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[stormythalamus]

My take on Mileven vs Byler debate:

Since the new teaser dropped and we’re all back at each other’s throats again, I’ve been thinking about how I want the couples to play out in the next season and thought I’d share my thoughts here weee

also if someone puts this on twitter for discussion i would be so happy. i dont have a twitter (for posting) but i love stalking sttwt because people are fucking insane over there and i’d love to hear some insane opinions on all this lmao. Okay here we go:

Just to be clear, I don’t care if you like Mileven or Byler or whatever else. These characters are not real, it's not that deep. Mileven’s and Byler’s can exist in peace and harmony I promise. A fair warning though, this post is definitely more anti-Mileven because it’s not my cup of tea. I personally have always hated the Mike x Eleven ship, mainly because I thought it was gross how this young girl had no concept of friends or family before being thrusted into a long-term romance at the age of twelve. After being controlled and used by men her entire life. I didn’t like how Eleven asked Mike to be her brother the same day they started dating, I didn’t like how overly obsessed they were with each other in season 3, I really didn’t like having to watch them make out for multiple minutes straight. That being said, I understand why people do enjoy it; they follow the classic Damsel / Savior trope to an extent, with who being what changing depending on the season. However, in reality, their relationship has done nothing but negatively impact them both in the long run. 

Jumping to season 4, their objectively worst season as a couple, we have the internal thoughts of these two characters and what they want for themselves laid out very clearly: 

Mike wants to be needed by someone/feel useful. 

Eleven wants to be normal, and later, grow into herself/her duty. 

Already, these motivations clash. We already saw this in season 3, when Mike gets insanely jealous over Eleven and Max becoming friends. Mike needs to feel needed by someone, and that someone has always been El. That was literally the foundation of their relationship; that Mike saved Eleven from the bad men, therefore becoming a hero in her and his own eyes. However, as Eleven begins to grow away from Mike and into herself as a human being, Mike begins to stress about losing her completely. In my opinion, this is why I believe he said he loves her in season 3, moreso out of fear than out of true love (maybe fear is too strong a word; more like inadequacy on his own part). 

Now, going back to season 4, this insecurity has grown substantially. Mike is now unable to tell Eleven he loves her, and Eleven constantly lies to Mike in order to be good enough for him. However, the most telling part of this season is Mike and Eleven’s relationship in relation to Will. Will does need Mike, and has expressed this time and time again over the course of all the seasons. Eleven, on the other hand, wants to grow away from Mike, and into a person outside of her relationship. I think people tend to overlook how insane El’s story is in fear of infantilizing her, however I think it’s very important to note that El’s life has been:

Raised in a lab until she was 12

Met Mike and Party, knew them for a week, began her relationship with Mike

Didn’t see Mike (or anyone, or anything, other than Hopper) for almost an entire year

Immediately resumes relationship with Mike, barely acknowledging her other friends, or doing anything with Mike other than kissing

Meets Max, gets a taste of what it’s like to be independent, immediately breaks up with Mike lol

Gets thrown into another life or death situation, forcing their relationship back together

Moves away and doesn’t know how to talk to him about how horrible her life is in fear of messing something up

Do you notice a thread here? Eleven has been constantly controlled and influenced significantly by those around her for her entire life. The closest she ever got to true independence was in California, but she was still being tethered by stress about Mike’s view of her and a complete lack of awareness of how school works (which, Joyce, homeschooling really wasn’t an option??)

People get dogged on all the time for saying El isn’t ready for a relationship, and I genuinely cannot understand why, because she clearly is not. She is a strong character with a good heart, but her complete lack of solo personal development makes the dynamic between the two feel odd and imbalanced. This is further emphasized by the insane pedestal Mike places Eleven on, calling her a superhero, something that she is, at least in my eyes, not fond of at all. Eleven hates having to be a savior all the time; she just wants to be normal. One point people like to bring up is how Mike is overly protective of Eleven in season 3 when he believes her to be over exerting herself, blaming Max for treating her like a machine. But… is this not just another form of control?? Let Eleven decide what her limits are! That is not Mike’s call. His overprotectiveness borders on obsession, clearly stemming from his need to be needed. If he isn’t there to help El, who will? Or… if he isn’t there to help El, what use is he? 

Now, back to Will, more specifically his painting for Mike. As we’ve established, Mike needs to feel important. He tells Will about his worries that Eleven won’t need him anymore, as she is growing and becoming even more powerful and important to the world than she has ever been. Will then presents Mike with the painting, saying that “these past few months, she’s been so lost without you. She’s just so different from other people, and when you're different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all, like she's better for being different. And that’s what gives her the courage to fight on.”

Interestingly, this is exactly what Mike wants to hear! Eleven loves him, she needs him, she feels lost without him. And this whole speech is what motivates Mike to tell Eleven that he loves her. Except… literally none of it is true. Mike is literally telling Eleven he loves her on completely false pretenses. He can finally say I love you to a version of Eleven that Will created. Even better, Will is just talking about himself in this scene! None of what he said even applies to Eleven. Eleven does not need Mike. She has made that clear. She loves Mike, but she does not need him. There is a clear distinction there, one that is very important when discussing Mike’s feelings. And the cherry on top of this nightmare sundae is that Mike and Eleven do not speak for the rest of the season after this confession. We literally end the season with El ignoring Mike and Mike going to talk to Will. Like??? I am so sorry but the fact that Mileven shippers consider this romantic or promising is laughable to me. Mike confessing that he loves Will’s fictional caricature of Eleven is NOT romantic!!1! And I’m pretty sure El knows something was up with that confession, too. I’m excited to see how they deal with the fallout in season 5. 

Okay, now for a slightly unrelated point: let’s compare Mike and Eleven to Lucas and Max. Now I think we can all agree Lucas and Max have a much stronger relationship than Mike and Eleven. If you disagree, I implore you to rewatch the show with your eyes open. From the way they handle disagreements (ex: Lucas confronting Max about ignoring him vs. Mike confronting El in season 4) to the way they are written, to the way that the actors talk about them, Lumax is clearly meant to be a much more serious, stable relationship. While we see them have disagreements, there is no doubt about how strongly Lucas feels for Max. And there never was; that was an intentional writing decision. Something that always stood out to me as noteworthy was the fact that in season 3, Lucas mentions how Max has dumped him multiple times, but that he was able to win her over every single time. These breakups are not shown on screen. Whereas with Mike and El, their breakups are literally all we see. Clearly, the writers want us to focus on how Lucas and Max have stayed a strong couple by honing in on their resilience and care regarding their relationship by mentioning, but not centering, on their teenage breakups. However, the exact opposite is true for Mike and Eleven; we are intentionally being shown their silly teenage drama and breakups, because that is what the writers think is important about their relationship. I’m honestly surprised more people don’t talk about this. And yes, Mike and Eleven do come to resolutions after their fights, but they are never very… strong, or taken seriously. People have talked this point into the ground, but Mike crumpling up two of Eleven’s letters on screen, and even throwing one in the trash, is like… wow. Interesting choice if he’s so in love with her. Especially with the way he reacts to Will’s painting. All this to say, Lumax solos. 

At the end of the day, I don’t really give a shit if Mike ends up with Will or El. I would honestly prefer neither just because the absolute outrage on both sides would be funny. But I do think he’s much more compatible with Will. I will say, I think the Duffer Brothers have dug themselves into quite the deep hole here. I genuinely cannot see a way where everyone will be happy with the outcome of this season. On one hand, Mike and Eleven could resolve their issues, Mike would friendzone Will, and Will’s entire character for the past two seasons will have been dedicated to suffering and uplifting a straight couple at his own detriment. Not a great look. Especially since in season 4, literally all Will did was be sad about his feelings for Mike, while simultaneously trying to help his relationship. Maybe I have too much faith in Netflix, but the fact that the writers decided to make Will gay and in love with Mike makes me believe in Byler being canon more than anything else, solely because there was literally zero reason to include that plot line other than to make Will’s already miserable life even harder. They could’ve very easily introduced a new character in season 2 or 3 as a love interest for Will, while exploring his isolation and self-hatred by having Mike and the rest of the Party help him feel more comfortable in himself. The fact that a large portion of his character is his feelings for Mike is going to make it look very bad if they don’t end up together in the end. 

nOn the other hand, if Mike and Will get together, I imagine the reaction from the GA is going to be… horrific. Not even considering the staggering amount of homophobia, the confusion alone from a casual viewer may be enough to not make them have Byler become a couple. I will say, it would be a lot to have in one season, especially since Will hasn’t even come out as gay yet in the show. I actually had to tell my mom he was gay after finishing season 4; she didn’t even pick up on it. I can’t imagine how confused a casual viewer would be if Mike suddenly broke up with his four seasons long girlfriend to get with her step-brother in the last season. But in that case, why would you let it go on this long??? And who is telling Finn Wolfhard to look at Will Byers like he hung the stars???? And why is there a One Way sign pointing to his closet????? And WHYY are they letting their cast members (ie Noah) hype it up so much if it’s not happening!????? I literally need the next season because I cannot even fathom what the plan is to fix this absolute mess of a love triangle they’ve created. It’s either gonna go down in history as the best queer slowburn ever or the worst queerbaiting case in existence. I bet I’ll enjoy it either way, since Will has been my favorite character for a while and he’s clearly taking center stage this season! Very exciting. 

Congrats if you made it this far, hope this all made sense. It’s like 3am and I just wanted to write about this for some reason lollll. I havent done a rewatch in a minute so hopefully there’s nothing inaccurate in here : )

[unbreakabledawn]

M-maybe considering writing more macro/micro fics of superbat when you have the time? 🥹👉👈

anon i love you. if i could sit and write superbat macro/micro all day i would do it just for you. i have one short pwp almost finished (def ready sometime this month) but if smut isn't your thing then i still have my borrower au sequel in the works <3

[jaylaxies]

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON ME!

PAIRING: yang jungwon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness, mentions of calling someone mid sex, mentions of nicknames, mentions of jay.

WORD COUNT: 4349 words.

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be just friends with benefits—no strings attached, no feelings, no late-night jealousy, but all it took was one party, one touch from someone else, and it sent Jungwon unraveling into something darker, and deeper. Now, he’s not asking who you belong to—he’s showing you, and the world.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, angels! i finally wrote a jungwon fic aaa this was supposed to be 1k words long but here we are <3 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

“You always look the prettiest when you’re about to walk away from me, huh?” 

You paused mid-way applying your lip gloss, jaw clenching at the sudden intrusion which you didn’t appreciate one bit. You could see him through the mirrors clearly as he leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed as he stared at you with dark eyes. 

His voice was calm—almost sounding lazy to you, yet it slithered into your spine like a warning. 

He looked good—too good for your liking, clad in his casual blue jeans and a black button up, sleeves rolled up casually as his dark permed hair covered his forehead, jaw tight as he waited for your reply. 

You weren’t sure why he was here, but then again, you were the one who gave him the passkey to your apartment, hence, you’ll be facing the consequences. 

“What?” You asked, keeping your voice in check, not bothering to turn around. 

His expression was unreadable, eyes stuck on your figure, raking you up and down, especially paying attention to your little black dress that hugged your body a little too well for his liking, “you’re going to the party dressed like that?” 

You twisted the cap of the gloss shut, taking your time with it as you replied, “hm, why wouldn’t I?” 

“Jay will be there.”

That’s it, that’s the reason why he’s here. The reason behind your tension that’s been eating you both throughout the day, enough for you to turn around and face Jungwon now, heart pounding despite your efforts to appear confident. 

“So?” You challenged him. 

He scoffed, pushing himself off of the doorframe, taking slow steps towards you, “so—he’s been all over you lately.” 

“Is that jealousy, Jungwon?” You scoffed as he stood close to you, a little too close for your liking as he towered over your figure, “because the last time I checked, you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. But he’s not yours either.”

The silence after that is thick as you glare at him with anger bubbling up inside of you, “so what exactly are you implying here?”

He swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, hesitating slightly—the first crack in his masked, nonchalant persona. 

“Y’know, I just think it’s funny. You say that we’re just fucking, but the second someone else even looks your way—I fucking lose it, I can’t breathe.” Jungwon seethes out. 

You blink, almost stunned at his sudden confession.

He shook his head though, replacing the melancholic look on his face with a devilish smirk, “but, hey! Jay might just be a better match for you, right? He’d probably remember to text you back, and maybe he won’t leave the second you fall asleep, right?” He taunted you, leaning down enough for his nose to brush faintly against yours. 

Your breath hitched, his words hitting you harder than you expected. 

“Fuck you,” you whisper, full of rage. 

“You already do, kitten,” he chuckled. 

You move back, throwing your lip gloss on him on your way out the room, which he catches with ease, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, “yeah, go ahead! Run to him. At least then we won’t be pretending that this thing between us doesn’t mean something.”

You hate him for saying it like that. For turning it into your fault when he’s the one who built the walls first. He’s the one who laid out the rules.

“You made the rules, Jungwon,” you snapped, “don’t you dare get mad at me for playing the game you clearly started.” 

His face almost twitched into an angry snarl, but he held himself back—his words? Emotions? He wasn’t sure either. 

“See yourself out once you’re done,” you muttered, leaving him standing alone in your room. 

And just like that, you’re gone. Like Jungwon said, you looked pretty—pretty to the point that he couldn’t leave you at the party alone. So, he did what he had to—follow you. 

Maybe being at a party wasn’t the brightest of the ideas for your distraction. The lights were glowing far too much for your liking, heat too high, broken laughter and the smell of perfumes all melting into one beneath the pulsating lights. The steady bass seemed to be in tune with everyone’s heartbeat and you were already out of sync. 

You stood at the end corner of the room, watching the chaos unfold, your face showing slight interest as to not seem out of place. However, your eyes keep wandering around in search of something—in search of him. 

It was a promise you made as you left, that you wouldn’t look for him, that you came here to forget the fight and to prove to yourself that you were unaffected—that nothing you shared with Jungwon meant anything. 

It was as if your body was wired to his presence, you could feel it before you even spotted him in the crowd. He was here. Jungwon. 

Leaning against the farthest wall to you, one arm lazily draped over the edge of the counter, head tilted in a way which made him look maddeningly attractive, still clad in his black shirt, a few top buttons undone, enough to show his clavicle where a gold chain rested perfectly. 

He hadn’t seen you yet. 

Or maybe he had, and just chose not to react, which was more hurtful, stinging you harder than it should. 

“Damn,” a voice interrupted your massive train of thoughts, “didn’t expect you to show up looking like this,” Jay said, his usual warm smirk plastered onto his face, coming close to stand next to you. 

You managed to put a lazy smile on your face, turning to look his way, your laugh light but automatic, “hm? And what does this look like?”

Jay chuckles, far too attractive for his own good, “like you’re here to ruin people.”

“Maybe I am,” you say, taking a sip of your drink, something sugary, cold, numbing. 

Jay’s hand brushes against your lower back, simply testing how far you’ll allow him to go. So you don’t stop him, you let him be. 

You’re aware of his body heat, the way his eyes look you up and down. You’re also aware that across the room, Jungwon has finally decided to pay you attention. Now, he’s watching, his gaze locked on the way Jay is leaning into you, how your hand casually rested on Jay’s chest as he said something in your ear to make you laugh. 

What makes him mad is how you keep your eyes solely on Jungwon, well knowing he’s watching your every move, his stare burning into you like a brand. 

His expression was unreadable at first, almost calm before he found himself gripping the glass a little too hard around the rim, a tic visible in his jaw, a slow swipe of his tongue on his bottom lip as if he was preparing himself for a mission. He looked as if he’d break something. 

The second you smile and lean into Jay, Jungwon starts walking towards you, not rushed, but with burning anger as if he tried to contain himself, only for him to explode instead. His presence hits you first—hot, almost electric. 

“Y/N.” He takes your name, voice full of spite and authority. 

“Hey, man—” 

“Not talking to you,” Jungwon cuts in, not letting Jay say a word to him, eyes fixated on your face. His tone is eerily calm, the kind that comes before the storm that shatters everything. 

You stiffen, “what are you doing here?”

He chuckles darkly, “I could ask you the same thing,” he says, staring at your waist, where Jay’s hand rested so naturally, “but I already know,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head before looking up again. 

“You don’t get to do this,” you seethe out, “you don’t get to show up and act like—”

“Like what?” He challenges, brows raised, stepping further into your space, “like I care?” 

You go still, his words hitting you harder than ever, a low blow indeed, which only makes him lean in closer, “you wanted me to see you? I did. Wanted me to watch while he put his hands on you like he’ll ever have you the way I do?” 

Jay shifts besides you, tension rising as if the room had turned ten degrees hotter all of a sudden. 

“Is he bothering you?” Jay asked, Jungwon’s eyes flicking to him, jaw tightening. 

“You should leave,” he said. 

