#old men love to talk and monologue at you

[thechildisgone]

yayy people checked out books from two of my displays so i got to replace them with dif books hehe

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

Summary: Failed talking stages inspire you to meet someone irl. Riding an older man in the backseat of his limo makes you forget about the immature boys who ghosted you on Hinge. Meet-Cute Ch. 2 Warnings: MDNI, 99.9% porn, no use of y/n, age gap, reader is 21+, fingering, riding, size difference, praise kink, pet names (doll, baby, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), unprotected p in v, light slapping, oral (male! receiving), creampie, car sex (nobody's around tho), logan's slutty glasses. wc: 3k

Hinge. The app designed to be deleted. You smiled as you pushed the cart, daydreaming about chucking your phone into the nearest lake. The few matches that you received often ghosted you after a week, afraid of committing to a real date.

So here you were, aimlessly strolling through a grocery store. Desperately begging the universe for a real man.

You spent an embarrassingly long time curating the perfect outfit to attract a guy worth your time. Casual enough for a quick errand, but still chic. I want to be with someone who admires my confidence. They shouldn't reprimand me for expressing myself.

That's how the feminist part of your brain explained your attire. The other touch-starved half, however, wanted to wear the shortest skirt you owned just to feel men stare holes through it.

You turned into the bakery aisle and pretended to evaluate the nutritional contents of a massive chocolate cake. Maybe this could be plan B, if tonight's endeavor was hopeless.

The comforting hum of fluorescent lights softened the sterile environment around you. Memories of simpler times floated in your mind. Handmade school lunches. Gentle kisses placed on your knee after a bad fall. You closed your eyes, lulled by the promises of love you were granted as a child. Now an adult, you yearned for a partner that could nurture you in a romantic way.

Logan overheard a bag of produce spill onto the floor as he picked up a shopping basket. The cashier dropped it when he saw Logan's blood-stained dress shirt.

Mumbling a string of profanity, he decided to release some steam. "Show's over!" he snapped, flippantly tossing his right arm behind him.

Ignoring the shocked gasps of the other shoppers, Logan sulked further into the store in search of something to soothe his palate.

His doctor tentatively ordered him to "lay off the booze," a suggestion that left three deep puncture wounds in the drywall of his office. Alcohol numbed the emotional and physical pain that plagued him, but it also further delayed his healing powers.

Logan's skeleton was withering away, and all he wanted was a fucking sweet treat.

Your body braced for impact as your chest made contact with a shopper haphazardly turning into the aisle. After dropping the cake onto the pristine white tile, you closed your eyes again, salvaging the moment of peace that was stolen from you.

"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole." You reluctantly opened your eyes and were met with the solid torso of a man.

Slowly raking your gaze up his body, you raised your eyebrows at the sight of his bloody shirt before meeting his narrowed eyes.

Crows feet radiating from the corners. Prescription glasses. He appeared much older than you expected from your brief contact with his chest.

You silently cursed your luck. This meet-cute plan was steadily evolving into a meet-angry situation.

"Not smart to close your eyes in public," he huffed, staring pointedly at the fallen cake. It was hard not to notice your mini skirt. He hasn't seen a skirt that short since the 60s.

Although you had pulled away from him, the man's eyes lingered on your chest. The playful baby-doll top hugged your cleavage in all the right places. Your glossy lips donned a similar shade of pink. He quickly resumed eye contact, feeling like a dirty old man for imagining them wrapped around his cock.

She's too young, you sick fuck. Logan's internal monologue worked overtime to maintain a shred of decency.

Your face turned away from him at the impending embarrassment you were about to put yourself through. Smirking, you shyly retorted, "Not smart to stare at a girl's tits in public." You gently pushed up his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose.

Closing the gap between your chests, you tip-toed to reach his ear before whispering, "It's okay . . . I want you to."

The answer to Logan's suffering was sweeter than any slice of cake he could have indulged in. A pretty little thing was actually flirting with him, a cynical ex-soldier worn by the unforgiving rings of time.

Logan's hands found the back of your elbows and slowly pulled you closer to him. You gasped as you felt his belt buckle catch on the flimsy fabric of your top.

"Careful, doll," he grunted, leaning down to meet the side of your face. "I'm old enough to be your father."

You defiantly peered up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, and . . .?"

The man slowly distanced himself from you, gently tugging the hem of your top down to its original state.

Okay, definitely not the best response to seduce an older man. You chewed the inside of your cheek, stunned by your juvenile comeback.

"I'm sorry, kid. Forget I said anything," he muttered before turning into another aisle. He mentally kicked himself for letting the interaction go that far. Although his aching body and mind yearned for some relief, he wouldn't take advantage of some young girl.

He hurriedly stomped past the cashiers, swiping a few cigars from a distracted employee's station.

After the initial shock wore off, you quickly followed the older man to the parking lot. Totally not stalker-ish at all, right?

You wanted to take care of him. His reluctance to return your lust-sick gaze should have deterred you, but it only made you more desperate.

You watched as his hands dug into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. The chipper click of the limo doors unlocking motivated you to get his attention.

"Hey! Can we talk?" You yelled, raising an outstretched palm to stop him from getting inside the car.

