#it's a shame because it was a really wonderful post but I would rather not have that as a reminder that OP apparently thinks I'm stupid

[dylawas-reblogs]

So I only occasionally look at my tumblr activity, yknow, see if anyone thought anything I reblogged was cool enough to comment on, and I get to one post I reblogged where OP took a screenshot of all my "proship/antiship" tags and said "The equivalent of watching the neighborhood kid chuck rocks at a beehive."

First of all, it just felt... kind of rude? I could be reading WAY too deep into it though. That is absolutely not impossible on my part. I dunno, unless someone is being especially stupid, cruel, or ignorant (or it's a funny addition deserving of praise), I've never understood the culture of screenshots and callouts on tumblr posts. This was like, the emotional opposite of "how dare you hide this in the tags."

Second, if someone were to search for those tags I use in Tumblr's search, my reblog of that post wouldn't even come up; those were tags on a reblog, not an original post. AFAIK, tumblr tag searches only bring up original posts. My usage (or overuse) of tags on a reblog would have minimal bearing on people finding me, unless they're the kind of person to look into a post's notes commonly (which, I don't, unless I'm using a post for a blocklist-- usually for TERFs. Is that a normal thing? Do people commonly look in the notes of any post?).

Third, I use all those tags specifically so I cover all my bases for things people want to blacklist, and maybe I'll tag something someone already has blacklisted so they don't have to add another one in the first place. It's like how some people will tag every variation of "blood" or "trigger warning: blood" that they can think of, hoping to be able to spare any new blog viewers from something they've already decided they don't want to see.

Fourth, and finally, all those tags are the equivalent of the bright colors on a poisonous creature. "Don't eat me, it won't be pleasant for either of us." People who use their brains will at worst be mildly annoyed by it; people who think that murdering a character equates to irl murderous predispositions will likely run screaming-- if the post content itself wasn't enough.

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I have gotten so many messages from folks who see what's happening to Jews right now, how literally any statement from us that isn't straight up "death to Israel!" "tear it down!" "river to the sea!" etc. - no matter how tempered in other ways or critical of the Israeli government it is - anything even mildly supportive of the terrorism victims/their families in their grief and/or Israelis deserving to live is getting dog piled to an absurd degree. And yes, that primarily targets Jews (because we're the ones primarily speaking on it) but it definitely is also hitting anyone not Jewish who says this as well. Immediately, overnight, the left has made any position that respects everyone's human rights and allows Jews room to grieve our murdered and missing family and friends without telling us they deserved to die in terrible ways completely radioactive. Like literally even the most milquetoaste statement attracts numerous hysterical commentators. And because it's so toxic, people are afraid to speak up.

And I've now heard from a lot of gentiles that they had no idea how deep the rot of leftist antisemitism went, how they've been seeing this unfold with horror, and are afraid to speak up.

Here's what I'll say: those messages give me a lot of strength, because they help me remember that I'm not insane, that this is horrendous, and we are seeing in real time exactly who would have helped the Gestapo find us if they were sufficiently convinced that this is "decolonization." That yes, the backlash really *is* that bad. I hear that affirmation and I appreciate it, and I understand your fear, because it was mine too. I myself strongly considered at the beginning not saying anything about this until I could do so without being harassed. (I decided against that because I am physically incapable of shutting up when it pertains to my people, but I understand the sentiment.)

Here's the thing: this is never going to end - those people who take seriously the question "are Jews people?" are going to be the vocal minority unless and until we all speak out. Jews are 2% of the US population and 0.2% of the world's population - there are literally more self-identified Nazis in America than there are Jews. I would honestly be surprised if there weren't more horseshoe theory leftists in the world than Jews also.

That being the case, we really do need our allies to speak up with us. I think if we all spoke up at once, it might be enough to break the silence-taken-as-agreement and shame everyone but the avowed antisemites (rather than the thoughtless and opportunistic ones) back into keeping their antisemitism under wraps. Which does have the effect of bringing the mob under control. Jews have faced a ton of mob violence in the form of pogroms throughout our history and backlash to Jewish victimhood. (Tl;dr - "How dare you make me consider how I might have benefited from or been complicit in hurting Jews? This is actually the fault of the Jews." is a disturbingly common thought process.) (You may also be wondering what I mean by "opportunistic;" I can explain in another post if people are interested.)

I know it's scary. I am well aware that you might lose friends from this. I personally decided that if those "friends" valued Jewish lives so little, they were never my friends to begin with, but it's different for non-Jews. They may genuinely be your friends. I'm not demanding you do this for me or my community, but I am asking you to consider what your line is for your friends. And if you are able to talk to them, to ask them what makes this group different from all other groups in terms of deserving compassion and human rights, it may just help us to quiet the mob.

And, if nothing else, just privately reminding those of us who are speaking about it that we are grounded in reality and compassion helps combat the mass gaslighting going on.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), mentions of smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note:  last time i posted was december 31. i am very sorry is all i have to say 🤣

masterlist

i keep these longings lost in lowercase inside a vault ...

      - But I wanna go! - Sadie whined as Y/N was preparing her to go spend some time with her grandmother.

Sadie wasn't one to really enjoy being away from her father and Y/N had made the grave mistake of telling her she and her dad were going out for a meal which in Sadie's mind roughly translated to they're going out to eat without her.

      - I know, munchkin but you won't like the restaurant me and daddy are going to. They don't sell any chicken nuggets.

      - But daddy always makes them have it.

      - That's sweet, baby, but I don't think daddy can change menus. I think.

The red head pouted as Y/N finished sorting her out. She wondered if Bucky had a nugget empire of restaurants he could choose or if he was that well respected a chef would just prepare it for him just because his daughter wanted it. Whatever way it was, she stood there realising she'd never gone on a date with someone that high up. Sure she had her little affairs with men that had a trust fund but they were just that, the sons of powerful men. Bucky was both - the son of a powerful man and a powerful man himself. Did she even know how to dress for a man like that?

She sighed, entering her bedroom and opening her closet, crossing her arms at the sight in front of her. "Downtown at 7", what kind of information was that? It could mean a myriad of things which required a different dressing code. Damn you Bucky and your vague instructions. Y/N eventually decided on a black dress, hoping that would work for everything.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror and put her lipstick on. The same mantra was going over and over in her mind "it's just a date", yet every time she did she rationalised that it wasn't just a date. It was a date with Bucky, her Bucky, her boss Bucky, father of Sadie Bucky. Just do it, she told herself as she went to grab her purse to meet Bucky at his office, just do it.

      - Has anyone ever told you you take as long as my daughter to get ready? - she jumped a bit as she heard Bucky's voice.

      - What are you doing here?

      - We have a date, have you forgotten? - he got up, his hands inside the pockets of the neatly tailored suit as he approached her. - Or are you chickening out?

      - I'm not chickening out. I thought I was meeting you at your office. I mean, you usually finish at 6:30 and since you said 7, I thought ...

      - I forgot that you're the boss of my company. - he interrupted with his characteristic smirk. - I got off early. Got a new suit, fresh shave.

      - Shame. I do like the stubble. - she said as she caressed his face. His cheeks warmed up at her touch. - Maybe now I do need to cancel my date with you.

      - You like Italian? - he said as he helped her put her coat on. It was almost like a scene from an old movie. - There's this restaurant downtown a friend of mine opened, really quiet and private.

      - Wanna hide me, huh? - she smirked.

      - No, no ... shit, that's not what I meant. I thought you'd like something more private? I don't wanna hide you I mean look at you, you're so gorgeous and ...

      - I'm just joking, Sergeant. - she interrupted him as she saw him get into a state of rambling. Bucky always knew what to say so to see him so tied up and awkward was rather enjoyable for her as she was the one to usually end up in that situation. - I think it sounds good. You really didn't need to go through all of this.

      - Why? Did you prefer I skip right over to sex? - he smirked, making her cheeks flush with warmth as she recalled the last night. - See? I can joke too.

      - Yeah sex with you is kind of a joke. - she retorted which made Bucky smile at her wit. - I dropped Sadie off at your mother's but she may call you at some point.

      - Yeah, I called my mum to speak to her but apparently she is upset because there's no chicken nuggets? Care to explain?

      - Long story. - Y/N shrugged. - Is she okay?

      - My dad's probably boring her to death with model trains and my mum is feeding her every sweet treat they can find, so I'd say she's fine.

      - She's going to be impossible tomorrow, isn't she?

      - I was hoping she stayed at my parents tomorrow as well.

      - Why? I'm bored, I have nothing to do until I hear back from my VIVA and Sadie keeps my mind away from it.

      - I have plans for you tomorrow.

      - What kind of plans?

      - Y/N, doll, do you ever stop asking questions?

      - I'm a scholar, my job is to ask questions. It's almost like I asked you to stop being bossy and impossible.

      - I am not bossy and impossible.

Y/N snorted a bit at that statement. She adored Bucky and he had been nothing but a great boss - to her at least. He was a perfectionist and liked everything done with the best results in mind which sometimes led to him being quite impossible, specially if her was in a sour mood. Heck, sometimes she'd even been on the other end of it yet it usually ended up with him apologising.

      - Let's just go before you decide you don't wanna go out with a bossy and impossible man.

      - Jokes on you, maybe I do prefer my men bossy and impossible.

      - And still you dated ... what's his name?

      - Oh c'mon.

      - Bet he didn't take you to a nice restaurant.

      - It's not a competition and right now you haven't taken me anywhere.

      - The driver is waiting downstairs, I was just waiting for you.

      - You got the driver? Bucky, I could've driven us there.

      - In the yellow monstrosity? I think not.

      - HEY! Ducky is a great car.

      - The fact you named your car makes it worse. It's a Fiat 500 cosplaying as a Tweety Bird.

      - You know the word cosplay? Wow, you're a very advanced old man in your pop culture.

Bucky rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her downstairs. He didn't exactly knew how to act on a date with her, she was not the type of woman he usually dated - he actually hadn't even dated in a while, he was one to just go to dinner for one night stands only. His last date, Sadie was 5 months old and he went out with a woman named Elizabeth who worked in Wall Street - a date which had been cut short by his constant wondering about Sadie.

This was different, first Y/N didn't work in an area which matched his and, at least in his head, was a lot more educated than him and probably worried about his daughter as much or sometimes even more. It was just different and he didn't exactly knew how to handle it in a suave manner and she seemed to notice as they sat. She gave him a knowing look before opening the restaurant menu.

      - How many people here do you think are convinced I'm your sugar baby? - she attempted to break the ice, her little mischievous smile as she looked at him over the menu. Bucky laughed at this, looking around before looking back at her.

      - Probably no one. If you were my sugar baby, your dress would fit you properly.

      - Hey! - she playfully kicked him under the table. - This is Marc Jacobs.

      - You wore that dress for your interview to be Sadie's au pair.

      - That was ... a while ago. I had just started at graduate school.

      - You had these really funny bangs and you used to carry around all of these really colourful notebooks.

      - Yeah the breakup bangs. - she giggled. - You know, I had just cut them the night before and I cried so much when I woke up because I thought they would ruin the interview.

      - Maybe your true calling is being a hairstylist.

      - If I don't pass, then it may be an avenue.

      - You really think you're not gonna pass your VIVA? C'mon, you're the smartest person I know.

      - You're just saying that so I'll end up in your bed tonight.

      - Uh, no, if I wanted you to end up in your bed tonight, I wouldn't need flattery. Just fifteen minutes alone with you in the restaurant bathroom and my hands.

She opened her mouth to respond back but immediately closed it, not sure of how to exactly answer to that. She'd heard stories, she knew he was right ... heck, she had experienced it just last night and she had to admit the idea of it was not entirely off putting.

      - Don't change the subject.

      - You changed the subject first, doll. - he shrugged. - You're the only person I know that doesn't believe you.

      - I don't wanna talk about it, Sergeant.

      - Bucky.

      - What if I prefer Sergeant?