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll find out why she never makes those sounds for you, yeah?” Jungwon felt like a madman, challenging Jay as if he was nothing. 

“Fucking stop it, Jungwon!” You shout. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even bother blinking, eyes locked onto yours. 

“I don’t know what your problem is dude—”

“My problem,” Jungwon says slowly, turning to Jay, “is that you’re touching something that belongs to me.”

Your face is on fire by now, heartbeat erratic at his words. It shouldn’t feel this way, you should hate him, “I’m not a fucking thing.” 

“You’re mine.” He said in a beat, words soft and final, hitting you harder than they should. 

Jay’s jaw clenches, “don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh she lets me do it alright. Don’t talk like you know what we are.”

You stop breathing. We. That’s the first time he’s said it. 

“Is it true?” Jay asks you. 

You open your mouth to speak, only for no words to come out of them, because in all honesty—you didn’t even know anything anymore. 

Then Jungwon scoffs, leaning into you again. 

“Tell me,” he practically growls, “do his hands feel better than mine?”

Your throat tightens, heat creeping up your neck as you try your best to look unbothered, “you don’t get to ask me that.”

“Oh fucking hell I don’t,” he snaps, “you show up here with him, dressed like that, smiling as if you’ve never known better, huh? I do get to ask, kitten.”

That cursed nickname again, it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you cross your arms instead, nails digging into your own skin. 

“You’re the one who leaves, did you forget?”

“You pushed.”

“Because I was the only one feeling anything, Jungwon. You were fine as long as I stayed quiet, stayed casual. But the second I wanted more—”

“I never fucking said I didn’t want more.”

“No, of course! You just made sure I never expected it.” The air between you is thick, suffocating.

He steps closer. You don’t bother moving.

“You let him touch you,” he says tightly, “you let him look at you like he could ever fucking have you.”

“Maybe I wanted him to.” Your voice is quieter now, but it hits harder.

He stares at you, his expression twisting, “don’t.”

“Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like,” you continue, forcing the words past the knot in your chest. “To be wanted without being hidden. To be chosen.”

He looks like you just punched the air out of him.

You hate how good that makes you feel.

You hate how much it hurts.

“Maybe I wanted him to kiss me.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Say it again.”

You swallow, “Maybe I still want him to.”

That does it.

He grabs your wrist—not to hurt, not to pull—just to feel that you’re real. That you’re still here.

“Say it looking at me, go on.”

You do, and for the first time all night, neither of you blink. 

“I want him to kiss me.”

The lie hangs there. Heavy. Bitter. You’re shaking, he sees it, “then why are you still here?��� he asks.

A moment. A pause in the noise. A second where the floor feels like it might crack open. You stare up at him, heart thudding, then you smile up at him with a smirk.

“Solid question.”

And you turn, you walk away. You feel the silence snap behind you like a whip. You don’t get far. You’re five steps out when he comes after you, his fingers wrap around your wrist and yank you back, your back hits the wall around the corner—shadowed, dark, loud music muffled—and his body cages yours in.

Eyes wild, darker than ever. You had never seen him this mad—this desperate.

“You really thought I’d let you walk away?”

“You always do.”

“Not this time.” He’s breathing like he ran through fire to get to you, “you wanted a reaction?” he breathes out, “fuck—congratulations because you got one.”

You say nothing.

His hands rest against the wall on either side of your face. He leans in, his mouth a breath from yours.

“You think he could make you feel what I do? You think he’d know how to touch you without you teaching him from scratch?”

You close your eyes, throat burning as you mumble out, “God—fuck you.”

“You’ve tried,” he whispers, “and you keep coming back.”

You open your eyes.

“So what? Are you going to drag me out of here now?” You mean it as a challenge.

But Jungwon’s eyes—they flick down to your lips, and something in him just breaks. You see it happen, no hesitation, no warning.

Just movement.

He grabs your wrist, the same one Jay touched, and pulls—hard. You stumble, breath catching, but his grip only tightens. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t look at anyone, not even you—It’s like he can’t.

Like if he meets your eyes, he’ll lose the thin thread of control keeping him from tearing your clothes off right here. He weaves through the crowd like a storm parting the sea. You hear someone call after you—Jay’s voice, confused, concerned. Jungwon doesn’t even blink.

The front door bursts open with how angry he is. Cold air caresses your skin harshly, and he still doesn’t bother stopping, hauling you down the steps, across the sidewalk, to his car like a man possessed.

You open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off, “Jungwon—”

“Don’t,” he mutters. 

“Wait—”

“Don’t talk to me right now,” his voice is low, rough, almost shaking with the jealousy burning him alive. “If you say one more word, I swear I’ll fuck you in the backseat just to shut you up.”

Your stomach flips, your legs barely keep up as he unlocks the door, yanks it open, and practically shoves you inside. Not violently—but with purpose. Like if he doesn’t touch you, own you, now, he might lose what’s left of himself.

He gets in. Slams the door, followed by utter and complete silence, to the point you were scared of breathing too loud, your thighs rubbing against one another with anticipation? Anxiety? You didn’t know anymore. 

You glance at him—his jaw tight, nostrils flared, fingers white knuckled around the steering wheel.

“Jungwon,” you whisper.

He turns his head slowly, looking at you like he’s seeing nothing but red, “I don’t care if you hate me after this,” he mutters. “I don’t care if you scream and fight and curse my name.”

A pause, a deep breath, a statement that left no room for argument, “but you’re coming home with me.”

That’s when you realize that right now—there’s no reasoning with him. He’s not hearing anything anymore, not your protests, not your pain, not your fear or want or anger.

He’s hearing everything you didn’t say.

All the begging between the words, all the need in the silence, all confessions you never dared speak.

The engine roars to life, tires screeching as he drives—fast, so determined, his hand gripping the wheel as the other one curled into a fist, holding himself back. 

You don’t speak again.

Because, now, you want Jungwon’s actions to speak louder than his words. 

The moment the door slams shut behind you, silence drops, you barely got time to take a breath before Jungwon’s hands were on you—pushing you, grabbing you, dragging you back by the wrist before you can take a single step deeper into the apartment.

“You want to piss me off?” he seethes, lips near your ear, “you want to talk about Jay?”

He spins you, slams your back against the wall.

You gasp—but you’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of what’s to come, lit from the inside, burning with everything you didn’t get to say, everything you couldn’t scream back at him at the party.

His breath fans across your cheek, hot and shaking from anger, from the need of wanting you, “you knew what you were doing,” he growls, eyes locked on yours, “wearing that dress—laughing with him. Letting him put his hand on your waist.”

“So what?” you snap. “You didn’t want me there anyway, right?” You shove at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“You said you didn’t care. You said it was just sex. So why do you care now?”

His jaw flexes. His silence is deafening.

“Answer me,” you spit.

“Because I’ve been going fucking insane,” he explodes.

His fist slams into the wall beside your head—not too close, but enough that you feel the vibration in your ribs.

“Because every time I close my eyes, I see you with him.” He leans in—nose brushing yours, lips barely an inch away, “and I want to kill him for touching what’s mine.”

The word echoes between you. Heavy. Final.

You let out a shaky breath.

“You don’t own me,” you whisper.

“No?” he breathes, hand sliding up your throat to cup your jaw. “Then why are you here?”

You glare at him.

“Because you dragged me—”

“Oh no, baby. You could’ve walked away.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip, “but you didn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s not sweet. Not soft. It’s brutal. A crash of mouths and breath and bruised desperation. You kiss him back harder, messy enough for you two to gasp for air. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, his teeth scrape your bottom lip, agitating you enough for you to bite him, he groans into your mouth like it hurts, bleeding slightly, letting you taste himself at its worst. 

“You said you wanted Jay to kiss you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Say it again.”

You hesitate.

“Go on.”

You look him dead in the eye as you say, “I did,” pushing for a second to let him react to this information. 

His pupils blow wide, only darkness in them and a reflection of your lying self. 

“Wrong fucking answer, princess.” He throws your phone on the bed, “you want to mess with me?”

He grabs your waist, lifts you, throws you onto the mattress as you let out a yelp, trying your best to adjust into the new position but Jungwon was faster. 

“Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s already on you, hands hot and heavy on your thighs, forcing them apart, his gaze trails down your body like he’s starving.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” he growls. “Not after everything we’ve done. Not after everything I’ve given you.”

Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your hips.

“You belong to me,” he says, voice low and lethal. “And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

“Jungwon—”

“No. Shut the fuck up, kitten.”

He grabs your face—softly, but firm enough to make you feel it, to make you feel every bit of emotion that coursed through his body. 

“You talk too much when you’re scared.”

You blink up at him, heart hammering.

“I’m not scared.”

“Good.”

He leans in—lips brushing your ear.

“Then remember this,” he whispers. “Every moan. Every scream. Every time I fuck you so deep you forget your own name—”

His hand slides under your dress.

“You remember who did it to you, yeah?”

You shudder beneath him, and in that moment, there’s nothing left to say, his words are final, and you’re at his mercy. 

Just the sound of your breathing. The tension in his hands. The ache that’s been building for months and is finally—finally—about to break.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and ragged. “Say you liked him touching you.”

You opened your mouth—hesitated, yet you wanted to test his limits, your mouth working faster than your mind when you finally said it, “maybe I did.”

His whole body went still, you stared up at him, chest heaving, watching him lose the last bit of sanity that was holding him together, the snap of the thread breaking wasn’t real, but you heard it anyway. 

“You wanna play games?” he sneered, “fine, kitten.” He reached for your phone on the bedside table, where you had thrown your bag, he unlocked it with a flick, knowing your passcode, and tapped a contact.

“What are you—”

“Let’s call him.”

You froze, he couldn’t be serious about it, could he?

“Jungwon—”

“No, let’s fucking call him and show him exactly who you fucking belong to.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your mouth opening to say something, to stop him, but you didn’t. 

Because deep inside, you knew you wanted this, you needed this—to see how far he would go to prove himself this time. 

The phone rang once. Twice.

“Hello?” Jay’s smooth voice answered your call, as if he was waiting to hear from you. 

Jungwon locked eyes with you, his hips grinding between your legs, his hands working faster than ever to free his cock from the restraints of his pants, the thickness making you gasp as he covered himself with your sweet juices, rubbing his cock on your cunt. 

“Moan,” he said, mouth against your ear. “Let him hear you.”

You whimpered, your body arching into his as he finally lost control, fucking his dick into your ever so inviting, tight little cunt. 

“Jungwon—”

“Louder.” He ordered as he thrusted into you, and the sound that tore from your throat was filthy, helpless, humiliating.

Jay said something on the other end—confused, almost startled.

“She’s busy,” Jungwon said darkly into the phone, “busy moaning my name.”

You gasped again as he pistoned harder, thumb rubbing your clit in slow circles. 

“Wanna know why?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “Because you’ll never touch her like this, never fuck her like this, never ever fucking own her the way I do.”

Your fingers dug into his back as he pushed deeper, his eyes locked on yours.

“You think she wanted your hands on her?” he asked out loud, “you think she wanted your mouth?” This particular thrust was harder, making you cry out louder, toes curling with the need to have him closer to you, impossibly so.  

“Then why is she cumming on my cock right now?” He chuckled, almost evilly. 

You broke, shattered completely with the overwhelming need to cum, to prove Jungwon right, to prove that nothing else truly mattered but him, humiliation thrown aside as you let Jay hear you without any ounce of self control holding you back. 

Jungwon watched you unravel under him, then calmly ended the call and tossed the phone to the floor, but making sure to tell Jay before he cut the call, “hope you enjoyed hearing her pretty fucking voices, because it’s the first and the very fucking last time you’ll get to hear her.”

“No one touches you but me,” he practically growled into your skin, panting against your neck. “No one gets to see you like this.”

“Jungwon—” you whimpered, crying and shaking, but Jungwon was far from done.

He pulled out, only to flip you over and drag you back by the hips.

“You want to tease me, huh?” he rasped, breathing hot against your shoulder, “want to pretend I’m nothing to you?”

You whimpered as he pushed back inside, deeper this time, agonizingly slow, full of something else now. It wasn’t just fury—it was his emotions, too much of it. 

“You’re everything,” he whispered, the words choking out of him. “You’re fucking everything.”

You turned your head, trying to see him, but he buried his face in your neck, “I love you.” He mumbled, voice broken. 

You froze.

His hands trembled on your hips.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to, but lord I fucking do.”

You turned beneath him, wrapping your legs around his waist, your mind fuzzy, heart erratic, a confusing mix of hurt and warmth spreading through your body. 

He looked down at you—eyes red, lips parted, body still tense with unshed rage and desperation.

“Then say it again,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. You wanted confirmation, you wanted to hear it, you needed to hear it. 

He pushed into you, slower now, reverent, “I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

And again, with each thrust, he poured his love into you, “I’ve loved you every fucking night you stayed over. Every time you made morning coffee wearing my shirt. Every time I heard your laugh and thought, ‘God, I can’t lose this.’”

Your heart cracked wide open at his brutally honest confession. 

Jungwon was in love with you—you meant something to him, and that was enough for you to cry out, his lips catching every stray tear that cascaded down your face, every bit of tears that came from the hurt he caused you. 

“You’re mine,” he said again, kissing your cheeks, your mouth, your collarbones. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “Fuck—I’ve always been yours.”

His hips moved again—slow, deep, building you both up together now. Not punishment. Not anger. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

You cried out again, overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the weight of everything he was finally giving you.

“Stay,” he whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you came again, shaking and sobbing into his skin, you knew this was it.

Not friends with benefits.

Not casual, not pretend, not anything else. 

Just you and him.

Molten into one—into each other.

His body stilled inside you one last time, and he collapsed over you, arms locked around your waist like he never wanted to let go.

You didn’t say anything.

You just stayed there.

Tangled.

Breathing.

His confession still rings in your ears.

“I love you.”

And you believed him, for real this time. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

VERSION VIII.

(a/n: dropping 3 eps cause i was gone for like half a month, so enjoy this holy trinity 🤌 thank you for your support 🫶)

Warning-none

wc: 1k

ALSO: tags @ttheggrimrreaper ✌️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…69, Karasu Tabito.”

Smirking at his jersey number, you instinctively glanced around, wondering if anyone else had found it just as amusing. But as your eyes swept the room, it quickly became clear—everyone was far too anxious to notice such details unlike your brilliant self, of course.

Taking a closer look at the guy, you memorized his most prominent features, making a little note to yourself to find someone with an oddly specific hairstyle and a cute mole under his left eye.

Exiting the room, you followed the signs leading to Anri, who handed you some documents before sending you off to find your partner.

Imagine being Karasu Tabito’s manager, known as the assassin.

——————

Karasu Tabito, who moved on the field like he was flying, the ball looking like a feather on his foot. You, amazed by his movements, quietly stood near the benches until the whistle blew, indicating a break for the boys. Snapping back to reality, you jogged up to him with a warm smile across your lips, introducing yourself. Raising a brow, he did the same, his gaze sharp, yet curious.

“So, yer my new manager, huh?” he asked again, still unsure 'cause you looked too lovely to be assigned to him. Maybe Yukimiya was the lucky bastard?

“Yup. Somehow managed to get myself a nice player.” you cracked a smile, trying to break the awkwardness. He smirked at your response before initiating another conversation.

——————

•Karasu who clicks with you immediately. The conversations flow smoothly, and getting to know each other seems to be the easiest task for you yet. (he analyzed you waaay before you spoke to him)

•Fun fact, the first thing he requested from you was better hair wax saying the one in the facility makes his ends split. :)

•He also has the ability to remember the most trivial details that you have shared with him about yourself—something he gladly takes advantage of, either to tease the hell out of you or simply make you flustered by casually bringing them up.

•Extremely attentive, and always notices if you’re struggling. He’ll also offer help with paperwork if needed. Other times, he prefers to yap or test your patience by hiding your pens, reading aloud or giving unwanted comments.

•Karasu, who’s sometimes waaay too relaxed for his own good, yet he has never once made you scold him for anything important. He likes to arrive just on time for practice, only to complain about training all while flawlessly following the instructions, and if there’s any competition—be it big or small—he will make sure to be in the top 3.

•Also, petnames. Not the flirty ones, but something like “boss” or “shortie” that makes your eyes roll from the amount of time he uses them. He’s pretty clingy as well, following you around all day, and if anyone tries to disrespect you, they gotta deal with him first.

•Karasu is the king of reassurance. If he sees you comparing yourself to other managers, he will stop whatever he’s doing to give you a motivational speech. Rare moments of him being sentimental, where he makes you repeat over and over that ‘he wouldn’t be here without you’ or ‘don’t you dare switch to other players’.

•Has a lot of respect for you as well. The way you always put him first, making sure he’s alive and breathing. The fact that you can keep up with him is impressive too, and he’ll never admit it, but he’s been amused since day 1.

