than life itself, but what you'd yelled him before Butcher came downstairs made him feel like taking a two by four to the chest. It hurt him.

He hated what you said to him, that you compared him to that asshole from back home. Ben wished for nothing more than to wipe the memories of that man from your mind. When you were younger sometimes Ben would see Howard and you sitting in the park or getting lunch. He remembered the way that you never seemed to smile as wide, how small you looked, how Howard liked you better in the gowns that your mother chose for you, how Howard liked you silent, and how Howard preferred your body covered in heavy coats even though it was the middle of summer.

That particular thing always pissed Ben off, because he knew how you struggled with that, struggled with the way you looked and Ben hated that someone else who stated they loved you made you feel small and ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen in his life.

Ben hated Howard with a passion for that exact reason, because Howard did try to control you. He chose what you wore, complained about what you ate, discouraged your art, and did other unspeakable things that you had told Ben over the years. Things that made Ben want to go back to Philadelphia and end Howard’s bloodline.

But sometimes on the nights when Ben was away at boarding school and he couldn't sleep he would think of Howard and you. Ben would never admit this to anyone, but he would compare himself to Howard, try to find the little differences that Ben thought made you like Howard, the differences that Ben thought about doing himself to make you love him the way he loved you. It always made him feel like a fucking pussy though. His father probably would have beat him within an inch of his life if his father knew that Ben was comparing himself to another man. It was something that Ben's father ingrained in him, that Ben's was from a strong, proud, family that never did that. And that a real man knew that he was better than everyone else, and if anyone tried to challenge that then it was best settled in the ring.

Ben sighed. He was trying hard to weed out the toxic things his father told him. You helped immensely with that, by letting Ben know that he didn’t have to be strong all the time and didn’t need to keep everything inside, that he didn't have to hide what he was feeling from you.

He loved that about you, that he felt like he never had to hide who he really was, that you saw all the parts of him he locked away for so long from everyone else and didn't care. And in exchange he got to see all the wonderful things about you and he didn't want to trade that for the world.

Even though he was angry with everything the two of you shouted, he still loved you.

You were just so damn stubborn all the time and never wanted to see things the way I do and-

Ben gritted his teeth together as another wave of annoyance came over him. He really did hate how stubborn you were. Probably because you were just as stubborn as he was and that meant the two of you were often at a stalemate.

Ben glanced over to where you were looking out the window. You were frowning, arms crossed tightly over your chest, leaning back against the cloth seats.

The awkward silence in the car was palpable and Ben knew that Hughie and Butcher were also trying not to notice the tension in the backseat. There was a song playing on the radio that Ben didn't recognize, but Hughie kept bobbing his head along to the music while Butcher's hands tighten on the wheel.

Ben's eyes flick back to where you are staring out the window. He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. Honestly he'd rather the two of you be yelling at one another than you give him the silent treatment. At least then he had some semblance of what was going on in your head. Ben knew you better than anyone, which meant that he was usually good at reading you, but not now.

Even Ben could admit to himself that you'd changed some, you were a little harder than you had been when he knew you, but it didn't make him love you any less. He had been shocked at your revelation that you'd killed other people. Ben was trying to ignore what you'd said about not all deaths leaving scars.

He'd been present for most of the ones that had happened in the past, but he wondered how many others there had been, and what other powers you had maybe acquired. That  was the thing about you, you weren't one to brag, never seemed to need to use as many powers to take someone down.

Your arms tighten around your body and Ben watches a single tear roll down your cheek.

Fuck. He thinks to himself. He really didn't want to be the reason why you're crying. He had been the main reason for so long and he hated that, he hated making you cry and hated when you cried in general. If you weren't so mad at him he would have unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you over onto his lap so he could hold you close and make you feel better, but he wasn't sure you wanted that, still wanted him.

The thought that you didn't made him feel like he was sinking into the sea, that the sun was slowly being sucked away while he's dragged under into the depths. Ben didn't know who he was without you, didn't know where he would go, and certainly didn't know what his purpose was if he wasn't in your life.

Before he can stop himself he reaches out to touch your arm, but you flinch away from him, still looking out the window and not turning to him.

Ben fights the urge to make you talk to him, and drops his hand back down to his thigh, curling it into a fist again. Ben felt something in his chest that was unfamiliar when you didn't let him touch you. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger or frustration but it was there, simmering underneath the skin.

It reminded him too much of when he came back you didn't let him touch you, didn't want him anywhere near you. He didn't want to admit how much he relied on that, you touching him, not just sexually. The little touches you gave him on the back of his hand to comfort him when you knew he was anxious, or the brace of your hand against his shoulder or back when he was sitting down to reassure him that you were with him and that you weren't going anywhere or the moments you adjusted his collar when it was facing the wrong way, or smoothed a wrinkle at the front of his shirt or even just running your fingers through his hair the way you knew he liked, Ben lived for them, for all those little moments.

No one else had ever tried to touch him that way before, with comfort and love.

Even when you were children, the hugs you gave him when you saw him made everything else seem colorless in comparison. When he came back to you and you refused to let him touch you he was afraid you never would again and when you began to touch him again he felt like he’d ascended to another plane, but now your refusal for him to touch your elbow or even take your hand worried him.

He did not believe that he could survive without something as simple as that.

But all of that just solidified the one thing that Ben knew deep down, had known since the moment he realized how much you meant to him, that you were his one weakness, his fatal flaw, the one thing in his life that he couldn’t live without. He didn’t want to imagine that world existed because he couldn't survive without you.

That was why he didn't want you to fight Homelander alone. It wasn't because he didn't see how strong you were, it was that he was so afraid that he was going to lose you that he couldn't control himself.

He hated admitting that even to you, but now he knew he had to, because he knew his pride wasn't worth losing you.

READER POV

After the most awkward car ride in history, you were ready to get out and kick some ass. Despite Butcher's accelerated driving it had taken five hours to get back to the city from Legend's due to traffic and the whole time you were especially aware of Ben's presence. His brooding was practically audible from the other side of the car where he sulked and refused to look at you. You figured that just as he did the silent treatment you could too, but it didn't make it any easier.

Frankly nothing made any of this easy.

You were frustrated by this turn of events, that Homelander had done the one thing that you feared more than anything else in the world, the one thing that you had tried to prevent from happening your entire life, but he had.

But as upset as you were and worried about Lou and Rosemary, you were upset with yourself over what you had said to Ben. You hadn't meant to mention Howard, it was a low blow and you knew how much he hated the time you spent with Howard. You knew that Ben struggled with the thought that you possibly loved Howard more than you loved him and the  possibility that you regretted spending your life with Ben rather than him. And you knew that it hurt him as much as the moments you watched him with other women over the years.

You didn't want Howard, never wanted Howard, never felt anything for him, and for Ben you felt everything. Sometimes you were afraid to show Ben just how much you felt for him, feared that it would make him push you away when he realized just how much you needed him. In the forty years you spent away from him you tried to convince yourself that you didn't, but having him back was like everything coming back in color from black and white. But at the same time you were still a little angry, angry with him for holding you back when you knew you could have taken Homelander down yourself.

Because in your heart you knew that was what Howard did to you. Not that he held you back from fighting a psychopathic supe, but that Howard never saw you more as a possession, a jewel in a crown adorned on his lofty head, nothing more than something to parade around Philadelphia. That's why it was so different for you when you were with Ben, because Ben saw you, he never covered you up with heavy cloaks, he never discouraged your love of art, he never bored you or made you feel like your opinion wasn't important. Ben made you feel alive, and Howard? Howard made you feel like the empty husk of what you used to be.

You press your lips together in a tight line as Butcher pulls up the seat so you can get out of the backseat and set foot on solid ground. Hughie had been left behind at a gas station, and yes you hated that Butcher had done that, but at the same time you were relieved. You didn't want him to get hurt. You still believed that Hughie was different than you, not that he was innocent, but he wasn't jaded or hardened the way you had to be to survive.

Your gaze lifts to look up at the towering skyscraper that rises from the earth like a proud oak tree on a hill. Vought tower looks the same way it always has, bold and haughty like the men who founded the company all those years ago. The setting sun glints off the glass windows like the last glimmer of summer, something to be grasped before the cold of winter comes to take it all away.

You'd stood here looking up at the building before, watched the lights turn off and on, watched the people go in and out of the building, and had crossed the threshold a handful of times. The final time was to deliver last rights to your good friend Liberty.

She, like a few others, hadn't believed your story and had shown up to speak with you. But unlike the others, her methods of finding out if you were still you was to try to kill you. She had succeeded and then left stating that she would "be back to catch up." When you'd gone to Vought to find her, you hadn't been expecting her to look the way she did, half burned and laying in a hospital bed. You didn't know why she looked that way. It had been odd to stand there over her, odd to remember the person she used to be, proud and powerful and then look at the broken body that laid there. Her death had been a necessary evil, the only time you ever stepped foot in Vought Tower in the last forty years, but if it was to protect your family it was worth it to you.

Your frown grows the longer you stand there underneath the ominous glow that emanates from inside, anxiety prickling along your skin like the spines of a cactus. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way, just that you didn't want to feel this way ever again. The building was a symbol of everything you hated, and you vowed deep down to destroy Vought and send it to hell where it belonged and make those who were responsible for Vought's success pay.

You think about the other day in Legend's backyard, when Ben pulled you back from the darkened pit and back into the light, when Ben told you that he didn't want you to do it alone, that he wanted to be there for you, and when he promised you again that he wasn't leaving and that he wanted you to give him all your burdens.

Yes he wants to be there for me, I get it, I GET IT. You sigh in frustration. I understand that he loves me and that he wants to protect me, but I wish he would just-

"Y/n?" Ben says from behind you. His voice is quiet, reserved, but you know that he's probably just as upset as you are.

You turn and glance up at him. Ben hadn't tried to touch you since you shifted away from him in the car. It hurt you to do that to him, to pull away from his touch when all you wanted was for him to comfort you. The night he came back to you, you hadn't lied when you said that he might have been the one who hurt you, but he was the only person you wanted to comfort you. That was the hard thing about loving him and him being your best friend. It was difficult to draw the line in the sand, to separate the two.

The feeling was normal. It was the same one you had when he broke your heart. You had hated him then too, but he was still the only person you had and the longer you stayed in bed running over the years you spent with him, the more you wished that he was with you. The only person that you wanted to comfort you and care for you even after everything that he had done and yelled at you at the premiere, was Ben.

Sometimes it scared you how much you relied on his touch, how much you needed just a comforting hand on your arm, or for him to tuck your hair behind your ear or for him to kiss you or for him to hold you while you slept. You didn't realize how much you needed it, how much you craved it until he came back and you allowed him to touch you again.

In the car you had been trying not to cry, but everything was building, your frustration with Ben over the conversation the two of you had, fear over what would happen to Lou and Rosemary, and red hot anger directed at Homelander. A single tear had slipped and when Ben had tried to comfort you, you pulled away from him.

Fuck.

You hadn't wanted to. You'd wanted to curl up against him and let him make you feel better, but you were still angry with him for holding you back.

The words you yelled at him momentarily ring in your ears. It wasn't just that you compared him to Howard, it was you told him you didn't need him to protect you. But you knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was probably circling the drain and thinking that you basically told him that you "didn't need him" when you did.

"Yeah?" You clear your throat. It was difficult to look at him, not when you were so close to just breaking down and telling him that you were sorry. You knew that you needed to be focused on what was about to happen, but you couldn't, not when things were like this between the two of you. You hated fighting with him.

Ben's gaze drifts to where Butcher is staring expectantly at you.

"Give us a minute." Ben says to him.

"Why?"

"Just give us a fucking minute." Ben snaps, obviously annoyed, but you knew that he was probably upset about the fight the two of you had and he was projecting that anger onto Butcher.

"Fine. I’ll clear the lobby. Don’t take too long." Butcher frowns, but turns and stalks up the front steps of the building.

You turn back to look at him, unable to stop the sarcastic comment from building. Because yes, you wanted to forgive him, but at the same time you were still frustrated with him. "What? Are you gonna lock me in the car? Or are you going to tell me again how you don’t want me to fight him?"

"No." Ben growls.

"Then why-"

"Because I don’t want it to be like this." Anger lurks on the edge of his words, but at the same time you can hear something else in his voice, something that sounds a little broken. And it makes your heart clench in you chest.

"You don’t want what to be like this?" You ask confused.

"I don’t want us to go in there angry at each other." He continues.

"Why not?"

"Because I-" Ben stops, his jaw tightening for a moment, before he sighs. "I hate it when you’re mad at me. When you don't let me-" He swallows and you watch his eyes drop to your hand for a moment and you understand what he's saying.

That he hates it when you don't let him touch you. You hated it too.

"You think I like being mad at you?" You whisper, fingers itching to touch his cheek, to push back the dark hair that has fallen forward into his eyes.

"No." He breathes.

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence fill the space between you. The sounds of the city rising around you, the sound of traffic, vendors downtown, and the smell of the pretzel stand around the corner are everywhere. There aren't as many people on the streets now, but you know that it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes Ben in his uniform.

You sigh as you look up at him. Despite the uniform there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you can't shake and you understand how much it must have hurt him too.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me either.” You reply.

"I don’t like being mad at you." Ben exhales heavily. "And I don't want it to be like this before we go in. If something happens I-" He stops talking. "I don't want our last conversation to be like that."

"What do you mean you don't want our last conversation to be like that?" This time you can't help, but take his hand and Ben physically relaxes as you do, squeezing your hand back just as tightly.

"If this doesn't work out, if-" His jaw locks and he drops his eyes from yours. "I can't lose you."

"Ben." You whisper and this time you can't help but hug him, pull him close to comfort him. Your arms go up around the back of his neck, burying your face into the hollow of his throat. "You're not going to lose me. Everything is going to be fine." Ben's body immediately curves around you, arms holding you against him so tight it's almost painful, like he thinks you'll never allow him to do this ever again.

"I'm not strong enough for that y/n-" He whispers it so low that you're not sure he meant for you to hear it. "I can't-"

"Shh." You breathe, moving your hands into his hair, smoothing down the unruly strands at the back of his head. "I promise you're not going to lose me." You pull back to look him in the eye. "But I want you to treat me like an equal, like you see my power-“

“I do.”

“No you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t hold me back all the time.”

“I’m trying not to, but-“ Ben sighs leaning forward into you. “You said it’s your job to take care of me, well it’s my job to protect you.” His expression hardens. “And I failed before.”

“What happened to me was not your fault.”

“I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you for a second-"

“Just like I should have been there in Nicaragua." You whisper back, with a sorrowful sigh. "Just like I should have asked more questions, should have made sure that you were really gone. Then you wouldn’t have had to be in that lab, you wouldn't have been alone-"

“That’s not your fault.” Ben's forehead is against yours now. "Please don't feel bad about that."

“It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not. I should have been there for you. I will forever feel guilty that I didn’t come for you sooner and that you had to endure that for forty years.” You drop your eyes to his chest.

“Then I’ll forever feel guilty for the way I treated you.” Ben replies.

"I don't want you to." Your gaze rises to his once more, locking with his deep green eyes.

It was true. You could still remember what he said to you, remember what he did, but he was here now and he was doing everything right to make you forget. He was being so different and working so hard to make up for the past that you didn't feel the prick of pain with the memories that you used to.

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened to me." Ben murmurs, raising his hand to cup your cheek. "Those years don't matter to me. The only thing that matters to me is being here with you. And I don't want to miss another second because I did something stupid again."

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what you did to me anymore. Because you're making me forget, you're doing everything you can to be different, and you're making me fall in love with you all over again." You whisper, leaning in to his hand where his thumb traces gently over your cheekbone. "And I don't care what the past held as long as I have a future with you, as long as you're here with me I don't care about anything else."

Ben smiles when he kisses you, the shape of his lips imprinting against yours, and making you lose yourself in loving him the same way that you had all those years ago. "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too." You smile just as wide, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to Howard. You're not like him Ben. You are my everything and Howard was nothing."

He nods. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to hold you back I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"I know. I want to keep you safe too." You nudge your nose against his, breathing in the same air for a few moments.

He is still smiling softly. "Why are we like this?"

"Like what?"

"We always find something to fight about and I-"

“I kinda like it.”  You shrug.

“What?”

“Not that I like that you’re mad at me or being mad at you, I just think that we like to keep it interesting." You snort. "I think that if we didn't have a healthy amount of fighting we would just be so boring and-"

Ben kisses you again to shut you up, but it doesn't work.

"Plus, I like to think that the make-up is worth it after." You whisper against his lips with a smirk.

You watch Ben's eyes darken, with your comment. "Well, sweetheart, I'd say that we've got about forty years to make-up for." His hand on your waist tightens, moving his lips to your ear. "And I look forward to every single second." Ben's voice is rough and he bites your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine that for a moment clears your worry about Homelander.

"I love you." You smile, kissing him like it's the last thing you'll ever do, like it's the greatest good you'll ever amount to.

"I love you too." Ben replies kissing you like it's the last time he'll be able to and trying not to think that it could be.