      - Darling, you can call me whatever the hell you like, as long as you're calling me.

taglist: @talesofadragon @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @abitofblues @floralwsloki @montyrokz @sealxfredweasley @legendarytrashcopeclipse @sydariah @purple-vegan @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @slowdownbeforeyouregretit

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea (Episode 1): Tongrak's Striking Sensitivity

I'm really intrigued by Tongrak's characterisation so far. He's more openly sensitive than I had pictured. Yes, there's some unyielding arrogance, but it's often coupled with noticeable self-doubt - which is what really has my attention. This is not the confident, suave, uppity writer I anticipated from the trailers.

Peat has a talent for conveying fragility. And there's something about Tongrak that feels distinctly helpless. It's early days but there were a couple moments in Episode 1 I felt were worth dissecting.

Shaken but not Stirred?

"Don't you feel anything at all? Not a single bit?" "My charm didn't work? Someone like me failed?" Tongrak is upset when he thinks Mut isn't enticed by him sexually (though we see this isn't the case later).

"Don't you feel anything at all when I look down on you?" He says again when he tries to get under Mut's skin by refusing every dish he brings to the table. When Mut doesn't respond in the way he'd hoped, Tongrak falters, deflates, and is agitated by how unbothered Mut appears to be. Mut isn't easily ruffled, riled or offended. He takes everything in his stride. Nothing Tongrak has said or done has deterred him from doing his job.

To me, there's an undertone of shame in many of Tongrak's reactions, which funnily enough Mut makes a point of saying "Ever since you've got here, you've only displayed two faces. Arrogant and embarrassed." What is Tongrak embarrassed about? Could it be:

Why do I feel so powerless in my ability to affect and control the situation/people around me?

Why do I have so little purchase over my own feelings? Why can't I be more cool/collected, indifferent or nonchalant?

Each time Tongrak gets flustered, it seems to be because 'things are not going the way that I want them to.' Which is interesting when you consider the appeal of being a writer. The very profession that allows you to take control of the narrative into your own hands.

Expect the Unexpected

Tongrak is clearly shaken up when he thinks Mut has fallen off the boat. He accuses Mut of playing with him, that perhaps this was an appalling joke at his expense. The fact that Mut warned Tongrak moments ago not to lean too close to the side, proves he isn't the type to do so. No matter how you look at it, Tongrak's accusatory tone is surprising, considering how little he knows of Mut at present.

Because this is MAME, I don't want to always assume there's trauma involved, but it definitely comes across that way. I think the average person would probably go 'Jesus Christ, you scared me, I thought you'd fallen in, thank god you're alright!', rather than 'Is it fun messing with me like that? Do you want to see me die from a heart attack?" It makes me wonder if Tongrak has some form of survivor's guilt or has been witness to a life in danger before, where he was powerless to help them.

You can also consider his reaction through the lens of shame (feeling exposed) by getting so worked up in the first place. He panics. He cries. Maybe he feels like he's made a fool out of himself and wildly over-reacted. Even more so when Mut always seems to be so calm, rational and level-headed in his presence. He's angry at Mut for not giving him a heads up before going into the water, but he also seems upset at himself for reacting so intensely as well.

Tongrak doesn't seem to deal well with situations that don't go as planned. Especially when it subsequently causes a reaction in him that is perhaps a bit more revealing than he'd ideally like. His sensitivity to and in almost all things appears to be his undoing.

This is just my attempt to extrapolate my thoughts on Tongrak from this episode, which really had my gears turning. The two points above may or may not be related at all. I can tell there's going to be tonne to unpack in the coming weeks.

You can check out bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for all my other posts around Love Sea.

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 1]

word count: 1585 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

When you decided on a clean break and moved to the little country home, you finally got your long harbored wish of a manageable veggie patch as well as a few fruit planters, breathing clear fresh air that the city life had you only dream about for so many years. At first, of course, the people were suspicious of the newcomer - the foreigner-city girl who came to their part of Hyogo with no clear intention but when you greeted each of them warmly around town and offered an open door if anyone ever needed help, they soon treated you as one of their own. The grandmothers of the neighborhood quickly kept an eye out for any eligible bachelors because “it‘d be such a shame if a pretty girl like ya would be all lonesome in that house of yers“ but while grateful for their concern, you were happy on your own.

Although, that didn‘t stop you from falling for your neighbor as soon as you met him.

Your first impression of Kita was that he was polite, caring and warm but maybe a bit shy. He bowed his head with a smile when he passed by your front yard in the evening heading to his house, looking exhausted but satisfied. You wondered if he lived alone, too, because no one else seemed to be going in or out of the modest traditional nouka.

You were privately looking forward to the evenings when you could catch a glimpse of him and bask even for just a second in the sunshine of his smile.

This went on for a week or so of you two simply exchanging nods, waves and smiles until, “Good evenin‘.“, he greeted.

The buzzing of cicadas filled the air. You were tending to your garden, having opted to weed in the milder evening rather than the afternoon sun. A straw hat on your head, muscles already straining from the unfamiliar work, you straightened, trying to suppress a groan. “And to you.“, you replied, using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, smearing some soil on your skin in the process.

“It‘s really comin‘ together.“, he noted and nodded towards the healthy green surrounding your ankles.

Don‘t blush, you told yourself. “Thank you.“, you beamed, “I am worried about my tomatoes, though. They look a bit peaked.“

You pointed to some sad little plants on the end of your veggie patch.

With professional eyes he wandered along the fence to inspect them.

“Oh, yea, they might have had a bit too much sun and not enough water. Don‘t worry, happens to all of us.“, he smiled, “I have some extra starters in my greenhouse. Ya can have a couple if ya like. I always grow more in case bugs get to ‘em.“

“Oh, really?“

“Sure, come by tomorrow to pick ‘em up.“

“Thank you so much!“

“What else have ya got here?“, he now leaned on the fence post, examining the rest of the plants. You listed the few you had.

“Ya might wanna add sugar snap peas. They‘re easy to grow and the yield is really good.“

“Noted! But I might have to wait until next season, I don‘t think I have enough space for any more.“

“Ya can grow ‘em nicely in planters. I can build ya one. It‘s not difficult.“

Your heart did a little jump. “Are you sure it‘s not too much trouble?“

“Neighbors gotta stick together, right?“, he grinned and stood back up, “I‘mma let ya get back to it.“ and he made to leave.

“W-wait!“

He turned back to you.

“One of the grannies in town gave me a bunch of fresh greens and tofu today. My fridge doesn‘t work yet so I‘m worried it’ll go bad. Would you like to join me for dinner?“

He blinked. For a moment you weren‘t sure if you hadn‘t been too forward but then Kita nodded and walked around the fence to your gate. Oh my, somehow the fence had underplayed his handsomeness. As he stood right in front of you, arms tan and taut with lean muscles from a day‘s work and a towel tied around his neck you forgot to talk for a second.

“This way.“, you gestured to the front door.

“Don‘t ya wanna finish up weedin’ first?“

“But…“

“I‘ll help ya.“

“But…“

And he got to work. Of course, his practiced hands got the job done so much faster than you and where you had only managed a fourth of the patch he finished up the rest in no time.

Kita knelt on a seating pillow you had laid out around your coffee table, patiently waiting for you to plate up the hearty stew alongside some grilled tofu and rice. You figured he must be starving after all that hard manual labor. But to your surprise he ate slowly, chewed carefully and seemed to savor the taste.

“It‘s delicious.“, he said and let out a small content sigh, “I usually don‘t have much energy to cook in the evenin’s. This is great, thank ya.“

So he did live alone. How the masses of overzealous grandmothers in town hadn‘t flocked together to feed this man yet was a mystery to you.

In all honesty, Kita didn‘t agree with the people in town who said you were “pretty“. “Pretty“ didn‘t do you justice. He thought you were breathtaking. Because that‘s how he felt when he talked to you for the first time. Like his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat. Your genuine smile when he complimented your cooking now had a permanent place in his mind - framed it hung at the very top where he could always admire it throughout his day. Where his thoughts were usually busy with plans for the following morning or simply quiet, while his hands moved automatically through the water in the fields, they were now interlaced with you. Your twinkling eyes when he told you he would build you a planter, your cute protests when he offered to help you weed that tiny little veggie patch as if it was the most daunting task ever encountered and your voice, bright and lively as you told him about yourself upon his request. His grandmother had told him many stories growing up, about right and wrong, patience, kindness and fate. She told him when two people were meant for each other, their souls would recognize it and be drawn to the other by some unseen force. Back then, young Kita wasn‘t exactly sure what to make of it. It sounded very fantastical and without any data to back it up he thought it was another one of his grandmother‘s folktales. Now he wasn‘t so sure anymore because you were his first and last thought of the day.

He doubted that someone as beautiful and worldly as you would consider him as a match but he was merely glad to know he could be of help and make your life a little easier. After dinner the previous night he had told you he had some business in the city the next day and you could please wait for him at his place in the afternoon to collect your promised tomato starters. He had spent the morning making sure the little plants were in top shape, selecting the very best of the bunch. He was eager to get back home but as per usual, city traffic had other ideas.

Every couple of seconds he glanced at the clock on the truck‘s dashboard, hoping he didn‘t make you wait too long.

When he finally pulled into his driveway he spotted you sitting on his porch, his black and white dog lounging in your lap, getting his ears massaged.

A bundle lay next to you.

The dog‘s tail thwacked on the wooden porch as he approached.

“Ya look comfortable.“ He had meant it to his (guard) dog but somehow it seemed like your full cheeks got a bit of color.

“I hope I haven't kept ya waitin‘.“

“It‘s fine.“, you said simply, “I had great company.“ You petted the dog's head again who let out a happy huff.

Kita grinned and looked towards one of his greenhouses. “I‘ll go grab the tomatoes.“

You were brushing some dog hairs off your pants when he returned. Without meaning to, he searched your hands for an indication of a wedding band but shook his head when he caught himself.

He held out the tray with the starters.

“Thank you so much! They look great. And here.“, you bent down to exchange the tray for the bundle, “Since you said you wouldn‘t accept any money for them I made you dinner instead.“

His eyes widened. “Ya didn‘t have to.“

You shrugged. “I know, but it wouldn‘t feel right otherwise. And it‘s not like it‘s even close to an equal trade once these start producing.“

He was a little disappointed. After all, he had practiced inviting you to have dinner with him his entire drive back, but having more of your cooking was the next best thing, he supposed.

The following morning you found the bundle neatly wrapped on your doorstep, the large square bento box inside had been thoroughly cleaned and a note replaced the food “It was really delicious. Thank you very much. - Kita“.

Your heart stumbled when you stared at the neatly written words and grinning so hard your cheeks started to hurt, you pinned it to a little cork board next to the door.

a/n: thank you so much to @makkir0ll for helping me hatch this ostrich-sized brain egg 🌟

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 2]

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

first off let me tell you....I really like all of you write about the shadowpeach x reader from the start until now and I sudden have a very funny imagine that I want to share with you :)

like the other can't understand reader is she speak her original language when the magic does not translate it right? what about something that have happen that make the reader angry at hell like ( someone ( demon or human ) shaming her or talk shit to the spirit or to the little simian right ? I want the reader sometime be feisty and talk back to them with no holding back or even curse them in reader own language....the other maybe not understand what she saying at first but from time their manage to learning about reader language then is would be so funny when their reaction to this you know ? 👀🤣😙

"What did you just say?" Reader asked slowly turning her head around.

The man in front of her laughed, "I said that you're little monster friend deserve to be put to death." He said pointing his blade at Spirit. Spirit didn’t react besides her eyes narrowing, she wasn’t looking for a fight with this human.

*Thump* *Thump*

Reader knew that her monkeys have not always been the best behaved. However she also knew that they were hers, weather they were arguing with other people or keeping her safe. There was good and bad in everyone and she knew that very, very well. She was not about to let this man just say-

*Thump* *Thump*

Her heart pounded in her chest as she gritted her teeth. Spirit was her friend, Spirit was her new sister, she was not about to let someone talk shit about her!