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Karasu takes training more seriously—not that he never did—just that he’s now putting in more effort and energy than before. Pushes himself harder than ever, yet he still doesn’t let you work overtime.

•Has a habit of pushing your laptop closed or simply snatching your clipboard out from your hands, if he sees you staying up later than usual.

•He’s also more engaged in the analyzing, actually taking notes and listening to your opinions before asking questions and such.

•Karasu will never miss a chance to tell you “yer messy hair is funny” or pat you on the head when you’re angry saying “relax manager-san, i’m sorry ‘kay? forgive me please, ‘cause anger will stop yer growth at this rate”

•Tutoring him is like gambling—there’s a 50% chance of him actually paying attention and doing what you said, or he will lazily finish half of the exercises you give him before he passes out on the table. Weirdly good at guessing which nouns are feminine or masculine.

•Loves to listen to your voice thanks to his fetish, so don’t even try to give him a textbook to read. Won’t work unless you read it for him like it’s daycare, while he lays on his arm, looking up to you, admiring every inch of your face.

•Interviews with him are a pain in the ass. Loves to sarcastically answer questions making you groan in the background. Karasu also never fails to appreciate you at least once in every interview he does, talking about how hardworking and supportive you are.

•Working with him means throwing insults and arguing about who’s smarter, but physical touch isn’t rare. Karasu has a habit of casually throwing his arm on your shoulders during break, laying his head on top of yours for support, or making you piggy back him back to his room.

•He’s very proud of you and will fight with anyone who thinks their manager is better. He also knows your schedule by heart, favorite snacks already on your desk when it’s a long day with a small note that says

“oi, am I the player or your manager? get some sleep”

•Karasu, who is fiercely loyal to you—granting privileges such as bossing him around, make him worry about your health, and be able witness his rare waxless hair. Switching managers? Not a chance. You’re stuck with him for life.

“Yer the one and only person I’m capable to work with”

[hard-core-super-star]

is it casual now? [wandanat]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!wanda maximoff

summary: wanda gives in to her desire for natasha but runs away for fear of overstepping. natasha runs after her and shows her she has nothing to fear.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS WALK AWAY -> [porn with feelings and a sprinkle of plot; flirty tension; so much banter; kissing during training because duh; first times; natasha is soft af!; fingering; cunnilingus; wanda’s a brat; praising; brief nipple play because nat’s a boob girl; far too many metaphors]

wordcount: 5k

a/n: HI! I was sick all of last week which sucked BUT writing this fic has brought me back to life. can you tell I’m in my wandanat era? I just love their dynamic, I can’t get enough. anyway, own my mind is getting a part two soon and I’m hoping to do a part two to stark!reader x Kate so keep an eye out for that. that being said, I hope you enjoy and thank you to the lovely soul that commissioned this <3

* * * * * * *

Training with Natasha is driving Wanda mad.

Don't get her wrong, she loves spending time with the redhead. Loves the easy confidence the older woman brings out of her, the easy back and forth banter that amuses her while they pretend like they won't hold back their punches.

For once in her life, Wanda is able to enjoy "easy". There's no danger looming over her that threatens to destroy her newfound home. No need to hide who she is and the power that thrums in her veins because Natasha understands her.

She doesn't need her to be anything else than who she is, powers and all. It's terrifying and yet so gratifying and the same time. 

And yet, despite how easy it all should be, she can't help but feel trapped. Locked in a cage of her own making.

All because she's too scared to admit her feelings.

It's not like she doesn't know how the older woman feels. She's seen it in the softness of her gaze when she patches her up after a mission, felt it in the lingering touches during meetings, heard it in her voice when she calls her name in the middle of a sparring match.

The evidence of their shared feelings is bountiful and yet she's still scared. Scared of losing the one person she's grown so close to, so used to. The one person she needs more than anyone else.

She promised herself she wouldn't let her guard down after Pietro, after Sokovia. That being with the Avengers would be temporary. Her one chance at a new life.She'd said she would leave as soon as she'd gotten back on her feet...or as soon as Tony Stark grew far too unbearable.

However, her tentative friendship with Natasha had happened before either of the futures she'd imagined for herself. Most days, she wasn't even sure how it happened, she just knew she couldn't imagine anything else. Couldn't bear the thought of looking behind her and not seeing the older woman there.

It left her feeling far more vulnerable than she liked but...there was an edge of safety she thought she'd never get to feel again. A sense of belonging with someone. Of not needing to carry her burdens alone.

Maybe that's why she allows herself to let her guard down. To stop holding back and allow her feelings to take over when she's around Natasha.

In the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. Like the only way to move past the trauma that weighed her down with every breath she took. Sure, she knew nothing would truly "fix" her past, but having someone who understood her and wasn't actively trying to change her seemed like a good way to start her healing journey.

Although, truth be told, it's not her healing journey that motivates her to spend more time with the Widow. It's her massive crush on her.

Natasha, ever the observant woman, notices the way their dynamic shifts. The way Wanda slowly grows more confident, more bold in her compliments, with every day that goes by. It's strange at first, but she finds herself actually liking the attention. Enjoying the way the subtle flirting keeps her on her toes.

She knows it's unprofessional and frankly reckless, but she finds herself caring about that less and less as the days go by.

Especially when training with Wanda becomes less and less about working on their fighting techniques and more about how many flirty comments they can get away with before one them calls the other out.

Maybe it's that growing boldness that leads them to this.

Wanda knows she's crossing some sort of boundary. That there's no way she can hide behind excuses or act like what she's doing is a normal training move.In her defense, she doesn't even know how she got here.

One second, Natasha was teasing her, playfully making fun of her and telling her she wouldn't be able to get her down onto the mat. The next, they were sparing but not in the usual, technique-heavy way. And maybe that's what convices her to use her powers.

She'd avoided using them in the Avengers Compound after what she'd done to the team. The last she needed was to give them more reasons to resent her.

But in that moment, under the careful eyes of the Widow, she gave in to the urge.

Technically it was cheating, but it was her only way of proving Natasha wrong. So, she used her powers to distract the older woman long enough to sweep her legs out from under her.

That wasn't enough for her, though. No, she also had to take advantage of the moment and get on top of Natasha to straddle her and keep her down. "Gotcha."

It's not often that the Black Widow herself can say she's been completely blindsided. But here, under the witch, she can admit she's been bested. And she secretly loves it.

"It doesn't count," she replies, the smile on her face showing off how little she minds. "You cheated."

“Try not to sound so jealous, ‘Tasha.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as her hands attempt to grab hold of the witch’s waist. “I’m not jealous.”

Wanda beats her to it, her fingers easily wrapping around her wrists and bringing them down over her head. The movement is so smooth, so easy, that she almost doesn’t realize what she’s doing. At least, until she ends up with her face inches away from the older woman’s.

The proximity doesn't startle her like it should, though. It doesn't lead to her stammering out apologies while blushing a share of red far darker than the Widow's hair. All it does is fuel the flurry of bad ideas she's been having lately. Ideas of seeing what would happen if she allowed herself to cross that line between flirty, friendly, banter and desire.

Suddenly, it doesn't seem so crazy.With Natasha staring up at her with that charming smirk and their breaths mixing in the small space between their faces, it suddenly seems...easy. Obvious, even. Like all her running has been unnecessary.

Ironically, the older woman seems to read her mind.

"Are you going to keep staring or are you going to do something?"

Those words, that one question, is all the encouragement she needs to throw her fears to the side and surrender to what she wants. What she truly wants. Not what she thinks she has to do to survive, not what other people tell her she has to do, but what she wants to do.

Even if she's read the situation wrong, even if Natasha doesn't feel the same, the fact that she's able to make her own choice is already more than enough for her. More than she ever thought she'd be able to get after joining HYDRA.

Wanda doesn't give it another thought. She barely even lets herself breathe. She simply leans down the rest of the way and allows her lips to connect with Natasha's.

It's truly a simple action.

A quick kiss between people who shouldn't have even fallen for each other in the first place.

And yet, it's everything she's ever longed for.In that kiss, she tastes everything she thought she'd never find. She feels things she thought were too far from her reach.

Freedom.

Understanding.

Passion.

She feels it all in magnitudes that rival even her own powers.

And then it stops.

The sound of the doors of the training room slamming open break them apart. They not only jump apart but they quickly scramble to get up, putting as much distance between each other as they can while not looking suspicious.It's frankly a little ridiculous but it's an instinct neither of them can ignore. One that's just as ingrained in Natasha as it is in Wanda.

Which means she doesn't have to run.

Deep down, she knows she doesn't have to run anymore. That she can stay and not feel guilty about what she's done. About the feelings she's finally letting herself admit.

There's nothing wrong with how she feels, she knows that. And yet, when she's standing there, watching Natasha talk to Tony about whatever annoying thing he's so passionate about this time, she feels like she's never been more wrong in her life. She feels as if she's crossed a line she should have never approached in the first place.

And suddenly, the fear of losing the older woman slams into her all at once.

The Widow notices, of course. Not just because she can see the flickers of panic that shoot across the witch's face, but because she feels it. Wanda quite literally reaches out to her, subconsciously and telepathically, and sends that same fear down her spine.Natasha, being a lot more in control of her emotions than Wanda is most of the time, instantly notices something is wrong. There's no reason for her to feel so panicked, which means the fear filling her mind is coming from outside of herself.

Her eyes shift over to the witch and before she can even attempt to reassure her, Wanda turns around and walks away from them. She wishes she could say seeing her leave doesn't hurt, but it does. It brings back fears she thought she'd long gotten rid of long before they'd even met. Fears of not being enough, of being too much, too dangerous, unable to feel emotions properly. 

For all of Tony's self-centeredness, he notices the change in her mood almost instantly. She'd love to give him credit, but she's pretty sure the only reason he can tell something is wrong is because her eyes follow Wanda as she walks out of the training room. If anything, it's his constant need to be the center of attention that allows him to pick up on the lingering tension in her stance.

“Hey, uh, is everything okay with you guys?" He asks, looking at her over the rim of his ridiculous sunglasses. 

Natasha sighs, stuck between wanting to tell her friend the truth and not wanting to reveal far more than she should. It's not like she doesn't trust him, but she knows him and the Sokovian have a very...tense relationship most days. She can't really fault the younger woman for that, even when it makes her own friendships more complicated than she would like.

“Yeah, we're fine," she replies, throwing in a good-natured shrug. "It's been a long morning."

Tony doesn't seem to fully buy her excuse but he doesn't push. He just nods and goes back to complaining about Steve and his dumb mission plan. Which means she goes back to pretending like she's listening while her mind drifts to thoughts of Wanda.

Of her hands on her waist, the feeling of her lips against her own, the warmth that spreads in her gut whenever she thinks about the way she looked under her.

"Okay, what's going on with you?" Tony asks after she zones out for the tenth time. "Did the little witch sink her fangs into you that deep?"

Natasha groans, barely holding in the urge to smack that stupid, smug grin off his face. "Don't call her that, idiot. And she didn't do anything, I'm just tired, I already told you."

Her words only make his grin grow into a smirk. "Tired because-"

“Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Despite his obvious amusement, he relents. Mainly because he really doesn't want to get punched...again, but also because he can tell there's something deeper than just annoyance in the Widow's words. A twinge of stress she can't hide.

“Okay, fine. Just go get your girl."

"She's not my- You know what? Never mind."

Natasha takes the opportunity and instantly speeds away from Tony, silently cursing herself for not having left earlier. She can only imagine what Wanda thinks of her now. Of the cowardice she let herself show by not running after her like she should have.

Even though she wants nothing more than to go to her own room and overthink her decisions, her feet carry her straight to the young witch. Time seems to blur as she makes her way down hallways, past endless doors that offer private places to sulk like she wants to.

But she can't. She can't go back to acting like she doesn't care about the Sokovian. Back to acting like her feelings are irrelevant when they're the only thing she thinks about. When the only thing she wants is to be with Wanda.

Before she can stop herself by thinking far too much about the consequences of what she's doing, she knocks on the younger woman's door. A few moments go by, moments filled with endless thoughts, each one more anxiety-inducing than the last.

(Especially the ones about the likelihood of Tony watching her through the stupid security cameras because he's bored and far too nosy for his own sake)

Thankfully, Wanda opens the door before she can spiral too much.

"Can I help you?" Her voice is even, not too soft but not too rough. Just inviting enough for the Widow to not back down. For her to believe she still has a chance.

“Yes, we have some unfinished business to take care of."

"You make it sound like I'm paperwork." The witch rolls her eyes, although the petulance in her stance comes from nervousness instead of annoyance.

Natasha can't help but chuckle. "You're not paperwork, princess. I just have one more thing I need to do."

Wanda narrows her eyes at that, not even trying to hide her interest. "Is that so? And what is it you need from me?"

They're both well aware they're acting far more serious than they have to, but they can't help playing along. Almost like they're subconsciously trying to gauge how they're feeling. If anything has changed after being so rudely interrupted.

Truth be told, something has changed for Natasha. Not in a massively drastic way...unless her coming to the conclusion that she can't run away from her feelings is drastic.

"Aren't you a mind reader?" She replies, arching her eyebrow.

If there was any doubt about what exactly she had been planning to do, they vanish in an instant. All Wanda can really do is reach out to take the older woman's hand and drag her into her room.

Once the door closes behind her, Natasha flips them around, her hands finding their way onto the witch's waist as she holds her there. Their gazes meet and the air between them seems to crackle with the electricity of their barely contained desire.

They both know they should tread carefully, that there are things they need to talk about, feelings they need to put out in the open before things escalate. It's hard to think rationally about how they feel when they're locked together like this. When all they want is to crash their lips together and forget the rest of the world.

Natasha forces herself to be responsible, though. To give the younger woman the last word. To give her back the control so many people took away from her by force.

"Is this still what you want?" She asks, her voice softer than she's ever let it be. "Because I can go."

Wanda answers almost instantly, her hands gripping the Widow's shoulders. There's an urgency there that neither of them dares comment on, even though they both feel it. "Don't you dare leave."

The older woman almost wants to laugh. To tease and poke the witch like she usually does. But she can't. 

She can't because she knows that not what Wanda needs. Hell, it's not what she needs either. She told herself she wouldn't run anymore and she's not about to break her promise.

"I won't."

Natasha lets her words hang in the air for a few seconds, her eyes quickly searching her face for any signs of hesitation or regret. She doesn't find anything like that, though. The younger woman simple stares at her with that borderline reverent look she wears so well.

She's not sure which one of them breaks first.

All she knows is one second she's staring into Wanda's eyes and the next, they're surging forward and letting their lips meet once more.

This time, in the privacy of Wanda's room, she's able to lose herself completely. To allow the feeling of her lips to overwhelm her senses, to drown out the thoughts that scream at her that she's not enough. That she hasn't done enough to make up for her past.

It's hard for her thoughts to take shape when she's like this, though. Pressed so close to the witch that they're practically one, their bodies fitting together and painting a beautiful picture of reserved desperation.

Well, out of the two, Natasha seems to be the only reserved one. Her hands haven't moved from the younger woman's waist and her grip is surprisingly soft for someone capable of such strength. 

Wanda, on the other hand, is having a much harder time containing herself. Her hands are everywhere, fingers digging into the fabric of the Widow's shirt as if it's personally offended her. It's impossible for them to get any closer and yet she keeps trying, pulling and pulling as if that will make them become one.

It's unclear where exactly that desperation is coming from, but it's not unwelcome by either of them. It's almost...freeing, in its own weird way. Allowing them to explore parts of themselves they'd long pushed down.

“Careful, princess," Natasha whispers once she's able to pull away. "I'm not going anywhere, you know?"

“Shut up." The witch's cheeks are tinted a soft shade of pink which makes her words less effective.

Unfortunately for her, the Widow is enjoying herself far too much. "Make me."

All Wanda can really do is roll her eyes. "You're annoying."

"Don't be a brat, sweetheart," the older woman warns. "I won't hesitate to put you in your place."

The witch does what she can to hide the shudder of pleasure that runs down her spine. While she had no specific expectations about what things would be like with Natasha, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to being under her spell. To allow someone who cares about her to take control.

Even without words, the Widow knows exactly where the younger woman's thoughts go. It's impossible to ignore the way her breath picks up, the way the green in her eyes gets swallowed by dark desire.

“Oh, I see, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want me to give you what you need?"

It's a tease as much as it is a search for permission. She needs Wanda to tell her what she truly wants before she can allow them to keep going. She needs to make sure they're on the same page about this. That they won't go too far too fast and ruin the bond they'd carefully created.

Wanda, for better or for worse, isn't as predictable as the Widow wants. Instead of an admittance of submission, a clear description of her desires, she meets the challenge with one of her own.

She uses her grip on Natasha to push her backward, allowing the energy between them to shift once more. It's a dance they're used to. The push and pull that appears naturally thanks to their personalities.

“You don't have to give it to me," Wanda replies, easily pushing the older woman down onto her bed. "I can take it myself."