A/N: A lot of delicious angst before the final fight! I have written most of the fight already, but I am hoping to finish out the next chapter by the end of the week... if the writer's block isn't blocking. 😂😭 I hope y'all liked this one. I see only maybe 2 chapters left officially in the series, but we will see how everything wraps up.

As always thank you so much for reading! I am so happy that so many people love this fic as much as I do. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

@lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn

@lifeonawhim @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife

@xxannyxx

@babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm

@lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40 @tinystarfishgalaxy

@jvanilly

@libby99hb @lunaticgurly @i-am-typing @52ndstreeet

@anna6307

@pixviee @soldiergrimes @ladysparkles78 @ahoytothestorm

@octoazzy @modiddys-blog @marmie-noir @practicallylivesonline

@impala67stellawinchester

@everlove @dangerousgardenchild

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

No longer yours to keep

summary: what happens when you and Xaden bond with mated dragons but you're already dating Garrick?

warning: pretty suggestive, some iron flame spoilers.

Kind of part II

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For as long as you could remember it had been you three against the world. Your families had been extremely close so it was inevitable for your three to end up being best friends. And it was like that until you all started to grow up. And once the teenage years kicked in so did the desire to explore and learn new things.

You mingled in this relationship with no boundaries, no labels for a bit. Until Xaden had to uphold his duties. Had to agree to be engaged to a girl just for the sake of power. That of course meant that you and Garrick had been slightly pushed to the side. Xaden was barely free to spend time with you, barely there for your usual nights out. Meaning that you and Garrick fell into this easy rhythm. This bonding over losing a friend you two loved dearly. And without any big gestures. Without any grand signs had fallen in love.

Garrick had always been made of sharp edges, similar to Xaden. Just Xaden used that as a form of self-defense when he needed to be out in the public and Garric... He had always been on the rougher side. Had always been harder to read. To predict. But he was an amazing lover. There wasn't a moment where you felt unseen or unheard. Yes, he had his moments but once he stewed over them, he would always come to apologize. To make it right. And he was so protective. Boy, was he protective. It was both a charming thing because it empowered you even more but... it was frightening too because Garrick's heart was in your hands, he had let you in deeper than anyone else. And you had planned to keep it forever. Had planned but...

But then threshing came. You three were at the top of your squad. Ready to grasp the best spots in the section. Garrick and Xaden were already waiting when you emerged. They had remained close friends throughout the years. Lost had changed and in all honesty it was you who bitched to Xaden the most. "We can do the next shipment after we bond with dragons", Xaden said quietly. There was a revelation brewing. And surprise, surprise Xaden was at the top of it. "I'll get the boys to take the boxes tonight", Garrick said, as his arm sneaked around your waist, "Hey", he muttered pressing his lips to your temple. "Everything's okay?", you asked, earning a nod from them both. "Excited to bond?", you looked across the field as the wind picked up.

"I have my eyes set on a dragon I want", Xaden said firmly. "Of course you do", you rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to cling to Garrick as if this might as well be the last time you two were gonna see one another. "You're okay?", Garrick wrapped an arm over your shoulders, you hesitated for a moment but... they were your childhood friends after all.

"I just have this weird feeling", you breathed out, "Like something is about to change". Xaden snicked from beside you and Garrick threw him a glare. "We will be bonding with dragons today, princess", Xaden mused. "Might be. Don't be too full of yourself", you bit back, Garrick instantly brought you closer to him, hands on your hips, "Don't bite his throat out, baby". Xaden pushed away from the wall, "I'll see you two there".

You huffed out a breath. You didn't want to be a bitch but that man was grinding your gears at times. He was also putting himself in so much danger and for what? A fucking title? "Tell me about what's worrying you", Garrick cupped your face. Your eyes met his. God, you loved this man. "I just have a bad feeling", you muttered, "I don't think that anyone is dying today but... I think that things are going to be different. Really different". Garrick tilted his head to the side as he watched you. "All I care about is that you come back to me", he muttered, "with or without a dragon, I just want you back by my side". His words clenched at your heart because somehow deep down you had an inkling that that was exactly what wasn't gonna happen.

You had crossed paths with burnt flesh multiple times. Guess this year's threshing theme was roasted cadets for dinner. You were so tired. Sure, this had to end soon and you would have to admit your defeat. And just... A puff of hot air hit your back making you still. You could feel its presence behind you. You took a deep breath in before turning around. And here it stood. The biggest black dragon you had ever seen. "Holly fuck", you breathed beneath your breath.

Your head was buzzing. Every fiber of your skin was on fire. You could believe that you had bonded with a dragon. A black one at that. Black dragons rarely bonded. Lower your ego he snarled in your mind. You slide down his leg ready to give your dragon's name so you can be officially linked when an overwhelming sense of emotions hits your chest. You faltered slightly. Gripping the edge of the table a huge scroll will names was placed on it.

You hand fell on your chest as the edges of your vision blurred. You let out a pained breath as your eyes snapped up and here he stood. On the other side of the field. A blue dragon by his side. Eyes burning holes into you. Hands in fists. What the fuck... you felt an arm wrapping around your waist. Oddly enough wanting to pull away because it just didn't feel right only to find Garrick inches from you, cupping your face. And then everything went black.

Your eyes snapped open with a jolt. The moon was casting faint light over the room. Garrick was passed out beside you. His hand wrapped around your middle. You brushed your fingers through his messy hair when a wave of need rushed through you. Need that wasn't however in any way related to the man that was next to you. Come to me. The voice rang in your head making you jolt. And even if you didn't want to. And even if you tried to fight it. Tried to fall back asleep. Tried cuddling into your boyfriend. Not even fifteen minutes later you were padding through the quiet corridors.

You didn't even have a clue as to where you were going and yet here you were, standing right next to the person that had taken over your mind. "Why the fuck do I feel you in every fiber of my body, Riorson", you said through gritted teeth. Your body grew warm just from the sight of him. "Our dragons are mated", he said bluntly, puffing out a cloud of mirth-root. You instantly crossed the distance between you too, snatching the blunt and taking a hit yourself. The overwhelming feeling eased slightly, but your body still yarned for him.

"We need to sort this out, get this fixed", you muttered, brushing your fingers through your hair in frustration. "How do you plan on doing that? They have been mates for centuries. Fuck, we hadn't even been born back then", Xaden huffed out. "I'm with Garrick, I won't leave him, I...", you muttered in panic, but Xaden's hand that sneaked up your throat made your voice die down.

"They are fucking", Xaden said through gritted teeth, eyes hazy as he looked at you. You could feel it too. Gods, even the smell of him. "We can't... I can't do this to him", you pushed back, trying to keep distance between you two. "Do you think it's not eating me alive?", Xaden growled, cursing under his breath, "I watched Garrick falling head over heels for you. You're it for him, and now...", Xaden turned around, bracing a hand on the wall as he breathed. Please hold your pleasure to yourself you snarled at your dragon. But it's like your words didn't even reach him.

You took in a shaky breath, right as your eyes met Xaden, and within the blink of an eye you were pressed against the stone wall, legs wrapped around Xaden's hips. His teeth buried in your neck as you dug your nails into the back of his neck. It felt as if your body was on fire. As if only with him near you could finally breathe. "We can go back to having an open relationship", Xaden breathed against your ear. You shook your head, "Garrick will never share, we're in too deep", you muttered. Xaden let out a growl, "If he'll want to keep you, he will share, baby". His hands moved up your shirt, Garrick's shirt, and that was a reminder enough for you to push against Xaden's chest. You wiggled till he finally lost his grip on you. "If you'll challenge him for a claim of me, I swear to everything I believe in, I will suffocate you in your sleep", you pointed a warning finger at him. Xaden only chuckled, "You'll be crawling to me", he breathed out. Dark eyes watching you. "Fuck you, Riorson", you huffed, "You'll do that to baby", he mussed right as you turned around. Practically running back to your room. Heart beating in your chest so loudly that for a while it was all you could breathe.

[h0neysp1ce]

❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ Tιɠԋɳαɾι

⋆˚✿˖° Character Parings : Tighanri , Fem! Reader Constellation: Head canons / series Warnings: Spoilers for Sumeru Archon Quests (small mentions) Spoilers for Tighnari's Character and Personality? Tags: Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship, Relationship Dynamics A/N: Next Fontaine Men?? No specific pronouns for reader, But I started the head canons series, with it being fem! reader so that's why its labeled that way. ⋆˚✿˖° (proof read sorta ) (edited sorta)

Word count: 955

✧˖°🌷⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Nicknames he gives you include: Marigold, My Marigold, Dear, Daffoldi, Dandelion, Buttercup.

As a Forest Ranger, he definitely takes you on his forest watches and duties sometimes.

Tighnari knows his herbs like the back of his hand (he probably has a whole book on them that he keeps with him at all times).

He drinks tea and brews herbal tea for the two of you, such as mint, ginger, or peppermint flavors.

He's all about safety 100%. He will give you a lecture beforehand and a review lecture during the outings you both go on.

His love languages are Words of Affirmation . He'll verbally express his love and show it in every way he can, every day. <3

He has a sarcastic side and a serious side, a mix similar to Cyno’s but distinct in its own way.

Tighnari is both a compliment giver and receiver. <3

Tighnari: "You look as beautiful as ever, my Marigold."

You:  "Thank you, Love."

He is a respectful gentleman, a sweetheart, and a total sweetie to you.

You listen to him ramble on and on; it's comforting and kind of funny when he goes off on his usual tangents.

Your boyfriend has a Mom/Bodyguard Mode (he only does it to protect his most beloved, which is you :3).

He remembers the smallest details about you—favorite foods, colors, everything. He's that dedicated to knowing you, memorizing it all with ease because you are that important to him.

You two share his place in Gandarvaville and live together. <3

Collei was the first person to know about your relationship.

Sometimes you help Collei with tasks or act as an alternative if Tighnari is out on his travels and wants you to stay put until he returns. It varies honestly.

You are allowed to pet/touch his ears with his permission (you're the only person he lets do this).

He knows how to make medicine and herbal remedies for just about everything.

He loves kissing your forehead, hands, nose (and sometimes your neck), and leaves behind marks here and there as a way of marking you (all with permission, of course).

You are bonded for life, as his species (fennec fox) mates for life, so you are paired forever. <3

Like Kaveh, Tighnari would definitely bring a banquet of flowers home to you from all the places he visits each time he goes on his travels. He’s also gotten you jewelry before, like necklaces, earrings, or bracelets (Sumeru style??).

Tighnari: "Daffoldi, could you come in for a moment? Yes, come here please."

(He gifts you a flower-shaped necklace that resembles the flower on his outfit, almost matching.)

"Name": "I love it so much, thank you, sweetheart!"

He trained you how to use a bow and arrows (with his bow) and also taught you self-defense and various other skills.

He acknowledges you every chance he gets, always impressed and proud of your achievements.

Like the other Sumeru men, he knows more than one language.

He teases you sometimes and makes lots of funny jokes that make you crack up.

He’ll be that shoulder to lean on if you fall asleep.

Nap time is a thing for you both whenever you get the chance.

Hand holding, kissing, cuddling—he’s all for it.

He’s clingy right before you two go to bed, when waking up in the morning, or when he's about to leave on a trip. He always clings to you and gives you lots of kisses and compliments before he leaves, assuring you he’ll be back soon.

Like Kaveh, he’s always glad when his duties as a forest ranger wrap up or pause so he can return to you because he tends to miss you.

He finds his work as a forest watcher/ranger very important but always makes time for you in between (dates, quality time, etc.).

He also gifted you a locket necklace with a picture of both of you inside it.

He definitely picks you up bridal style or gives you piggyback rides when your feet get tired on a trip.

"Name": "Tighnari, I’m fine, you can put me down."

Tighnari: "I’m just letting your legs rest for a while, silly. We’ve been walking for a bit, and I can clearly tell you need a break."

"Name" "But—"

Tighnari: "Ah, ah, no buts. I’ve got you." He gently pulls you closer to his chest while carrying you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Passionate and soft kisser, trailing kisses on your face, neck, etc.

When you walk together, he likes wrapping one of his arms around you, placing it on your side.

As serious as this fennec fox can be, sometimes he can be a bit goofy and silly.

He’s dedicated to protecting you, and no one will ever try anything while he’s around. :)

That time he got struck by lightning was a real scare. You scolded him a lot for it.

"Name" "You could have seriously gotten hurt worse!"

Tighnari: "Buttercup, I’m fine—ow, ow."

"Name": "Don’t move."

Tighnari: "I’m  really sorry, Marigold."

He loves to cup your face with his hands from time to time, thinking you’re just cute and adorable up close with his hands cupping your face.

You have dinner together almost every night unless he’s away on his job as a forest ranger.

You two take walks when it’s raining (not thundering or lightning), just when it’s raining with a leaf umbrella (I know that doesn’t exist, just bear with me).

At some point, he got you a piece of jewelry like a promise ring or a matching bracelet for both of you, as a sign of your union and how important your relationship is.

He’ll eventually ask you to marry him. Don’t worry—this fox sees a future with you.

[alchemistc]

for love that i'll keep tending | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy has been... stewing, for most of the night. There's no way around it.

He's been reserved, picking at the label on his latest craft beer, something he'd actually used his timeshare on the chopper to fly out to Colorado to pick up because Buck had gone down a research spiral and mentioned might be fun to try (after he'd gotten teary-eyed about the one dedicated to a brewery dog who'd passed), only the brewery didn't ship.

Eddie is almost positive they haven't had a fight. He'd spent an entire 24 with Buck, and even if Buck had been keeping silent about it -- unlikely, but always a possibility -- he'd definitely have been brooding about it. But he'd been normal. For the general rule of Buck, anyway, he'd been normal. Maybe even a little more chipper than usual. When he'd smacked a hand to Eddie's shoulder on the way to his Jeep, he hadn't even done the usual rigamarole of acting a little jealous about Eddie and Tommy spending time together without him.

Shit, is Buck losing interest?

But -- no.

No, because a week ago they'd gone to a call for a lost little girl in the canyon, and when they'd gotten to her and she'd told them all about going camping with her dads, and how she'd gotten turned around and lost, Buck had done his normal routine with kids and charmed her into calm, and when they'd found the guys frantically searching for their daughter an hour and a half later, Buck had gotten a look in his eye that Eddie had been seeing a lot of lately.

There was the general look he always gave kids -- babies especially, but kids in general -- like he found them more precious than anything else in the world. And then there was the look he reserved for parents and their kids -- contemplative, a little wistful, like he was remembering there was someone out there in the world with half his genetic makeup.

And then there was the one for gay men and their children. It wasn't like it happened a lot, but often enough that even Eddie sometimes wondered if Buck wasn't accidentally manifesting these meetings. It'd been happening with greater frequency since the moment Andi from B shift had unceremoniously dumped her new baby into Tommy's arms so that she could grab a slice of Bobby's famous apple pie before it was gone. Tommy'd been magnanimous enough to refuse to hand the baby back for most of the evening, eyeing her frazzled hair and the circles under her eyes and making the executive decision that she needed a break, even if it was just forty-five minutes at the station while they all celebrated the new arrival and the extra two weeks of maternity leave they'd had to practically sue the city for.

Buck's love of kids seemed to have laser-focused since seeing Tommy rocking a baby in one arm while he spoon-fed Jee-Yun cake in the seat next to his.

And Eddie hasn't ever really talked to Tommy about kids, in general. He's good with Chris, unfazed in the face of all his angsty teenage moods, happy to be drawn into conversations that even Eddie and Buck sometimes aren't sure how to navigate. He knows Jee's a little obsessed with him, and that it's a point of pride for Tommy. Denny and Mara are always begging Hen to invite him over more.

Maybe it's finally hitting, though? That a future with Buck almost certainly means children, at some point?

The heavyweight match ends with a technical KO in the third round and Eddie stands to grab another round of beers.

"I bought a ring on my day off," Tommy says, staring hard at his mostly empty growler, and Eddie drops back into his recliner with a grunt.

"Okay," Eddie tells him, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. Neither one of them speaks as the next bout is announced. It's technically the one they went halvsies on the package for, but Eddie doubts either one of them cares enough about it to refocus. "I gotta say, man, if you're having second thoughts I'm the wrong person to talk to, because I'm gonna get defensive and tell you you're a damn fool, and I doubt it's gonna be helpful."

Tommy turns to give him a look so unimpressed that Eddie's actually a little jealous. That, at least, is helpful.

"Okay. Good. Great, even. So, what exactly is it that's been making you leak existential dread all over my couch since you got here?"

Eddie can think of a couple different possibilities. He isn't Buck-close with Tommy, but they talk, and it's not like he hasn't been around the two of them together enough to not have been privy to some of the more intimate conversations they've had. Family is a rough subject for all of them. So there's still that glaring what if they haven't talked about kids possibility. Or just a general fear that Buck isn't ready for this step -- completely unfounded, but Tommy's a lot more insecure about this stuff than he tends to let on.