*Thump* *Thump*

“It’s no wonder those disgusting little rodents follow you two around,” The man gestured towards Peaches and Plums who both hissed at him, their tails wrapped around your neck to keep balanced. Both of them huddled closer to you as if your ears from this man’s words.

“Maybe I should-.”

*Snap*

“Go fuck yourself. You think just because you’re some big man that means everything you say or do is okay. Let me tell you it’s not! We have done nothing but try to pass through town peacefully! The only one causing problems is you!” You shout, everyone around you going completely silent. Eyes wide with shock, even your monkeys went silent.

You wouldn’t stand for this! There was no way you’d stand for this! ��Get the hell out of our way,” Your words piercingly calm as you stepped forward so your faces were close.

“No one insults my family, Spirit is my sister, Peaches and Plums are my monkeys. So you can go fuck yourself and get the hell out of my way,” Every word pierced the air causing the man to actually stumble back. For a moment it looked as though he was about to say something back but with one look behind you his eyes widened and he scrambled to get as far away as possible.

As soon as he saw the opportunity, the man bolted. Weather it was from you or not was unknown but you didn't really care.

"Hmph, are you okay my sweets? I hope so. That man was a rude- pardon my language... bitch," you grumbled with annoyance lacing your tone.

The monkeys looked at you with shock. Before glancing at each other.

'We're her monkeys!?' Macaque chirped with a blush.

'She's going to be our mate!' Wukong chirped happily brgore also muttering, 'That was hot.'

Macaque whipped his head to look at his mate with an approving look. He agreed, you did look rather hot when you were mad. Spirit didn't understand anything but let out a chuckle, proud of you for standing up for herself.

Here you go! I'm sorry for the wait, anon. But I hope to answer a few more asks today.

I'm also posting at least one chapter today right around noon. 😁 So be sure to check that out.

[cherrygenshin]

Alone Time

Jujutsu Kaisen Masturbation Headcannons, drabbles, idk what to call them sorry lol

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, masturbation, sexting (gojo), Toji is a little pervy if you squint.

Smut Under The Cut!

Gojo Satoru

Has a relatively high sex drive, but won't jerk off unless he's on a mission/ can't be with you.

If/when he decides to jerk off, you WILL know about it.

It's a step by step process.

He will start by bombarding you with needy messages. 'I miss you', 'wish you were here', 'need my baby back :(('

Next comes the photos.

Photo 1. He's in bed, shirtless. You get a divine image of his sculpted abs, his lower torso unfortunately covered up by his blanket.

Photo 2. His hand creeping in to his underwear, the lighting of the photo just perfect enough to see his bulge.

Photo 3. Dick pic. He can't take it anymore, he has to show you how much he misses you! And what better way to do that then show you a photo of his long, pretty cock gripped in his digits?

After the photos, he'll call you. It's fine if you don't answer, he'll just leave you plenty of voice messages of him moaning, his breathless whimpers of your name coming through the phone as he desperately tries to reach his high.

And after that? You get the loveliest video, he squirts all over his hand and lower abs with a cry of your name. He turns the camera around to his flushed face, and ends the video with a quick 🤪✌️ because of course he does.

Geto Suguru

I don't picture this man having a super high sex drive, I feel like life gets in his way a lot of the time.

The only time he'd take matters in to his own hands is if you were asleep and he really couldn't get his boner to go away.

He debates for a while, going back and forth on if he should just wake you up, but he eventually decides not to bother you, your sleeping form was just too adorable for him to disturb with his own lustful needs.

He gets up and heads to the shower, stepping in to the hot water with a slight 'hiss'. Perhaps he was a bit too eagre to get this over with.

Resting a hand against the tiles, he closes his eyes and brings a hand down to his already hardened cock. He pumps his shaft a few times, before his eyes flit open in search of something.

There it is. Your bodywash. He reaches over and grabs it off the shelf, opening it and hastily pouring a glob on to his hands. He inhales sharply, the scent of you filling his nose before he takes his freshly 'lubed' hands back to his now leaking cock.

He fists himself fast and hard, not wanting to draw this out any longer than necessary. His mind wanders to you, how you would feel if you saw him right now. Would you be mad? Or maybe turned on? Maybe you would help him, and he'd get to stuff his cock in your tight hole..

The thought sends him over the edge as he cums with a deep sigh. He finishes the rest of his shower in post-nut shame, and quietly slides back in to bed with you.

The next morning you wonder why he somehow smells like you. Perhaps he grabbed your bodywash by mistake?

Fushiguro Toji

This man a certified daddy of 2, so I'm sure he's got a decent sex drive.

He doesn't really like jerking off if you're around as he'd rather just pound you, but when the need comes, who is he to deny himself of pleasure?

You were due home from work in 10 minutes. He'd been walking around with a hard on for the past 30, and he'd decided enough is enough.

Sitting himself down on the lounge, he pulls his sweatpants down just enough for his thick dick to spring out. He spreads his legs, enjoying the feeling of freedom.

He glances at the clock. Okay, 10 minutes until you're home. He could wait for you, but this has been pissing him off long enough.

He spits on to his dick and strokes it roughly, not caring about the slight sting of his calloused hands on his sensitive dick.

He grabs his phone and pulls up images of you, one's he's taken after he's filled your hole with his cum, one's of your fucked out face, and some sneaky ones of your panties while you weren't looking.

He grunts, hand gripping tighter as he strokes faster now, his high approaching quickly the more he looks at your photos.

"Fuck-" He heaves a heavy sigh, moving his hand to pay special attention to his tip. He tilts his head back and cums with a loud groan, shooting thick ropes on to his lower stomach.

He opens one eye as he notices you standing in the doorway, stunned.

"Hey mama, come over 'ere and clean this mess will ya? It's your fault after all."

[lavendertales]

SEÑORITA: Chapter 9**

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: you get Javier to open up about his life in Colombia. meanwhile, when Steve invites the whole lot of you to brunch, it becomes tough to keep your relationship a secret, especially when Javier's confession burns on the tip of his tongue.

word count: 7k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut; lots of flirting, love confessions, mirror sex, cunnilingus & fingering, some dry humping , cockwarming, lil bit of praise kink & gentle dom!Javi.

A/N: so hiiii yes I am not dead, I am just not really posting anymore but I will see this story through. idk if this is as good as I'd hoped, but I do hope you enjoy it nonetheless 💕

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

series masterlist | AO3

There’s loud screams all around him. Smoke, screams, and the unmistakable scent of death and despair, all around him.

Someone’s screaming for him. Saying his name on a loop. Javier, Javier, Javier. Followed by Javi. Then a toe-curling help me and please, and then—silence.

A silence so loud his ears are ringing and pouring blood.

Except when he looks around him, there’s blood everywhere.

Blood, mass destruction, and an impending sense of doom that no matter how far he runs, no matter what lies he tells, it never leaves him. It is then, in that very second as he’s looking down at the bloodied and bruised face of a woman he once thought he could be with and save, Javier realizes that sense of doom will never leave him. He will remain forever locked in its harsh and cold grip, forever followed by the inevitable shame and guilt, doomed to drown in them.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “’m sorry—I’m—I couldn’t—“

“Javi. Hey. It’s okay. Can you hear me? Javi. It’s me.”

His name on a loop, pronounced so carefully and sincerely, so rich with care and an almost soul-crushing sweetness, awakens him at long last. He’s disoriented as he looks around, his temples and forehead dripping with sweat. There’s a hand gently resting on his chest, steadying his heartbeat, and it’s then that Javier’s eyes come into focus and they see your face. And then slowly the realization that he’s no longer in Colombia, no longer surrounded by pain, comes into focus as well, and that he’s in his bed, next to the most wonderful woman he’s ever known.

“Are you alright?” you ask, gently rubbing his chest through the t-shirt.

“Yeah. I’m definitely better now.”

He cracks a reassuring smile and so do you.

“Nightmare?” you ask next.

Javier nods, rather hesitantly. “I was back in Colombia. In Bogota.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Upon noticing the hesitation on his face, you’re quick to add, “It’s okay if you don’t want to though. I don’t have to know everything about your past.”

Something about that feels oddly endearing; Javier hasn’t met anyone who has been as kind and understanding as you and for every genuine word you throw at him, for every gentle caress of his hand or his cheek, he feels his chest impossibly lighter, as if all the pain he has been carrying with him for the past few years is beginning to wear off at long last.

Though his tongue aches for verbal release, Javier isn’t certain that he wants to burden you with the horrors he had witnessed and done in Colombia. You are far too tame to handle such harsh realities, even if you clearly expect the truth and nothing but it.

“I did things I’m not proud of,” he lets out in a coarser than expected voice. “Terrible things. Either for information or out of… helplessness or desperation.”

You don’t say anything; you adjust your position so that you face him clearer, even in the darkness, and let him continue.

“I’m no saint, by no means. I guess sometimes I thought my actions were justified because the end result would be good. But it rarely ever was.”

And before he knows it, Javier is telling you the chapter of his life which he deemed closed some time ago, from start to finish: he tells you about him and Steve and how they worked together; he tells you about working with the most gruesome group in all of Colombia in order to get to Pablo Escobar; he tells you about Helena and how he cared about her and how he got her traumatized simply because he pushed her too much for information; he tells you of all the people he threatened, shot, of all the plans he made and failed, how he got the so-called promotion in Cali and how it meant that Steve was the one who ended Escobar eventually. By the end of it, it’s nearly morning and you’re cuddled at his chest, listening to him breathe and caressing his cheek.

“I appreciate you opening up about this,” you murmur. “I know it can’t possibly be easy.”

“It is. It feels easier with you.”

You smile, chastely kissing his lips. Javier’s chest rises and falls with each additional shaky breath he takes as he forces his mind to collaborate with his mouth in order to get out those pesky three words that have been pressing on his conscience for weeks now. Yet the way you kiss him tenderly and sweetly, as if to reassure him that he’s safe and sound from any harm in this world, it shuts him up real good.

His mother once told him that when he’ll meet someone special, he’ll know it and he’ll know just what to say and when. He was still a kid at the time and he dismissed his mother’s words, but now he feels them to be truer than ever.

“So if we were in Colombia,” you say suddenly as a smirk graces your lips, “would I be one of your girls?”

Javier turns to you, faintly amused. He cocks an eyebrow at you, his interest visibly peaked.

“What?”

“Would I be one of many girls that fall at Javier Peña’s feet? One of the lucky ones who get to go to bed with him?”

Something aches inside Javier as you pose that question. It’s a playful one and while you have no ill intentions behind it, it dawns on Javier that the idea repulses him on a certain level. The idea of you being just another pretty face to add to that seemingly endless list of conquests, another forgettable name on there… he doesn’t want that.

Especially not when the reality could not be more farther from the truth.

“No,” he responds, shifting closer to you and removing a strand of hair from your face. “No, absolutely not.”

You smile, somewhat confused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re—better. You’re—you’re everything, you—“

His heart starts pounding, his throat feels beyond dry and it feels as if there is a huge ball of fire in his chest, waiting to burst at the slightest movement.

“I—what?”

Tell her. Tell her now.

Tell her you fucking coward!

“We should get some rest,” Javier mutters, stroking your hair and coaxing you into his arms so that you fall asleep as soon as possible. Once you do, he finally exhales, still burdened and haunted, but much more secure in his decision to finally come clean to you tomorrow, no matter what.

Except that when tomorrow comes, Javier receives an unexpected invitation.

“You free in about two hours?” Steve’s voice asks through the phone, and Javier gulps out of instinct.

“Yeah, think so. Why?”

“How would you feel about having brunch with me and Connie?”

He falters, and it’s as if Steve can sense the hesitation on his part because he’s quick to add, “Hopefully my sister’s gonna be there too. Also Sylvie and her boyfriend Zack, they’re coming too. You know, my sister’s friends.”