As enticing as the challenge is, as tantalizing as the image might be, there's no way the Widow can allow that. No way she's okay with sitting back and letting the witch have her way with her.

No, this is about control. About them letting go and giving their feelings the opportunity to overwhelm them.

And right, her feelings are saying she needs to show Wanda how much she adores her. How badly she wants to show her just how good she can make her feel.

There'll be time for everything else later. For them to experiment with fantasies and changing dynamics. To explore the almost subconcious call of their respective dominant and submissive sides. But right now wasn't about that.

Right now, she wanted to be gentle. To coax pleasure out of the younger woman until she couldn't think about anything else. 

And she'd be dammed if Wanda beat her to it.

“Cute," Natasha responds, her hands reaching out for Wanda's. "But that's not how things work here."

In a flash, she drags the witch down on top of her, barely giving her a moment to gather her bearings before flipping them over. Her lips curve into a smile as she settles on top of the younger woman, her hips nestled between her spread legs.

“This is unfair," Wanda says, but her words lack any real sign of discontent. She's simply bratting out for the sake of it. For the fun that comes from pushing the Widow.

Natasha tilts her head to the side, doing her best to replicate the witch's signature move. "Is it? Isn't this what you wanted?"

The only response she gets is a huff before impatient hands sneak underneath her shirt. "I want to touch you."

“You'll get your turn, princess, I promise." The Widow leans down, her lips finding the other woman's jaw. "Let me make you feel good first."

There's no way she can argue against that.Even though Wanda doesn't verbalize her surrender, the way she tilts her head back is more than enough of a response. Mainly because it gives Natasha more than enough room to explore. To find the places that make the younger woman gasp and tremble under her. 

Her lips make their way down her jaw and to her neck, softly biting down on the sensitive skin. Wanda doesn't even try to hide how affected she is, how desperate she is to feel the older woman against every inch of her skin.

"Fuck," she breathes out, voice rough with the edges of her accent.

Natasha takes that as her cue to allow her hands to join in. They sneak onto the hem of the witch's tanktop, playing with the fabric as she lets the tension rise.

"Can I...?" She asks, finally pulling away to stare down at the other woman.

A moment goes by where they simply stare at each other, allowing the words to sink in. They both know what the answer is, but there's something significant in the pause. 

A reminder that they can back out at any moment.

But for the first time in her life, Wanda doesn't want to stop. She doesn't feel wrong or dirty for what she's doing. There's no underlying sense of guilt, no worry that she's making a mistake.

There's nothing except the warmth of Natasha's gaze and the softness of her grip.

“Please."

The Widow doesn't waste any time. She slowly helps the younger woman undress, her eyes drinking in every inch of skin that's revealed to her. "You're beautiful."

Wanda almost wants to shrink away from that worshipful gaze. She's not used to being seen like this. To being cared for so genuinely.

So, she hides her nervousness behind eager movements, hoping to distract the older woman.

“I want to see you too, you know?" She huffs, fingers curling into the hem of her loose shirt.

Natasha nods. "I know."

With that, she reaches down to take her own shirt off, discarding it and letting it join the pile of clothes next to the bed. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, they're both topless, laid bare before each other, their breaths coming out as soft pants with equal measures of desperation.

For all her training and patience, the Widow finally crumbles.

She shifts down Wanda's body, her lips trailing down her chest until she meets her breasts. She lavishes attention between both of the peaks, her ears filling with the sounds of the younger woman's sighs, her back arching almost as if she's presenting herself.

Natasha's lips wrap around one of Wanda's perky nipples, relishing the gasp she receives in response. The witch's hand tangles in the Widow's red hair, pulling her closer as her hips rock forward.

The action would be adorable if it weren't so needy. Tinged with tones of arousal neither of them can pretend isn't there.

As badly as Natasha wants to tease, she forces herself to focus. Her lips move back and forth between Wanda's breasts as her hands hurry to the waistband of her pants. 

“Someone's eager," she teases as the witch shifts under her to help her slide the garments off her needy body.

“As if you're any better," Wanda huffs.

There's no way the Widow can argue with that so she doesn't even try. Instead, she focuses on the task at hand until the witch's pants and underwear join the pile on the floor.

Her lips quickly find a path down the middle of Wanda's chest, trailing down to her stomach, drawing out the sweetest sounds as she teasingly drags her teeth across the skin. The younger woman's hands grip the sheets below her as she forces herself to star down at Natasha, pupils blown wide with barely supressed need.

“Stop teasing," she whines, allowing her facade to crack.

Her words are met with a flurry of kisses and a pair of hands that wrap around her thighs and easily spread her open. "I'm not teasing. I'm taking my time."

“Well, it feels like you're teasing."

"That's not my problem." Natasha sends a poised smirk her way before her lips trail further down.

She can feel the desperation rolling off in waves from the woman underneath her but she's still in no rush. On the contrary, she takes a moment to admire the mess between Wanda's legs, the way her clit already twitches and her wetness makes her pussy glimmer with arousal.

One of her hands moves from her thigh to her cunt, swiping her fingers through her folds and watching the way her hips buck in response. "Look at you, so responsive. Such a good girl for me."

“'Tasha-" This time, there's no denying the way Wanda whines. "Please. Need you."

“I know, princess. Need me so bad it hurts, huh?"

The witch nods, the faintest layer of frustrated tears making her big, green eyes shine. Natasha's sure she's never seen a more gorgeous sight.

The widow's head ducks down, soft, reassuring, kisses placed to Wanda's inner thighs before she settles on her target. Her tongue flicks out to taste the younger woman's wetness, sliding through her folds and barely flicking her swollen clit.

Wanda's response is instant. Her whole body responds to the stimulation, lips parting as she allows her sounds of pleasure to slip out without restraint.

That lack of restraint is met with the fire of Natasha's desire. She explores the witch's cunt eagerly, holding her down with her free hand and experimenting between sucking and licking.

Her pace is steady despite how easily she loses herself in the taste of the other woman. "You're incredible," she whispers the praise against her cunt, her fingers teasing her entrance as her tongue finds her clit again.

“Fuck, please." Those two words are the only things she's able to form as she rocks her hips forward, practically chasing after the Widow's fingers.

Natasha gets the message and she eases two fingers into Wanda's drenched cunt. She watches the younger woman with bated breath, drinking in the way her eyes flutter shut and her head falls back.

Every moan, every gasp, is the reassurance she needs to keep going. To work her fingers in and out of her until she's greedily clenching around them.

“Taking me so good, you're doing so good, Wands," she says, her voice soft and breathless. "You gonna cum for me?”

"Yes! Don't stop-"

Natasha wouldn't dream of it.

She increases the pace of her fingers while her lips wrap themselves around Wanda's swollen clit. The witch loses herself in the feeling, bucking her hips every which way as the pleasure slowly consumes her, setting every nerve ending on fire until all she can do is pant out the older woman's name.

And still, Natasha doesn't stop, her mind set on her goal.

She sucks on Wanda's clit, her tongue drawing sharp circles against it as she fucks her with her fingers. Her movements are equal parts controlled and unrestrained. Careful and reckless.

She balances on that knive's edge like an expert, giving the witch everything she can while being careful not to hurt her.

Her efforts are rewarded by a particularly high-pitched gasp, Wanda's body tensing up beneath her. "Shit, shit, just like that, Nat-"

Her jumbled words turn into a long moan as she tumbles over the edge, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure.

Natasha eagerly laps up her release, her fingers slowling down as her tongue moves up and down her cunt. It's dirty and messy and so incredible she almost forgets how to breathe.

Everything around her feels like Wanda. Like everything else has stopped and all that exists is them locked in this intimate moment together.

She works the witch through her orgasm, not withdrawing her fingers until the tension in her body releases. Unable to help herself, she kisses her way up her body, this time stopping to admire the hickeys she left on her skin.

Once she reaches her face again, Wanda's giggling. A soft, dreamy sound that makes her feel like she's floating.

“You okay, sweetheart?" She asks, ducking down to pepper kisses across her jawline.

Her reply is nothing short of a breathless admission. "Yeah. That was...perfect."

“You're so corny," Natasha teases.

The witch opens her mouth to reply but before she can complain about how mean the older woman is, her words are replaced by a hum as their lips meet once more. Her hands move to grip the Widow’s waist, pulling her in closer.

“Who’s the cheater now?” She mumbles when they pull away, unable to control the smirk that breaks out across her face.

“Oh, shut up.”

This time, Wanda doesn’t back down so easily. “Make me.”

Natasha stares down at her for a few seconds, her brain struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere.

But then, her hands are moving to the waistband of her own pants, the throbbing between her legs reminding her how desperate she is.

“Gladly.”

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses

[fiendishfables]

Lucifer is one of those guys who is really happy to love someone & to be loved in return. He would treat you right, that’s for sure. 💕👹

Lucifer Morningstar Headcannons

warnings: nsfw, fluff

words: 584

a/n: this feels a bit rushed because I tried to make it earlier, but tumblr loves to delete my progress on things so- blep. Also, whoever is sending these in, I LOVE YOU, these are fun, hehe <3

SFW

Due to his questionable past, Lucifer has always been a bit skeptical of love

Unfortunately, he is used to the good things in his life, the things he so happens to love the most, up and abandoning him 

But then, Lucifer being Lucifer, he’s all too forgiving

He is quite the incentive driven creature 

If he goes into a relationship where he knows he will be granted the gift of receiving the same pleasures that he himself provides for his partner, he just might have to poke at you a bit to ensure that you are indeed a real being, and not some walking figment of his imagination

His motivations are similar to those of a puppy

Besides being a good boy as unintentionally as he does, he is lured in by the sense of some sort of reward

Bonus points if that reward involves some sort of physical contact, no matter the level of intimacy

This man is touch starved; put your hands on him in one way or another, please

Honestly, just jump on his back and hug him; he loves little displays of affection like that the most (even if you almost give him a heart attack the first few times)

You openly offering him the affection he so dearly craves from another person, it’s a for sure way to get him to stick around 

In fact, you may never be able to get rid of him

Lucifer, despite being in Hell, may just be the most loyal soul down in that shithole

Once the two of you have an officially established relationship, just the thought of being with anyone else other than you makes him cringe

He makes sure to mark his calendars for any sort of important date; anniversaries, date nights, dinners, etc

Yes, he has multiple calendars; he forgets things easy, but that just shows his devotion towards you is as true as he claims it is

Randomly will turn up at your domicile with a bouquet of flowers every now and again

Doesn’t have to be a special occasion or anything; just wants to show his love and appreciation for you

Finding someone that reciprocates his lovable energy and spirit is not easy, but you managed to snare his heart from the get-go

NSFW

Speaking of reciprocating love for another, Lucifer is a natural at pleasuring his partner

He refuses to leave the bedroom unless you convince him that you are truly satisfied with his efforts

Won’t let you pleasure him and then not give you anything back

It's just not in his nature to leave his lover awaiting his touch; he can’t go a day without yours, so why should you have to?

His tongue is as talented as they come; he can eat you out like there's no tomorrow to do so

King of praise

Loves to praise you and make you feel good with his actions, as well as his words

Always asks if you’re enjoying whatever he’s doing to you; if he gets even a hint that you’re uncomfortable, he’ll freeze like a deer in headlights

Probably cries during sex sometimes, claiming that he doesn’t deserve you; then proceeds to go on a fifteen minute rant about how lucky he is to have found a kind soul such as yourself to make him happy again

Every time you two make love it’s as if its your last

You’ve done so much for him; the least he can do is make you feel good

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N:This was requested but I cannot find it anywhere!!! I'm sorry I couldn't tag you :( The request was for a mute reader who wasn't a hero working at the tower. Bob becomes a translator for them!

I do have a few follow-up ideas for this let me know if you're interested in one or both! 1. Bob gets jealous of someone at the tower bc they learned ASL and are taking up more of your time. 2. Soft mutual pining with no jealousy (obviously both could be combined lol)

Summary: Working with the Thunderbolts* is a challenge, especially when you don't speak. Thankfully Bob is there to communicate for you.

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Most of the team barely noticed you when you started at the Tower. You weren’t flashy — no special powers or combat gear. You worked in communications, more in the ground support area of things. It was quiet and precise, the kind of work that kept the mission flowing much smoother.

The only thing that would be labeled as special for you was that you didn't speak.

Which meant in a room full of people who were always busy solving problems you were often overlooked… except by Bob.

Bob usually blended into the background himself. He had a talent for disappearing into a room full of larger personalities. It was Bob who smiled the first time you signed “Nice to meet you.” You didn’t expect him to answer, most people just blinked at you awkwardly and waited for you to get your phone out. But Bob, he softly smiled back, and signed, slowly, clumsy but clearly: “Nice to meet you too.”

You stared back at him in disbelief.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.

“I uh… picked up ASL a while ago. Long story. You’re the first one here who I can use it with.”

From that day on, everything changed.

You didn’t need to rely on text or nods. You could talk-- actually talk and be understood while Bob happily listened. He was patient and kind. He never made you feel like you were less than or an inconvenience. Whenever meetings got chaotic or everyone at the debriefs skipped you over, Bob would awkwardly clear his throat and voice your thoughts aloud. “She says we need to reroute the signal. It’s already compromised.”

No one else understood what you were telling them, but they started paying attention when Bob spoke. And that made him…proud? It gave him something nothing else did, it gave purpose to his life. He wasn’t just in the background anymore. He was your connection to the team. Your translator. Your voice. He was needed. He was important, he was…valued. He never knew that he was missing out on this feeling but he knew he never wanted to miss it again.

He’d walk into the control room just to see if you needed help. He started to pause during drills to check if you were okay. And you started saving little notes for him on post-its. Inside jokes and little drawings. Doodles of him and a speech bubble: “Best Translator Ever.”

He kept that one on his mirror.

One night, after a long hectic day, you both lingered by the Tower windows, watching the rain streak down the glass. The others had cleared out long ago but the two of you stayed in the peace that always seemed to find you when the two of you were together.

You signed slowly: “Thank you for seeing me.” Bob looked at you, and stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled, it was a soft smile, a little sad, but very warm. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers against his arm, a small gesture that made him suck in a breath, a gesture that said: Me too. And in that silence between signs, Bob realized something: You didn’t need words to say everything that mattered.

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If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

I have started a taglist for Bob lmk if you'd like to be added <3

@itsjustisa

[followsfrankiep]

Don't Worry About Her (Eddie Brock x Reader)

Summary: They always say, when a guy tells you not to worry about his girl best friend, you probably should. Izzy's wild and free-spirited nature has always contrasted with her best friend Eddie's quest for stability. Now that Eddie is engaged, he never expected Izzy to complicate things for both of them.

TW: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Explicit Words, Cheating, Minors DNI.

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: the word count just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I cant help it, sorry! Let me know if you guys are getting tired of them already 😂 pls leave a comment or reblog if u appreciate it. U guys have no idea how much that motivates me 😩 thanks and enjoy!!! 😘

Previous part: https://www.tumblr.com/followsfrankiep/776520908847398912/dont-worry-about-her-eddie-brock-x-reader

Part 3- Thankful Puppy Dog

Tater tots.

It was the only thing he found in their fridge—just a couple of bags of tater fucking tots.

Eddie scratched his head in frustration, already dreading the holiday rush he'd face later. Anne asked him to buy the groceries for the upcoming Thanksgiving since she has to go to a deposition that day. His fiancée had been working non-stop ever since their firm took on the Life Foundation, a pioneering organization in bio-engineering, as a client.

That meant he would be cooking for the both of them as well. She was barely home lately, and whenever she was, her stack of work always accompanied her. It didn't bother Eddie; in fact, he was thankful Anne was occupied. His guilt intensified whenever she looked him in the eyes.

Yes, guilt and everything else.

You'd think they would have stopped fooling around at the bar, that Eddie would have the decency to put his foot down and be a doting fiancé. Oh boy. Izzy had stayed a few more days in San Francisco, and while she was around, they resumed their secret, indecent encounters whenever they got the chance. But that was a couple of months ago. Who knows when she'll show up again and turn his peaceful world upside down?

Overcompensating had become Eddie's new bestfriend. Without his fuck buddy around, he could think straight and be the doting lover he was supposed to be. He did all sorts of domesticated things—cooking, cleaning, dishes, laundry, and of course, grocery shopping. He was the perfect, understanding fiancé in Anne's eyes. She couldn't ask for more—their apartment was spotless, free of any dirt that might come. Too clean, too good.

As Thanksgiving approached, Eddie found himself at the grocery store, navigating the aisles filled with holiday shoppers. While picking out ingredients for the upcoming feast, he unexpectedly bumped into Izzy's mom.

"Well, if it isn't Eddie Brock," she exclaimed with a warm smile. Mrs. Knight had always adored Eddie, treating him like her own son.