Tommy grimaces. Gestures vaguely, and shakes his head, before he finally makes eye contact. "Evan's the grand gestures guy. And now I've got a ring burning a hole in my pocket, and jack shit as far as how to propose."

And this -- this is actually the most delightful answer he could have given. This is primo blackmail material. The best man speech is literally gonna write itself.

Eddie lets him stir in it for a hot minute. He tilts his head back and forth, nods to himself, rolls his tongue over his teeth, waits, waits, waits until Tommy narrows his eyes at him and reaches for a bottle cap on the coffee table to toss at Eddie's head.

Eddie laughs. "You could ask him two days laid up in bed with the flu, covered in flop sweat, and the answer would be the same."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Clearly my point is that he deserves more than that, and I don't have a clue where to start."

"Well," Eddie starts, "I'm aware that everyone and their mother thinks I have a secret, elaborate proposal planned out for Buck already, but I am once again reminding you that we've been over this and I'm not actually hiding any unrequited feelings for the man you want to be your husband. So."

That saga won't make it into the speech. That's a private little story for the three of them to look back on, twenty years from now, and laugh about. That's a weekend stretch of conversations in the woods of Big Bear, sharing a tent that really should have only fit one of them, that Eddie will never be able to properly express his gratitude for.

"So you've got nothing," Tommy says, a little accusatory, a lot bitchy.

"Buck likes making big gestures, man. I have zero point of reference on what he'd like if the tables were turned."

But -- actually.

Tommy huffs, melting into the couch cushions like his marionette strings have been cut.

There's a thought percolating, though. He's just not sure --

"I shouldn't be worried," Tommy says, more to himself than to Eddie. It'd been an interesting revelation, half-a-year in, finding out that Tommy was actually kind of a yapper, once he was comfortable with someone. "We've talked about this. Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. I don't know why I'm building this up in my head."

Which is unintentionally the most helpful thing he's said so far.

"I have... an idea," Eddie drops, tentative, as Pereira once again proves why he gets the title card every time he fights. Tommy's eyes snap to his, interested. "Depends how much you trust Jee to keep a secret."

She's her fathers daughter, so very little should be the answer. They'll have to keep her in the dark until day of. Probably find a way to keep Buck distracted until things are fully in motion.

Tommy leans in.

_____

Eddie's still riding the high of finally beating Josh and Maddie at pool when Buck and Tommy slide into the bar, the two of them grinning ear to ear. Eddie spots it first, and shoots a wide eyed look at Tommy, because they'd spent a week trying to plot out a time when everyone necessary to The Plan would be available for a long enough time to make it work without cutting corners. That day is still... three and a half weeks away.

And Buck's got a ring on his finger. Eddie's already seen it up close, a simple gold band, an inscription on the inside he doesn't really know the significance of, even if it'd made Tommy go a little moony-eyed when Eddie read it aloud.

Tommy... is also wearing a ring.

Dios, did Buck go out and buy a ring the night Tommy came over for the fights?

They're made for each other. They're both insane.

Buck isn't exactly subtle when he slams his hand down on the eight-top they'd snaked half an hour ago, and if Maddie hadn't immediately shrieked and drawn the attention of half the bar, Eddie is certain he'd have wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Maybe done a jig before he Vanna'd Tommy's bling, too.

Josh immediately monopolizes all of Buck's attention by demanding Buck tell him the story with haste, Buckley, so Eddie gets a chance to raise an eyebrow at Tommy, who quickly rolls his jaw to hide the massive grin threatening to overtake his entire face.

"Well I wasn't dying of dysentery," Tommy deadpans, as the smile leaks through at the corners of his mouth. His nose scrunches when he tries to bite it down.

"He forgot to put the box away before I got back from my run," Tommy admits, cheeks dimpling, and then the fight is out of him, left fist clenched tight so that the thick band catches in the overhead light, deep grooves stretching towards his ears as he unleashes the depths of his happiness upon the world.

Eddie can picture the mad scramble, the awareness that he's been caught, the doe-eyed grin that seems to be reserved specifically for Tommy.

Buck is making a gesture that is probably less obscene than it looks, based on the way Maddie continues to grin without any sign of pulling a face. Josh is sighing.

Chimney and Hen are gonna be pissed they were running late.

Eddie owes Hen twenty bucks.

("Yeah, have you met them? I'm taking bets right now, there's no way Tommy lasts a month with a ring and a plan.")

Maddie seems to realize at the same moment as Buck that they'd narrowed their focus so completely that the prospective fiance has had time to order drinks. She rounds on Tommy with the same unhinged joy she'd fostered in her brother, growing up.

"You didn't tell me!" she says, and Eddie assumes that means Tommy had (eventually, and god does he know way too much about how active their sex life is) divulged his plan.

"You would have told Howie," Tommy accuses, and when Maddie doesn't deny it Tommy just looks smug. His grin goes soft around the edges when he catches Buck beaming at him over his sisters shoulder.

Eddie takes the opportunity, before the rest of the party arrives and derails the conversation for a second retelling, to round the table and gather Buck up in a hug.

Buck's embrace is tight, and maybe a little teary. Eddie clings back, and thinks of the years and years of disappointed hopes, the loves that fizzled out, or burst into flames, the thing behind Buck's eyes that had only made itself known after Tommy stuck around.

Hen and Chim find them like that. He doesn't even let her get a word out before he's giving Buck a hearty smack on the back and digging for his wallet.

[shaunaswhore]

Picture You

Do you picture me, like I picture you?

Shauna Shipman x Reader Part I | to be continued.

Trigger Warnings: graphic mentions of injuries, puking, talks about cheating.

Word Count: 3,506 words

Synopsis: The reader and Shauna are in a secret relationship due to the fact that their New Jersey hometown, while liberal, isn't quite there yet when it comes to homosexual relationships. The reader is on the yearbook committee, and she gets to travel with the Yellowjackets to Seattle for Nationals.

Please request here. | Check out my Masterlist.

(Y/n) stood on the sideline, clutching her EOS 55 camera. She waited with baited breath, carefully taking shots. She didn't want to waste her film. She captured every perfect pass towards the winning goal that would send the Yellowjackets to Nationals in Seattle. (Y/n) captured the final moments of the game perfectly. The save from Taissa as Allie was overwhelmed by the opponents defense. Click, click. Taissa's smooth pass inside to Shauna. Click, click, click. Shauna's pass back to Taissa once she was in position, a practiced play. Click. Then, Taissa's flawless pass to Jackie, who headbutt the ball into the goal. Click, click.

The girls yelled in excitement over their win, launching themselves into each other at full speed. (Y/n) grinned, capturing them as they chanted 'Buzz, Buzz, Buzz,' jumping up and down with excitement. She lowered her camera when Shauna looked her way. She couldn't help the way her smile grew as she lowered the camera down to meet the girl's big brown eyes across the field. She allowed the camera to hang around her neck as she clapped with the rest of the crowd before cupping a hand to the side of her mouth, whooping out to the girls. But, mostly, to Shauna.

As the game's celebrations concluded, (Y/n) headed into the school building to turn her film in. She uses her own camera from Japan to take her photos and the school, begrudgingly supplies the film for her since she was their best and most active photographer. She wrote a note on a sticky note to whoever would be developing the film in the school's dark room on Monday morning, labeling it as the Yellowjacket's winning game. Little did she know, Monday would be the last article she would draft up for the school's paper. She replaced her film in the camera, grabbing the rest of her supply that was wrapped in rubberbands and a sticky note that read 'For School.' She had her own film for her own activities.

Clicking the camera's back into place, the feeling of two arms pulling her in from the waist startled her. She almost elbowed the offender until she processed fully who it was and leaned back. "You smell like sweat," she leaned her head up to look at Shauna with a cheeky smile. Her eyes lit up at the way Shauna rolled her eyes playfully, shaking her head. She always appreciated how the very quiet and slightly intimidating Shauna Shipman always seemed pretty relaxed around her.

"Yeah, I wonder why. It's not like I was just running on the field for an hour or two." She teased, hands falling to (Y/n)'s waist as she turned her girlfriend around in her arms. (Y/n) looked up at her, moving to her tiptoes to connect their lips after checking that nobody was passing the halls. They have been keeping their relationship a secret, given the social environment of New Jersey in 1996. While it's more liberal than other areas, it still wasn't safe. Especially given the particular social criticism that high school provides. Take Natalie Scattorccio, for example. Despite her being a cool and kind person, she has rumors attached to her that made her an outcast to their other classmates.

(Y/n) gave the girl a crooked grin when she pulled away, adjusting her camera bag shyly. "While you did definitely kill it out there, you should go get a shower." She stated playfully, but before Shauna could leave the room, (Y/n) grabbed her wrist, pulling her back gently. "Wait, this is for you." (Y/n) held up a cassette that Shauna could use for her tape deck. The backstrip of the cassette tape read 'For My Supernova' and it made Shauna grin a bit. Warmth settled over her chest when Shauna flipped it over seeing Supernova by Liz Phair was the first song on the self-made tape.

"You're such a dork." She muttered, cheeks a bit red as she slowly made her way to the door. In Shauna terms, that was an 'I love you.' (Y/n) knew that fact all too well as she leaned on the desk beside her with a little wave that Shauna returned. "I'm going to try to listen to this as soon as I get in the car. Let's just hope Jackie doesn't hijack my radio again." Shauna stated, as if she was exasperated by Jackie. In truth, (Y/n) knew Shauna loved her best friend more than anything, and that was okay because the same went for her and Mari.

(Y/n) exchanged her camera for her JVC GR-AX74U camcorder she brought everywhere. Like her camera, she had an abundance of backup batteries for the two. After she finished turning in her film, officially, and switching out her camera's battery for fresh ones, she headed to the locker room. As soon as Mari exited, (Y/n) started filming with a giant grin adorning her features. "Mari, Mari, over here," she acted like she was paparazzi and she was one of the Spice Girls. Mari loved the attention. Shauna, who walked out behind Mari with Jackie rolled her eyes slightly at the scene but said nothing. "How does it feel to know you are going to Nationals?" She questioned her best friend with a giant grin as they head for their cars.

Mari's eyes twinkled with delight as she answered, the Yellowjackets cheering at the word 'Nationals,' causing (Y/n) to pan over everyone, unable to stop herself from stopping at Shauna for a moment. "And, you, Shauna? I want your words. How do you feel about Nationals?" Shauna shook her head with a smile, covering up the camera's lens with a dorky smile falling over her lips, though she tried to hide from the team as Jackie answered for her. (Y/n) almost rolled her eyes at Jackie's interjection. That was Shauna's moment, once again swept away by Jackie-fucking-Taylor. (Y/n) closed her camera as they made their way outside the building. She sent a wink to Shauna, before getting into her 1987 Pontiac Sunbird, which was known to be just as important to (Y/n) as her cameras.

"Mari, if you don't hurry up, I'm not getting you dinner before dropping you off." (Y/n) said, having rolled down the window to see her best friend still talking to someone on the team. Mari rolled her eyes before yelling a quick 'I'm coming!' and getting in the car. "You take forever. You talk so much."

(Y/n) didn't actually care that Mari took so long though. It gave her time to see Shauna peel off with Jackie as she waits for her best friend. Unlike many of the varsity members, Mari is a junior, and just like Mari, (Y/n) was also a junior. That might have been what bonded them, in the long run. Being around all of the senior Yellowjackets with their strong egos, especially Taissa, it could feel a bit nerve-wracking. The two of them were already friends, and since (Y/n) hung out on the sidelines getting pictures, it was easy to talk to the second string players like Mari. The two of them were jamming to Bump n' Grind as they pulled up the Wendy's, grabbing a quick bite.

"So, what's going on between you and Shauna?" Mari asked with a little smirk, stirring a fry into her Frosty. This action made (Y/n) cringe since it should be absolutely criminal. "You're always staring at her with these lovesick eyes. I promise you can tell me, I'm not going to judge at all. I think you'd be cute with her. It's like… You're the sunshine and Shauna is the very intimidating, scary grumpy… storm?" To Mari's credit, she was trying. She was just doing a bad job.

Rolling her eyes slightly at her best friend's description, (Y/n) pulled out some of the soccer film she had saved that didn't go into last week's school paper. "She's actually pretty amazing." (Y/n) said with a soft smile, handing Mari some photos of herself before looking at the ones of Shauna. Her wide grin when they make a goal or win. Her concentration when they're working to get the ball down the field. (Y/n) has documented so much of the Yellowjackets the last two years, and she was a little sad to say this would be the last year for many of those on the team that makes them what they are. Mari smiled a bit at the light smile on her best friend's face before going through the pictures with her.

As Jackie's neighbor, (Y/n) was provided with an early morning opportunity to see Jackie's ride to school, AKA her girlfriend journaling. Jackie was never known to be on time, making Shauna wait often. Pulling up next to Shauna, she honked, She turned down Breakfast at Tiffany's a wide smile falling on her face when Shauna turned. The two of them rolling down their windows. "Waiting for Jackie?" She called over, causing Shauna to point to her house, just as Jeff was escaping through the roof. The two of them watched and (Y/n) shook her head. "Right… See you at school, Supernova." She winked, turning her music back up and rolling up her windows as Jeff passed by.

When the morning pep rally commenced, (Y/n) was letting another person take photos with the school's camera as she focused on recording. As the principal tried to get some claps for the boys baseball team, she had to hold back a snort, know they'd archive the footage. She was standing to the side, recording the assembly. This recording, for once, was on the school's lower budget camcorder, but (Y/n) was making it work. (Y/n) winced slightly at Misty's loud screaming at the Yellowjackets were called in as the New Jersey State Champions. Still, she kept her hand steady as the girls jogged in.

As they lined up and the mascot passed, (Y/n) and Arnold, the photographer, moved to the front to get some footage and shots. (Y/n)'s smile grew when she passed Shauna before recording on the opposite side of the gym- away from Misty's screaming. The mascot grabbed at the camera when it had 'flew' back over, causing (Y/n) to grimace slightly and almost fall back, trying to stay steady. When she caught herself, she saw on the camera the concerned look Shauna shot to her before giving the brunette a gentle nod that she was okay. It was little moments like that, when Shauna was looking at her from far away, that made (Y/n)'s heart soar.

It was something she held onto for the rest of the day as she attended the soccer practice. She was able to play it off like she was going to pick Mari up after, but she was secretly there to see Shauna. She was also getting some shots with the school's film and writing up her draft for the school paper, discussing the win. She was the one of a few people who found themselves scattered around the school when working on drafts as active reporters. She just had to turn in her paper in thirty minutes. Which wasn't hard saying as it was completed. She finished it Friday, she was just fixing it up.

She didn't noticed Shauna taking a minute to admire her on the bleachers as she flipped through the developed film, pairing it with her article. She, of course, picked the headbutt from Jackie and the group huddle before collecting the other photos, writing yearbook on it. She worked hard on the school's paper and the yearbook, it being a dual club. She notes on index cards for the players, categorizing their photos since they'd have a whole spread due to their tremendous win. Once she was done, she looked up, smiling when she met Shauna's eyes as drills began.

(Y/n) gave her a little wave, putting everything into the folders, paperclipped how they would go in the paper and the yearbook before heading inside to turn in her work. When she came back out towards the field, she could feel a certain shift in the atmosphere. Her eyes widened and her stomach churned as she saw Allie screaming with her bone sticking out of her leg. Misty tried to help but got shoved off and Mari was standing to the side with wide eyes.

"What happened to Allie?" (Y/n) asked, approaching Mari with her brows furrowed in concern. She was still trying not to throw up. "Dude, that looks fucking gnarly."

Mari shook her head, leaning over the trashcan to puke. (Y/n) rubbed her back gently and she finally tore her eyes off the girl, the other Yellowjackets telling her to breathe. "Taissa…" Mari swallowed thickly, thanking (Y/n) when she passed her water bottle over to her. "Taissa tripped her… On accident, I think." She stated, a little unsure of how accidental it might have been. (Y/n) shook her head when Mari tried to return the water bottle as an ambulance was arriving and the Yellowjackets were told to go into the locker room to change. (Y/n) guided Mari back, waiting for her outside, brows still furrowed over the scene that took place.

As (Y/n) was waiting, she saw Shauna and Jackie walk out, and she stood up quickly. "Hey, are you okay?" She realized she singled out Shauna and quickly cleared her throat. "I mean, both of you. Are you both okay? It looked… It looked kind of gruesome back there." She was still trying to wrap her head around it, sure that they were probably doing the same. After all, you could see Allie's bone and that was… a lot.

"Yeah, we're okay." Shauna was close to putting a hand on (Y/n)'s arm, but hesitated before grabbing the strap of her gym bag instead. Jackie seemed to have notice this small shift, glancing over at her best friend. Shauna looked up at (Y/n) in a way that let her know they'd talk later, on the phone, before leaving. When Mari finally came out, she took her to her house. For the rest of the week, there was a different vibe between the Yellowjackets, and it made (Y/n) feel a bit unsettled give the fact they were flying to Nationals that Saturday.