“Right, yeah, I think she mentioned them at some point.”

“Yeah. I thought a nice friendly meal would do us all good. What do you say?”

Javier meets your face from the corner of his eye and notices the question written all over it. He shakes his head briefly, a little “I’ll handle this for us” sign, and resumes his conversation with Steve.

“Sounds nice, I’m in,” he tells Steve.

“Great. Just gotta call my sister now. Or hope to get in touch with her at least.”

“Just call her, I’m sure it’s gonna be fine.”

The moment he hangs up, he stares at you with the same guilty face he’s been having whenever Steve’s been around lately.

“You need to go to your apartment,” he tells you in a grim voice.

You frown. “Are you kicking me out?”

Javier makes a face. “No, of course not. But you need to go to your apartment because your brother’s gonna call you and you need to answer the phone.”

“I could be sleeping in. It’s Sunday, after all. I could’ve been out last night. Hell, I could’ve been with somebody. Maybe I was with Dean and we—“

“Okay, stop.”

You try not to smile seeing the bothered look on Javier’s face. Instead, you inch closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Aw, honey, are you jealous of Dean?” you peck his lips.

“I think we’ve already established that I was. But not anymore. I’ve got you, and he can go suck a lemon for all I care.”

You scoff, kissing him again, utterly enjoying the sensation of Javier simply melting into your arms, into the kiss you share.

“You really should stop with this because if you don’t, we’re gonna be stuck in here for the rest of the day, spent and sweaty,” Javier warns, to which you cock an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, so what did my brother want?”

“He invited us to brunch.”

“Us?”

“Well, me. And he should be calling you any moment, so if you could go to your apartment and answer the phone, I’d really appreciate that.”

“But I could be—“

“Please. For me?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Fine. You’re lucky I’m sweet on you.”

Javier presses a kiss to your cheek, stroking your hand.

“But we need to set up some ground rules for this brunch,” he tells you sternly.

“Rules? For what?”

“We said we’re not gonna tell Steve about us until we’re ready, and we’re not really there yet, so no sitting together, no touching, no looking at each other unless absolutely necessary.”

“Don’t you think that makes it more suspicious?”

“Hopefully not.”

You chuckle. “For someone who used to be a bad boy, you sure like setting down rules.”

“I’m just saying—okay, just—just go upstairs.”

“Ooh, yes, sir.”

He knows you’re joking; he knows you’re teasing him, especially in that falsely impressed and sultry tone of voice, and yet a part of him still twitches at the thought of you being so willing, so malleable and needy for him.

It’s a thought that will never leave his mind—or his body.

The little bistro Steve chose—aka claims, because everyone knows Connie is the one who actually picked it—for the brunch is quite cozy: floral arrangements adorn the outside windows, little lights hang from the walls on the inside, and plenty of people buzzing and chatting, completely immersed in their conversations.

If he were honest, Javier preferred if the two of you showed up at this brunch separately—although in hindsight, that would probably raise more questions instead of burying them for good. But he still has a knot in his throat even when you assure him that nobody’s going to bat an eyelash and that they will all think you coming together here was nothing more but an act of convenience.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” you sneakily squeeze Javier’s hand. “Could you at least try to look less constipated? Just—you know, for at least an hour or two.”

Javier frowns at you, taking a deep breath and taking one last, long look at you, as if he’s trying to memorize every single detail about you. You crack a smile.

“It’s going to be fine,” you reassure him. “You care far more about Steven’s opinion than I do. I don’t care if he finds out.”

“I kind of do.”

“I know you do. And it’s so sweet. But so what if he finds out? I mean… what’s he gonna uncover? That his little sister is in the healthiest and best relationship she’s ever had?”

“With his friend and partner whom he particularly asked not to fool around with his little sister.”

“Javi, we’re not just fooling around.” After a pause, you continue somewhat concerned. “Are we?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Then you shouldn’t worry this much.”

It’s quite astounding how fast you’re capable of calming Javier down with minimal effort. But it works, and when the two of you enter the place and take your seats at the table, greeted by the rest of the party, Javier breathes a little easier. He avoids Steve’s eyes as he shakes hands with Zach and Sylvie, guilt weighing on his conscience like the heaviest boulder. He tries his best in remembering your words that this isn’t about Steve, it’s about the two of you and your newfound happiness, but alas, he remains just a little bit stiff throughout brunch as conversation starts flowing between all of you.

On the brighter side, Javier smiles to himself seeing you and Steve engaged in conversation, laughing with each other. You’re sitting side by side to your brother, which means Javier is right in front of you and gets to notice the two of you mending your relationship.

Then he thinks again of how hopelessly in love he feels with you, how he has been for the past several weeks, if not more, and how it’s all happening behind Steve’s back. Maybe you were right, though; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Steve to find out at last. He’d find out that his little sister is happy, and that his best friend is content, at peace.

Would that be so bad?

And then he feels your foot rubbing against his, sneaking its way up, just in the slightest; he inhales a sharp breath, giving you a death stare, and he gets his answer.

Maybe it would be so bad.

“I hear you finished writing your book?” Sylvie asks you, redirecting Javier’s attention to the subject matter.

“I did,” you proudly say. “I need to do the final editing, run it by someone, but I’m pretty confident it’ll be out by next year. At least that’s the hope.”

“That’s so damn cool,” Zach says in between mouthfuls.

“Truly amazing,” Connie adds.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Everyone turns to look at Steve, who’s got the brightest smile on his face and his glass raised up. They all follow suit with the gesture, toasting your accomplishment as you stare at your big brother.

“Really, I am,” Steve goes on. “I’ve always been. Always thought you’re amazing. Much cooler than me.”

“By miles.”

The table laughs.

“But it dawned on me that I never really told you this. So… I want you to know that I am very proud of you, every day. And I love you.”

“Thank you. And I love you too.”

“Here, here!”

 The conversation begins to flow easily afterwards: Connie shares Olivia’s latest endeavors and how she started walking; Zach and Sylvie talk about their relationship and how it is to live together, to which you make a tasteful joke about her pretending to still live with you as well and how you and Zach basically share Sylvie; then Steve talks about work and how he enjoys it, being similar and yet different than what he used to do in Colombia. Javier remains silent during this portion, sipping on his black coffee and pretending not to feel your leg sliding up his.

“What about you, Javier?” Sylvie asks.

“What about me what?”

“How do you like it at the precinct?”

“It’s okay.”

You eye him briefly, affectionately rubbing your leg on his shin, concealing a smile as you see him squirm in his seat.

“Javi’s having a bit of a tough time adjusting,” Steve intervenes.

“It’s police work. It’s what I know, and it’s what I do.”

“It’s what gives you nightmares.”

Everyone at the table turns towards you, the same surprised look on all of their faces. You shrug, ignoring Javier’s deadly stare.

“And you know this how?” Steve asks reticently.

“By talking. By asking and by actually getting to know people, Steven.”

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Javier suggests.

“What do you mean?” Steve resumes, focusing solely on you. “I know people, I talk to them.”

You take a deep breath, maintaining a neutral tone even if your pulse increases rapidly.

“You refer to Javier as your best friend, but besides work, how much do you really talk to each other?”

“We talk.”

“Sometimes too much if you ask me,” Javier adds.

“Point is, he is my best friend.”

“Really? Did you know that he has night terrors? Not nightmares, terrors. And not every night, but he has ‘em. He mumbles and groans in his sleep, sometimes cries or even screams. He apologizes over and over to dead people, to you and to Connie.”

“Oh, Javi…” Connie mumbles.

“Do you know how I know this?”

There’s a lightbulb moment happening inside Steve’s head, and it is perfectly legible on his face as he stares at you, then at Javier, who gulps. Steve says your name, still processing, and it is only then that Javier stands up abruptly, his eyes shooting right at you.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? All the way over there?”

You raise your eyebrows, quite surprised, but nod and follow Javier all the way to the buffet table. You notice the little crease between his brows, the way he purses his lips and you can tell something’s making him uncomfortable. Suddenly the thought makes you feel guilty.

“Javi, I’m sorry if I crossed a line—“

“You thought at brunch would be a good idea to rub your leg against me? With your friends and brother right next to you?”

You furrow your brows, even more taken aback. “Okay, not where I thought this conversation was headed,” you confess.

“Tell me.”

As much as you’d like to deny it or pretend like it doesn’t affect you, Javier’s demeanor is getting through to you in ways you wouldn’t have thought possible; the way he’s being so adamant about his request, his voice low and husky—

“I thought it would be fun, yes,” you shamelessly admit.

“You gotta stop it because otherwise I might excuse us again and fuck you in that bathroom.”

Speechless, you stare at him, mouth ajar and heart pounding in your ears. You find yourself incapable of saying anything for the next few seconds, and even more shocking, you find yourself seriously debating Javier’s words.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about it,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you’re not,” you chuckle.

Javier huffs, frustrated to the point of taking his own words into consideration.

Except he is trying really hard not to be that kind of man and be more respectful and wary.

“Gotta be honest, I thought you were gonna be upset about me saying you have nightmares,” you mutter.

“No, I’m upset because you were rubbing up against me with your brother right next to you, and I can’t keep going like this. So either you tell him about us, or I do.”

You stare at him incredulously. “Wait, seriously? You wanna tell him?”

“I need a clear conscience. And I really need it so next time I fuck you, I won’t feel so guilty.”

You chuckle, stroking his arm. You’re fully aware that the gesture hasn’t gone unnoticed by the four people who are most likely still staring at you two, but all of a sudden, you no longer care. Javier is right; just as he doesn’t want to deny or hide it anymore, neither do you.

So when you return to the table, the perfect comeback is hatched from your brain.

“Sorry about that,” you smile, turning straight to Steven.

“What’s going on?”

“As I was saying, do you know how I know all of those things about Javier?”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’ve been spending the nights at his place. Every night for like three months now.”

Connie and Sylvie are the only ones smiling, except the latter is sipping from her cup of coffee with utmost interest.

“Three months?” Steven repeats. “So you chose to sleep with my best friend to what? To prove a point, to—to laugh in my face?”

“Neither. Actually, it did start as a way to get back at you. But as it turns out, he’s great in the sack.”

“As advertised,” Javier adds.

“And you wanted to skip brunch today,” Sylvie whispers to Zach, who’s watching the exchange as speechless as Connie.

“Don’t—“Steve shakes his head.

“Oh yeah, he’s fantastic. Knows his way around a woman’s body better than she knows it. I’m talking about waves and waves of endless pleasure.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Actually, I think I might too. We haven’t really been careful, you know? It’s been a lot of sweaty, rough and yet so passionate—“

“Okay, stop! Why are you being like this? Both of you!”

You exchange a glare with Javier, both of you smiling at each other.

“Like what? Wild, unhinged?”

“Kind of, yes!”

“The way you’ve been treating me since I was 15? Which I haven’t been in years, by the way.”

“Please tell me you were using some form of birth control though.”

“Ew, shut up! Would you calm down already? We’re both responsible adults, we know what to do. Besides, we’re not just sleeping together. We’re going on dates and spending time together and… we like each other.”

“We’re not just fooling around,” Javier adds, unable to look away from you. “I’m in love with her.”

You stare back at him, ignoring Connie’s soft oh my God in your vicinity, even Sylvie’s I fuckin’ knew it towards Zach.

“Javi, it’s okay, you don’t have to—“

“I love her, Steve. And I did keep my promise to not fool around with her. What I can do is promise to keep her safe and treat her with respect and care.”

It dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier say those words, and realizing he also hasn’t said them since his last real relationship. It’s a huge milestone in both your lives, and the fact that Javier chose this moment to confess makes you realize how much he must care about you.

“It’s true,” you add. “I—I love him too. I have for quite some time.”

“I fuckin’ told you,” Sylvie smiles. “I told you, and I knew sooner or later—“

“Not now, Syl.”

“Right, sorry. Continue.”