"Hello, Mrs. Knight. It's great to see you," Eddie replied, genuinely happy to run into her, giving her a quick and warm hug.

The older woman with can't help but to chat with him, expressing how proud she was of him, both as a person and a journalist. She had similar features with Izzy, especially when they smile, the corner of their eyes would wrinkle. She was a lovely woman, just like her daughter.

Mrs. Knight's face lit up with curiosity. "So, how's your fiancée, Anne? I heard you two are getting married soon."

Eddie smiled, feeling a pang of guilt for the recent events but genuinely appreciating her interest. "Anne's doing great, Mrs. Knight. We're really excited about the wedding."

Mrs. Knight's expression softened, a hint of sadness shadowing her eyes. She was genuinely happy for Eddie, truly. At least one of her children had found someone to share their life with. But she couldn't help but think of the "what ifs" and "could have beens" that lingered in her mind. "Anne is a very lucky girl..." she murmured, her voice trailing off as a sigh slipped from her lips.

"I know how much of a handful my daughter can be and how well you've always taken care of her as a friend," she continued, her voice soft and tender. "But I always hoped there might have been something more between you two." She offered him a gentle smile.

He thought about his complicated friendship-relationship, whatever you want to call it, with Izzy. How tiring and chaotic it was most of the time, but for years, it was worthwhile. He waited for her, loved her still, but the situation is different now. He loves Anne, that should be it. Forcing a smile, he answered.

"Izzy never really looked at me that way, Mrs. Knight. We're okay with just being friends."

What a liar.

"Well, Eddie, no matter what, you'll always be like family to us. I hope you know that." She said, and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

With a warm smile, Mrs. Knight added, "Why don't you and Anne join us for Thanksgiving dinner at our house? It would mean so much to us."

Eddie hesitated, he wanted to. The Knight household was basically his second home. But his thoughts immediately turning to Izzy. That woman would not care, and still cause trouble even if Anne was around.

"That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Knight. Do you think Izzy will be there?"

Mrs. Knight sighed, a knowing look in her eyes. "You know her—she's always been a free spirit. I can't say for sure if she'll be around. But regardless, we would love to have you there, son."

Izzy's parents had always treated Eddie like one of their own, and he was thankful for that considering he's never had an ideal parental situation at home. His mom died giving birth to him, and his dad often blamed him for it. Growing up, he resented the place he went to by the end of each day, and often call the Knight's as his home. On the other hand, as their only child, Izzy was the center of their world, and when Eddie came into her life, they were thrilled she had a constant companion and trusted friend. They welcomed him with open arms, embracing him as a part of their family.

He missed being around them, and felt a surge of gratitude and affection for the older lady. "Thank you. We'll be there," he said with a genuine smile, even as thoughts of Izzy lingered in the back of his mind.

Back home, he was relieved when Mrs. Knight invited him and Anne over for Thanksgiving dinner, saving him from all the holiday preparations. Luckily, Anne liked the idea when he asked her. They could just show up, enjoy dinner, and not worry about dishes. Besides, his best friend wouldn't be there anyway, so he was safe from temptations.

A day before Thanksgiving, Izzy suddenly sent him a text—a picture of several kinds of chocolates, followed by a message:

"Which one do you want?"

She rarely left him a message nor called him; it wasn't her thing. Even her social media account was an empty canvas. For someone who loved traveling and exploring, she certainly kept those adventures to herself. Whenever she did reach out, it was mostly about asking him what goodies he liked and buying them for him to take home.

Eddie smiled while replying to her message. She was always thoughtful and took pleasure in seeing him smile whenever she handed him a bag of treats.

"Surprise me, Iz."

Not long after that, she replied.

"Oh boo you."

He chuckled when he read her reply, knowing she hated vague answers— which was ironic, considering the status of their relationship. They hardly addressed what they were at this point. It was easier before when neither of them was in a committed relationship with another decent person. Izzy wasn't asking him to leave his fiancée, nor did she define their relationship. Again, that's just who they were. That quick exchange was powerful enough to keep him in a good mood through the rest of the night.

Man, the hold she has on him.

That was part of her charm, whether she knew that or not, her spontaneous message and thoughtful gestures made him feel both excited and seen as the same time. She was a lethal dose of dopamine and oxytocin, shooting his high from time to time, making it hard for him to resist.

They arrived late as opposed to the early dinner call time they both agreed to.

Eddie and Anne had just settled in, arriving at the Knight household, she got caught up with work again therefore causing delays. Suddenly, Izzy made her entrance, looking like she overslept during her afternoon nap, dressed in a matching lace lounge wear set, consisting of a tank top and shorts that showed off her belly button and long legs, she descended the stairs to check on the preparations. She had actually arrived that morning, fully aware that the couple would be coming over.

Anne, taken aback by Izzy's revealing attire, couldn't hide her surprise. Izzy, however, appeared completely unfazed, her confidence radiating as she greeted the couple with a kiss on each cheek.

"Oh, I didn't know you two were coming," she acted surprised.

She knew. Right after her mom met and invited Eddie at the store, the older lady was so excited to have them over, she couldn't wait to tell her daughter about it. For the sake of the old times, wanting to be with her 'kids' during this festive time, her mom bugged her to come home as well.

Eddie felt a familiar stirring beneath him as he took in Izzy's appearance, he was not mentally prepared to see her that day, more so to see her in that sexy pieces of fabric. He quickly tried to compose himself, careful to be seen drooling at the sight of his bestfriend by his fiancé. There was trouble brewing, and the thoughts running through his mind was another battle.

Isobel, this is a deliberate tease.

Anne, still a bit stunned, managed to smile and respond politely. "It's nice to see you, Izzy. You look... comfortable."

Her discomfort was visible. She couldn't help but feel uneasy seeing Izzy in such revealing clothing in front of her partner. The casual intimacy of Izzy's attire and demeanor made Anne question the nature of their friendship, invoking a sense of insecurity she couldn't quite shake. She tightened her grip on Eddie's arm, which sent him back to reality.

"Thanks, Anne. It's great to see you both. I'm just making sure everything's ready for dinner." Izzy grinned, her confidence intact.

As they all made their way to the kitchen, the delicious aroma of the cooking dishes filled the air. The warmth of the Knight household was felt, and Izzy's interactions with her parents highlighted just how sweet and caring she could be. Izzy's mom is an exceptional cook, bustling around the kitchen, preparing a feast they knew would be memorable. They decided to help with the finishing touches of the dishes, sharing stories as they worked.

Anne, still grappling with her discomfort, tried to focus on the hospitality given to them. She did not want to be that person to ruin a holiday just because she was uncomfortable. She looked at her fiancé, who has a smile plastered on his face, one she's never seen before. He was more relaxed, and at home.

Eddie couldn't help but share stories of the countless times he had spent at the their household. "I spent most of my time here growing up," he said, giving Anne a nostalgic smile. "Izzy and I would always find an excuse to stay for dinner."

Family dinners, holiday gatherings, and even casual weekend barbecues always had a place for Eddie. Mrs. Knight, in particular, had a soft spot for him, often slipping him extra servings of her food and listening intently to his stories as if he were her own son. Mr. Knight, with his warm chuckles and gentle advice, made Eddie feel like he truly belonged.

Izzy chuckled, adding, "Yeah, especially when Mom was making her famous lasagna. Eddie couldn't resist. He'd take more home as well!"

Anne listened and laughed, she felt herself relax, watching the natural camaraderie between them from her seat. The sight of Eddie and Izzy fussing over the older woman, helping her with whatever she needed, moving in sync proved this was not their first rodeo. For her, it was a new experience, and her second time meeting Eddie's best friend. She quickly saw where Izzy got her charms—her mother's warmth and kindness were clearly passed down.

Eddie's laughter filled the room as he teased Izzy. Her mom looked at them with a soft smile, both amused and exasperated.

"You two are supposed to be grown ups now," she said, shaking her head gently, "always making a mess of my kitchen. You're ruining the presentation of my dishes!"

Her scolding was gentle, more affectionate than reprimanding, and Anne could see the genuine love and affection within the family as her initial surprise at Izzy's attire began to fade. It was clear that their bond was built on deep-rooted care and connection. Anne felt satisfied seeing Eddie so happy around them, the joy radiating from his face as he engaged with Izzy and her family. The more she observed, the more she understood and appreciated the unique dynamics that made their friendship so special.

Meanwhile, behind that playful smile, Eddie found it increasingly difficult to keep his focus. His eyes secretly kept drifting to Izzy's shorts, and his mind raced with thoughts he knew he shouldn't entertain. He just wants to bend her over the kitchen counter and pound on her from behind. She was driving him crazy.

The Knight household was spacious enough for Izzy's mom to have a dedicated storage room for her finest collection of china. With a special holiday upon them and her children gathered, along with Anne as a special guest, it was the perfect occasion to bring out the treasured pieces. Mrs. Knight was eager to get to know the woman who had captured Eddie Brock's heart and, in the meantime, tasked her two kids to bring it out. As they made their way to the storage room, they navigated the small space with care, mindful of the delicate nature of the items they were handling.

Eddie's thoughts raced as he followed Izzy into the confined space. He was both surprised and thrilled to see her, but the unexpected encounter left him feeling slightly off balance. "You really caught me off guard today," he admitted, watching her move gracefully among the shelves.

"I thought you knew I'd be here when I asked which chocolate you'd like," Izzy turned to him with a playful grin.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "So with just, you know, a couple of texts, I should assume you're coming home?"

"Duh. For a smart man, you tend to be oblivious sometimes."

He wasn't oblivious. Izzy was just that vague and unpredictable. Eddie knew better than to make any assumptions about her plans.

As they continued to search through the china collection, the close quarters made their occasional brushes against each other more frequent. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through Eddie, heightening the tension between them. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, the familiar pull of their connection growing stronger with each passing moment.

Izzy had always enjoyed surprising Eddie, and seeing his reaction today was no exception. For her, it wouldnt hurt if her best friend got teased and got shook up from time to time. It was her way into grounding him to the reality, as long as he is not married to Anne yet, she was not planning into halting her mischief anytime soon.

Still on their quest on finding the appropriate china, beneath the surface, unspoken emotions simmered. Eddie couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Izzy's unexpected visit, a deeper reason behind her sudden appearance.

"I could've prepared," Eddie said, his voice softening, staring at her.

Izzy paused her search, turning to face him, her mind puzzled by his words. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Prepared for what?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Many things.

His heart raced as he met her gaze, the intensity of the moment leaving him breathless. He felt the weight of their shared history, the unspoken emotions that had always lingered between them. "Prepared for you," he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. It seemed like she understood anyway; he didn't need to say it. Silence would save them both from further complications in an already complex situation.

But she just had to ask...

"If you knew I'd be here, would you still come with Anne?"

She saw the hesitation in his eyes. Oh, Eddie.

He didn't want to hurt Anne, but he kept crawling back to the woman in front of him. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "Maybe I would have tried to find a way to see you alone."

A puppy dog.

Whenever she saw him, he reminded her of a loyal puppy, always seeking his owner's love and attention. She knew Eddie would never blatantly ask her to kiss him or rekindle whatever physical intimacy they had, given his commitment to someone else. But she knew the longing in his eyes, the unspoken desire. So, she'd take the initiative, bridging the gap between them with a boldness he couldn't muster.

"Well, we're alone now..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Izzy took a step closer, her eyes locked onto his. She could see the conflict in his gaze, the unspoken desires swirling just beneath the surface. Slowly, her hands traveled to his chest, her fingers tracing up to the back of his neck. Eddie's breath hitched as she closed the distance between them.

"It's okay," she whispered repeatedly, her voice soothing. She nodded slightly, maintaining her gaze.

Eddie's eyes fluttered closed as their noses brushed softly against each other, he was going nuts again. Unable to verbalize what both of them are feeling that moment, but their hearts are pounding in unison. Izzy could feel his breath on her lips, and the moment seemed to stretch on forever.

"It's me, Eddie... Just me." Her fingers tracing circles at his nape, urging him to come closer.

Finally, she closed the remaining distance, her lips pressing against his in a kiss, starting out to be gentle. She was an angel with a sweet tasting set of plush red lips. Eddie's hands found their way to her her lower back, pulling her closer as he responded to her kiss. He savored the taste of her lips, the heat of her embrace, feeling his cock starting to solidifying underneath his pants.

They finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, the reality of their situation crashing down around them. Eddie's eyes darkened as he called her name, sounding desperate. "Izzy..."

Knowing what it meant, she whispered, her voice hinting concern, "Now?"

He nodded, his heart racing with anticipation and desire. This was her aphrodisiac, the thrill of knowing the people they were hiding their encounters from are just a thick wall away from them, and in that moment, they both knew they couldn't resist the pull any longer.

"Okay."

Say less.

He can't help it, he turned her to face the wall and stood behind her while bending her over, his hands gripped on her sides and started grinding on her ass. His fingers ran through the lace covering her cunt, it was warm and soaking wet, and played with her folds.

"Mmm.. Eddie..." Izzy faintly moaned, her hands holding unto the wooden cabinet.

"You're dripping, baby... I'll take care of you, huh?" Eddie said, smirking.

He needed to be inside her now. His thumb and index finger playing with her clit, and his other hand popped his cock out of his pants, pumping it as it leaks his pre cum. He swiftly pulled her lace shorts down, and hissed as he positioned the tip of his cock in her entrance. They never did it raw before, but the heat of the moment got the better of them, and they had to be quick before Anne looks for them.

"Iz, I'll just pull out, okay?" Eddie asked, his concern of doing her unprotected was evident.

Izzy nodded quickly and pleaded. "I need you inside, now."

He entered her slowly, pushing through her walls, sending him waves of pleasure. "Fuck, this feels good, Iz." Eddie groaned, his cock inside her, already pounding away, her pussy soaking wet for him. Izzy bit her lips preventing a moan to escape her lips but an occasional groan and gasps slips out from the both of them. His head fell back with his eyes closed while his hips snapping into her back and forth. They fucked all the time but with protection, always with a condom, and it was already amazing. But pounding inside her raw velvety walls was far different, so fucking good that he could himself about to explode earlier than he can usually last, but he has to hold it, ladies cums first.

"Kids? Did you find what you need in there?"

They heard her mom call out to them. It became more urgent. Izzy has her eyes closed, and lower lip bitten. She didn't want to answer her mom because Eddie was pounding in her deep, hitting her spot again and again, struggling to keep her moans. In a desperate attempt, she answered.

"Y-Yeah, mom... We'll be out in a few, just being.. careful here." Izzy panted, chiming back.

What they were doing right now was the opposite of careful.

The sight of her struggling and gasping for air turned him even more, Eddie's left hand reached for her breasts and kneaded on them, fiddling with her nipple, while his other hand rubbed circles on her clit, stimulating it even more. It was getting harder for her to avoid making sounds as she reaches her peak.

Izzy gulped down, with her eyes closed, feeling a knot in her stomach building.

"That feels so good, Eddie... oh god.. don't stop.. I'm close.."

Her voice calling his name was like the sweetest honey, dripping with warmth and melody. It was like hearing an angel whispering his name, tugging at his very core.

"I know baby... cum for me, alright?"

His pace quicken and he felt her clench around him, about to climax soon. He steadied himself again by placing both of his hands on each side of her hips, thrusting into her deeper and faster. Izzy arched her back, hips shaking as her orgasm culminated, with Eddie coming in close.

"Ohhh Yes.. yes.. yes.." her silent moans sent him over the edge, feeling his cock glazed with her warm liquid. Her voice had the power to unravel his desires further more.

"Iz... can't hold it anymore.." he panted, she feels too fucking good, he can't last long. He was looking around the small space where to put his load, but it was all plates, bowls and silverwear. "I can't cum inside you." his voice was nearly pleading and filled with urgency.

They didn't think it through.

"M-mouth." Izzy huffed, pulling herself away from him.

Good thing she did, or else he would've exploded inside her. His hand pumped his already lubricated cock as Izzy kneeled infront of him. Eddie brushed her hair away from her beautiful face, then grabbed her jaw, blowing his load insider her mouth, filling it with his thick hot seed. There was something about her untamed locks that added to her allure and her deep brown eyes staring back at him with her mouth opened wide, catching all his drippings.

"How can you be so beautiful and bad, huh?"

Eddie furrowed his eyes down at her, seeing her swallow his cum again, and giving him a playful smile after she did. She looked fucking sexy. He will never get tired of this.

--

Thanksgiving was a time for gratitude and togetherness, and he wanted to honor the moment, despite the conflicting feelings swirling within him. As they gathered around the table, Eddie knew he had to keep his composure. He was just fucked up a few minutes ago. Izzy's parents and Anne were not even suspicious since they were fully engrossed on getting to know each other.

Mrs. Knight looked at her daughter's attire and couldn't help but speak up. "Izzy, honey, could you at least put on a jacket? It's Thanksgiving, after all."