On Friday night, (Y/n) found herself getting ready for the party with Mari. She allowed Mari to pick out her outfit since she was still feeling badly about Allie, and she even let her put some make-up on her. When they made it to the party, Van was quick to thrust drinks into their hands with their bright grin. "Drink up," they said with a playful grin before going off to find the rest of the team. (Y/n) shook her head with a smile before spotting Shauna.

"I'll be back," (Y/n) said before telling Mari not to do anything stupid. She then quietly approached Shauna, leaning on the car with her. Shauna glanced over with a soft smile tugging on her lips. "Hey, Shauna," she greeted, pretending to play coy, making the girl laugh a bit and shake her head as (Y/n) dropped down an octave. "You're looking good tonight." She winked before going back to her normal voice. "Is this the 'boob dress' you were telling me you'd never wear? This just has Jackie's style written all over it. But… You do seem to pull it off very nicely, you know?"

Shauna let out a sigh and shook her head. "I feel stupid in this dress." She said, glancing over to her girlfriend, who did have slightly wandering eyes. She shoved her playfully. "Okay, a little less stupid with you looking at me like that." She was about to flirt with her when she realized where they were. The sounds of people chanting Randy's name caused them to turn around, only to see him chugging beer out of a keg from a tube. A smirk fell on his lips as he pointed to Shauna dedicating it to her, a 'sexy lady,' in Randy's words.

(Y/n) pursed her lips at that, shaking her head before shifting to fully face him. "It would've been cooler if you did it right. You're supposed to do a handstand, dipshit. Now, stop trying to pick up girls who are obviously too good for you." She stuck up her middle finger causing Shauna to laugh and grab it. (Y/N) looked up at her with a giant grin. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just weird how he's always trying to hit on you. Like, you're way too good for him. He's… He's Randy Walsh. And, you… You're Shauna Shipman, the prettiest girl to ever exist."

Shauna's cheeks darkened with a red hue as she crossed her arms, looking down, still holding onto (Y/n)'s hand that has lost it's middle finger and was holding onto her hand gently. "How much have you had to drink?" She questioned, making it obvious that she wasn't quite believing (Y/n)'s words. This made (Y/n) frown a bit as she shook her head, holding up the one drink. "Right, right…" Shauna teased, and before (Y/n) could defend herself, Shauna told her to give her a moment, retreating to Taissa's figure across the bonfire. The action made (Y/n) groan leaning back on the car with a sigh, Mari joining her once she saw Shauna was gone.

It wasn't soon after that (Y/n) and Mari heard yelling and everyone was surrounding the Yellowjackets, Jackie immediately moving to break it up. When she heard Jackie call for the Yellowjackets, she looked over at Mari. "Doesn't that include you now that you're on the first string now?" She questioned the girl beside her. Mari shook her head quickly. "Not looking to get yelled at by Jackie I see?" (Y/n) poked her best friend, eyeing Shauna as she passed by, clearly disgruntled by the whole mess. (Y/n) gave her a pathetic thumbs up before turning back to Mari.

"No, I do not, in fact, want to be lectured by Jackie. I have nothing to do with their crazy ass drama. I just got bumped up to first string, remember?" She questioned, causing (Y/n) to roll her eyes playfully because whatever happened to being a team. Though, she understood Mari not wanting to go over there anyways. Jackie could be a bit of a hard ass sometimes, a bit bossy. She has heard the way she talked to Shauna, she didn't doubt her leadership somehow was synonymous to how she runs her friendships. Though, she did also know that Jackie wasn't awful, that she could be a good, caring friend, too. "Honestly, this party blows. Let's just go to your house and drink the wine coolers we hid in your mini fridge before we left."

(Y/n) pushed herself off the car, agreeing because she didn't want to be at the party either. Not after watching Randy puke behind a tree, but failing to realize, it didn't cover him fully. "Yeah, let's go." She led Mari to her car. The two of them drove until they passed Jeff's car. "Is that Jeff's car? Did he take Shauna and Jackie home? Maybe they need help or one of the girls are sick and need some water." (Y/n) stated, pulling up behind him. She went to grab the water in the back before Mari stopped her. (Y/n) looked confused until she realized how the car was moving. Before she could drive off, she realized it was Shauna, parting ways with him before getting into the driver's seat.

Mari looked over at (Y/n) with worry, a hand falling to her arm. "Hey, maybe we should go." She said softly, (Y/n) frozen as tears welled up in her eyes. She gently nudged her friends arm, making her shake out of her stupor. "Let's go…" She whispered, having (Y/n) turn around before they were noticed. When they made it home (Y/n) cried into Mari's lap, no drunk on her mom's wine coolers. She just didn't understand what she could have done to have fucked up that badly. Why Shauna would cheat on her, and how long was this going on for? Mari held her friend close to her, trying to be there for her the best she could given what had just happened. They weren't expecting their night to involve catching (Y/n)'s girlfriend in the middle of fucking Jackie's boyfriend.

Maybe that's what made it all worse. The fact that, deep down. (Y/n) knew that the reason this all happened had something to do with Shauna's best friend, and nothing to do with her. As she downed the last wine cooler, she fell back in bed, falling into a fitful sleep.

[veltana]

Highest bidder - Steve Rogers x virgin!reader

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader ✦ Word count: ~5k ✦ Raiting: Explicit ✦ Warnings: AU, kind of soft!dark Steve, reader is in her mid-twenties, one shot, pwp, insecurity, loss of virginity, piv sex, condoms, cunnilingus, smallest hint of a daddy kink, fluff and smut, dirty talk, friends to lovers, small hint of possessive/protective!Steve. Let me know if I missed anything! ✦ Summary: Tired of being a virgin and out of money you travel to Las Vegas to auction it off. Little do you know your friend Steve Rogers won't let anyone else have you. ✦ Note: I think this is among the first times that I cross-post a whole fic to tumblr. This fic is also on AO3. I'll see what the response is like here and maybe I'll continue to do it in the future.

Masterlist | AO3

"So what are you up to this weekend?" Steve asks as you take the first sip of your beer. For a second you debate not telling him and Bucky, sitting across from you in the booth. "Me and Wanda are going to Vegas." "What? Without me?" Bucky’s scandalized voice makes you laugh. "You don't like traveling, or Vegas for that matter," Steve points out. And that is true, you much prefer to stay in your apartment, reading your books and drinking tea. "Also, didn't you say you could hardly afford to go out with us tonight?" Bucky questions. "Well," you begin, scratching at the beer label, not wanting to look at them. "The trip is paid for." The stunned silence from across the table doesn't bode well, you know you're in for an interrogation now. "Do you need help? Are you in trouble?" Steve's concerned voice makes you look up. He's always so sweet and caring to you, looking out for you all the time.

"No, I'm fine. I'm doing it willingly," you answer. "What are you doing willingly?" There is no hiding the curiosity in Bucky’s voice. Once again you're not sure you're going to tell them, but it also doesn't make sense to keep it a secret. It's not a big deal, that's the whole point. "I'm auctioning off my virginity," you confess and are rewarded with both of them looking at you like you've grown a second head. Before they can say anything you continue. "I'm tired of it hanging over me, I just want it gone. And I'm also tired of scraping by. What you two make in an hour, I make in a month and I just want to be a step ahead instead of a step behind for once."

Bucky's smirk is the last thing you expect. "How much are you starting at, I'll double it." "Jerk." You throw some of your nuts his way. He laughs in response. "Honestly, tell me. What does a virginity go for these days?" "I'm starting out at three thousand. It would be more if I didn’t put in a clause about condoms and I’m a little bit older than most others.” “Well, my offer still stands,” Bucky concludes. “I bet it does, perv.” “And you don’t think the people buying you are pervs?” Steve’s been quiet up until now and his accusatory tone makes you defensive. “I’m not fucking stupid Steve, of course I know they are. They are also filthy rich. If I get bought by some disgusting old man I’ll smile and think about how fucking good it will feel not being stressed about money.” He still doesn’t look pleased and you didn’t come here to get judged. Finishing your beer you get up and grab your jacket. “I’ll see you around,” you say. Before walking out.

Vegas is overwhelming and loud. Instantly you shrink down, pulling your shoulders up. You would be lost if it wasn’t for Wanda. She’s in her element, flagging down cabs and weaving through the streets while you do your best to keep up. Finally, you arrive at your room. It’s small but not cramped and the two beds are clean. “First, shower, and then we’ll get started on your hair and makeup,” Wanda instructs. “You’re the best, you know that Wanda?” you smile at her. “What are best friends for if not fixing you up for some old guy to buy your V-card,” she winks.

Maybe Wanda is a witch, you think as you look at yourself in the tall mirror backstage. Somehow she took your average look and styled it into something you would never in a hundred years be able to recreate. Instead of the innocent style many seem to prefer, she made sure you looked sexy. If this had been a regular night of going out, you’d feel uncomfortable that someone you knew would see you, but the two glasses of champagne and the knowledge that no one except you and Wanda would ever see this made your confidence high. The night moves quickly, both women and men going up on the well-lit stage to present themselves and then watching as the bids start coming in. The people bidding are not in the room, but in different hotels scattered across the city, typing in numbers. Some people do elaborate shows when they step up in front of the cameras. One guy deep-throats a large banana and at first, you giggle but then you see the digits on the screen. His bids are the highest all evening so far. You decide quickly that you will just go up, smile, and wave and wait. You aren’t expecting much, but your pride hopes at least one or two people will find you attractive enough to at least pay the starting bid.

Soon it’s your turn. With a pounding heart, you step up on the stage, your body warms not only from the light but from the nervousness coursing through your body. You concentrate on your breathing so you won’t pass out and when you smile you hope it looks genuine. At first, the monitors are quiet and your heart drops. Are you not good enough for even some old lonely pervert? Then it dings with an incoming bid. It’s just above the starting sum, but you’re instantly relieved and can’t help the actually genuine smile that cracks your face. A second later another bid comes in. You don’t know how many people are placing the bids, you just see the number rise on the monitor, to your utter delight. Quickly it’s up to four thousand and the tempo slows, so maybe some people dropped out. But a few steady bids keep coming in, until it’s starting to near five thousand and it stops long enough for an automated voice ring out through the room. “Going once. Going twice.” Before it can finish the monitor chimes again, your mouth dropping open when you see the sum. Ten thousand dollars. It must be a mistake. The counting starts again, but you hardly hear it over the pure shock you’re experiencing.

Then you’re shooed away, given a room number and a key, before being put into a waiting car to take you to the hotel. When it stops outside of the Palms Casino you think you must be dreaming. It gets even worse when you realize you’re heading to the top floor. Whoever is waiting behind the door won’t matter, because you’ll gladly do anything they ask you.

The penthouse is stunning and it’s hard to take everything in. At the floor-to-ceiling windows, a figure is outlined. They’re backlit against the neon lights of Vegas and it’s hard to make out any details except the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. That feels promising. They don’t turn around as you close the door but you don’t hesitate to step into the room and begin to walk up to them. Stopping a a few steps behind you say “Hi. I am flattered by your very generous-” But you don’t get further because the person turns around and your words get stuck in your throat. “Steve?!” You quickly step back to get away. This must be some cruel joke he and Bucky have come up with. Before you can run out of the room he grabs your wrist. The usually soft eyes are hard and his smiling mouth is a line of displeasure. “Let go of me,” you demand. “No can do, I paid for you,” his hard voice makes you still. “This isn’t funny, Steve.” “No, it’s not. Now you’re going to go into the bedroom and take off those heels, then kneel on the bed and wait for me,” his instructions make it very clear that if you argue, you won’t like what comes next, so instead you bow your head and say “Yes, Steve.”

You’ve never seen a king-size bed before and it’s much larger than you could’ve imagined. The sheets are soft against your knees as you sit on your feet, waiting. There are too many emotions and questions running wild in your body, but the most prominent one is Why had he bid on you? There is no denying Steve is good looking and when Wanda had first introduced you, sure you’d had a crush on him. But you never thought about pursuing it. His life was far from yours, with luxury cars and expensive dinners, while you went out to eat once a year on your birthday. Both he and Bucky had offered you money on several occasions but you’d never taken it, because you’d never be able to pay it back and money being owed between friends always caused trouble.

You hear the steps nearing the room and you meet his eyes as he steps through the open door. He has left his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, making him more desirable and more dangerous at the same time. Taking a stand a the foot of the bed he stares you down but you don’t cower. Even though you want to ask what the fuck this is, the tension in the air tells you not to talk back right now, just show him that you’re not afraid. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that Steve is here because he is someone you trust would never hurt you, or do anything against your will.

“Here is how this is going to go, sweetheart. I’ll do right by you and take this nice and slow like you deserve. Then when it’s over we’re sitting down to a nice dinner, and afterward I’m bending you over the dining room table and taking out all my fucking frustration on that cunt of yours until you can’t walk straight.” His words send lightning bolts of desire through you and you nod in understanding. “Use your words,” he demands. “Yes, Steve,” you agree. Then he crooks his fingers, indicating he wants you to come to him. You crawl the short way to the edge and sit back again. His fingers grip your chin carefully. “I’m going to kiss you.” “Okay.”

The second he presses his lips to yours it's like being on cloud nine. It's soft but not hesitant and you instinctively grab a hold of his shirt. Steve begins slowly, as if not to scare you but the more you meet his advances the more he takes. Then he coaxes your lips to part, slipping in his tongue and finding yours to play with. Kissing other people has been nice before, but kissing Steve is exceptional. When his hands land at your waist and pull you into him, you can't keep the moan in. His touch hardens and it makes you throb to be this close to him.

You’re a little out of it when he pulls away and you must look it too because he chuckles. "You like that?" A dopey smile splits your lips and you nod. But then his hands travel to the front of your dress, hooking his fingertips into the fabric and you can’t help stiffen. "Have you ever had your tits played with?" he asks. With a groan, you shake your head. "If you think kissing was great just wait until I get my mouth on the rest of you." He sounds so confident, but you’re not and either it’s blatantly obvious that you’re insecure or he knows you too well.

"How are you feeling?" You think about lying for a second but then decide against it. "I don’t understand why.” "Why what?" "I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but, why me Steve?" You find the courage to look up at him. Now he has that soft smile that you absolutely adore on his stupidly handsome face. His voice is just as soft when he speaks.

"Not only are you absolutely stunning, and I’m not talking about the way you’re dolled up right now. I love seeing you in your big sweaters while you go around the bookstore and help people with recommendations. I also admire you, because you follow your heart. Doing what makes you happy is important to you and I wish I were more like that. Even if you look out for yourself, that never stops you from caring about others. You cry when you see clips of rescue animals. And you're so so obvious that I've been in love with you since Wanda introduced you." "What?" you choke, your whole reality shifting. "Sweet, dumb little pet.” Steve’s hands cup your face and light squeezes your cheeks together for a second. “I've wanted you since you stammered out your name. Something so pure and precious deserves the world." "I didn’t know,” you whisper. "Of course you didn’t. When I got home that night, I jerked myself off to the thought of you and I swear I never come so hard in my life."

"Steve!" Heat rushes into your cheeks at his words. "I’ve had time to think about this a lot. I'm going to get you so wet and needy you will beg for my cock. I'm gonna make sure you're at the brink of insanity, deliriously begging for me to fuck you, even though you don't know what it feels like." "Oh god!" you moan, desire moving through your body. "Let me taste you, kitten. Let me make you scream,” his seductive voice rumbles.

Nodding you watch as his fingers pull the dress down, baring your breasts to his eyes. Instantly he cups them, thumbs brushing your nipples, making you keen. "Prettiest fucking tits I've ever seen," he whispers before leaning down and licking a nipple. The sensation makes you grab hold of his head to steady yourself. His tongue flicks it several times before sucking it into his mouth and you arch into him, clutching him, moaning out his name. Sure, you've been aroused in your life before, but the ache Steve creates is starting to feel painful. "Steve!" you plead when he switches to the other side, giving your other nipple the same treatment. He hums against your skin before pulling off you with a plop and immediately kisses you again. Nothing is really different from before but just knowing that Steve's tongue was just somewhere else on your body and now it's in your mouth makes you heat up even more.

It feels good when he takes charge, it keeps your thoughts from running in all the wrong directions. He gets you to lie down, crawling onto the bed after you, kissing every inch of exposed skin he can get to while you shudder under him. "How are you feeling?" he asks with a shit-eating grin, clearly knowing he's responsible for your state. "Goodgoodgood!" Is all you can get out while pawing at his clothed chest. "Want me to take it off?" Nodding vigorously you try to undo the buttons, but fail. He laughs and sits back between your spread legs, untucking the shirt and pulling it over his head. The bulge in his pants is very visible and you swallow hard at the sight of it, both scared and excited. He notices you looking. "We'll get to that later," he promises with another kiss. "First I'm going to get you wet and ready for me."

A hand hikes up your skirt and a finger follow the edge of your panties, down toward the juncture of your leg. It's like hot coal against your skin, burning you most sweetly. Even if you’re already soaked, his touch is sending pulse after pulse into your cunt and you're scared you're about to stain the sheets if he continues. A fingertip caresses over your core, touch so light it's almost not there but your sensitive skin feels it. Trembling you arch up, gripping the sheets. "Is that good?" Not knowing if you can speak you just nod and he continues. Down your thighs and back up, over and over again against your covered cunt, fingers getting firmer and firmer the more sounds you make.