“Honey?” Connie presses her hand to Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t you wanna say something to them?”

“I’m really sorry, guys. I never wanted to… to treat you this way, to push you even further, sis. I guess I was just afraid that what Colombia did to me and Javier would be too much for you to handle. I know Connie got overwhelmed at some point. Rightfully so. But after all, I had her to come home to. Javier was… alone, and burying his problems in alcohol, cigarettes and random women. Relationships were out of question for him, and I saw what Colombia did to him overall, what all of that did to him. I didn’t want any of that for you. I obviously want you both to be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I see you guys now being so happy with each other… it makes me happy.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you earlier,” Javier says. “I guess we needed some time to figure things out ourselves.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Point is, I know my sister, she’s an amazing woman, and I—I missed the angle where that might be something good for Javier. Which it clearly is. And clearly he was full of shit when he said you’re not his type.”

“Just out of curiosity,” you intervene, “what exactly is Javier’s type?”

“The usual sexy, sultry woman.”

You raise your brows, to which Steve panics. “Not that you’re not! I mean, not that I think you as my sister are sexy… okay, this is weird, let’s move on.”

“Yeah, let’s.”

“I meant, you’re more the next door girl kind of woman, I suppose, and Javier usually went for the ‘right in your face sexy’ kind of a woman.”

“Relax, I know. I’m just teasing you.”

“Yeah, it’s what you do best.”

Everyone laughs, with Connie affectionately rubbing Steve’s arm.

“But listen, as glad as I am that we are talking about this and being open and mature about it, please do be safe, okay?” Steve says, and you make a face. “Also I know this goes without saying, probably—hopefully—but please don’t have a baby just to spite me.”

“Steven—“

“Please, I’ve learned my lesson, I swear. I promise I’ll be good! I’ll stay out of your relationship, just don’t—“

“Steven!”

“I’m not totally ready to be an uncle. I need to mentally prepare myself for a baby that’s half Murphy, half Peña.”

You roll your eyes. “Would you relax? We are not there yet. We may never be there. I don’t know. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but for now we’re good the way we are. Plus he’s teaching me Spanish too.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“But don’t worry, we only do it when I get a full sentence right.”

Seeing the scandalized look on Steve’s face, you burst into laughter, and the rest follow suit.

“I’m kidding! Oh my God, it’s so fun messing with you.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

You can’t help but share the laughter with the rest of the company, never quite managing to capture Javier’s eyes in your direction, not even on the way home. It only hits you the weight of the words that had been hastily, yet calculatedly, been spilled at the brunch table among friends and family once you get the inside of his apartment. You look around, finally allowing the day’s events to hit you, and then you turn to look at Javier, a warm smile gracing your face.

He confessed to everyone present that he loved you, standing up to your overly protective older brother.

“What’s going on?” Javier asks.

It somehow still surprises you that he’s able to capture the concern on your face, even when it’s not there. You’re not concerned this time around. Quite the opposite; you’ve never felt more at ease and more impressed by a partner. Granted, not that you had many serious relationships in the past, but this right now with Javier, it has so much potential to be something grand that it astounds you.

“About what you said before,” you start, your heart thrumming in your ears. “At brunch.”

Then it hits Javier as well. He inhales deeply, steadying himself.

“Right. So here’s the thing,” he clears his throat. “I’ve only ever said those words once before, and as we know, it didn’t end very well. Okay, in all fairness, it wasn’t paradise city from the beginning, it was more of a masked—that’s not the point. Anyway—“

You conceal a chuckle, staring at him with anticipation and a warmth that exceeds any expectation.

“I’ve only said those words once,” he resumes, “and I did mean it at the time. But I wasn’t really… in love when I said them. It didn’t feel like it should. But now, I think for the first time in my life, I feel those words the way they should feel. I thought I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t do relationships because I suck at them and there was never any time back in Colombia but… I think I just needed to find my match.”

You take his hand into yours. “Javi…”

“I’m serious. I’ve never met anyone so witty and funny, so—so badass. Frankly you could probably kick my ass and I’d be hella turned on.”

You don’t stifle the hearty laugh that escapes your mouth this time, and it triggers the same reaction out of Javier.

“The point I’m trying to make is… I meant what I said. I didn’t just say it to shut Steve up. I—I do love you. The best that I can, which I don’t think is near enough to what you deserve, but… I’m trying to do better, to—“

You cup his cheeks, kissing him tenderly. Javier blinks surprised at you, and his flustered face with his big brown eyes is so sweet it weakens your knees.

“You’re doing just fine, Javi,” you reassure him. “Are you kidding me? You’re so attentive and sweet and—and I love you too.”

Javier blinks in surprise again. Somehow it slipped right by him that you could reciprocate his feelings, hence why he’s rendered speechless for several seconds.

“What uh—I mean… you do?” he finally asks.

“I do. I love you. I should’ve said it sooner, I think, after you turned my story into a book. That’s… kind of when I knew. I guess I chickened out.”

“You chickened out? Why?”

You sigh. “Because… I never said the words before.”

“Wait, you never said ‘I love you’ to someone?”

You shake your head, slightly shuddering. “Well, you know my dating history and patterns, so none of those boys stuck around long enough for me to actually develop real feelings. And there was never any real connection between us. All we really had—“

“Ah, okay, I can—I can visualize what you had.”

“Aw, honey, are you jealous?”

“No. Just… not really a fan of picturing you have sweaty sex with some douchebag.”

“How about if I have some sweaty sex with a very good man?”

Though his interest visibly peaked, Javier still gulps at the notion of being referred to as “a very good man”. It’s the lie he’s told himself countless times back in Medellin and Cali and Bogota, and the same lie he operated under with the hope of excusing his horrid choices. But to hear now as something factual, something that someone as wonderful as you actually believes in…

“You could,” he finally says, stepping closer to you.

His hands roam around your waist, teasing from the small of your back; shivers run down your spine, prickling your skin.

“Is this how you were with the women back then?” you dare ask.

“Why the sudden interest?”

You shrug. “Not sudden. I’m a writer. Everyone has the potential to be an interesting character. Besides, I find the Javier stories fascinating.”

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, that Javier isn’t really around. All he was good for was some fast and rough outlet for release and… not much more.”

“So I take it that dominant, needy Javier is gone?”

He raises his brows, chuckling at the way you’re sneakily handling him. A part of him still fears this power you hold over him, but a bigger part of him is thrilled even by the still of your hand, let alone the way you’re capable of handling him.

He’s never had that, he realizes; he’s never had a woman meet him right where he’s at, handle him like a pro and then some more, and he enjoys it far more than he would’ve expected.

“I meant gone as in… gone on a vacation, not dead.”

You smile, teasingly playing with the hem of his shirt.

“That what you need now?” Javier teases.

“I want whatever you’re comfortable with giving me.”

That’s what ultimately sets him off. So when he finally kisses you, it’s rugged, needy and asserting dominance, but there’s also something very tender in the way Javier is holding you, pulling you into his body. Javier’s sole focus right now is exposing more of you to him, feeling you as close as humanly possible; therefore, he doesn’t tell you just how affected he is by your choice of words. He doesn’t tell you that this is the weakest, yet strongest he’s ever felt. If someone were to ask him how he feels, he’d easily reply “disgustingly happy”, words which he never used before.

He doesn’t tell you any of this; he lets actions speak louder. Calloused fingers, accustomed to manhandling and roughhousing, caress and cup your ass. With each passing second, the kiss you share deepens further, his pulse quickens and his jeans become more and more constricted. Never mind that it’s the middle of the day, in broad daylight; Javier wants—needs—to marvel at every inch of you, exactly as it is.

“Whatever you want from me,” he tells you through a shuddering breath as he slowly undresses you, “it’s yours. Anything.”

Javier surprises himself at how malleable he finds himself to be, caught under your spell, but he does not care one bit. When you look into his eyes and see his blown out pupils, you know he means it. You feel his words to be true.

You smile as you close your eyes and pull him in for another hasty kiss, stumbling your way to the bed. Javier strips you slowly, stealing kisses down your body while a breath catches in your throat. The sun shines right through the big windows on this crisp fall day, so there’s nothing to hide. It’s only when Javier’s hands finally pull down your panties and expose you to him that you notice you’re facing the mirror hanging from the wall of his bedroom. You shiver and on cue, Javier’s hungry eyes look up to meet yours. He smirks—because of course he does, son of a bitch.

“It’s a great view, isn’t it?” he murmurs, tentatively licking a stripe up your pussy.

His eyes don’t leave you when you sneak another glance at the mirror: it’s not huge, but big enough to fit your naked body and Javier’s head right between your legs. No good words cross your mind, even if your mind is in overdrive, begging your mouth to release some form of verbal speech. Your knees buckle and your heart beats rapidly when Javier takes his first taste. It feels like the first time he’s ever done this, though it’s really old news by this point. Recently you thought Javier’s existence is limited to one place and one place alone, and that is in between your legs, based on how much he loves spending time down there—whether he’s snug inside you or eating you out.

“Watch how gorgeous you are when you come on my tongue,” you hear Javier’s voice, lustful and dark.

“Presumptuous, aren’t we?”

You laugh a little, but it quickly fades when you feel two digits moving slowly in and out of you, a tongue collecting the slick gathered in your most sensitive spot. His nose nudges your clit, his whole mouth is seemingly buried in your pussy, and all you can do is moan helplessly, let one of your hands grab a handful of his hair and keep your eyes locked on the way your body curves and aches at his mercy. God, he’s so needy, so eager to please you and to give you orgasms; almost like this is his purpose in this world.

“Does it feel good?” you hear his husky voice.

His fingers feel like they’re splitting you open while you nearly fall apart in his mouth, and at the same time it’s not enough. It drives you insane.

You nod frantically, locked in the same trance of watching yourself getting ate out by Javier.

“With words, señorita.”

Oh fuck. You hadn’t expected that, certainly not the reaction it triggers out of you.

“Yes,” you exhale. “It feels so, so good, Javi.”

“Good. Touch yourself.”

Though your mind is in a haze, you’re able to follow his instruction. Your hand bolts to your clit, rubbing in circling motions. That, paired with his fingers pumping in and out of you and his mouth like a hot furnace devouring your pussy, it doesn’t take that much longer to get you to where you desperately need. Seeing you like this, being able to make you feel this way, it’s all getting to Javier too; he’s gotten so hard by this point it’s borderline masochistic how much pain he’s voluntarily taking in, so he unconsciously starts to rub against the edge of the bed. The friction is so good, but nowhere near enough. It’ll have to do for now, he thinks. He needs to get you off first.

A moan is harshly ripped from the back of your throat, your legs jerk and nearly trap Javier between them as pleasure jolts throughout your body. It’s electric, overwhelming, and simply unmatched. It’s too much all at once, to look in the mirror and see how painfully needy you are for this man, how beautifully fucked out you look in at this very moment. You notice his hips, desperately humping the bed, unbeknownst even to himself.

Javier pulls out his fingers, only his tongue remaining on your overly sensitive area, the strokes of it now gentler. You tug on his hair to make him attentive, and when he looks up, you see his face contorted in a mixture of delight, pleasure and neediness. And just like that, your body aches again, only this time for something more.

“Ah fuck,” Javier groans in his fast attempt to dispose of his clothes. “Didn’t notice I was—“

He sighs right as you smile, taking in the sight of a naked Javier, all in broad daylight for you to savor. He’s so hard now it almost pains you, so when you make a motion to get to him and stroke him, Javier nearly swats your hand away.

“Why not?” you ask with a pout.

“Because it’s gonna be a fucking miracle if I last more than a few seconds and I wanna be inside you when we come.”

You raise your brows. “We?”

“What did I tell you in the beginning that you’ll always have from me?”

“At least two orgasms.”

“I live up to my words.”