Izzy rolled her eyes playfully, clearly not thrilled about the idea. "Do I have to, Mom? We're all family here."

Her mom gave her a gentle but firm look. "Yes, you do. We have guests, and it's only appropriate."

With a dramatic sigh, Izzy finally relented. "Fine, fine," she said, heading upstairs to grab a jacket.

Turning to Eddie and Anne, Mrs. Knight offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about her, Anne. She's always had a liberated side. But Eddie, you've known her long enough to be used to it."

Eddie chuckled, scratching the back of his head, his mind momentarily reminded him of what he just saw. "Yeah, Mrs. Knight, I've seen it all."

He did. Not just seen—touched, licked, sucked, fucked, Eddie did it all. Just now, raw. They just don't know.

The dinner proceeded filled warmth and humor. Eddie couldn't help but compliment Mrs. Knight's cooking. "I'm so grateful to be back here. As always, the food is the best."

Anne nodded in agreement, smiling warmly. "I agree. I hope the food at our wedding will be as good as this."

The mention of the wedding sent shivers down Eddie's spine. He almost forgot he's bethroted to the blonde woman sitting next to him. He glanced at Izzy infront of him, trying to gauge her reaction. However, didn't seem fazed. She playfully raised her brows at him and took a big gulp of wine.

Eddie's heart pounded as he forced a smile, but Izzy remained calm and composed, her playful demeanor hiding any hint of the secret encounter they'd shared earlier.

"You know, Anne," Mrs. Knight began, "When these two were still little, Izzy would refuse to go anywhere without Eddie."

Izzy's dad chimed in eagerly, nodding his head, "It's true. Eddie was practically a fixture in this house. Our daughter needed a partner in crime, and Eddie fit the bill perfectly."

Her father was a retired veteran, a high-ranking one, and often deployed to different parts of the world. That's why she was able to live comfortably growing up. You might think that having a vet dad would make her disciplined and serious, but when you have a daughter as an only child, you tend to give her the world.

Her parents spoke about the time Izzy stole her dad's pickup truck and got caught driving without a license. They laughed, reminiscing about how Eddie had to come to the rescue and drive her home. That night was just one of many adventures they shared.

She had her mom's beauty and her dad's thirst for adventure.

Anne laughed, her earlier apprehensions with Izzy completely melting away. "It sounds like you two had quite the adventures."

As she listened to the stories, it dawned on her that Izzy was like family to Eddie, and there was nothing to worry about.

Or so she thought.

Out of the blue, she suddenly received a work call, requiring her to go home. She felt bad about leaving, especially since Izzy's parents yearned for Eddie, so she insisted he stay there and enjoy the evening, in which he reluctantly agrees.

"Don't worry! I'll drive him home!" Izzy chimed as Anne left.

When it was just the four of them, it felt like they went back in time. Eddie, Izzy, and her parents sat around the familiar dining table, the same one that had witnessed countless meals, laughter, and heartfelt conversations over the years.

He glanced at Izzy, looking as radiant as ever, her eyes sparkling with the same adventurous spirit that had drawn him to her in the first place. He loves Anne, but what he felt for his best friend was different.

For a few precious hours, it was as if nothing had changed.

As the night drew to a close, Izzy turned to her mom with a heartfelt smile. "Thanks for the amazing dinner, Mom," she said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

Eddie watched the tender moment, his heart warmed by the sight of Izzy with her family. Despite her unpredictable nature, Izzy had always been loving and caring, especially when it came to those she held dear. They volunteered to clean up, just like the old times.

Izzy's dad, still a bit groggy from his earlier nap, stretched and gave a satisfied sigh. "I think it's time for us old folks to head to bed," he said with a chuckle. "You kids enjoy the rest of your evening."

Her mom nodded in agreement, giving Eddie a warm smile. "It was wonderful having you here, Eddie. Don't be a stranger, alright?"

Eddie nodded, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you, Mrs. Knight. It was great to be here."

Her parents retreated to their room, leaving Eddie and Izzy alone to clean up after dinner. Eddie stood at the sink, washing dishes, while Izzy dried them and placed them back in the cabinets. The room was quiet, save for the sound of running water and the clinking of dishes.

Focusing on the task at hand, Izzy broke the silence. "My mom really likes Anne," she said, her tone neutral.

"Yeah, she does," Eddie agreed, nodding.

Izzy's words hung in the air, and Eddie found himself glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was composed, it was always hard for Eddie to read the depth of Izzy's emotions. Her voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension in her movements that he couldn't quite decipher.

The way her fingers lingered on the dishes, the brief moments when her eyes would meet his and then quickly look away. Each gesture seemed loaded with meaning, but he struggled to grasp what she truly felt. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between them, one that prevented him from fully understanding the emotions swirling inside her.

An awkward silence filled the air, both have a lot of things in mind, especially him. Eddie hesitated, then asked, "Do you like Anne too?"

He studied Izzy's facial expression, searching for any hint of her true feelings. She smiled, but it was one that didn't reach her eyes. "I have no complaints," she replied vaguely, turning back to dry another plate.

Eddie's heart ached at her response, knowing there was so much left unsaid. What would he do if he knew she didn't like her or whatever she truly felt towards his fiancé? What difference would it make? Her calm exterior left Eddie to wonder what might have been if things were different.

He was dying to ask her, to provide clarity and understand her better, but he knew that doing so would only complicate things further.

As they continued cleaning up, Izzy asked, "Have you and Anne picked a final date for the wedding yet?"

Eddie hesitated for a moment before answering. "Anne has been very busy lately, so we haven't discussed it yet."

She hummed in response, her expression thoughtful. It was evident that something was going through her mind, but she didn't dare to elaborate.

They finished cleaning and nothing else more to do, Izzy reached her hand out to Eddie, with her usual playful smile on her lips.

"How many have you got?"

Eddie chuckled, understanding her playful challenge. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting two packets of rubber. Handing them to her while shaking his head, he couldn't help but laugh at her antics. She had a knack for diffusing awkward situations and, fortunately for him, this was one of her ways.

"Come on," Izzy whispered with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's head upstairs."

She took his hand, her light-hearted giggle echoing through the hallway as she led him towards the staircase. Eddie followed, his gaze fixed on her, captivated by the way she effortlessly reeled him in. The way she moved, the infectious joy she radiated, made his heart flutter with anticipation. As they made their way to her room, a smile played on his lips as she locked the door behind him. With Izzy, every moment felt like a new adventure waiting to unfold.

It was a long marathon-like night. The two packets were used much to their content.

They are quietly lying side by side, wrapped in each other's arms. Suddenly, a loud snore echoed through the house—it was Izzy's dad, sound asleep. The unexpected noise made them burst into laughter. Eddie felt a deep sense of comfort, as if he had come home. Everything felt right tonight.

With his arm around Izzy's waist, he drew her closer. She looked at him with a warm smile, gazing into each other's eyes, the world around them fading away. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers.

Eddie's mind spun with regret and longing. He couldn't help but wonder if waiting for Izzy would have changed things. The thrill-seeking nature of hers was always at odds with the idea of settling down. Her life, though comfortable and stable, was always a search for excitement.

She brushed his hair back, a touch that made his heart beat faster. "I promised Anne I'd drive you home," she murmured softly, giving him a soft smile, her words filled with a sense of duty.

However, didn't want to leave her side, feeling he'd be stupid to let go of this beautiful dove to fly away again, not knowing when she'll return. Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed her again, moving on top of her, letting his emotions guide his actions. Without any warning, Eddie placed a gentle kiss on her neck, leaving a small mark as Izzy gasped softly, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and affection.

Eddie walked into their apartment, exhaustion etched on his face. The weight of the evening's events clung to him like a shadow. He placed his keys on the kitchen counter, along with the box of chocolates, and let out a deep sigh, feeling both the fatigue and the guilt that gnawed at him. Seeing Anne after the long night he'd had with Izzy's family only intensified his internal conflict.

Anne looked up from her spot on the couch, her eyes filled with curiosity. "How did it go?" she asked gently, rising to meet him.

He mustered a tired smile. "It was nice... Izzy's parents were happy to see me."

She wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sorry for going home earlier than expected. I feel really bad. I know they mean a lot to you."

"Yeah, they do. I needed... that."

As they stood there, holding each other, Eddie's mind began to revert to the woman with non-existent wings, recalling the evening they shared—her laughter, the stories, their tender moments. He couldn't resist the feeling of being constantly drawn to her and longed for their next adventure.

Anne's voice brought him back to the present. "You look tired. Let's get you to bed."

Eddie nodded with yet another faint smile, grateful for her understanding. As they made their way to the bedroom, he cherished the moments with Anne, but his mind remained tethered to his best friend.

He wondered when he'd see his sweet, sweet cravings again.

-

Next chapter

[jelloapocalypse]

I admittedly haven't watched your stream playthrough of TGAA games, mostly because I was playing through them with my fiancé very slowly, but we just finished them and I was curious what your opinion on them was? My fiancé and I enjoyed them but we both felt like they were pretty... Tame, compared to mainline AA. Like, there wasn't really any insane twists that shook the characters to their cores, everything wrapped up so neatly for everyone, it felt too easy, in a way? Also the big bad was wayyyyy too predictable.

I'd recommend checking out these amazing animatics that Infamouslydorky did of our playthrough!

My feelings re: The Great Ace Attorney games are sort of complicated, so this answer's going to be kind of long. I'll keep it spoiler-free, though.

I think they have the best main cast of any AA game. The music, character designs, and quality of life are basically the best they've ever been. That's really cool. I really love a lot of the one-off characters too. Enoch Drebber, Pat and Rollie, and the little plague mask coroner girl are huge stand-outs for me.

However, I think Shu Takumi has a lot of... foibles as a writer, and the way they manifest in these games is more evident and more obnoxious than basically anything else he's ever made.

I've played every game he's ever made and I can tell you that Shu Takumi writes the mysteries and twists in his stories first before anything else. I think he has a great sense of when he wants the twists to hit for the audience and he's great at figuring out where a twist will hit in a case... but he's remarkably bad at making character motivations match up to the story he's trying to tell.

In particular, he's awful at giving characters reasons not to tell each other things. 90% of a time your protagonist in a Shu Takumi game will ask a completely reasonable question to an ally, and the ally will avoid answering simply because it's not time for the player to know the answer yet. This is an issue in every game he's ever made. Even his best game Ghost Tric, is plagued by this. i.e. The way Lynne refuses to tell you her goals even though you're a literal ghost who's saved her life 3+ times in the same evening. Like, what do you have to lose, Lynne? Do you think this ghost is going to leak your goals to the police? No, it's just in service of delaying information so the player gets that information when it really hits. My friend circle has some to refer to characters in video games not telling you information for no reason as "Shu Takumi-ing".

Because most AA games are really silly, this isn't usually a gamebreaking issue. Why isn't your ally telling you information that would allow you to help them? Well, they're stupid, that's why. This is a game where you get possessed by dead people to get evidence and cross-examine a parrot. It's not serious. Everyone's a little bit on the stupid spectrum.

That's not really the case with TGAA. The games still have silly moments, but the characters are very explicitly smart. Kazuma is meant to be a legal prodigy on an exchange program. Susato is incredibly well-read and her father is a well-traveled and well-respected man of the law himself. Iris is a genius. Sholmes is whacky, but he's supposed to be cannier than he lets on.

Because of that, it's really noticeable when Shu Takumi doesn't know how to delay information or elegantly set up an interpersonal conflict. His fallback is always to have a character drink The Stupid Juice. For Case X, this character is suddenly stupid and does stuff they'd never do. For Case Y, it's someone else.

When you're dealing with Larry Butz and Lotta Hart, you come to expect that sort of thing. The inconsistency is part of their character. But when Susato can't identify her own father sleeping on the couch because... I dunno, I guess she landed on her head when she fell out of bed this morning, what the hell are we doing here, gang? Why are we doing this? Some people in our chat were like "This is a joke". I don't know. Is it? it really a joke if it takes 20 minutes of real gameplay to SOLVE THE MYSTERY instead of walking over and look at him, like any rational person would do?

I also can't go into too many details about this without spoiling things, but I really really hate the core overarching plot of this duology. I would bet almost all the money in my bank account that Shu Takumi didn't have the details of the second game 100% ironed out by the time he wrote the first. They don't lead into each other at all and so many characters' actions need to be unfathomably stupid for everything to work out the way it does. It kind of makes me retroactively dislike a lot of the cast. Especially Sholmes.

Also the assistant Van Zieks gets in the 2nd game is unfathomably bad. Everything about that setup and how that character acts is my least favorite thing about the game and maybe my least favorite thing that ever happens in the entire franchise. It makes me SO angry.

The games are still pretty good though.

[alicentsgf]

Do you think the writers genuinely intended for Jackie and Shauna to be into each other/have more than friends-type feeling for each other, or do you think they saw the chemistry and fan reaction and then revised it to be less subtextual? I just remember in season one some of the actors (ella I think?) and maybe writers saying it wasn't like that, but I wonder if they rewatched season one with new eyes and realised the potential there or something

i think writers lie and actors arent told everything/lie too because sometimes theres stuff an audience isnt meant to know or understand yet and its easier to just deny or omit everything until its plot relevant.

The subtext, especially in the pilot, was not subtle. You do not accidentally do what they did. We were hit over the heads with homoerotic tension and then throughout the show there are constant call backs to moments in the pilot that outline just how homoerotic it really was. All the lingering shots? Shaunas disgusted look at Jeff after he crawled out Jackies window, contrasted with her gazing at Jackie like shes a damn sunset 2 seconds later? Like this is our first ever introduction to Shauna and we are clearly supposed to spend it wondering if Shauna was in love with Jackie (I mean even my 60 year old Catholic mother clocked that shit), so then we can be shocked and think we were wrong when Shauna has sex with Jeff. But there is no way you put that amount of groundwork down just to trick your audience with a pay off thats basically "ha ha you thought she was gay? well actually no! ". like no, that was not the point of it. what it can do however is destablise us. encourage us to keep questioning everything. wondering what the truth of Shauna's feelings are. what her motivations for doing it were. to make us doubt how much shauna cares about jackie, because obviously its counterintuitive that someone would sleep with the boyfriend of someone they genuinely cared about. but then comes the context. the complexity.

Pretty much every scene we get of Jackie and Shauna in the pilot builds the quiet narrative of two girls who love each other deeply but are hiding from each other (and themselves). Jackie doesn't enjoy sex with Jeff. She doesn't say she loves him back. She fiddles sadly with her heart necklace afterwards (aka we are meant to infer Jeff gave it to her). Shauna is annoyed seeing Jeff climb out Jackies window. Jackie exits the house and we get Lingering soft look number 1. Shaunas visibly frustrated that Jackie and Jeff are back together. Jackie pretends everything is fine, she doesnt confide in Shauna about her doubts, instead she talks about losing her virginity with Jeff so they'll be "linked forever". Lingering soft look number 2 (pep rally edition). Then we get Jackie laid on Shaunas bed in a flowery dress in her attic bedroom (probably not a coincidence that jackie later in the same season loses her virginity in a flowery dress on shaunas bedroll in the cabin attic she uses as a bedroom). At the party Shauna stands there drinking and watching Jackie with Jeff half of the night until shes wasted. It gets under her skin so badly (on top of their spat abt Randy) she feels the need to lash out at Tai, starting a fight that Jackie then has to come break up. When they drop Jackie back at her house Shauna tells Jackie she loves her. Jackie doesn't say it back. Lingering look number 3 (dead wife montage slowmo edition). Shauna immediately tells Jeff to pull over and they have sex (Jeff has had Jackie in his arms half the night. Shauna will later in the same season tell Jeff shes turned on by the smell of someone else on him). Shauna begs him to tell her he loves her (because Jackie didnt say it). The next morning Jackie is packing, getting ready to go to nationals (she looks sad. she always looks sad when shes alone). Lingering look number 4 (plane edition). Jackie gives Shauna the necklace (Jeff is a conduit for their feelings for each other always, with the necklace symbolically bookending Jackie and Shaunas story in the pilot; jackie toyed with it morosely after sex with jeff because she doesnt truly want him and it ends the episode around shaunas neck).

All of these things individually don't necessarily mean anything, but all together? Undeniable. You can use the argument that Shauna is jealous of Jackie to make sense of some of it, that shes Jackie's best friend who loves her but is also resentful, and yes it is obviously partly that too which is why it explains bits of it, but it most definitely doesn't explain all of it.

You do not have to go searching for the homoerotic subtext here it was literally waved in our faces. The actors wouldnt have even necessarily had to know about it either, the selection and editing of footage does more heavy lifting than people realise. but either way they would likely deny it even if it was planned and they knew about it. its clearly an overarching element of the series as we're seeing more and more this season. Shaunas the closest thing this show has to a main character, revealing too much too early for literally the most key relationship in that characters life wouldnt do anything except limit the story and open up further questions long before they should be being asked. Not to mention, shauna hides from herself its like her whole thing, so she probably doesn't know even now what her true feelings were, and if she doesnt know then we as the audience shouldnt know either. Its similar in that way to the whole supernatural element. aka they cant know how much of it is real, so we cant know.