A thrill you've never felt before has taken up place in your body, threatening to send your mind spiraling. To distract yourself you explore the plains of Steve's body that you can reach, stroking his arms and shoulders, but to feel him makes it even worse. You can’t wait to have him pressed against you.

Sitting back again he says, "I'm going to take these off now." He hooks his fingers at the top of your panties and starts to pull. "Lift your ass up." He instructs. Now your tits and your cunt are exposed for him. Steve is staring, but when you try to close your legs from embarrassment he quickly puts his hands on your thighs to spread them apart even more. "Don't you dare take that pretty pussy away from me," he all but growls and it sends another wave of pleasure into you. The air feels cold against your wet, warm skin. Then his gaze flicks up to you and with another smile, he leans down bending you almost in half, placing a kiss on your lips. "Last kiss before I devore you," he whispers and slides down your body. When his words sink in, you go rigid.

"No, you don't have to, we can just‐" you begin but the look he gives silences you. "Do you know how long I have waited for this?" He nips the inside of your thigh. "No," you whimper. "Been dreaming about how you would feel, and taste." He mouths at your skin. "The nights I can’t sleep I lie there and think of you soaking my beard when you come for me," he groans and moves down a little more until his face is right in front of your pussy. "Now I'm having my fill and when I'm done you'll be primed for my cock, I promise."

Not giving you any time to answer he dives in. His tongue feels nothing like your own fingers, or the vibrator you have in your drawer. It's sending you to heaven with every stroke. Steve takes notes of what makes you moan the loudest and in no time the unmistakable warmth of an orgasm begins to build. You do your best to keep still, but it's hard when it feels so good and Steve follows your every movement until your thighs are trembling heavily, breath coming out in irregular gasps, your fingers threatening to tear the sheets apart.

It climbs quicker than you expect and when the orgasm rips through you it’s with a cry, that leaves you almost boneless afterward. Looking down, panting, you notice you've basically crushed Steve's head between your thighs. With a "Sorry!" You spread them apart and he comes up for air, his beard glistening with you. "How was that?" "Incredible," you sigh. The ache that threatened to consume you has died down to a more manageable throb. "Great." He positions himself again and you stare with wide eyes. An amused smirk plays on his lips. "Did you think that was it?" You try to stutter out a response but he raises his hand and wiggles his fingers playfully. "Now you get these too."

After a second you relax into the pillows, trusting Steve with your body. He's gentle when he begins, now that your cunt is a million times more sensitive, but soon you're trembling again, and then the tip of his finger is at your opening. It slides in without resistance and the feeling changes. More nerves send sparks through you from new places. It's too much for your poor brain to decipher and you don’t fight it, just let it take you, like you’re floating down a stream. "Good girl, relaxing for me so well." Through bleary eyes you see him looking up at you. "Ready for another one?" You're not sure what that means but you nod anyway and are rewarded with a smile. He never looks away from you as you feel another finger press in together with the first. A high-pitched sound leaves you as your chest heaves. It's too much but not enough. You’re so full but in the best way possible. Then he moves them and you can hear just how wet he's made you.

His tongue comes back to play with your clit and soon you're at the edge of another orgasm. "Yes yes yes!" You chant over and over again. Everything he does feels so good. The sensation of clamping down on his fingers as you come is new and makes the orgasm much stronger this time, leaving you mildly disoriented for a second. "God, you look so beautiful when you come." Steve lays his head against your leg, still moving his hand and sending small aftershocks into your body. "You know what?" "What Stevie?" you ask, your voice a little hoarse as you reach down and place your hand in his soft hair, carding your fingers through it, just to feel him. "I don't think you noticed, but there are three fingers inside you now." You make a questioning sound. "Added another right after you came. No problem at all. Just need you to come one more time, then I'll know you're ready." He does something with his fingers inside you, making you whimper from the pleasure it sends through you. "Found your G-spot too," he looks smug as he says it. "Let's see what happens when I play with just that."

It’s another new experience that puts your body on edge in the best way. The pleasure never dissipates but it never builds either and finally you can't stand it anymore, deciding to beg for the relief he can give you. "Stevie, please! Use your mouth again!" "Of course, when you ask so nicely." When he sucks your clit into his mouth, it makes you see stars, and seconds later the built-up ecstasy reaches its peak. Gripping his head you grind against his tongue with a cry of his name because it’s so fucking good.

Afterward, you sink down with a relieved sigh and you're pretty sure your muscles have never been this relaxed in your life. "Such a good girl for me." Steve praises before pulling out his fingers, licking them clean, and moving off the bed. You instantly feel achingly empty. Not taking his eyes from you he undo his pants and slide them and his underwear off.

The sight of his hard, leaking cock standing out from his body is kind of mesmerizing. You've seen dicks in pictures, sent unsolicited to you on a few occasions, and a couple of times when you've tried to watch porn. Never before have you thought a dick could look pretty. As if something possesses your body you crawl over to the edge of the bed, settling on your legs and reaching out towards it. Steve watches, chest heaving slightly as you trace his cock with a fingertip, all the way from root to tip, dipping it into the leaking mess. Looking up at him you bring it to your mouth and lick it. The groan he lets out in response is delicious.

It doesn't taste bad, just different and you're about to ask if you can try to take him in your mouth but as if sensing your thoughts he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. At first, you try to move away, knowing where he has just been, but he keeps a steady hand at the back of your neck, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, and just like him, it’s not bad, just different. "If I let you touch me more than that, I'll burst,” he explains before he grabs your dress and pulls it off you in one go. “Now be good and lay down again." "Yes, Stevie," you answer and fall onto the bed, spreading your legs. Instead of joining you right away, he walks up to the bedside table and opens a drawer, pulling out a square package.

Embarrassment fills you. In your post-orgasmic state, you forgot about your own rule. If he hadn’t gotten a condom you would gladly have let him take you raw. Lucky for you, Steve is not the type of person to take advantage of you like that. He rolls it on and you swallow hard. Just the look of it is big, you’re not sure how it will fit. "Don't be scared. With how wet you are, it’ll glide right in," he says with a smile, kneeling between your spread legs.

This is the moment, you think. After this, you won't be a virgin anymore. Even if it is just a social construct, you've never actually had a dick inside of you and that will be a new experience. Steve kisses you, helping the doubts slip away. The rubber feels weird against your lower lips, and then it's at your opening. The tip presses inside and Steve watches your face. "Does it hurt?" he asks. "No,” you assure him. “It's just different." "Tell me if you want to stop." "Just keep going."

Slowly he eases his way inside and once he bottoms out both of you are breathing heavily. With a groan, Steve's head lands on your shoulder. "Fuck you're like a vice around my dick. I'm going to try to move." You wrap your arms around his shoulders, caressing his back and he starts moving. You feel like you're filled to the brim and it's pressing against your G-spot, making you warm and high again. Experimentally you lift your hips, meeting his, eliciting a moan from him. "I'm sorry," Steve mumbles. "I won't last long." Before you can respond he continues. "You feel too good. So tight and warm. Fuck!" Then he lifts himself on one of his strong arms before grabbing the back of your neck and bending it until you're looking down toward where your bodies are connected. Steve slams his hips into you and you answer with a cry of pleasure. "Look at that unused cunt taking my big cock so well." "Steve!" you whine. His thrusts are too good, the pressure too much, and looking at it only makes you hotter. "It was made for me, right?" "Yes! Ah! Steve!" The throb in your clit is driving you insane and you reach down to relieve it. "Oh fuck. Are you gonna come on my dick your first time? That's dirty." You never expected words to be such a big part of sex, but the way Steve is talking is heightening your sensation.

"That's right. Rub your clit for me. Fuck you're clenching around me so hard. Tell me if you're gonna come." Nodding frantically you feel the climax building. Your whole body is a coil wind up tight and you're not sure what will happen when it snaps.

"I'm - I'm… I think I'm going to come, Steve," you moan. The pressure in your lower stomach is excruciating and delirious. You just need a little more. Letting go of your head he meets your eyes. "Good girl, I'm right behind you. Squeeze me dry. Come for Daddy." The last words enter your brain and sweep you off. The orgasm takes over your whole body and drowns you in pleasure. The edge of your vision blurs, your body shuddering violently. You hear the blood pumping in your veins. Feel your heart drumming in your ribcage. On some level you're aware of Steve above you, chanting your name as his hips pump into you and he fills the condom.

The weight of him is nearly crushing but also makes you feel safe. For the first time, you have the presence of mind to take in his body as you caress down his sides and his back, down over his ass as far as you can reach. It makes him sigh happily and you feel so content. After a while, he raises himself on his elbows and pecks your lips, nose, and cheeks until you giggle, before getting off completely and disposing of the condom. As soon as the warmth of him leaves, small, cruel thoughts about this once again being some kind of joke start forming in your head. Despite what he’s said, you find it hard to believe that it would be true.

Before you have time to think more about it he is beside you in the bed again, leaning on his arm and looking down at you. "So, how was that?" He’s curious, there’s no hiding it. "Better than I could ever dream of," you answer honestly. "Well, that's an ego boost," Steve laughs. "How… How was I?" He kisses you before he whispers, "Best I ever had." You can't help but snort at that. "Don't fucking lie to me."

With a growl Steve rolls onto his back, taking you with him and making you lay on his chest. "It's the fucking truth, and unless you want a spanking to go with the next round, you're going to believe me." That tone of voice. The threat of pain and pleasure combined sparks something inside you, and Steve notices. "Oh, does that make you horny?" Hiding your face in the crook of his neck you say "Yes, Daddy." Steve groans and crushes you into his chest. "If I could fuck you again right now, believe me, I would."

Several hours later you're in bed again, pressed against Steve’s warm chest. He did what he promised and you’re sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. But something is weighing on your mind. “I’ll pay you back,” you say. “If you do, you’ll wish I spanked you.” “But-,” “No. I told you that you deserve the world, that money is a drop in the ocean to me.” “I can’t believe you bought me.” “I can’t believe you sold your body.” Even if you can’t see him, his voice makes it clear he’s not happy. “The thought of someone else touching you, fucking you. I’m not a violent man, but that makes me want to kill.” “I’m glad it was you,” you confess with a smile and kiss his skin. A moment later he’s on top of you, kissing you sweetly and you feel him stirring against you, growing hard. An answering wetness pool at your core. “I need you again,” he murmurs against your mouth. With a nod, you reach between your bodies to guide him inside. Pulling back, he says “Condom.” When he reaches over to the bedside table, you shake your head and lift your hips. “Oh fuck, are you sure?” “I want to feel you,” you reassure him. It’s a bit sore when he presses inside but the movements are slow, and the kisses quickly take your mind off it. Afterward, he doesn’t pull out, and you fall asleep with his cum and cock between your legs, happy he was your highest bidder.

[frutijuice]

Kinda ironic that Tommy is a speedster, but is constantly left behind by the people around him (even by Marvel Comics itself)

Like, everyone around him has lifes of their own, his biological parents live separately and it seems like neither of them want Tommy to be actively in their lives.

Even though he calls Wanda "mom" or Billy "brother," neither of them are really family to him, Wanda has her life and her problems, she doesn't act like a mother to him, not even like a mentor, their relationship is good enough but it's not deep.

And even though Billy was the one who supported the theory that the two of them are Wanda's reincarnated twins, after revealing the truth, he has his own things to focus on, Billy has loving biological parents and two real brothers, plus the best boyfriend in the universe, he even goes to space and gets married.

The best thing that Tommy had was the Young Avengers, and I adore them, but I also can't deny that Kate used him to later stay with Eli, and later she uses him again when she is angry at Noh-Varr, and after Children's Crusade when the Young Avengers split up, what Tommy wanted most was for them to stay together.

And what happens when a new Young Avengers line-up begins to form? Tommy is "kidnapped" 💀 My dude is literally left out of the whole adventure that he wanted the most, and he didn't really form any bond with any of the new members other than David.

I ask a sincere question, what friends does Tommy have? Lmaooo, seriously 😭 because David was the only one from what I remember and after they date for a while they break up off the page.

Tommy has never had a stable enough relationship, and everyone he knows has friends or other superhero teams more important than him, Tommy has only been in the Young Avengers and his appearances are so few and short that it's almost as if he's not there.

And since Marvel hates giving my boy time we literally never have a clue what's going on in his head, but let me doubt that after being labeled as the "sociopath" problem boy with no feelings, it literally won't affect him at all 💀 That facade he puts up is literally a defense mechanism, we've seen his real opinions a few times and he's not like that, he does care about his friends, he may not think about things much but when his life is lonely and the world is too slow I think it is impossible to ignore, idk.

I know it's a lot of text but I'm on the path to read all the comics in which Tommy appears, bc I never thought he would interest me so much but he became my favorite character and now I can't stand how Marvel always gives him leftovers.

And maybe what I said doesn't bother him as a character, or in the future my opinion will be proven wrong, but if Marvel never shows us anything about him, all I have to deduce what's going on in his life is the miserable information they give us.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dow promised to turn sneakers into playground surfaces, then dumped them in Indonesia

Dow Chemicals plastered Singapore with ads for its sneaker recycling program, promising to turn old shoes into playground tracks. But the shoes it collected in its “recycling” bins were illegally dumped in Indonesia. This isn’t an aberration: it’s how nearly all plastic recycling has always worked.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/26/career-criminals/#fool-me-twice-three-times-four-times-a-hundred-times

Plastic recycling’s origin story starts in 1973, when Exxon’s scientists concluded that plastic recycling would never, ever be cost-effective (#ExxonKnew about this, too). Exxon sprang into action: they popularized the recycling circular arrow logo and backed “anti-littering” campaigns that blamed the rising tide of immortal, toxic garbage on peoples’ laziness.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/14/they-knew/#doing-it-again

Remember the campaign where an Italian guy dressed like a Native American shed a single tear as he contemplated plastic litter? Funded by the plastic industry, as a way of shifting blame for plastic waste from the wealthy, powerful corporations who lied about plastics recycling to the individuals who believed their lies:

https://www.chicagotribune.com/opinion/commentary/ct-perspec-indian-crying-environment-ads-pollution-1123-20171113-story.html

When I was a kid in Ontario, we had centralized, regulated, reusable bottle depots — beer and soda bottles came in standard sizes, differentiated by paper labels that could be pressure-washed off. When you were done with your bottle, you returned it for a deposit and it got washed and returned to bottlers to be refilled again and again and again.

After intense lobbying from soda companies, brewers and the plastic industry, that program was replaced with curbside “blue boxes” that promised to recycle our plastic waste. 90% of the plastics created has never been — and will never be — recycled. Today, the plastic industry plans on tripling the amount of single-use plastic in use worldwide:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/26/plastic-fatalistic/#recycled-lies

You know those ads from companies like Bluetriton (formerly “Nestle Waters”) that promise that your single-use plastic bottles are “100% recyclable…and can be used for new bottles and all sorts of new, reusable things?”

Bluetriton is a private equity-backed rollup that has absorbed most of the bottled water companies you’re familiar with, including Poland Spring, Pure Life, Splash, Ozarka, and Arrowhead. When they were sued in DC for making false claims about their “recyclable” water-bottles, their defense was that these were “non-actionable puffery.” According to Bluetriton, when it described itself as “a guardian of sustainable resources” and “a company who, at its core, cares about water,” it was being “vague and hyperbolic.”

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/26/plastic-fatalistic/#recycled-lies

With this high standard for plastic recycling, Dow’s Singapore scam shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it seems to have surprised the government of Singapore. Writing for Reuters, Joe Brock, Yuddy Cahya Budiman and Joseph Campbell describe how they caught Dow red-handed:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/global-plastic-dow-shoes/

The method is actually pretty straightforward: Reuters hid tracking devices in cavities in the soles of sneakers, dropped them in one of Dow’s collection bins, and then followed them. The shoes were passed onto Dow’s subcontractor, Yok Impex Pte Ltd, who sent them hopping from island to island throughout Indonesia, until they ended up in junk-markets.

Not all the shoes, though — one pair was simply moved from Dow’s collection bin to a donation bin at a Singaporean community center. Of the 11 pairs that Reuters tracked, not one ended up at a recycling facility. So much for Dow’s slogan: “Others see an old shoe. We see the future.”

Dow blamed all this on Yok Impex, but didn’t explain why its “recycling” program involved a company whose sole trade is exporting used clothing. Dow promised to cancel its deal with Yok Impex, but Yok Impex’s accountant told Reuters that the deal would be remain in place until the end of the contract. Yok Impex, meanwhile, shifted the blame to the low-waged women who sort through the clothing donations it takes in from across Singapore.

Indonesia bans bulk imports of used clothes, on the grounds that used clothes are unhygenic, displace the local textiles industry, and shipments contain high volumes of waste that ends up in Indonesian incinerators, landfills and rivers.