He’s wrapped the condom around his cock, now crawling in between your legs, the place he has claimed as his own and by far the most incredible place he’s ever resided in. He’s done this plenty of times before now, it’s nothing new; and yet, this very moment which reeks of anticipation and desire, this single moment in time when his hand is curled around his cock, guiding himself to your already soaked entrance, Javier wishes he could freeze it, keep it to himself forever.

When he slides right at home, deep inside you, you both moan in tandem. And it is the most damnable, beguiling and intoxicating sensation he’s ever known.

Probably because you’re not just another girl passing through his life and his bed. You’re not another random face or a number to the list of women he’s been with.

You’re the woman he loves, the woman he’d take a bullet for if he had to, the woman he’d move mountains for.

“Javi?”

You have this ability to bring him back with his feet to the ground whenever he tends to wander off, and Javier is nothing if not grateful for it, particularly now.

“Can you move? Please?” you plead and it’s so sweet he could come just from that.

Javier chuckles, the sound resembling that of a madman—and he supposes he is one, in a sense.

“Keep lookin’,” he instructs, a little bit of his Texan roots slipping in his tone as he starts to roll his hips. “Want you to watch how good you take me. How—beautiful you are when you take me.”

The grip you have over his shoulders tightens as his hips pick up a moderate pace, pounding into you with a mixture of greed and love. The more he sinks into you, whispering sweet nothings and giving the occasional order, the more you feel pressure building inside your belly. You do as he says, watching your body writhing beneath his in the mirror, and you shudder. His back covers a lot of the frame, so you mostly notice him from behind, pounding into you, and your nearly limp body underneath, taking him as he is giving himself to you.

The sensation of having him atop of you is stellar, something almost like it was meant for you and you alone; Javier’s stealing the occasional kiss from you, his hips more erratic with each additional thrust and his mouth whispering that he’s so close, so fucking close.

“D’you see?” he manages to get out through a wicked smile. “See how—how fuckin’ good you look hmm?”

“Yes—yes, I see it—“

“Mhm—good girl. My good fuckin’ girl.”

Javier loses any train of thought, be it rational or not, and when his orgasm finally hits, it’s all too much and too sudden, and when he can’t stop cussing or thrusting furiously into you, you cup his cheeks and tell him a simple “I love you”.

And he lets go, almost violently.

He’s struggling to catch his breath when he feels you spasming around him, and there’s pride to be felt even when he’s dumbfounded that you came almost at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you make a face at him trying to regulate his breaths. “I was kinda hoping… I’d last longer.”

You kiss him sweetly, gently, still feeling him ache inside of you. “It’s the sexiest thing,” you murmur.

“Having the endurance of a teenage boy?”

“No, the idea that someone needs you this desperately they can’t hold themselves in one piece. I love that. And I love you.”

Javier pecks your lips. “I don’t think I’ll get used to you saying that.”

“You should.”

“I love you too.”

You stay snugged up like that for who knows how long, while the sun rays beam down on your naked bodies. And then it starts to get dark, and you’re on Javier’s lap, slowly riding him and kissing him, aiming for nothing in particular but intimacy.

previous | next

tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @fallenkitten @jenispunk

[nalyra-dreaming]

Has Lestat always been like this with his feminine sides and sexuality? Because on the show he seems to be embrace and be so free, confident, even audacious about it? But he did want to be a priest, so I wonder if he dealt with internalized queerphobia, Catholic guilt about it etc. Or was it something that didn't happen to him until after he distanced himself from religion? I mean, I know some people have their queer awakenings later in life. Sure this isn't the main plot of TVC, but I wonder if it's an aspect of it at all or if he's one of those characters that just ~are~. Which I'd be totally cool with too, I'm just curious.

Lestat is from a wholly different time.

A while back the portrait that was not used for the show was posted, and there was a very good thread on it, which I encourage you to read here:

The standards of attractiveness and behavior and what was seen attractive have shifted, massively.

In Lestat's time his behavior or clothes would not have seemed feminine. No, it would have been the epitome of male court beauty.

So his learned and later shown behavior reflects what he grew up with, and what he came to embrace in Paris. What he saw at the court. What he, as a nobleman himself, likely was taught at least in rudimentary manner. I am not an historian, but there's lot of articles out there on this.

Now, Lestat probably did not spend too much time on his own queerness or the problems stemming from that.

The monastery was before he had really discovered his sexuality (he was a boy still!), and the manner by which his family destroyed that opportunity for him would obviously close that chapter without any guilt necessary.

So I do not think he carried any catholic guilt with him, on the contrary, he likely carried the acceptance and love the monks showed him instead.

Lestat took what good he could take for himself, and that was little enough. Going to Nicolas was encouraged/driven by his mother Gabrielle in the book, so why should it come with shame?

We will see how they do it in the show, they might want to dip their fingers into the time's homophobia since they extended the timeline, but in the book Nicki and he have only a rather short relationship, actually. And their time in Paris is cut short by Magnus.

So... Lestat both "is" just the way he is - and also this tapping into various aspects is something he grew up with as being completely normal and encouraged for men in his time.

We are all shaped by where and when we grew up, and in which circumstances, and he is no different there.

[cursedvida]

Honestly. Every two or three days someone publishes a post saying "oh why do you like nomae? If mae is bad, she's the villain, blah blah blah" that makes me wonder if these people have a life beyond wasting their time hating.

If you don't like something, can't you just block it? Or can't you just focus on promoting what you like?

Oh my god, do something productive with your lives.

It's good to see that lately even those who don't ship nomae are against these people.

There are many points we can discuss about this.

For example, we can talk about how absurd and pointless it is to throw hate at a ship. I mean, what do people gain from it? Making others feel bad? Do they really get satisfaction from shaming and trying to make people feel guilty for just trying to escape reality for a while by shipping and fangirling over things they like in a healthy and purely playful way? Do they seriously find any pleasure in it? Does it give them dopamine or something? Because if they really need to crush people to feel better about themselves, what I would recommend is to leave the internet and start therapy because these are indeed very sadistic and sociopathic behaviors.

Putting aside the melodramatic and catastrophic moment, we can also talk about how sad it is to waste time hating something instead of doing something productive like, for example, creating content. They complain that the KotPotA tags are infested with things about Nomae, but do they contribute anything beyond the hate? Do they write dissertations, present theories, upload gifsets or fanarts? No, of course not, they just throw crap. I mean, if it bothers you so much that when you enter the tag 90% of the content is not to your liking, then I invite you to fill the tag with things you do like. You are free to do so. But I guess it’s much easier to just complain instead of making an effort to contribute.

This brings me to another point that I find very ironic. Yes, everything is full of Nomae, but that is precisely what keeps the fandom alive. Every day someone uploads some fanart, some video, some comment or fanfic. Every day there is someone talking in this tag about the topic that, whether many like it or not, means talking about the movies. Let’s be honest, those of us who keep fandoms alive (and I speak in general) are the shippers, especially when they are fandoms of franchises whose content are movies that take years to come out. If it weren’t for people fangirling all the time, there would be no content on social media. I’m sorry if you don’t like that content, but once again I invite you to use your freedom of expression to create rather than try to destroy people’s self-esteem.

But well, as you say, at least there are people with common sense and enough mental maturity to understand that if you don’t like something, the best thing to do is ignore it and that’s it, as well as understanding that shaming people on social media is very much a thing of 15 years ago and today it’s just pathetic.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

When I see stuff like this I kinda want to bash my head into a wall:

To start off, I’m not sure whether this person was commenting on book or show Cersei, but honestly, it doesn’t even matter because she’s so much more than the ‘ambitious villain’ or the ‘murderous girlboss’ tropes in both the book and show.

(Of course, I do have my issues with the way Cersei was written in the show like most people but this is simply a rant post so I’m not going to go through the differences of Show vs Book Cersei)

Cersei is a female character who was shaped by her environment, who’s insecurities were created by her environment, and she’s a woman who’s idiotic mistakes can be traced back to how her environment shaped her. She’s much more than a murderous girlboss, she’s both a victim of the system and also a beneficiary of it, while also acting as an agent of it to keep the status quo while also desiring what the system denied her.

Cersei is NUANCED and complicated and even now people hate that about her and want her to have been a purely evil woman handcrafted in a vacuum, ignoring the context of her life because readers would rather not engage with Cersei’s victimhood and nuances because that ruins their idea of: She Was The Problem and Always The Problem. (People would rather say that she deserved her walk of shame instead of interacting meaningfully with the theme of systematic gender-based violence that is so prevalent in Cersei’s story. The exploration of patriarchal violence in Show Alicent’s story is done so horribly in comparison.)

And what really pissed me off about these tags is that this person has clearly decided that they don’t care to interact with the nuance of Cersei and are fine with flattening her, and yet they shit on others for not liking Alicent.

Because of the way Alicent is written in this show, she almost always has a ‘woe is me I can do no wrong’ attitude, which of course drives people away from the character (woe is me I deserve to take a child’s eye 🥺). However, what actually annoys me is how she’s made out to be stupid, foolish, ignorant, and inconsistent due to the horrible writing of this show, all of which are deviations from her book characterization. Also, I despise it when people want me to support writing decisions and changes made in adaptations that are downright misogynistic and are meant to attract the male gaze.

But what pisses many people, including myself, off is how the changes made negatively impacted many other characters. Alicent’s terrible characterization is like a black hole that distorts and warps the whole story! It’s annoying af!

So when people like this say: ‘She’s nuanced and people just can’t handle it 🙄;’ I say: No. She’s horribly written and a different character from the book and people have a right to be critical about these changes that stripped a female character of 1) her agency and 2) her intelligence!

And the thing is, there was little reason for the writers to have made all these changes to Alicent’s characterization! In the book she is an interesting character with clear motives and understandable reactions. She’s cunning and ambitious and acts the way a noble lady who became queen would. And despite her clear ambitions and dislike of Rhaenyra, she still makes a comment wondering about who would protect the Princess from Ser Criston, and yet she then takes Cole into her service after his falling out with Rhaenyra. That’s a perfect example of nuance! Show Alicent could never compare to book Alicent’s clear moral values and consistent disregard of said moral values in pursuit of power.

And because of this, Book Alicent isn’t easy to stomach. It’s hard for most people to come to terms with a character like her and it’s even harder for people to feel sympathetic for her at the end when she went mad with grief.

On the other hand, Show Alicent was designed in a way to garner pity, and when the writers felt like her current arc wouldn’t be enough to garner the specific reaction they wanted they would then throw in a time skip and suddenly she’s completely different and yet still Thee victim. She’s designed to be as sympathetic as fucking possible! The camera angles, the background music, and the lighting is set up in a way to make sure you the viewer feels pity or sympathy for her! Cause that’s her role in this series! She’s thee Ultimate Victim!

But too bad for the writers as many people are fed up with this kind of inconsistent writing. Even when the writers created a whole new challenge for Alicent where she’s shitted on by the green council and forced to face the beast she helped to raise, I and many others could never feel any satisfaction as it was clear that once again Alicent was being made to be Thee Ultimate Victim who was just led astray by the patriarchy and was a victim of it and was only just realizing it so don’t you pity her don’t you feel sad for her and now she’s trying to do the right thing so pls pls pls pity her 🥺~ So it shouldn’t be surprising that many people are annoyed by these eNLiGhtEnEd changes that have led to a complete deviation from the source material.

To summarize: Cersei is an excellent fucking character who’s by no means easy to stomach, and because she’s not easy to stomach she’s often reduced to annoying ass tropes by dumbasses who are reading above their comprehension level. But when you actually try to understand her, you can easily see why she turned out the way she did and you can feel sympathy for her while understanding that she’s both victim and perpetrator! On the other hand, Show Alicent is a mess and HOTD is trying to make her serve a different narrative role than she did in the books so ofc people are going to be unhappy with the changes as book readers are once again faced with the annoying reality that the writers don’t give a fuck about the source material.

[st-dorothy-minority]

RadioApple one-shot

I both really don't want to post this and kind of do. So probably only have it up for 48 hours like I did the last one before deleting it and wondering why I post my dumb work.🤦‍♀️

I like comments, so if you want to feed me one, that's cool.