This is a very queer story, and I think it always has been. To me its always seemed clear the Jackieshauna of it all was very much deliberate. I've never really questioned that, even if the actors or whoever else has denied it in some way. I've been in fan spaces long enough to know you cant trust a single thing that comes out a writer or actors mouth lmao.

[airybcby]

Hiii hope you’re having a lovely week <3 and Merry early Christmas!! I hope you get everything you’ve been wanting!! I think the marriage event is so so so cute omg, and I was wondering if I could get yoichi isagi with tropes 🍓 and 🍫? Mostly bc my dumbass thinks strawberries and chocolate go well together lol. Your works are amazing btw!! And honestly I don’t know how you find the motivation or time to write so much, it’s so inspiring 🫶 keep up the good work and have a lovely Christmas (or something else you celebrate!)

Hiii! i love making ( and eating ) chocolate covered strawberries, so i totally get it :) and tysm! I usually brain dump every few days then struggle to get into it again, but alas i prevail! i had a lovely christmas, i hope you did too!

now for

an isagi yoichi chocolate covered strawberry :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° like a dog with a bird at your door

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, gn! reader, unrequited love, isagi and reader are childhood friends, isagi mentions liking another girl (no name mentioned), KUNIGAMI MENTIONED!!! (once but i love him), reader has feelings for isagi, set in high school :)

♡ synopsis — you'd wait for a million chances with isagi yoichi, but he wouldn't even give you one.

You knew doing this marriage simulation with Isagi Yoichi was a mistake the moment you saw his name on the pairing list.

Your heart clenched, the familiar ache settling in your chest. Isagi had always been your closest friend—someone who could make you laugh on your worst days and whose determination inspired you to push forward. But that closeness came with a cost: the quiet, unreciprocated feelings you’d carried for years.

It was fine, though. You’d learned how to manage them. Or so you thought.

“Hey!” Isagi greeted you that first day in the shared apartment, his signature smile lighting up the room. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a grin. “Lucky me.”

If he noticed the strain in your voice, he didn’t say anything.

The first few weeks of the program were easy enough. Isagi’s natural charm made it impossible not to enjoy his company, and his unrelenting optimism balanced out your more cautious approach.

He was attentive, thoughtful, and surprisingly good at playing the role of a devoted partner. It felt so real sometimes that you had to remind yourself it wasn’t.

The way he’d casually sling an arm around your shoulders when the instructors were watching, the way he’d call you by a pet name that made your stomach flip—it was all for show. And when the simulation ended, it would all go away.

You reminded yourself of that every night as you lay awake in your separate rooms, staring at the ceiling and wishing things could be different.

One evening, after a particularly intense day of tasks, you both collapsed on the couch, a shared bowl of popcorn between you.

“Man, I don’t know how people do this for real,” Isagi said with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “It’s exhausting.”

You smiled faintly, keeping your eyes on the TV. “Guess it’s easier when you’re with someone you actually love.”

Isagi hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I bet it is.”

The silence stretched, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. You didn’t dare look at him, afraid of what you’d see.

Instead, you changed the subject, masking your hurt with a joke that made him laugh. But his words stayed with you, carving deeper into the parts of you that already felt raw.

It wasn’t until halfway through the program that you found out why Isagi had signed up for it.

You were cleaning up after dinner when he blurted it out, his voice casual but laced with excitement.

“Did I tell you? She joined the program, too. She’s paired with Kunigami.”

Your hand froze mid-wash, the plate slipping slightly under your grip. “Who?” Isagi had been your friend, yes, but he'd never told you about another girl before.

"She's in our class," He nodded, his eyes lighting up at the mention of her. “I’ve been meaning to tell her how I feel, but I guess I haven’t found the right moment yet. This program’s the perfect chance, though, right?”

Your stomach dropped, the air around you suddenly too heavy.

“Right,” you said, forcing a smile. “Perfect chance.”

He didn’t notice the tremor in your voice or the way you quickly turned back to the sink, blinking back tears.

From that point on, everything hurt a little more.

The way he’d absentmindedly lean into you during group exercises, the way he’d talk about his plans for the future, the way he’d practice his “husband” role so earnestly—it all felt like salt in a wound you couldn’t close.

You wanted to hate him for how blind he was to your feelings, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault. And you couldn’t fault him for wanting someone like Tsubaki, someone who was bright and kind and seemingly perfect in every way.

You could only stand by and watch, your heart breaking a little more with each passing day.

The final night of the program came faster than you’d expected.

You sat together on the couch, the apartment eerily quiet now that all the tasks were done.

“Hard to believe it’s over, huh?” Isagi said, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at your hands. “Hard to believe.”

He leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. “You know… I think this program taught me a lot. About relationships, about myself. And about you.”

Your heart skipped, hope flickering despite yourself. “Yeah? What about me?”

He smiled, that familiar, radiant smile that had always made you feel like the world was brighter. “You’re an amazing friend. I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.”

Friend.

The word echoed in your mind, snuffing out the tiny ember of hope that had been burning inside you.

“Thanks, Yoichi,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I’m glad I could help.”

The next morning, you packed your things in silence, the weight of unspoken words heavy in the air.

When it was time to leave, Isagi pulled you into a tight hug, his warmth making it even harder to let go.

“Thanks for everything,” he said, his voice sincere. “I’ll never forget this.”

“Me neither,” you murmured, your words barely audible.

As you walked away, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.

You’d known from the start that this was how it would end—with Isagi chasing after someone else, and you left behind, holding onto feelings that would never be returned.

But even so, you didn’t regret it. Because for a little while, you’d gotten to be close to him. And that, you told yourself, was enough.

it was so awful making this not have a happy ending :,)

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[cerisefait]

Hello my dear!! As i promised here's my request. Can you write a Shanks x reader fic where they have been together for a really long time and beacsue of this Luffy looks at the reader like his mother figure? Like just imagen the Strawhats meet the reader and Luffys first reaction is to shout "Mother!" and the Strawhats are like "Wait.. That your mom???" i could imagine all of the being like really surprised XD and also obviously Shanks is there as well and tgat also cause another set of confusion like?? Shanks a big pirate?? Here?? I can just imagine the chaos and happiness that it would bring to Luffy

The Confession

[1,9k words]

a/n: I'm baack and motivated than ever! so sorry for the long wait @smolracoon25 but I hope I did you justice with this one and I hope all of you readers enjoy it <3 I've put a little spin on the request and wrote an angsty romance with a happy ending x

(warning! description of drowning)

‘Look out!’

The sound of swords clashing filled your ears: Metal on metal clanking in a deathly duel against Red Haired Pirates and the Intruders.

‘I can handle myself Shanks!’ You exclaimed as you made your way to the butt of the deck in an attempt to escape the guy who was chasing you with a sword in his hands.

You were successful for a moment. Taking a quick look at your crewmates, you couldn't help but feel your heart shatter at the scene which unfolded before you. Most of the barrels were scattered on the floor, some of them were on fire: One of your crewmates was trapped in a corner and the others were fighting for their lives.

Your view was suddenly cut off by a larger and thus, threatening frame.

'Don't you dare come closer.’ You stated sternly but the quaver in your voice gave your fear away.

'What are you gonna do about that, princess?’ said the unwelcome pirate, clearly enjoying the display of his actions.

Upon hearing the disgusting cockiness and the nickname that came out of his mouth, you furrowed your eyebrows. 'Don’t you fucking dare! …Stop!’ You yelled, taking small steps backwards.

'You'll make a very pretty hostage, it's been so long since we had a woman on our ship.’

‘I said stop!’

Now, you were on the edge looking for someone to come to your aid. Your eyes wandered around in hopes of finding Shanks but to your misfortune, he was too busy trying to save the trapped crewmate.

For a split second, he looked back at you; the fierce and confident look in his eyes turned into a fearful one.

Knowing what's to come, he knocked the guys he was dealing with within a blink of an eye and rushed towards you but he was far away.

Seeing your gaze fixated somewhere else, the foreigner tried to take advantage of your distraction and took a step closer to you.

And out of instinct, you took a step back.

'NO!..’

Suddenly you were face to face with the sky: falling on your back, feeling the cold breeze on your skin.

As you were falling, you screamed Shanks' name at the top of your lungs with terror. The feeling of panic and adrenaline was coursing through you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you waited for the inevitable.

‘(Y/N)!’ he exclaimed rushing to you, knocking everyone and everything that got in his way.

…that was the last thing you heard before submerging deep into the depths of the ocean.

At first your back came in contact with the water's surface in which you felt a sharp stinging pain that spread all across your body. Feeling that pain, your eyes opened widely.

You tried holding your breath for as long as possible but after a few seconds, you inhaled some water which made you splutter, cough and inhale more.

There was a burning sensation in your chest, making you instinctively panic... Until you surrendered.

When you stopped fighting you felt calm, tranquil even. You knew what it meant: the loss of consciousness was showing its symptoms because of the oxygen deprivation.

In the meantime, Shanks was done with the intruders. The rage he had inside of him was enough to fight all of them. He was swinging his sword in such a delicate way that made his enemies fear and search for a place to hide. Your fall gave your crew a massive anger which they couldn't contain any longer and lashed out on the enemies with more power.

Seeing his mates handle the foreigners, Shanks immediately jumped off of the deck to save you. The water was dark, chilling and you were nowhere to be found: he had to swim deeper.

He didn't have the time to think about taking off his clothes before jumping, he had only removed his black coat. And the fact that he was wearing layers didn't make it easier for him to swim.

But luckily he found you quicker than expected and got a firm hold on you, manhandling you in order to waste no more time.

When both of you came up to the surface, he called out your name multiple times but you weren't responsive. Holding your fragile frame in his arms, with the help of his crewmates, he managed to get you back on the dock.

Looking at your face in desperation for a sign of life, he tried his really best to keep his composure. But the fear in his eyes was evident. Getting on his knees he laid you on your back, tears welling in his eyes while maintaining a stern, angry look on his face.

He gave you cpr, tried everything in his power but nothing seemed to bring you back to life… to him. After the last mouth to mouth, he was exhausted. He looked at his crewmates for hope, but all he saw was faces close to crying.

He then turned his gaze back to you, drained and hopeless. He put his hand on one of yours and held it gently. Your skin felt strange, it wasn't like what he was used to. With his thumb, he circled swift emotions on the back of your hand and gave it a little squeeze.

…with that, he gave up.

He lowered his head, letting a warm tear move across his cheek and drop onto the wooden floor. He didn't want anyone to see him so… defeated.

Just then you moved your fingers a bit, the warmth of Shanks' hand was a huge contrast compared to the coldness of your damp clothes clinging to your body.

You weakly mewled Shanks' name but he was in a complete trance; He didn't hear you the first time.

You tried calling his name one more time, trying to open your eyes ever so slightly to get a look of his face.

He quickly switched his gaze back to you. there you were breathing, alive. That was the most miraculous thing Shanks swore he had ever experienced.

He softly whispered your name, a look of relief and adoration in his eyes as he tried to help you to get in a sitting position. With the help of his left hand on your lower back and right one holding your hand, you sat up coughing.

‘I thought I lost you.’

'Me too...’ You winced in pain. The air in your lungs was filled with water and the burning feeling made it hard to breathe or speak. Shanks looked worried but he continued.

'I'm glad you're here, with me… I can't bear the thought of you not being right by my side.

I need you more than anything in my life (Y/n) and I'm done trying to hide the fact that I love you. ’

'Shanks… I-’

'Don't tire yourself out sweetheart.’

Not being able to say those three words frustrated you so you grabbed him by his collar and planted a weak kiss on his lips.

Everyone around you was happy.

Ever since that day, Shanks and you became inseparable. Luffy always saw Shanks as a father figure, so it was only normal for him to look up to you as a mother figure.

Even though it created some sort of confusion and the assigned family ties made it difficult being a pirate, all that mattered to the both of you was Luffy's happiness.

*****

Present day

'Luffy! Looks like we have a visitor.’ yelled Nami.

'What? Where?’ He got hyper excited as he always did.

‘'Calm down cap. Visitors are mostly never welcome.’ Told Zoro in his usual grumpy tone.

'Would it hurt to be positive for once, Mosshead?’ asked Sanji.

'If it means that I'll be agreeing with you then yes… Cook.’

They started snarling at each other.

'Guys, quit it!’ Nami yelled once again.

The figure started to become more recognizable. It was a beautiful woman walking with a larger crew behind her but it was quite hard to observe the others: They were further away.

'Anybody know who she is?’ asked Usopp, confusion clear in his voice.

The strawhats stared at her, then turned to their captain in unison. Luffy was awfully quiet.

‘... Who is she Luffy?’ Nami questioned.

'That's my… mother.’ He stated very calmly.

The rest of the crew was shocked for many reasons. One, how could he stay so calm and two, she's his what now?

The woman and Luffy made eye contact. She looked so relieved to see him. Her eyebrows lifted upwards, her eyes teary. The same look was now on Luffy's face.

When they were few feets apart, the woman shouted

'Luffy?’

Upon hearing her calling his name and the sound of her voice, Luffy broke into tears of joy, lifting his arms high above his head, yelling ‘Mom!’ before running to her.

They hugged, everyone was confused. Then, the bigger picture started to unfold: The strangers' jolly ranger was the one no other than Red Haired Pirates’.

‘Are my eyes deceiving me or is that…’

‘Oh my god.’

‘Shanks?’

Luffy was crying like a baby in his mother’s arms while she looked peaceful holding him. They were lost in the moment when Shanks came up and wrapped his arms around both of them.

‘We saw your wanted poster… I’m proud of you kiddo.’ said Shanks pulling away from the hug to look Luffy in his eyes: They were already swollen.

‘We’re all proud of you sweet boy.’ added the woman.

Luffy was enamored, his happiness was all over his face. His hands then went over to his head, moreso to Shanks’ hat.

‘I think this is yours..’ he said, offering it back to Shanks, looking grateful. But Shanks could see through his defeated smile that he loved his hat and didn’t want to let go.

‘Don’t think so, kid. It belongs to you.’ he said, smiling warmly.

‘Plus.. your mother here thinks it suits you more.’ he whispered, rolling his eyes at her, laughing.

‘You think so?’ asked Luffy with a golden retriever energy, smiling ear to ear.

‘I know so.’ she replied, giving him a wink and shoving Shanks’ shoulder playfully.

‘Uh.. sorry to interrupt but… Luffy?’ It was Nami.

‘Yeah?’ Luffy answered, expectant huge eyes directed in her way. He looked completely oblivious.

‘...Care to introduce us?’

‘Oh right!’

He introduced his crew one by one: They were all thrilled to meet Shanks and the others. After all, he was one of the biggest pirates.

But what mattered the most was, Luffy was over the moon: He was with the ones he loved the most. Shanks, his mother and his own crew all in one place. How could he not be?

THE END

[theoppositequeens]

look around, look inside

Fandom: The Empyrean (Fourth Wing) Rating: T Tags & warnings: Underage sex, Asexuality, Aegosexual Bodhi Durran

Read on Ao3 here.

So here is the emotional glass bauble I wrote at 2 am tonight. Please treat it with care? <3 And if it hits close to home for someone else, feel free to come talk to me!

Thank you, @shipmistress9 for betaing this🖤🤍💜 And @ellebellewritesfic my darling, for unwavering support!

Written for Bodhi Week 2025 by @empyreanevents Day 1: Right Hand. Title from Dye the Water Green - Bibio.

look around, look inside

Sometimes Bodhi wonders if there's something wrong with him.

It's been like that since he was a teenager. All around him, his friends were talking about first kisses and crushes, and those he could get behind, but then it started being about sex. And he started pretending – at first not even consciously, because yeah, the idea of sex was nice. He used to daydream and think about it and it definitely got him going. Bodhi listened in awe to Garrick and Xaden when they let him sit in on their discussions about conquests, and in theory it was hot and interesting, but he started feeling squeamish when they teased him about who he'd try it out with.

His cousin and his cousin's best friend usually let him off the hook, not pressing when he started blushing and avoiding the question. His friends were more forthright, and Bodhi definitely answered things like which girl in class is the prettiest? or which girl has the nicest legs? But it was the whole if you had to choose who you'd want to give you a blowjob, who would it be? and all the other similar questions. He never understood the concept of wanting that. Their group of friends used to watch the infantry that were garrisoned at Aretia to keep the peace, and scan over the cadets, pointing them out. Bodhi usually just defaulted to saying he'd prefer his current crush, or then he picked the objectively most attractive person.

Bodhi understands beauty.