In other words, Singaporeans thought they were saving the planet by putting their shoes in Dow bins, but they were really sending those shoes on a long journey to an unlicensed dump. Dow enlisted schoolchildren in used-shoe collection drives, making upbeat videos that featured students like Zhang Youjia boasting that they “contributed 15 pairs of shoes.”

Dow does this all the time. In 2021, Dow’s “breakthrough technology to turn plastic waste into clean fuel” in Idaho was revealed to be a plain old incinerator:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/environment-plastic-oil-recycling/

Also in 2021, in India, a Dow program to “use high-tech machinery to transform the [plastic from the Ganges] into clean fuel” was revealed to have ceased operations — but was still collecting plastic and promising that it was all being turned into fuel:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-environment-plastic-insight-idUSKBN29N024

Dow operates a nearly identical “shoe recycling” program in neighboring Malaysia, and did not return Reuters’ requests for comment as to whether the shoes collected for “recycling” in the far more populous nation were also being illegally dumped offshore.

The global business lobby loves the idea of “personal responsibility” and its evil twin, “caveat emptor.” Its pet economists worship the idea of “revealed preferences,” claiming that when we use plastic, we may claim that we don’t want to have our bodies poisoned with immortal, toxic microplastics, that we don’t want our land and waters despoiled — but we actually love it, because otherwise we’d “vote with our wallets” for something else.

The obvious advantage of telling people to vote with their wallets is that the less money you have in your wallet, the fewer votes you get. Companies like Dow have used their access to the capital markets (a fancy phrase for “rich people”) to gobble up their competitors, eliminating “wasteful competition” and piling up massive profits. Those profits are laundered into policy — like replacing Ontario’s zero-waste refillable bottle system with a “recycling” system that sent plastics to the ends of the Earth to be set on fire or buried or dumped in the sea.

The ruling class’s pet economists have a name for this policy laundering: they call it “regulatory capture.” Now, when you hear “regulatory capture,” you might think about companies that get so big that they are able to boss governments around, with the obvious answer that companies need to be regulated before they get too big to jail:

https://doctorow.medium.com/small-government-fd5870a9462e

But that’s not how elite economists talk about regulatory capture: for them, capture starts with the very existence of regulators. For them, any government agency that proposes to protect the public from corporate fraud and murder inevitably becomes an agent of the corporations it is supposed to rein in, so the only answer is to eliminate regulators altogether:

https://doctorow.medium.com/regulatory-capture-59b2013e2526

This nihilism lets rich people blame the rest of us for their sins: “if you didn’t want your children to roast or freeze to death in the climate emergency, you should have sold your car and used the subway (that we bribed your city not to build).”

Nihilism is contagious. Think of the music industry: before Napster, 80% of the music ever recorded was not for sale, banished to the scrapheap of history and the vaults of record companies who paid farcically low sums to their artists.

During the File Sharing Wars, listeners were excoriated for failing to pay for music — much of which wasn’t for sale in the first place. But today, fans overwhelmingly pay for Spotify, a streaming service that notoriously pays musicians infinitesimal sums for their work.

Spotify is a creature of the Big Three labels — Sony, Universal and Warner — who own 70% of all the world’s recorded music copyrights and 65% of all the world’s music publishing. The rock-bottom per-stream prices that Spotify pays were set by the Big Three. Why would the labels want less money from Spotify?

Simple: as co-owners of Spotify, they make more money when Spotify pays less for music. Musicians have a claim on the money they take out of Spotify as royalties — but dividends, buybacks and capital gains from Spotify are the labels’ to use as they see fit. They can share that bounty with some artists, all artists, or no artists.

Not only that, but the Big Three’s deal with Spotify includes a “most favored nation” clause, which means that the independent artists who aren’t under Sony/UMG/Warner’s thumb have to take the rock-bottom rate the Big Three insisted on — likewise the small labels who compete with the Big Three. The difference is that none of these artists and small labels have massive portfolios of Spotify stock, nor do they get free advertising on Spotify, or free inclusion on hot Spotify playlists, or monthly minimum payouts from Spotify.

The idea that we shop at the wrong kind of monopolist in the wrong way is a recipe for absolute despair. It doesn’t matter whether you listen to music with the Big Tech-owned monopoly service (Youtube) or the Big Content-owned monopoly service (Spotify). The money you hand over to these giant companies goes to artists the same way that the sneakers you put in a Dow collection bin goes to a recycling plant.

Think of the billions of human labor hours we all spent washing and sorting our plastics for a recycling program that didn’t exist and will never exist — imagine if we’d spent that time and energy demanding that our politicians hold petrochemical companies to account instead.

At the end of Break ’Em Up, Zephyr Teachout’s outstanding 2020 book on monopolies, Teachout has some choice words for “consumerism” as a theory of change. She writes that if you’re on your way to a protest against a new Amazon warehouse but you never make it because you waste too much time looking for a mom-and-pop stationers to sell you a marker to write your protest sign, Amazon wins:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

The problem isn’t that you shop the wrong way. Yes, by all means, support the creators and producers you care about in the way that they prefer, but keep your eye on the prize. Structural problems don’t have individual solutions. The problem isn’t that you have chosen single-use plastics — it’s that in our world everything for sale is packaged in single-use plastics. The problem isn’t that you’ve bought a subscription to the wrong music streaming service — it’s that labels have been allowed to buy all their competitors, creators’ unions have been smashed and degraded, and giant accounting scams by big companies generate minuscule fines.

The good news is that after 40 years of despair inducing regulatory nihilism and “vote with your wallet” talk, we’re finally paying attention to systemic problems, with a new generation of trustbusting radicals working around the world to end corporate impunity.

Dow is a repeat offender. A repeat, repeat offender. Chrissakes, they’re the linear descendants of Union Carbide, the company that poisoned Bhopal:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhopal_disaster

They shouldn’t be trusted to run a lemonade stand, let alone a “recycling” program. The same goes for Big Tech and Big Content company and the markets for creative labor. These companies have repeatedly demonstrated their unfitness, their habitual deception and immorality. These companies have captured their regulators, repeatedly, so we need better regulators — and weaker companies.

The thing I love about Teachout’s book is that it talks about what we should be demanding from our governments — it’s a manifesto for a movement against corporate power, not a movement for “responsible consumerism.” That was the template that Rebecca Giblin and I followed when we wrote Chokepoint Capitalism, our book about the brutal, corrupt creative labor market:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

We have a chapter on Spotify (multiple chapters, in fact!). For our audiobook, we made that chapter a “Spotify Exclusive” — it’s the only part of the book you can get on Spotify, and it’s free:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

Next Thu (Mar 2) I’ll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who’s-who of European and US trustbusters. It’s livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free. On Fri (Mar 3), I’ll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival.

[Image ID: A woman kneeling to tie her running shoe. She stands on a background of plastic waste. In the top right corner is the logo for Dow chemicals. Below it is the Dow slogan, 'Others see an old shoe. We see the future.']

[poetryandbloods-blog]

The truth is that if Snape had a standard beauty like Sirius and wasn't poor, he would be one of the most beloved characters in modern literature, like Anakin Skywalker.

But he is ugly and poor, so in our view as a society he needs to be labeled as an abuser/villain, his story, which is incredible and full of nuances, needs to be passed on to someone who fits the mold of what is considered appropriate (almost always Regulus).

Even Tom Riddle, the boy who killed 4 people before finishing Hogwarts, receives more love and understanding from fans than Snape.

I always thought that this new gratuitous hatred that I saw Snape receive came from the portion of fans who never read the books, only fanfics.

But seeing him being stripped of his story and the staunch defense that part of the fandom makes of others with a story a thousand times worse than Snape's makes it impossible not to connect this to his lack of status on the two fronts that “matter most” (money/beauty).

A study conducted in Great Britain proved that ugly people are more likely to be convicted of a crime. I will leave the source below.I am a lawyer, in college and throughout my professional life, I have seen underprivileged people being marginalized many times.

Their lives mean less. They are much more likely to be convicted of minor crimes than people with more income.

We judge fictional characters with the metrics we have for our reality. It is difficult to feel empathy for someone who is different from you/lives in a different reality than yours.

Someone who has been marginalized and bullied is much more likely to feel empathy for a character who goes through the same thing than someone who has never lived that reality.

There is also the issue that Snape was based on a real person, who had many characteristics of an autistic person, but these characteristics were villainized by the writer. Of course, we cannot lose sight of the fact that Harry Potter is a children's book, written in the 90s, and Snape was supposed to be this villainous teacher that we all had at some point in our lives.

But we all grow up and are able to see more than just the children's story; we are able to see the patterns we apply as a society and how we can combat them.

Would Snape, who was marginalized throughout his childhood, have had a better life if he had received the necessary support at school? To what extent can we blame someone who did not have structure/support, whether in the family environment and/or in society itself?And this of course does not apply only to Snape, but to a greater or lesser extent to other characters.

Ultimately, society itself creates its own villains, by ignoring doing the minimum necessary for the well-being of these individuals.

Source: https://www.standard.co.uk/hp/front/ugly-defendants-more-likely-to-be-found-guilty-than-attractive-ones-7276212.html

[reallyromealone]

Hello idk if you'll see this but I always thought of this story where (name) was an omega but he faked being an alpha "he worked with bonten" and one day Kakucho will find a heat pills bottle in the kitchen bc (name) forgot it.

They'll find out later and knot the shit out if him (most likely angry sex) get it?

so yea yea have a nice dayyy. ♡

Bonten x male reader omegaverse

Warnings: nsfw, smut, male reader, omegaverse, dubious consent, like very dubious, gangbang, group sex, cum, gay

🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷

(Name) kept his secondary gender a well hidden secret, pretending to be an alpha and hope to god no one finds out.

(Name) took his medication in the kitchen, pain meds and heat surpessants; he had a mission coming up soon.

Didn't need his heat getting in the way.

"(Name)! My office now" Sanzu hissed out, (name) making his way to the office, his meds haven't kicked in fully, his brain slightly fuzzy.

He barely processed the fact he only put his pain meds in his pocket.

Kakucho was exhausted as he walked out of his office for coffee, sluggishly preparing it when he saw the medical bottle on the counter.

"Omegex heat surpessants... Extra strength" Kakucho slowly read the over the countertop bottle, no prescription "there's an Omega among us..." He whispered with furrowed brows.

He had to inform the others.

Omegas weren't allowed in Bonten.

It was a rule.

Omegas were fragile.

Weak.

"Progress on the deal with the french?" Sanzu spoke curtly As he eyed the "alpha" before him, he was truly beautiful in alpha standards... One wouldn't believe he was an alpha if it wasn't for the scent.

Mikeys a cute alpha so...

"I got them to agree in our favor, in exchange they wanted tickets to the Jade Gala... They want to rub elbows with the gangs of Asia" he said professionally and Sanzu hummed with thought, staring at the paperwork (name) compiled "good boy" he said simply and (name) practically beat his Omega with a bat to not respond with the praise with anything than "thank you sir."

When (name) stepped out he took a shaking breath at the pharamones Sanzu pumped out, the alphas scent was numbing and he knew Sanzu was doing it to remind him who he is as if anyone in this building could forget.

(Name) felt the wave wash over him and panicked as he went to check his pockets for his heat suppressants..."no nonono" (name) mumbled panicked and immediately stormed to the elevator to head to the garage and get the hell out of here.

"Someone's an Omega?" Ran mumbled methodically as he looked at the label "where did you find it?" Sanzu asked having just come from his meeting with (name) "kitchen by your office... Who was the last person there?"

"(Name--" realization washed over all of Bonten and mochi stood first to their surprise "well we did want an Omega in our pack... Why not be the one we've been jerking off to"

The higher ups didn't miss the "alpha" who worked hard and fast, the men spoke about about the... Attraction they held for (name) amongst themselves.

(Name) was strong, capable and had an air about him the others couldn't figure out.

They also felt... Safe with him.

It was strange... Terrifying.

But now it all made sense.

He almost had them.

Almost.

(Name) stumbled into his apartment and fell to the ground, panicking and shaking as his pre heat settled in "why didn't they work?!" (Name) cried getting up and stumbling into his bathroom to find his other bottle only to not find it "Omega..." Rindōs voice called to the Omega who fell to the ground and whined stressfully as footsteps grew closer and the door opened to eight VERY smug men "poor thing... Silly omegas trying to be alphas..." Koko cooed as Mochi scooped the Omega up "no..." (Name) mumbled weakly as the others chuckled "little bunny in the lion's den..." Kakucho cooed as they went to the omegas bedroom and placed him on the bed.

(Name) stared at them angrily, he wasn't in heat yet as he sat up defensively and glared at them heatidly "what... What do you want from me? You know now... So what"

"Oh please baby... You can't act like you haven't noticed how we look at you" Mochi said condicendingly and (name) glared with a slight blush "so... Hm!" A wave washed over him as he let out a soft moan "you broke our rules... Deceived us... Normally we would kill those who did that" Mikey rumbled as he got into (name)s space and pinned him to the bed "you're our Omega now..." He hissed out with a blank cold expression, something he had only seen when Mikey was absolutely livid.

And boy was he ever.

He had no choice but to accept being their Omega as his instincts took over slowly, baring his neck with a whine, gasping when Mikey licked up his neck "our Omega needs a good knot in him to remind him of who he is..." Takeomi finally spoke up and Mikey got off him so everyone could enjoy their little mate to be.

Hands touched, groped and rubbed everywhere as strong hands removed his clothes, the others themselves getting naked and (name) tried not drooling at the sight of them as his Omega took over fully, Rindō taking his hand and letting him touch his abs with a grin as the Omega chirped.

Alphas were strong... Protect pups...

(Name) was gone as he crawled towards them, the smell of slick heavy as Koko went behind to get a good look "you ever been with an alpha, baby?" He hummed taking a long kick at his ass and (name) tilted his head before crying out, Sanzu taking the opportunity to shove his tongue down his throat as they manhandled him to sit on Kokos face, Mikey giving hickeys and jerking him off as the Haitanis played with his nipples.

Kakucho and Mochi used his hands to give themselves handjobs and Mikey and Sanzu moved slightly so takeomi could Jerk him and (name) off together.

(Name) was in a haze as he rode Kokos face, only able to moan and pant in Sanzus mouth as their teeth clashed, the pink haired man gripping his jaw almost painfully as his tongue took control of (name)s mouth.

"How could anyone think you're an alpha... So desperate and slutty..."

(Name) was never leaving them.

(Name) cried as everyone pulled away "hey angel..." Mochi whispered in his ear "present"

(Name) layed on his back without any further prompting and spread his legs from them all to see, slick pouring out like crazy as he humped nothing.

The other men looked at Kakucho "what?"

"You found out first... You get to take this pretty boys virginity..." Ran said simply, Kakucho moving to spread (name)s ass cheeks before talking him by the knees and bending them on (name)s chest.

Kakucho barely waited for him to adjust as he pushed in "grinning at (name)s cry "lying omegas get fucked stupid... Though you must have been stupid already to lie-" he thrusted particularly hard "- about being - " he lifted (name by the back "-an alpha!" He began jack hammering (name as the Omega wrapped his arms around the others neck and licked and nipped at his scent gland before Mikey lifted his face and pressed his cock to (name)s lips and (name) sucked on the tip before sucking his cock like his life depended on it, deep throating like he was made for it.

The others played with his body, taking his hands and jerking themselves off with it or some simply jerked themselves off at the sight of the man whose been starring in their raunchiest dreams but god is this far better.

He was the sexiest thing they ever came across.

But when he's coherent he will have to answer questions.

Kakucho fucked (name) aggressively, his moans shaking from the frantic pounding only muffled by Mikey fucking his throat.

Kakucho groped and smacked the omegas ass "fucking close..." He hissed out as he fucked feverishly.

(Name) whined as Mikey came down his throat, ass tightening around Kakucho with a vice grip and the Alpha pushed his knot in, locking them together as he came deep in his ass "get fucking pregnant..."

Kakucho bit one side of his neck as (name) did the same, the others excited for the chance to claim him when they got a chance to fuck him stupid.

"Get food and water, we have to get him ready for the next round" Mikey said strictly as they went and got supplies, Sanzu grabbing a wet cloth from the ensuite bathroom to clean him up a bit "you're definitely gonna get knocked up by the end of this baby" Sanzu said with a cruel grin, he couldn't wait for (name) to be coherent again.

[kursedmayo]

This is gonna be a a bit of a controversial take but to me Farcille to me is not very appealing since Falin and Marcille's relationship is a bit too complex to be boxed into a simple ship. There's both gay, platonic and familial implications and I don't think I've seen this type of relationship in media before actually.

In the Anime they really went all in on the yuri domtext- I refuse to call it subtext because its not, in fact sub (jk) but in the manga it's a bit more ambigious. In both media though they're portrayed as close, like way too close just to be friends. I think this might have to do with initial impressions, Marcille treating Falin like a little sister while Falin treats Marcille more like friend.