Duck, Duck, No

****

Alastor knew the exact buttons to push to cut someone down to the core. It was a talent he excelled at. Studying and learning what he could about a person in order to have the upper hand when it came to making a deal or making them wish they’d never challenged him was his specialty. He thrived on sniffing out a weakness and capitalizing on it for devastating effects.

In the heat of arguing, Lucifer was no different than anyone else. He was just another poor soul who dared to rattle the beast inside of him, leading him to exploit one of the devil’s biggest soft spots –

His beloved duckies.

“Honestly, it’s laughable! You’re the king of Hell, ruler of all sinners, and you care for these things as if they had any actual significance for existing. It’s pathetic how many you’ve accumulated over the centuries. And of all animals, a duck?! A pitiful creature that can easily be torn apart and has no real value. Seriously, Lucifer – you should be embarrassed. If these are the kind of animals you favor, then it’s no wonder you let yourself be a doormat to everyone. At this point, anyone would be a better fit for a king than you.”

While he spewed his vitriol, Alastor failed to notice how Lucifer’s posture began to slouch and his shoulders slumped. His rage blinded him to the shift in Lucifer’s eyes that were now filled with unbelievable shame and welling with tears. His antlers and tentacles were at full span, and his menacing aura suffocated whatever remained of Lucifer’s. The flames, horns, and tail that had manifested on Lucifer’s body disappeared; he clutched his arm, bowed his head, and closed his eyes as Alastor laid into him and destroyed him where it hurt most.

“Well? Nothing more to say, hm?” Alastor taunted, oblivious to how severely he had already defeated someone he claimed to love. “Don’t tell me you can’t even defend yourself now. This was just getting good.”

Lucifer was clearly shaking, and he did his best to quiet his sniffling. Without a word, he disappeared in a swirl of red and gold.

****

It had always been his private sanctuary. Lilith knew to keep disturbances to a minimum while he was in here; even Charlie wasn’t allowed inside except for special occasions or for a goodnight hug and kiss. There were times when he felt self-conscious and even ashamed by the amount of ducks he’d crafted and surrounded himself with, but they’d been the only constant in his life. They didn’t expect anything from him. They didn’t betray him.

He'd been persecuted, made fun of, and lost everything because he decided to love - to love ducks rather than majestic birds; to love Lilith rather than another angel; to love mankind enough to want them to experience what he thought was a gift: free will.

How foolish….

Still a fool after all these years.

As Lucifer’s eyes surveyed the room, the humiliation brought on by Alastor’s words was beginning to transform into deep-seeded rage. His true devilish appearance re-surfaced as he succumbed to the intense fury that now yearned to be expelled.

With his hands engulfed in flames and eyes pure red to match, Lucifer set fire to his safe space. His haven.

His cherished and adored duckie creations.

He shouted. He cursed. He took handfuls of his flock and crushed them, letting their remains slip from his grasp like sand.

When it was all over, there was nothing left but piles of ash and dust.

One slow step at a time, he walked around the room amid the ruin. As the air gradually cleared, it was then he saw a lone duck that remained. Hands poised to set it ablaze, he suddenly paused, and pupils returned to his glowing red eyes as he stared at it quizzically. He steadily approached, picked it up, dusted it off, and all at once, he was transported back to the memory of receiving it.

It was a stuffed animal, not one that he'd made, but rather that Lilith had sewn and crafted together just for him while she was pregnant with Charlie. It was one of her first attempts and very good, in Lucifer’s opinion. She’d wanted to perfect her skills in order to make simple and cute toys for Charlie before she was born.

Falling to his knees, Lucifer clutched the homemade duckie to his chest, buried his face against it, and began to sob uncontrollably.

“Look at little Lucifer – mesmerized by the ducks again. Hey Lucifer! Why don’t you spend your time obsessing over something actually impressive and worthy of admiration, like an eagle or an owl? Those ducks are worthless. Quit wasting your time with them.”

“Are you crazy, Lucifer?! You’re an archangel! God has even called you His most beautiful servant! What are you thinking, falling in love with the human woman?! Don’t be stupid and drop it!”

“You’re such an idiot!” “Traitor!” “How could you sin against your own Father?!” “You’ve ruined everything!” “Because of you, the world is going to be filled with darkness!” “How could you be so disobedient and selfish?!” “Your ideas are poison.” “You’re dangerous.” “You will never be welcome here again.”

It was an hour before he laid down in a bed of ash, still clinging to the stuffed animal duckie, and quietly cried himself to sleep.

****

The air felt heavy and smelled strongly of smoke. With every step Alastor took towards Lucifer’s workroom, the symptoms of fire grew stronger. He assumed Lucifer had erupted in a fit of rage, but he never suspected Lucifer to do what he’d done until he opened the doors and witnessed for himself.

Shock kept Alastor rooted to the spot, eyes wide and stunned as he looked about the room. He took it in, took all of it in. There was no more vibrant color, no more piles of yellow – the significance of what had been burned, it ate away at his heart.

Near the middle of the area, he spotted the familiar white garb and carefully began to stroll towards the prone form resting on the floor. Lucifer’s cheeks were dirtied from the ash, but it was visibly apparent how much he’d cried from the thin, clean lines the tears had left on his face. The way in which he was curled up and hugging the only duckie left gave him the appearance of a child, causing the sight to tug even more at Alastor’s heartstrings.

“Oh Luci,” he whispered regretfully and knelt beside him. He brushed back the strands of hair ghosting over the devil’s visage before conjuring a blanket and covering the other demon with it as if tucking him into bed.

“I’m deeply sorry, my dear….”

****

----Several Hours Later----

Lucifer blearily opened his eyes, sat up slowly, rubbed his face, and abruptly froze when his gaze landed on Alastor, who was sitting upright against the nearest wall and seemingly asleep. It took everything within Lucifer to not come undone all over again just from seeing him.

As if he had an acute sense of minimal movement, Alastor opened an eye to confirm he was right.

“You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to move you,” he offered gently.

Lucifer stared at the floor and kept his head lowered, saying nothing.

“About last night-”

“Don’t,” Lucifer murmured in a trembling voice. “Just don’t. Not now.”

“Luci-”

“I SAID ‘DON’T’,” Lucifer snapped irately as he stood up, flames briefly materializing around him. He started for the doors, dropping the duckie plushie along the way, and grumbled, “You know where the door is. See your way out.”

Unbeknownst to Lucifer, Alastor trailed behind him in shadow to observe and make sure he didn’t do anything else drastic. The remorse for what he’d said returned exponentially while he watched Lucifer standing in the shower with the water cascading down his petite body, his face buried in his hands, shoulders slumped and shaking as he wept.

Alastor knew how draining Lucifer’s explosive and emotional episodes could be, was pleased to see his lover was going to try and get more rest when he slid under the covers of the large bed after a lengthy hot shower and ultimately closed his eyes. It was only then that Alastor finally obeyed the request and took his leave.

****

A few days passed without any communication between the two of them. Alastor wasn’t worried; they’d gone a week without talking in the past. He was giving Lucifer his space, and in the meantime, he was contemplating how best to apologize to him.

When several more days passed and he learned Lucifer had declined multiple requests from Charlie to spend time with him and proceeded to stop responding altogether, that was when he began to worry.

There was no way Lucifer would want to see him if he wasn’t even capable of seeing his own daughter, and there was no way he could begin to replace all that Lucifer had lost.

But he had an idea of where to start.

****

Another week passed, and still, Lucifer could barely get out of bed most days. Today proved the most productive by the simple fact he made it as far as the couch in the main living room. With TV remote in one hand and a half-consumed bottle of whiskey in the other, he disinterestedly channel surfed despite his mind not being able to focus on anything but how shattered he still felt.

At first, he thought he imagined the doorbell and knocking noise, yet when it repeated for a second and third time (each being louder than the last), he decided to get up and sauntered to the front door. He really didn’t want guests, but apparently whoever it was was persistent.

When he opened the door, his expression became utterly confused; there was no one.

“Hello?” he called weakly.

No answer.

He was about to close the door; however, he glanced downward and paused. Slowly, he crouched down and studied the objects left on the porch. There were seven duckies lined up, each one painted to look like Charlie and her original hotel companions. Dumbfounded, he picked up the one that resembled Charlie, inspected it from all angles, and noticed writing on the bottom.

“You QUACK me up, dad! Love, Charlie.”

Tears instantly flooded his eyes, and he continued to pick them up individually to admire and read the kind words underneath. Once he got to Alastor’s, he greatly hesitated, pulled his hand away numerous times before taking a deep breath and welcoming it into his hands. The message was the shortest out of all of them, though it had the deepest impact:

“I love you.”

He fell apart entirely at this and held the duckie to his chest. Seconds later, he felt someone’s presence, yet he kept his eyes shut tightly as he cried and soon melted in the embrace of his lover.

“I’m so very sorry, Luci,” Alastor whispered. “I was terribly wrong. I’d like to beg for your forgiveness….And I thought it could be fun if we started a new collection….together.”

Lucifer buried his face against Alastor’s chest and nodded, reveling in the touch of familiar hands petting his hair and rubbing his back.

“Perhaps I should begin calling you my ‘precious little duckling’,” Alastor teased. He was delighted when he heard a tiny, muffled laugh from Lucifer. “Like it?”

Lucifer nodded.

“Alright then, my precious little duckling. Let’s go take care of you and find a temporary home for these ducklings inside.”

[aquatark]

My previous post made me realize that not a lot of people here are aware of Endless Ocean's bowmouth guitarfish glitch fiasco, which I think is a shame because 1) it's an interesting look into this game's history, and 2) I find it really funny... long-winded explanation incoming!

So! you see this guy?

You can place him in the game's aquarium, right? I bet if you've played the game, you've done it without even thinking twice!

...Well, in the initial Japanese release of Endless Ocean (known over there as Forever Blue), you couldn't. In fact, attempting to place this little scrimbly in the aquarium crashes your game.

Now this isn't too bad, since you can just press the reset button and continue your game normally, right? well... if you happen to leave the aquarium and save the game after having opened the creature placing menu, selecting a bowmouth guitarfish, and then closing the menu without placing anything... then congrats! you can never use the aquarium again, because it autoplaces whatever you left in that menu on your next visit! :D

In case you're wondering what this looks like in action, this video taken around the game's launch showcases it well, while also using the game's MP3 playback feature to put some anime music in the background, which I think adds to the experience:

So... how does this happen? How could something like this make it into the final game?

Turns out, this is due to how Endless Ocean categorizes creatures internally. Each creature in the game falls into a category, depending on the movements and behaviors the developers wanted to give them. For example, "migrate" type creatures follow a set of coordinate points creating a route around a stage, whereas "swim" type creatures simply swim around the area in which they are placed within a certain radius. Think of a whale shark's movements versus that of a butterflyfish - they have very different AI telling them how to behave.

Now, trying to load a creature of one type as a creature of another... does not make the game happy, to put it lightly. It doesn't know how to handle the request, and so crashes to prevent further weirdness from ensuing. There is only one byte (literally the second smallest unit of digital information storage you could use) per creature responsible for telling the game what type to load the creature as, and this includes when placing creatures in the aquarium. A slip of the keyboard caused a dev to type the wrong number in this byte, making it attempt to spawn bowmouth guitarfish placed in the aquarium as "swim" type rather than their correct "migrate" type. Literally one wrong number caused the game to crash, and for ears to bleed across Japan.

Since the aquarium is unlocked so early in the game, people discovered this on day one, in their first play session... and since Endless Ocean was a launch game for the Wii in Japan, that's even worse. It's not exactly a great look for your brand new console to have a game break so bad you can't use a mechanic anymore. And Wii game crashes are not pretty. So, Nintendo put out a statement on the day of release, notifying people of the problem, how to avoid it, and saying that a recall would be put in place. A week later, they released another statement, which stated people could apply to have their games replaced with an updated version, which would be mailed to them free of charge, by either phoning in or filling out an application online. This service continued up until 2020, over ten years after release! They really didn't want any copies of the broken version around... good thing we have archives of it!