He finds people beautiful and can appreciate their looks, but he's never looked at someone and gotten turned on. He's never looked at someone and thought: yeah, I want to fuck that person.

It's not like he didn't kiss girls when he was younger – and a few boys, just to be sure – but nothing ever made him want to do more. It was just something one did, and the kissing is nice, he enjoys that – to a point.

Sometimes he wonders if he liked the idea that they liked him. If maybe the mental representation of their desire was what turned him on. If being wanted was the motivation behind even trying, or if it was peer pressure.

It confuses the shit out of him, because it's not like he doesn't get aroused.

That part of him works just fine, thank you very much, and he can get off by himself: fast or slow or edging himself until he blanks out from how good the orgasm is.

The idea of sex is hot. The dirty Tyrrish sonnets he snuck into his own room from the library to read in his teens were damn enjoyable. And if there were some suspicious stains on them when he returned them, no one will ever know who it was.

For a while, after the apostasy, Bodhi just thought maybe the trauma had killed his libido. Even if he woke hard sometimes in the mornings, he felt no need to sate that urge with another person, and he chalked it up to grief.

Then he tried having sex, and it didn't go too well.

Mostly, it was pressure. The place he was fostered in had a lot of young maids and a lot of young working-class boys and Bodhi was – reluctantly – educated alongside them. He was already different enough, and since everyone was fooling around, he would have stuck out even more if he didn't.

Turns out after some trial and error, that he is capable. It's just that it's not sexy or arousing when it's his own body doing things, his own self doing things. If he sort of goes into his own head, distances himself until he's almost thinking in third person, almost seeing it happen to his own body like a spectator, then it's enjoyable enough. If he imagines while the things are happening to him, that they're happening to someone else – a fictional character, a faceless representation, a person he's admired from afar – that works too.

The worst thing is: he still has crushes. He's fucking capable of love, just not being sexually attracted to the person, and it kills him. He wants the companionship, the kisses, the intimacy of knowing someone so well, the shared life and the cuddles and to be loved in return.

But they expect sex. And he can give it to them, but it's a chore. It requires going away in his own head, and he feels like he's constantly betraying his partner by not being mentally present, by faking the enthusiasm. It's not like he doesn't aesthetically appreciate their bodies, because he does. He admires them, thinks them lovely and beautiful and knows they're objectively attractive.

He's jarred out of his mind too often during sex, and that's what's exhausting. The need to constantly reweave his fantasy as it's interrupted by real life. In his head, there's no awkward moments or limbs in the wrong place or sounds that trigger his gag reflex or breathing that goes into his ear. No comments that he has to actually respond to, no partner whose comfort he has to see to.

It's easier when he's on the receiving end, so Bodhi goes for men. Easier to be more passive, be the one that gets fucked – and the physical sensations work just as well, because most of the work on getting off happens within his head. A hand on his cock, steady thrusts, kisses down his stomach: it only feels nice if he imagines it's not happening to him.

Reality isn't attractive, but he can get off on it, if he does his best. After, he dislikes the sensations in his own body. Dislikes the cleanup and the realism and the wetness and stickiness. Feels like a fraud, cuddling up to a partner and responding yeah, for me too to breathless whispers about how good it was.

It feels like a fucking transaction to buy their love with his discomfort.

And it's a lie.

Because he never tells. There's clearly something wrong with him, something that doesn't function as it should. And putting himself on the line like that... Well, no one pre-Basgiath is that loyal to a marked one. Bodhi is afraid that if his – generally short-lived – relationships end, they'll spread the news. So he swallows all the discomfort, all the worry. He makes himself a sexual creature with determination and anxiety and tears and avoidance and hard work.

People make sex and attraction look so easy.

It runs rampant through Basgiath, once he gets there, and Bodhi watches Garrick fuck his way through half the population, Imogen eye the men with interest, Xaden choose his hookups carefully when they're not caused by dragon lust.

He's thankful Cuir isn't bonded, because he's not sure how he would react to being attracted to people he sees in front of him. He's scared it would be a completely new feeling, something he's never felt in his life. It would confirm that all this time he's just been playing pretend, trying to force himself to think that he is attracted physically to people. Cuir soothes him, tells him that among dragonkind it is not abnormal to not want a mate.

But Bodhi wants a mate. He just doesn't want to mate. Cuir doesn't get the distinction.

No one notices, here, that he doesn't do hookups. They all assume he's just discreet. Garrick ribs him for being secretive and Bodhi lies his ass off then, leads him intentionally into certain assumptions while the others chuckle. Xaden sometimes throws him searching glances that make Bodhi think he knows. Or at least suspects. His cousin has always known when Bodhi is lying.

But Xaden never says anything. He only shifts closer in the crowded, small room, presses his shoulder into Bodhi's – a solid, comforting touch that Xaden will never know how much Bodhi appreciates.

Bodhi watches Xaden fall for Violet. He watches Garrick and Imogen dance around their feelings.

He feels incredibly jealous, but he doesn't dare try. Finding someone who could want him, without sex, seems like too much to ask. And Bodhi is firm on the line now. He won't compromise anymore. He won't force himself into something he dislikes so intensely.

And besides, does he really need love?

He has the platonic love of his friends, his found family. He lives somewhat well enough on their touches and hugs and comfort. He's not touch-starved or lacking for people to share his troubles with.

He has his own right hand for sexual pleasure, and his own mind to feed the fantasies he comes up with.

Is it greedy of him to want more?

[glowettee]

Hey Mindy!!! I love your blog. I was wondering whether you have any tips for giving good presentations?? I’m really shy and I have a mock trial soon. I’m a witness hahaha I’m so nervous ! 😬

hey lovely!! 🤍

omg first of all, thank you so much for the sweet message!! i'm so happy you enjoy my blog. mock trial witnesses can be super intimidating (i've been there too!!) but i promise you're going to absolutely shine once you get some confidence tricks in your pocket.

✧ presentation power moves for the shy girlies ✧

1. preparation is your secret weapon

   - memorize your witness statement until it feels like second nature

   - practice in front of a mirror so you can see your facial expressions

   - record yourself on your phone and listen back (yes it's cringey but sooo helpful)

   - create a little character profile for your witness ~ their motivations, personality, quirks

   - anticipate cross-examination questions that might trip you up

2. body language that commands attention

   - sit up straight but not stiff

   - keep your hands visible + still (fidgeting screams nervous)

   - make strategic eye contact with the jury when making important points

   - slightly lean forward when answering questions to show engagement

   - practice a calm, neutral face for when opposing counsel tries to rattle you

3. voice control techniques

   - speak slightly slower than your normal pace (nerves make us rush)

   - end statements with downward inflection to sound confident

   - pause before answering difficult questions (it looks thoughtful, not unsure)

   - vary your tone to emphasize key points (monotone = boring witness)

   - practice projecting from your diaphragm, not your throat

4. handling nervousness like a pro

   - arrive early to familiarize yourself with the room

   - do 4-7-8 breathing before you go in (inhale 4 counts, hold 7, exhale 8)

   - wear something that makes you feel powerful but still appropriate

   - create a pre-testimony ritual (mine is applying lip gloss + whispering "you got this")

   - visualize success the night before (literally picture yourself being amazing)

5. witness-specific strategies

   - stay in character even during objections

   - if you don't know an answer, it's okay to say "i don't recall" (better than making things up!)

   - listen to the FULL question before answering

   - if opposing counsel tries to put words in your mouth, politely correct them

   - remember: you're not only answering questions, you're telling a story

6. handling cross-examination gracefully

   - take a sip of water if you need time to think

   - don't argue with opposing counsel (it makes you look defensive)

   - if they cut you off, pause and say "may i finish my answer?"

   - maintain your composure even if they're trying to provoke you

   - remember that "yes" and "no" can be complete answers

7. little psychological tricks

   - wear something with a subtle confidence trigger

   - have a "power phrase" to repeat silently when nervous

   - visualize the jury as friends who are genuinely interested in what you have to say

   - practice with someone who intimidates you a little (builds resilience)

   - remember that literally everyone else is nervous too, they're just hiding it

8. day-of preparation

   - avoid caffeine if it makes you jittery

   - eat something light but sustaining

   - arrive with plenty of time to center yourself

   - bring a tiny comfort object that fits in your pocket

the jury will connect with authenticity over perfection every time!! your nervousness just means you care, and that passion will actually make you more compelling once you channel it properly.

you're going to absolutely crush this!! please let me know how it goes, i'm literally invested in your success now. sorry if this reply was a bit late.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

p.s. if you're super nervous the night before, try writing out your answers to potential questions by hand. something about the physical act of writing helps cement things in your memory better than just reading or typing!

[huellitaa]

girl's guide to academic success: ep. 2 ⊹˚. ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 this post focuses on: steps to use on the path to success! ♡ part 1 -> ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ romanticism

i think i mentioned this in my romanticism post but pinterest is ur best friend. if i know anything about it u can trust i have a pinterest board for it; thats the same for school. gather motivating pictures & and pretty images that align with ur personal goals and style and make u wanna get up and work! i also use tumblr for this too. i'll link a couple blogs i love for this later on <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ surroundings

if ur studying, make sure u actually enjoy the place you're studying in, or try to to the best of your extent. whenever i study im 9 times out of 10 always at my desk and ive decorated my desk specifically so that it motivates me to get up and do whatever i need to do + its super pretty and makes me smile every time i see it <3 decorate ur area with little trinkets and both things u love and things that motivate you, and switch it up when you can! don't stay in the same place all the time. spontaneity is fun!!!

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ personalisation

make it pleasing to look at so ur more motivated to go back and revise over them if needed, and so you have something to do as well that is still related to your work if ur someone who gets distracted easily like myself. some inspo i use for my work:

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ hydration!

make sure ur drinking lots of water !! i drink lots of water and lots of tea whenever im studying or doing any kind of schoolwork and it helps me a lot, + its just those little bits of comfort yk

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ music and concentration

i work way better with any music in the background but if you're someone who gets distracted easily i'd recommend making a specific playlist for studying and listening to non-lyrical music like lofi, video game soundtracks, classical music, instrumentals of songs u like, etc. (i'm not telling you to go against the rules of ur school but i put a headphone in in class sometimes and cover it with my hair just because i know i work way better with it and it helps me a lot bc most of the people in my classes are so freaking loud. so if ur allowed 100% go for it but i don't recommend what i do if you have a strict school)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ prioritising ur health & compromising

like i said in my other post, prioritise your health over anything else. if you didn't get a good nights sleep last night and you have a test tomorrow and need to study, then compromise; if you already know a lot about it or its not fate changing or life altering in some way or you can go over it quickly in the morning or something, go to sleep. your health is always more important in the long run and will help you to do even better in the future in every area of ur life

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 links (some of my fav studyblr girlblog posts!)

study methods: @4theitgirls

studying plans as an accounting major: @iluvprettygirls

study tips: @honeytonedhottie

academic burnout: @seulhrts

elle woods: @4theitgirls

productivity hacks: @theambitiouswoman

paris geller: @4theitgirls

i also personally recommend @zooxanthellae for one of the study blogs! she does a lot of studyblr posts under the tag #zoostudies & they're SO CUTE ♡

all my love 💗🫶🎀💬🩷

[dreamsky-sapphi]

Nanamahi brainrots

All my comments on each point below <3

Template by @ustfile (twitter)

Note: I mainly focus on Nanamahi here ⬇️

• Easily Jealous / Too Careless

Even with Nana i think Mahiru would easily still be jealous.

Not in the same way she was with Karen, but in more of a "i have a special relationship with Nana" so she can't help but feel a bit of jealousy when she sees Nana with someone else, except if it's Junna. Despite this jealousy, she wouldn't do or say anything about it, but I think Nana may guess it and find it a little amusing and tease her about it in private.

For Nana, no matter if we consider that she is still not over Junna or not, I think she would still feel possessive over Mahiru, and wouldn't hesitate to show it more than Mahiru would, things such as just approaching from behind with a bright smile like she seems to do everytime she feels threatened.

• Destroys everything to have you / Kills you to save the world

Mahiru would lean more towards sacrificing Nana for the sake of everyone. Of course she cares about Nana but she cares about everyone more, bc she knows that at this point it is almost impossible to convince Nana out of her mindset. She knows how Nana thinks so she would know what would be best in the end.

Nana probably would lean more on sacrificing everything else if she was at a point where she feels like she lost everything, but I didn't put her to the extreme bc Mahiru isn't the one in her heart, and she still cares about everyone else.

• I don't deserve any of this / I deserve to be with you

Nana thinks of herself as some kind of monster, even if she craves love like anyone else. But I don't think she'd ever think she deserves any sort of sympathy.

Mahiru just has terribly low self-esteem and would rather put others before herself in any situation.

• Would revive you if you died / Leaves you to die anyway

I'm not entirely sure for this one, I just think that above everything else, they are both too caring to just let the other die.

At least they would not let the other die without them...

• Clings onto others (especially the other) / Cold exterior

I'd say they both just like physical contact, Nana more than Mahiru.

Mahiru wasn't exactly a physical person except maybe to Karen, but I think she would like the proximity Nana would provide her, like a sense of security. Isn't it comforting to melt into a hug. Idk I just think she would like being hugged by someone taller as well.

Nana would like the contact as some kind of reminder that Mahiru won't leave her anytime soon, so more of a possessive motive.

• "This is fate, isn't it?" / "It was a coincidence, that's all"

This doesn't really reflect whether they believe in fate or not.

I wouldn't be able to tell for sure for Nana, but I think Mahiru does believe in fate, but it just never turns out the way she wished it would (first example obviously is Karen and Hikari, but also anything related to others getting the lead roles she would have loved to get).

Specifically in a Nanamahi setting, I'd say they both think this just happened to be when they needed it the most, just pure coincidence.

This wasn't meant to be but it's convenient for both of them.

• "Let's leave this place" / "I can't just leave everything for 'you'..."

Nana doesn't have much to lose anymore and would lean more on not caring about leaving everything behind to keep this relationship, bc even if it hurts both of them, the pain brings her comfort and will have trouble thinking theres any other way to feel better, at least in the present. It's easier to indulge in this temporary comfort and cut yourself from the outside to fully enjoy it.

As for Mahiru, despite her loneliness, she has too much to lose compared to Nana. Mahiru's loneliness is not the same as what Nana feels because she still has and had so many friends and a loving family who support her. She still want to achieve things and she can't just leave everything behind for this comfort which she knows is only temporary. This is where it would make more sense for someone like Claudine to bring her comfort instead, since she would push Mahiru forward more while Nana would want to stay in a constant cycle of pain.

• A bloody marriage / "I still don't feel a thing"

I'm not sure what a bloody marriage is, but I think Nana would believe there isn't any sort of "love" between them. Ofc it isn't just a random friendship (I don't think that friends just casually kiss all the time), but she would lean more on believe there is nothing worth calling "love".

As for Mahiru, she's more sensitive when it comes to romantic feelings, and might develop a little something, but definitely not a cute kind of love. More of what would be seen as emotional dependence.

Even so, she'd keep thinking to herself that it isn't love and would try to think there's nothing between them despite her growing feelings.

• Self-sacrificial / Would give you away for nothing at all

I don't think neither of these people pleasers would even care about themselves enough to sacrifice the other for nothing.

• "See you in the next life" / "This will never happen again"

They hope such a situation won't ever happen again in the future, but Mahiru would lean more on wanting to meet Nana again in another lifetime where they don't feel so sick and can have fun like they did in highschool (not that Nana doesnt want it but she might think that if they met again, things would end up the same).

• "I don't feel a thing" / "You make me feel alive"

Honestly the entire reason they're together.

When they're by themselves, it's just their thoughts and themselves. They wouldn't feel comfortable enough to open up to anyone about their feelings: they're supposedly getting better now.

I can easily think while they can act normally around others, they'd be like walking corpses once alone when their moods aren't at their best.

By finding each other, someone who can understand their ugly feelings, they can find comfort in each other's arms.

• Would go back in time to save you / Things like that are impossible

We mentionned this with Risse earlier but if Mahiru was given the ability to timeloop, she may have done it.

But my nanamahi setting is leaning towards the future where the revues are over, so when it isn't even possible anymore. Mahiru isn't aware of the timeloops.

Mahiru wouldn't even believe that is a possibility.

Nana would do it again.

• "I need anyone by my side" / "I don't need anyone anymore except you"

In a time where loneliness overtakes her mind, Mahiru would probably be fine as long as anyone could be here for her or at least make her feel needed in a way that isn't like her family needs her or her regular friends need her.

Her love and interactions with Karen have left a scar in her that doesn't heal properly and made her feel the need to find someone who can make her feel needed in a similar way again.

Nana on the other hand has given up and only wants one person by her side.

• "We're friends, right?" / "I wished we were something more"

Between Nana and Mahiru, Mahiru would probably be the one yearning for something more concrete than a weird special bond, while Nana views this more as just mutually helping out.