If you've read the Manga there was an implication that at some point Marcille wanted a younger sibling, but apparently she ended up being the youngest and the last child (if my memory serves correct). When she met Falin, she was a bit shy, tomboy-ish, and seemingly carefree when they met, which can sometimes be perceived as someone being pretty childish. Because of that, in her mind Marcille may have somewhat adopted the idea that Falin is younger than her and such, and then her subconscious childhood desires made her think of Falin as a little sister. I myself is more receptive to receiving or initiating touch with my brothers since I'm comfortable with them, so I can see why they're comfortable being physically close often.

This may also be why she dislikes Toshiro (Shuro) so much, she was particularly defensive of her little sister. I kinda doubt Falin discussed ever wanting to get into a relationship so maybe Marcille wanted to beat back unwanted suitors? At the same time this may just be her being jealous and not wanting to let Falin go, which can be interpreted to be something due to romantic feelings for Falin.

Meanwhile, when Falin met Marcille her impression was that she was a cool academic girl that took interest in her and befriended her. Marcille is most likely her first friend at that point and quickly became her best friend. She clearly admires Marcille and good LORD have you seen that bath house scene?? It was much less yurified in the Manga since Marcille was clearlu tired from using ancient magic and was having delayed reactions but I really dont think that was sisterly in any shape or form, it seems far too intimate. Keep in mind she was the one who initiated the hand locking in the bath house, not Marcille, so that may imply sometjing. So this brings me to my final conclusions.

Marcille probably thinks of Falin like a little sister or at least perceives Falin as someone younger than her that she wants to take care of. At the same time though her relationship with Falin is also hard to define completely by familiar or platonic because Laois is literally there for comparison and their relationships don't seem very similar to me.

On the other hand, Falin most likely sees Marcille as her best friend, someone either her equal or greater in skill or talent. When she has a slightly embarassing problem (like her constant flushed cheeks) she wants help with, she trusted Marcille enough to go straight to her instead of figuring it out herself so that says quite a lot, considering Falin seems to be of the independent type and don't like bothering people. However, there are also some odd vibes regarding her behavior with Marcille that prevents me from also waving Farcille off, so again I hesitate to box their relationship nearly into a single category.

So yeah. No hate to Farcille but I think I'd rather label these two weirdos with "???" instead of just friends, sisters or girlfriends. It feels a bit more accurate that way.

[lennadanvers]

Seven Minutes in Hell

Uni Student!Eddie x Asexual!Reader

A/N: One day left of the Ace Week and I finally finished this (kinda sorta, in the way that I can't and I won't keep adding to it, or editing it or rewriting it). I'm completely burned out, my back hurts and I lowkey hate how this turned out- there's so much dialogue and I read it so many times I just think it's bad now. However, since I put so much effort into it, and since I want Eddie to be with an ace reader, I'm posting it anyway. Please be nice, because I've been in a crisis for over a week and I will cry if you're mean. Also, this is terribly long compared with my usual works. Idk.

NOTE: The Reader is asexual. No, there is no use of the word "asexual" here, because it's not needed for a character to be ace. No, the Reader doesn't explain/teach to others what it means to be ace- they just voice their boundaries. Asexual is someone who feels little to no sexual attraction (and you can use it either as an umbrella term or a micro label- please investigate more if you feel like it! It's a very interesting topic and you can learn a lot!). Being asexual doesn't equal to being aromantic: an asexual can still feel romantic attraction. Also, asexuality looks different for everybody- some aces may be okay with kissing but not sex, for example. This Reader isn't okay with either. I hope you enjoy the fic! Happy Ace Week!!

Okay, this was a very bad idea and you should have realized sooner.

In your defense, life this far from your hometown is… different. Lonely. In Hawkins, everyone knew everyone. You had a safety net all the time. Maybe you weren’t friends with everybody- but you were friendly with most, at least.

Here, on the other hand, you are alone. Big city, small-town girl… a sad combination. You’re barely learning how to survive. None of the skills you had acquired at home are useful here. For God’s sake, you can’t even bike to the store- you have to take the subway.

One good thing about the city, though, is the variety. When you first came here, the thing that seemed the most exiting was how open people were about themselves.

They’re just not that friendly, though. No in a deeper level, at least. They are, however, very active. Lots of parties, concerts, bars and nights out. The girls in your dorm are unable to sleep during the night, apparently.

And if you want to fit in with them, you have to at least attend a party once in a while.

That’s what brought you here. You start to question if it’s worth it, though, when Lindsay- redhead, loud, flirty Lindsay- grabs you by the waist and starts dragging you across the room. She’s nice, but she’s… different. She goes out with a different boy every Friday, and brings another one to her dorm room every Saturday. It’s really not your business, and it seems to make her happy, so you simply steer away from her business.

It's not that it bothers you. You just don’t get it. Well, not in practice. In theory, it makes sense. But when you picture yourself in her place… It’s uncomfortable. Weird. Foreign. You’re happy she’s happy this way- it’s just not for you.

She doesn’t feel the same way.

You see the circle of people too late, take too long to come up with an excuse; and before you can stop her, she’s announced you’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

You’ve never taken part in things like this. Never wanted to. Now everyone is looking at you, and you’re just too uncomfortable to run away, even if what you want the most is to disappear. Lindsay goes over the rules. You look around for a way out. Maybe a fire alarm will be waiting for you.

That’s when you see him. A curious pair of puppy eyes, a wild mane of hair and an unmistakable rockstar vibe.

Eddie Munson.

This has to be a nightmare. You remember him from Hawkins High- how could you not? He was always so loud an opinionated, so funny and charming, so… So different from everyone else. It was hard not to notice him in the hallways, but that wasn’t the reason you were always looking for him. See, he had- still has, now that you’re face to face again- something that draws you to him. Something in his smile, in the way he moves his hands, so confident, so in display, like the world is a stage and he’s the main character.

And you’ve always felt like the audience, an external observer, the witness to other people’s stories.

Until now, that Eddie Munson is in the same city- the same party, the same room, the same group of people- as you, far away from the hellhole that is Hawkins. Until now, that he’s staring at you, just as surprised, but a little less terrified. Until now, that Eddie looks like he’s expecting something from you. You’re sure your clueless expression is what makes him smile shily and look down at the floor, where an empty beer bottle points straight at you.

Dread washes over you as people start to cheer. Eddie chuckles and stands up. Lindsay grabs you by the arm- who knew that a girl this petite could be so strong? – and drags you to an empty closet.

Only when the door slams behind you, muffling out the music and noise from the party, you realize what happened.

You’re alone, in the dark, with Eddie Munson.

Trapped in a tiny space for the next eternity (seven minutes). And he’s cute, taller than you remember, and he smells nice. And he’s probably expecting something from you. Something like a kiss. Or more.

And you, for the love of God, do not want a kiss. You want him to be pretty and funny and at a safe distance from you.

The silence is overwhelming, his breathing too close for your liking. That’s the only excuse you can find for what you blurt out next.

“I absolutely do not wanna kiss you!”

The silence turns heavier. You press your hands against your mouth, but it’s too late. Maybe it’s a good thing it’s dark in the tiny closet, because at least he can’t see your horrified face. You hear a scoff and what sound like his feet shuffling to the side.

“Of course you don’t. You’re way too out of my reach, yeah? Were you hoping to be paired up with one of those pretty boys?”

His voice is harsh.

You had seen him argue with Jason Carver before. You had seen him mad, frustrated and mocking. None of those times did he sound quite like this. Never had such an edge. If the lights were on, you worry you’d see a sparkle of hurt in his eyes.

Maybe that’s why you start to explain yourself, panic taking over.

“No! No, that’s… That’s not what I meant at all! I just do not wanna kiss!”

Eddie’s laugh is sarcastic and dark.

“Yeah, I figured that much. Well, guess what? I didn’t wanna kiss you either!”

He sounds angrier now. It’s easy to picture him with his arms crossed.

“Really?”

When the only reply is silence, you know you should have shut the hell up. Or at least you could have tried to not sound so relieved. You cringe.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant either. I-”

“Listen, I have no intention of kissing someone who doesn’t want to kiss me. So why don’t we just wait in silence until the time is up?”

You remember his frown when the jocks made fun of him at gym class. Eddie looked miserable half of the time at school. Now he’s left school, moved away from Hawkins, and you’re making him miserable all over again. Even if you really don’t mean to.

The guilt makes you start whispering.

“Anyone. Ever. I don’t want to kiss anyone. Not now. Certainly not any of them. It’s just that Lindsay forced me to play! I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. Trust me, Eddie, if I wanted to be locked in a tiny closet with any guy at this party it would be you, but I don’t! I just really, really don’t want a kiss- I don’t want anyone to touch me, actually… I’m sorry- I bet you wanted to have fun here and I ended up ruining your chance. Listen, I’ll just walk out of here and tell them I feel sick or something, and they’ll have to give you another chance-”

Before you get the chance to embarrass yourself further, Eddie interrupts you.

“Hey, hey, wait a second there.”

You can feel his eyes on you. That’s the only thing that stops you from yapping to death. You wait, but he takes too long to speak.

“I’m sorry if you thought-”

“I never wanted to make you uncomfortable!”

He cuts your apology short yet again.

“I just thought… I recognized you. From Hawkins. Class of ’89, right? I remember you. I just…”

Eddie clears his throat. You take a deep breath because he sounds softer now. He starts talking again and it’s like listening to a cartoon character- fast and disorganized. Cute.

“I just… I thought you were kinda pretty- back then! You were always smiling, and you used to carry around some of my favorite books. I- it’s not like I like you, I… It’s-it’s been a long time, and… I saw you in here. And you look just as beautiful, you know? I’m never lucky like this. Then the bottle landed on you- I thought I had a chance, after all the years of pini- It’s okay, though, I understand! I bet you have better things to worry about, huh? I bet you’re busy publishing novels or something, right? I remember your poem, the one you read on the talent show- I really liked it!”

Somewhere between pretty and beautiful, Eddie started leaning against the wall. His shoulder is warm against yours. You really don’t mean to, but a giggle escapes you.

“Oh, and now it’s me who can’t shut up. I really should have learned by now. I always end up getting in trouble like this. Do you think I could finish all the oxygen here if I keep talking? I could die of suffocation. That would save me the embarrassment of having to see your face when your friend opens the door. Would you do me a favor and forget any of this happened? I really don’t want you to remember how much of a loser I am...”

You’re laughing now. Eddie’s head thumps against the wall next to you and you decide to stop him.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no way. I don’t think I can forget how you think I’m pretty and beautiful…”

Eddie is groaning, and probably shaking his head too- his hair tickles the side of your arm.

“Also, if you died of suffocation now you wouldn’t know that I thought you were pretty too. Back then, I mean. Oh, and you were never a loser. I always thought you were very smart- with all the ways you found to get back at Carver and his clique. Also, it’d be a shame to deprive the world of your music! I remember you at the talent show too.”

His voice sounds muffled. Is he hiding his face in his hands?

“Stop making fun of me!”

It’s not an accusation. It’s whinier and more playful. It helps you relax a little.

“Are you kidding? I’d never make fun of you! I’ve actually always liked you, Eddie.”

You’d swear his breath just hitched.

“Are you serious?”

Lucky you, the darkness won’t let him see the way you’re blushing. You shrug, trying to look nonchalant even if he doesn’t see you.

“Well, yeah.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Listen, I think we started with the wrong foot here. Why don’t we… Would you like to… I don’t know, maybe sometime we could-”

A beam of blinding light and awfully loud music interrupts him.

Oh, God.

“Time’s up, lovebirds! Ooh, look at you! Girl, you’re red as a cherry! What were you guys up to, all cozy in here?”

Lindsay is smiling at you, and you want to disappear again. You don’t dare take a look at Eddie; you just push past her, out into the party. You just want to get away. You need to get out of this house; out of the city, maybe- run away from the stupidity.

Stupid Lindsay.

Stupid game.

Stupid kisses.

Stupid expectations.

Stupid yo-

Someone takes a hold of your wrist and brings your escape to an end. Shit.

“Hey, hold on! Wait up!”

You really don’t want to turn around. You really, really don’t want to see his round, starry eyes up this close. You really, really, really don’t want to know how far you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of Eddie. No, you want to pretend you never saw him here. No, the last time you saw Eddie Munson was graduation. He was happy, had that stupidly cute smile of his, and then you never heard anything from him-

“Hey, I’m sorry- oh, God, you said you didn’t want to be touched. I’m sorry!”

He lets go of your wrist as if it was hurting him. His voice is a little too loud now that you’re out of the house. But it’s still gentle and nervous. You take a deep breath and turn around. At least you can’t make this worse, can you?

“I didn’t mean it that way, Eddie.”

“You didn’t…? Oh! Oh, no, you didn’t! No, I see, I- I know. Okay!”

Eddie closes his eyes and scrunches his nose, his head falling backwards. It’s a cute face, even if he looks completely humiliated right now. Something that makes no sense to you.

“Listen, I… Would you like to hang out sometime?”

It’s a simple question. That doesn’t stop you from blinking three times before replying with another question.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Eddie’s eyes open like a cartoon character’s.

“Shit! You don’t do that either? I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m an asshole, and I should leave you alone. I’m so sorry. I promise you’ll never see me again…!”

In his rush to give you space, he ends up tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass. You try to catch him by the arm, but he’s too heavy and you end up falling too.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

A laugh makes its way out of your chest and it’s impossible to stop it.

“Oh, God…! Are you… okay, Eddie?”

He’s staring at you as if you were crazy. Fair, because you probably are.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” but you’re still laughing, “I’m sorry. I guess we’re both sorry, huh?”

The giggles keep coming out.

“Yes… I’d like to hang out sometime.”

His head snaps to you.

“Really?”

You do your best to get the laugh under control.

“Really.”

“Okay, then.”

Now he’s taking your hand and lifting you to your feet. It’s a simple movement, fast and soft; but not faster than your ability to blush. At least you’re not laughing anymore. Eddie is closer now than he was in the closet, his chin a couple inches away from your eyes. He smells like wood and blankets: warm and cozy. It’s easy to forget the party behind you, the loud music and cold air disappearing into his eyes.

“So… No kisses, then? Of any kind? Or is it like touching?”

You find yourself whispering too.

“Just no kisses on the mouth.”

“Great.”

Suddenly, coming to this stupid party doesn’t seem that terrible of an idea, because Eddie Munson is kissing your forehead. And it’s ridiculous, silly and amazing. He’s also blushing, eyes crinkling at the sides and a round, shy smile reflecting yours.

“Just so you know, that counts as our first kiss.”

“First? That implies more than one. Someone’s very confident.”

“Well, the night is young and you look like you have some time to spare. What do you say we get out of here? I could introduce you to the best milkshakes in the city.”

“…I’d actually love that.”

This time it’s you who grabs his hand. Eddie grins, and he looks just like the boy who stood on tables back at Hawkins High: young, brave, ready for adventure.

“I shall show thee the path, milady.”

He bows and you laugh. Walking away from the party and the rest of the world is easy. Comfortable. Natural. The way heaven must feel like, if you had to describe it.

[emerald-technologist]

Why Am I Nonhuman?

1,747 words; estimated 11-14 minute read

A preface to this essay: This essay was written stream-of-consciousness as a method to sort out my thoughts on the subject, and then edited into a form more accessible to the public. If it feels a little odd or wandering in places, that’s why. I didn’t want to remove the portions that are my sorting-through of my thoughts; it felt important to the final conclusion that they be part and parcel with it.

Othercon 2024 was host to a panel run by two dear friends of mine, Goratrix of the Draconic Wizard Workshop (@goratrix-betrayed on Tumblr) and Chaiya of the Treehouse System (@treehouse-headspace on Tumblr). The panel in question discussed the idea of nonhuman personhood, how nonhumanity and inhumanity can give us insights upon personhood, and whether personhood is something we should, or indeed can, reject. It also, being run by two vampire fictives, one of whom identifies himself as human and the other of whom does not, touched on the nature of humanity as opposed to the nature of personhood - which got me thinking about my own feelings on humanity, and why exactly I reject the label of human.

Some vocabulary for those unfamiliar with the World of Darkness setting, so that I don’t have to stop and explain words mid-essay multiple times:

Chantry: the building where (typically) all the vampires of Clan Tremere living in a certain city reside and work

Childe, plural childer: a vampire created through the Embrace — the childe is the progeny of their sire.