The updated version even has different box art, with an added blue bar at the bottom, showcased in this incredibly crunchy image:

I love picturing Nintendo executives freaking out after a humble diving game causes such a mess they have to print the game again, losing them a lot of money and causing the game to get a lot of negative press...

I've seen old forum threads talking about the game as if it's garbage before it even came out internationally, because this situation was pretty much the only major news coming out about it. Can't have helped sales, at least...

Anyway, the game was patched to fix this glitch, along with a few other minor tweaks, and it was this version of the game that got translated worldwide. Japanese fans love joking about the whole ordeal, and I can see why! For example, on the bowmouth guitarfish's Niconico Pedia page (for which the closest equivalent in English would be something like Know Your Meme), this is recounted comedically as "...probably the most notable moment for the bowmouth guitarfish in the history of the internet", which is probably true! There's even image macros about it!

So yeah. The bowmouth guitarfish's reputation was forever tainted, and some Nintendo execs to this day probably wince when they see one.

tl;dr - A developer for Endless Ocean typed one number wrong in the code, making the game explode if you place a bowmouth guitarfish in the aquarium. Nintendo had to recall the game, and that specific fish has lived on in infamy among Japanese fans ever since.

Next time you use the aquarium, try putting a bowmouth guitarfish in there, and be grateful you can at all!

[ghastlyfilters]

the valeska twins having a witch s/o!! (or a s/o who loves the concept and idea of witchcraft)

pairing(s): implied jeremiah valeska and jerome valeska x reader

warning(s): absolutely none! but if anyone who reads this doesn’t agree with wicca and bashes it, js leave man 😭

(got this as a little idea because i myself study wicca, and my mother is a grey witch and eclectic. so when i went into town the other day and went into one of my fav wiccan shops, i couldn’t help but think of these two!! also it’s 2am so i’m so sorry for not proof reading this!)

JEROME

• Jerome definitely has no knowledge on witchcraft whatsoever.

• Sure, he knew the whole fortune telling thing from Mr Cicero in the circus and had a few readings from him (back before he knew that was his father) but if you’d have asked him if he believed it, he would have immediately burst into a fit of giggles.

• He doesn’t want to judge you as he’s realised how passionate you are about your beliefs, but he was a little uninterested in learning about the history of it all.

“So you know about Salem, right? The Witch trials?”

“… Salem? Ain’t that where they filmed Hocus Pocus?”

“JEROME!”

• It took a while to get him to take it all in, but you were surprised to find out he actually enjoyed the weeks you spent teaching him on the history of how your beliefs came to be.

• You have to be careful on when you decide to burn incense. If you choose to, make sure Jerome ain’t lurking around. He’s oddly got quite a sensitive nose. So most incense sticks make him sneeze or he either complains about the smell. Shame.

• On nights he feels particularly loopy, he begs you to give him a tarot reading. You were shocked the first time he asked, but you kept putting it off, telling him he had to be in the right mindset for both him and yourself to focus.

• When you DID however give in and do his cards one day, he got the death card, and began to freak out.. not knowing that the death card didn’t necessarily mean death itself.

“DOLL, IF I DIE NOW.. I WANT IT TO BE ON MY OWN TERMS!”

“Jerome that’s not-”

“I HATE THIS.”

• He knocked SEVERAL candles over during that one reading, and when his coat caught on fire.. yeah it was time to stop..

• There’s been days you’ve felt his energy, being the empath that you are. And you know when he’s thinking about his childhood again.

• You asked him if you could do a little something for him with some of your oils, just to perhaps protect him from any negative thoughts that directed back to his past.

• Everytime you light a candle for yourself or others, you have to remind Jerome each time. If you don’t, he’ll just blow it out and walk right past.

• He fucking LOVES your ring collection. There’s a specific ring you have that he finds rather amusing to look at. It’s moonstone, and you’ve found him sitting playing with it on multiple occasions. It really is eye catching.

• His fav crystals are definitely Tiger’s Eye and Lapis Lazuli.

• He had no clue there were different types of witches. Black, grey, white, red, green. And many more.

“What about ginger witches?”

“Well- okay yeah I suppose they exist too..”

• Overall, your beliefs are another quirk that Jerome finds so intriguing about you. He knows that when he’s with you, he’s protected. As you are with him.

JEREMIAH (POST SPRAY)

• Unlike his brother, Jeremiah does actually have some knowledge on witchcraft. Mostly because his adopted family when he was sent away were Christians, and always spoke of Wicca as satanic worship. But Jeremiah wasn’t that stupid.

• He actually showers you with new gifts that you can use for what you do. And he LOVES the scent of incense. So he makes sure you’re stocked up on that at all times.

• Jeremiah actually came forward to you once about something he’d never really been able to talk about to anyone. And he had wondered if you’d be able to make this specific thing go away. Jeremiah had a certain sleep paralysis demon torment him for years, and unfortunately he’d had to grow used to it. But when he figured out there was things you could do to help, he knew to approach you about it.

• He’s very interested in your clairvoyance. You’ve told him about visions you’ve had in dreams, and it’s always intrigued him. But he’s even more surprised when your visions have came to be. Some unwanted, some rather pleasant.

• However, when it comes to readings, he’s a bit cocky. He likes to think he already knows what his future holds.

• Whenever Jeremiah feels awfully run down or fatigued, he enjoys allowing you to rub oils on his temples. This is more often than you’d think. When you tell him to close his eyes, he does so. And the more you try to relax him, the more it gives him the tingles. He actually shivers at the thought of it. He loves it.

• He knows the Mercury Retrograde means a lot to you, so when you insist on having to do your own little private things for that occasion, he doesn’t bother you.

• He’s watched you burning your intentions on little notes from inside of his hideout. He thinks you standing there as the smoke from your small cauldron descends into the night air is quite a beautiful sight.

• Jeremiah used to get awful night terrors in his bunker, and even now he still uses the method you always instructed him to vision. He imagines himself in a mirrored dome, his desires and whatever he values are inside with him. Whatever is on the outside stays on the outside. And anything that’s inside, including himself, is along the mirrors facing the outside. Meaning that the mirrors are a method of not allowing anything else in.

• Yes, Jeremiah is rather private about all of this, but he’s found great comfort in using strategies you’ve taught him. Like Jerome, he feels very protected with you. And you’ve helped him get rid of many things that once stood in his way. But beware. There’s also many things Jeremiah might try and use, that perhaps go a little too far in your books..

YOOOOOO THIS WAS INCREDIBLY FUN TO MAKE!! i know it’s been a while since i last wrote, but i am slowly coming back. so why not start off with the two most memorable we all know and love? <3

[kingofthering]

Jerez 2024. Marc/Bezz | Pecco/Bezz. Mostly just vibes. Imagine a Bezz/Luca scene in the middle of this, that will have to live in my brain only.

There is a number of people that Marc half expects to run into in the club he’s partying at after Jerez. Marco Bezzecchi is not very high on that list. And yet.

“Sorry,” Bezzecchi says, his eyes huge while his hand goes to Marc’s arm, grabbing him before his brain seems to catch up with the gesture and he draws back.

The contact is not as soft as the one from earlier in the cooldown room. Just like he did back then, Marc doesn’t comment on it.

“My glass was empty,” Bezzecchi continues, lifting his indeed empty glass in the air to prove himself. “You’re good.”

“Sure,” Marc nods. 

He expects the interaction to finish there, Bezzecchi getting back to whoever he came here with (implications of his presence things that Marc doesn’t want to be thinking about right now).

“What do you want, Bezzecchi?” Marc eventually asks when they’re both still standing there, his tone mostly curious and maybe just a hint of annoyed.

He watches Bezzecchi’s face work through a grimace. “Don’t call me that.”

“That’s your name.”

“That’s what the middle school teacher who always scolded me for not being able to stay in place called me. And that one doctor who was always disapproving of me riding bikes and who kept telling my mom I should be more careful or quit.”

The flash of annoyance is cute even if the common denominator here isn’t. Interesting.

Marc says “Okay”, watches Bezzecchi play with the straw in his empty glass, wonders what he would occupy his hands with if Marc were to steal the piece of plastic from him.

“My friends call me Bezz.”

Marc doesn’t laugh. It’s just a small snicker, really. And mostly because the determination in Bezzecchi’s face is adding to the situation.

Marc hums. Bezzecchi’s face goes through another myriad of emotions. Someone pushes past Marc with a too-solid shoulder that propels him forward, almost making him lose his balance.

Bezzecchi —Bezz?— catches him again, his hand drawn to that same spot on Marc’s arm like a magnet.

This time, Marc can feel the pad of a naked thumb rubbing against his bare skin. 

For a brief second, Marc looks down, makes sure that the sensation is not just a phantom pain of some kind. When he looks back up, Bezz’s eyes go wide, caught, and he draws his hand back like he’s just been burnt.

“Sorry, I should go, the guys are waiting for me.”

It almost sounds more like a question rather than a statement. Marc is tempted to call Bezz on it but he doesn’t, only nods instead and watches Bezz disappear between the thrum of bodies after an awkward last “Have a good night” and a wave goodbye.

Once he’s alone, that is phantom pressure that Marc can feel on his arm.

Not something he needs to study for now. Definitely something he can file away for later times, though. 

-

When Bezz comes back to their section of the VIP area, Pecco can’t help but study him a little harder than he should, looking for clues of what might have happened in the last half hour or so, anything that might resemble lipstick or beard burns, relaxed features or lines not supposed to be there on Bezz’s face.

Pecco likes to think it’s concern for a friend more than jealousy, no matter how other people seem to want to disagree with him.

He remembers Luca asking him earlier this week if he knew what he was doing, the question too broad and too specific at the same time. 

Pecco had shaken his head and rolled his eyes at the same time before asking Luca if he knew what he was doing on his bike. Mean. Not himself. He regretted it immediately, shame heating up his cheeks and making him look away. 

Luca had clasped his shoulder on his way out, telling him “When you’re ready, you should talk to me instead of overthinking everything in that big head of yours”.

Pecco was fine, is fine, right now, post-win dopamine still flowing in his brain. 

Bezz looks— Bezz looks a little unfocused as he falls down on the couch next to Pecco, crowding into his space and using one hand on Pecco’s thigh for support. Pecco lets the arm that he had on the back of the couch slide down to Bezz’s shoulders.

“You’re okay?”

Bezz nods, slurping on his cocktail before extending his arm as far as he can to push his glass on the table without moving away from Pecco. 

“Luca got me a drink.”

Okay. Drunk it is, then. Pecco can’t help but think that there is something else, something more than just the buzz of alcohol that Pecco is feeling himself.

“What do you want, bello?”

Pecco feels Bezz taking a big breath, his shoulder moving against Pecco’s arm, air blowing against Pecco’s neck.

His left hand is now playing with the material of Pecco’s pants, his palm warm when Bezz flattens it to Pecco’s thigh.

Pecco expects a lot of things to come out of Bezz’s mouth, his list of wants too big for Pecco to fulfill. He doesn’t think that “Everything” would even encompass it properly.

Bezz tightens his grip on Pecco’s thigh, presses an open-mouthed kiss to his neck before his nose bumps against Pecco’s jaw. 

“You,” Bezz presses against his ear.

Pecco chuckles, tries to ease the tension that Bezz’s latest antics have put in his body.

It’s not the full answer. Pecco won’t call Bezz out for it.

He’s not sure that Bezz really is aware of what he’s allowed to ask, of what he’s allowed to wish for, even.

“Pecco,” Bezz pushes, his hand moving higher on his leg, his mouth finding the skin just under Pecco’s ear.

“Got you,” Pecco says, turning his head to the side, baring the line of his neck and making room for Bezz to graze his teeth over. This, at least, Pecco can give to him.