Clan: the group of vampires one belongs to by blood, which determines which powers come naturally to them and, to at least some extent, their culture

Embrace: the process of turning someone into a vampire by draining them of blood and then feeding them some of the sire’s blood (capitalized when written)

Ghoul: a mortal who drinks vampire blood on a regular basis, granting them immortality (as long as they continue drinking vitae regularly) and a modicum of vampiric power

Sire: the person who turns one into a vampire (the person a vampire turns is their childe)

Tremere: the clan of vampires I belong to, a highly unified and organized clan of blood sorcerers who rely on intra-clan solidarity and adaptability as defense against our enemies (we have a… rocky history with many other clans; it’s a long story)

Vitae: vampire blood, sometimes also called ‘the Blood’ with a capital B

With that aside:

Some background on my history and the circumstances under which I became a vampire (or Kindred; I will use the terms interchangeably) is required to really explain where I’m coming from on this. Back in source, I was Embraced into what I recognize now was essentially a cult, run by my original sire (I have since been adopted by another), a man who I recognize now was extremely manipulative and abusive to all of us, but perhaps especially his childer and his ghouls. This cult, this chantry, contained Kindred, ghouls, and mortals who had not yet been judged worthy to be let in on the secret of the supernatural. Generally, how it works is that one is invited to the meetings of an “occult group” as a mortal, which is of course run by the ghouls and Kindred without revealing who they are, and typically observed for a period ranging from several months to a couple of years. If they pass certain tests and the general judgements of the Kindred in charge of the occult group, then they are invited to commit themselves more and more over time, until eventually they are invited to take blood from the Kindred, and be fed from in turn, for the first time (not necessarily in that order). This is a show of trust, of proving yourself; being made a ghoul is a privilege to earn - the ghouls are elevated above their peers by the gift of the Blood, brought closer to vampirism. Many ghouls remain ghouls forever, but almost all hope to one day earn the Embrace - most who are Embraced go a decade or two before being chosen, and spend it proving themself worthy of more and more trust, more and more power granted. Of course, the Kindred must constantly prove themselves as well, must constantly compete for rank both official and social - but to be Kindred is to be inherently above the ghouls and mortals, inherently more than them. To be Embraced is not just to be immortal and powerful, but to have your very mind opened to understand the world better, more deeply, than a mortal or ghoul ever could, even an elder ghoul.

Perhaps, dear reader, you begin to understand why I now have to sit and question why, exactly, I have rejected humanity, and whether I am right to have done so and continue to do so. I’ve unpacked all this enough to realize that if my reason is because it feels degrading to be called human, because it feels lesser, then… that is probably not a good reason.

And yet, even as I reconcile with the fact that I am not, in fact, superior to the mortals and ghouls around me for being Kindred, calling myself human still feels wrong. I worked hard to earn the right to drop that name; to pick it up again feels like discounting that effort and that victory. Moreover, I just… don’t connect with it anymore. Vampire affects who I am, how I think, and how I act more than human ever did. Vampirism is important to me; humanity was always merely circumstantial.

But what does that even mean? What is humanity, really? It’s not merely the circumstance of being physically human, alive and breathing; after all, many vampires still consider themselves human. What makes one vampire human, and another not? What makes me no longer human?

In many cases, at least in my world, it comes down to morality - Kindred have codes of morality called Paths of Enlightenment, or sometimes Roads of Enlightenment, and those who have adopted one instead of continuing to follow the tenets of the Road of Humanity, which is essentially what most humans can be assumed to be “following” (avoid doing harm, avoid violating other people, generally hold compassion and kindness for others, etc.), are often considered the “inhuman” vampires. But I’ve never been drawn to another Road. Indeed, I still walk the Road of Humanity; I’ve never seen a reason to leave it. Community serves me well, and compassion, connection, and consideration for others all serve community. Community and compassion are not unique to humanity - just ask the werewolves of home, or for that matter the alterhuman community here - and especially as part of Clan Tremere, where community and solidarity are highly prized, I don’t feel that they have to make me human. I can walk the Road of Humanity without being human, just as one can walk the Road of Kings without being a king.

Perhaps it’s the fact that ‘human’ and ‘vampire’ are often treated as inherently contradictory labels - that many vampires who insist on calling themselves ‘human’ do so as a rejection of what they have become. And, indeed, they do feel as though they fit into the same ‘slot’ for me, and trying to wear both at once feels wrong in a way that’s hard to articulate. But I know that that’s not inherently true either. I know people who are both human and vampire - Chaiya, as mentioned above, is one of them. Being human doesn’t have to mean rejecting what you have become, or pretending to not be what you are.

Perhaps it’s simply that while vampirism isn’t superior to humanity in general, it has been infinitely better for me personally. The Embrace is one of the best things to ever happen to me; before it, I was next to nothing, with little real hope of making something of myself. Vampirism gave me power, immortality, the chance to be part of something greater than myself, the chance to make my mark on the world. I could never have been what I am now if I had remained mortal. Perhaps it’s also that I’ve been considering myself no longer human for so long that picking up the label again feels wrong. I pulled it off, grew without it, and now it no longer fits when I try to put it back on. Perhaps it’s the very discarding of the word human that made me become something that can no longer be called human accurately, even though from outside inspection I might be mistaken for one. Perhaps. Perhaps that doesn’t mean anything at all; there’s nothing material to that.

But my friends have pointed out, as we’ve been discussing this, that perhaps the mere fact of the choice, and of being happier for it, is enough. That even if there’s no hard line between the two, that doesn’t mean which one (or ones) one chooses to use isn’t personally meaningful. After all, to borrow the analogy one gave me, is there a hard, definitive difference between a man and a woman? If there isn’t, should someone who is happier being a woman feel that she can’t call herself that because she was born a man and there’s no definitive difference? I’ve lived around enough trans people to say no, of course not. That would be ridiculous.

Ultimately, I think that is what it comes down to. Humanity as a social and philosophical concept is such a broad, nebulous thing that it’s virtually impossible to define with hard edges, as philosophy is wont to do. But… vampirism is something I chose, something I wanted, something I worked for. Humanity was only ever a matter of circumstance. Vampirism has helped me, made me a better person, made my life a better life. My life as a human was never what I wanted; maybe it could have been eventually, maybe not, but I don’t think I ever could have been as happy or fulfilled as a human as I am now. Humanity was ultimately simply not right for me, and while once it fit correctly at least as a matter of circumstance, it no longer fits even in that capacity. The Kindred aren’t above humanity, I know that now, but we don’t need to be to be other than. Vampirism is not inherently better, but it is better for me. I chose to be a vampire, and I chose to discard humanity.

Perhaps, in the end, that’s enough.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

me last week: jesus i am bad at the task i have set out to do. what am i thinking, trying to write mpreg of the type i like. i'm just not good enough to pull this off so other people would like it--

me today: *jams out an entire part 1 in one evening after five drafts just out of queer spite and self-indulgence* be queer do thoughtcrimes

Part 1 of the Clone Gestation AU. expect other parts to have more characters, plots and dialogue, but I need the setup out or I'll feel weird about the other completely self-indulgent scenes percolating in my head.

Also: do not go into this expecting real science, you're getting comic book science at most.

In Vlad’s defense, the theory had been sound.

Every ghost had a… he had heard many terms, but in his research he had gone with ‘ectonucleus’ rather than the more colloquial ‘core’. Even his Plasmius form was no different, a shell of ectoplasm projected from an organ simple enough to barely count as such. Vlad’s human mind drove it, but many ghosts lacked a living brain to truly take advantage of their power. One of the many reasons he kept pulling off so many of his schemes plans in full. Ghosts seemed to be all emotion and obsession, no thought or patience.

The ectonucleus had many ectobiological functions. It processed ectoplasm, functioned as a rudimentary nervous system in response to stimuli, and most importantly for his current project, it stored what passed for genetic information–except instead of copying it into trillions of individually specialized cells, it took the information as a whole and shaped raw ectoplasm around it. Ghosts could even use it reproductively, something Vlad had decided to skip past with the cloning.

Though, admittedly, some of the early readings on the control subject’s cohesion had been… worrying. Which shouldn’t have been possible. The cloning tank was full of ectoplasm that had been subjected to so many layers of filtration he could legitimately label it as surgical-grade. There shouldn’t have been a problem making a stable filtration barrier between the ectonucleus and the surrounding ectoplasm.

He hissed as he felt a painful lurching from his ghost half, leaning against the occupied cloning tank with one arm. This had been occurring with regularity since he had first seen the decline in the results, and it really was not helping him solve the problem! His Plasmius side, as powerful as it made him, was maddeningly psychoreactive–it wasn’t the first time it had thrown one of these tantrums, and if it kept this up he would dig out those schematics for–

He felt it, before he saw it. A probe of something too aimless and unformed to be curiosity. He looked up to see the little ectonucleus up against the wall of the tank, barely outlined by a little firefly glow, as though it could tell he was there.

It couldn’t, obviously. It was only reacting in response to stimuli, extending feelers of presence, for lack of a better term, to decide if the way ahead was safe. There was no way it could fumble blindly to him unless–

A somewhat less painful lurch in his chest answered his thought. Ah. Of course. Ghost ‘biology’ strikes again.

No. He knew what this was now, absolutely not. He was already too emotionally invested in the outcome of this project, and the control subject was already showing signs of eventual non-viability–

And the smaller proto-presence flickered away. He felt a jolt as he tried to figure out what happened, but his eyes soon caught the faint glimmer of the cloned ectonucleus, on the far side of the tank.

Alright. This was… ideal. It was better to keep some distance while the process was still unstable.

And if his ghost half was unhappy about it, it would be so much worse if he let himself get too attached close.

***

Years later, when Vlad discovers what, exactly, ghosts are powered by, he will think back on this and laugh for far, far too long.

***

The ectonucleus doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s far enough away, even when Plasmius tries to signal it. Still, inevitably he will brush by the tank, or work near to it, taking readings on the purity of the medical ectoplasm or checking the integrity of the tank, and when he looks up–

“Again? Really?!”

The little proto-ghost seems to press itself against the tank at the sound of his voice. He knows it is just responding because it isn’t exposed constantly to his voice, making him new, worth investigation. But Plasmius seemed to respond like it was cute, and oh, he had no idea his ghost half had that particular set of feelings.

(‘Sublimation’ would become a very familiar word to him one day.)

He could reinforce the tank. Make it impossible for the unformed, barely-there clone to notice him. Maybe, in another life, he does exactly that.

Instead, he heaves a sigh, and decides he will simply have to make his voice less novel. Didn’t he hear somewhere, once, that speaking to still-forming humans was necessary for development? The ectonucleus had yet to project a human body, but it was a clone of a halfa, so perhaps–

He would have to keep an eye on the medical readings to see if this was pop science (pointless, in other words) or was worth doing, but… how badly could he compromise himself, talking to something with all the personality of an amoeba?

***

“... and that is why I even bothered to show up! Honestly, Jack should count his lucky stars he’s worth more to me alive than dead right now!”

The proto-clone glimmered at the steady flow of Vlad’s voice. It truly didn’t seem to matter what he spoke of, it just… wanted to be near his voice. Even when Plasmius didn’t overtly signal it.

It was heartwarming distressing how much he loved her already for that craved even that level of attention. How lonely he felt every time he visited Jack and Maddie, and came back with nothing to show for it but more envy fury over what he never had the chance to have.

Originally, the plan had been to introduce a combination of subliminal training, organic nutrients, and a rapid growth solution to the tank to get the clone close to Daniel’s age and development. But…

“Jack kept blathering on about old stories of Jasmine and Daniel. Showed me pictures. Showed me baby pictures.”

He had realized just how much he would be skipping. How much he would still feel had been taken from him.

He had quietly struck that stage from the planning before sitting with the tank for the proto-clone’s regular enrichment session. Not only would it have made him thoroughly depressed angry to falsify an entire childhood for the clone he wouldn’t actually get to experience… he had the feeling doing the full accelerated growth regimen would have irreversibly worsened the cohesion damage.

It hadn’t exactly improved, but regular stimulation had greatly lessened the rate of damage over time. The problem came down to the filtration barrier. It was the equivalent to a cell wall, and ghosts usually had a much stronger one around their ectonuclei than his the control subject was capable of forming.

He hunched forward a little when Plasmius again made his chest lurch unpleasantly, hand rising unbidden to his sternum. Oh yes, he was fully aware of his ghost half’s input on the subject. Instincts were a powerful driving force.

When a ghost reproduced, there was a stage where the unformed proto-ghost would parasitize the parent’s core, and siphon ectoplasm to produce a stable filtration barrier. From there, they could generally be removed and placed somewhere safe so the parent could get back to their usual life as it finished developing, filtering the ambient atmosphere of the ghost zone until it had enough power to project a body. Even into maturation, a ghost could generally fend off destabilization by placing their essence into something, or even someone, formed of ectoplasm until they could reform on their own, a reflex honed at that very early stage.

Vlad was beginning to believe his instincts were responding to a ghost too underdeveloped to form its own barrier. Something it might only be able to learn by example.

Vlad leaned his head back against the tank. He had not wanted this step to even be on the table. The control subject was still damaged, with no guarantee he could reverse it. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t get attached without a guarantee of viability and this…

He let himself finally address it. This may not have been the same as the human equivalent, but it was so close it was impossible not to draw a parallel. It was essentially a ghost pregnancy, and the intensity of his ghost self’s psychoreactive nature practically guaranteed he would be thoroughly attached to this adorable awful little amoeba.

Perhaps he could do this in stages. Yes. Just a little at a time, until it could form its own barrier. Then, back in the tank.

“You are entirely too demanding. This is how children end up spoiled rotten, you know,” he scolded the single-celled nuisance.

It had the nerve to just glitter back at him. Such an attitude already.

He wondered if it was too late to go back to that tank-insulation plan.

It absolutely was.

***

He changed into Plasmius for the extraction. It seemed more conducive to holding something crafted purely from ectoplasm. He had barely placed his hand in the tank when the ephemeral little thing swam to him, settling in his palm snugly. He went intangible, and it hesitantly sank into his hand, then poked around, gradually finding its way to his own ectonucleus.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. A strand of pink energy wound around the little proto-ghost, and it let itself be cradled as the energy gently wove around it, flashes of light from within signaling a repeating cycle of weave, dispel, weave. Teaching it the ghost equivalent to homeostasis.

Now, however, came the real test. He transformed back to human…

And he still felt the new dimension to his so-called ‘core’, almost equivalent to a heartbeat. It was capable of existing flush with Plasmius, wherever his ghostly side rested when he was human again.

This felt promising. He didn’t exactly trust that.

He was so very tired of broken promises.

***

He still spoke to it. It had become a bonding exercise habit by this point. He would be sending email, or reading, or combing through footage from his many invasive discreet hidden cameras, and find himself talking as though it were listening. He listened back, as well, for the steady pulse of energy in, energy scattered, outlining the gradually strengthening core ectonucleus of his child control subject.

The only step left was to remove it as a ghost would and see if it learned to make a barrier on its own.

***

He may have put off the removal too long.

Those early reports of cohesion damage may have swayed his decision a little more than he wanted to admit. It was just easier… not knowing, until he was certain it could do this very basic thing. He would be staring at the tank, having gone to his lab specifically to see if it could function away from him like it would as a developing ghost and some new variable would come to him.

He should do a full cycling of the medical ectoplasm, just to be sure it’s as clean as possible for reintroduction.

He should make sure he has some emergency supplies on hand for his ghost side, just in case Plasmius fights him on this subconsciously and damages something.

He should go over lab security just in case, check the footage.

Really, it’s been too long since the tanks had a full maintenance cycle.

He had felt his ectonucleus shifting position a little. He needs to wait until it settles for a while.

(He really should have paid attention to where, exactly, his core was traveling to.)

On, and on, just him and the pulse of ectoplasm signaling all was, currently well. Although it did catch his attention that his ghost self seemed to be siphoning off some ectoplasm somewhere, even when he was human, that wasn’t accounted for in the energy transfer of barrier formation. It seemed to be evenly distributed over his entire body, some odd ectoplasmic underpinning to his circulatory system.

Initially, he just wrote it off as some sort of mapping of his human body. After all, the proto-clone was a halfa. It would need some extra education for when it projected a human body. There were some ‘vessels’ that terminated abruptly, but he couldn’t see to what purpose. Maybe it was waiting for something else to be finished, once it got enough of a boost.

He would have plenty of time to get the child control subject back in the tank, given the rate of growth.

***

He hadn’t been expecting a flare-up of his ecto-acne. He certainly wasn’t expecting it to behave extremely differently from every time previously. Truthfully, he only guessed what it was because on examination in the mirror, his eyes were glowing and spots appeared on his face. Itchy, awful, conspicuous spots.

No ectoplasm in them, however. Odd.

Almost like something was siphoning it off before it could–

***

By the time the Fentons helped him confirm his suspicion–and was that ever an awkward encounter–it was far too late to correct course. Well, technically, he could have worked something out. If anyone could have, he could.

‘Would’ was another matter entirely, though. Blame loneliness, a long-thwarted desire for family, age, loneliness, sentimentality, loneliness.

If going from a ghost pregnancy to an actual pregnancy was the price to pay for finally feeling connected to someone?

He had finally gone long enough without to do anything for that feeling. Up to and including planning the murder of anyone stupid brave enough to tell him otherwise.

Though he would have appreciated a warning about the word ‘clone’ no longer applying.

***

@vladdyissues I DID THE FUCKING THING i have no idea if you'll find introspective yet still in denial vlad being tsundere about wanting to be pregnant and getting hopelessly attached to as yet unnamed Dani nearly as appealing as I do but I still thank you for prodding me to do this fucker regardless

-manifesting a complete lack of fucks for the gender binary through a cis male character who would willingly be pregnant to have a kid ain't the usual way but fuck it, that's my coping method right now