Logan froze at the sound of your voice. He contemplated being responsible, slamming his door and driving off without a second glance.

The gentle pressure of your hand wrapping around his wrist made him think extremely irresponsible thoughts.

Turning around to meet your gaze, the older man swiftly opened the passenger door. "Get in. Now," he growled.

Words betrayed you. All you responded with was a surprised squeak as he used your grip on his wrist to push you further into the vehicle.

His eyes widened as you briefly parted your thighs to get settled in the lush leather seat. The sinfully short hem of your skirt bunched up, revealing your underwear.

Logan whipped his head to the front of the limo, avoiding the sight of your body. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid how you felt against his. You sat at an angle towards him, knees pressing against his thigh. His body tensed as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why were you following me, huh?" he asked, finally meeting your eyes. "I've had a long fuckin' day and I need answers." He couldn't believe that a young woman like you would be interested in him.

"Yeah, you're old enough to be my father, maybe older-" you paused to move your left hand onto his thigh. "-but I'm done playing with boys." You shyly turned your head before continuing, "Need a real man."

Logan was done holding back. Now, it all made sense. Your lack of direction in the store, the low cut of your outfit that was way too sexy for a late night grocery run. We're both adults, he reasoned. She wants this.

He gingerly cradled your jaw with his large hand, turning your head towards his. "You sure about this, sweetheart?

You covered his hand with your own, bringing your lips to his in a spontaneous kiss. "I-I need to hear you," he stuttered.

"Shut up and fuck me, . . . " you sighed, pausing to ask for his name.

"Logan . . . call me Logan, doll." His left hand snaked around your waist, bunching the delicate material and exposing your breasts.

As you leaned into his palm, he fished the limo keys out of his pocket and clicked twice, locking the doors. He fondled the underside of your tits before rolling the sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You were grateful for the tinted windows that shielded your embarrassing moans from the public.

"Already whining for me, hm? So fuckin' needy," he hummed, pushing up your top even further. You crossed your arms to undress, but Logan swatted them away, explaining, "It's cute. Wanna see your tits bounce for me, baby."

He gripped your ass with both hands and effortlessly swung you onto the broad expanse of his lap.

Your back arched as his rough palm cupped your pussy, thumb languidly tracing your sensitive bud through the cotton.

"But this . . . has to go," he drawled, tugging the elastic of your panties before letting it go with a faint snap.

It was too much. You were splayed over the lap of a stranger, hips wantonly rocking yourself over his prominent bulge and mewling as your sensitive clit caught on the rough fabric of his slacks.

He stilled your movements with his hands, lovingly kneading the flesh of your hips. "You okay with this?" he asked, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. "Yeah, Logan . . . more than okay. Need you."

You loved that he was confident enough to take what he wanted but also gracious enough to check in, unlike the boys you were used to fucking around with.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your skirt and panties, skillfully pushing your legs against your chest as he pulled them off. He decided against slicing them off with his claws, not wanting to hurt you. "Fuck. You're so pretty. My sweet, sweet girl . . ." he cooed. You whined as your aching cunt was finally exposed to Logan's hungry gaze and the chill night air. He groaned as you resumed desecrating his lap with your juices.

Your breath hitched as Logan traced two fingers along your bottom lip. You granted him access, playfully darting your tongue around his digits.

After his fingers were thoroughly soaked, he used your saliva to gently trace your hole, noticing the faint flutter of your walls.

"Need me to fill you up, hm? Poor baby's clenching around nothing. Let me fix that . . ." Logan's palm brushed against your clit as his fingers plunged into you, setting a steady pace.

You were incredibly wet, but he needed to prep you for his thick cock. He drooled, collecting a heavy wad of spit onto his tongue before letting it fall onto your pussy.

"Ah-ah!" You exclaimed, surprised by the contact. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing at the lewd feeling of his spit mixing with your wetness.

He used his other hand to slap repeatedly against your puffy folds, mesmerized by how vulnerable you were being for him.

"Yeah, you like that?" He whispered, curling his fingers as they met your cervix. You covered your mouth, desperately trying to maintain some modesty. Logan withdrew his left hand to pry away your arm and swallow your moans, sloppily slotting his lips into yours.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt your cunt spasm around his fingers, gushing all over his tight slacks.

"Oh, fuck! Logan . . . " you mewled, biting his lower lip while he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

Your head fell into the inviting crook of his neck, nuzzling his graying beard. "Atta girl, come for me," he cooed.

Logan peered down at you, noticing wet droplets dampening his beard. You were silently crying, tears cascading down your puffy cheeks before landing on his face.

At first, he was alarmed. "Hey, hey, shhhh," he purred. "What's the matter, doll?"

His cock twitched when he realized you were smiling against his neck.

"Nothing's wrong, Logan . . . you make me feel so good, that's all."

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Yeah? Want me to make you feel even better? Fill you up for real this time?"

You nodded dumbly, still basking in the haze of your release.

"Nuh-uh. Words." The simple command made you rut into his lap.

You shuddered while responding. "Wanna feel you inside me. Need your-" Logan bucked up into you. "-cock."

He slid his hands under your thighs, briefly pushing you forward so he could unbuckle his belt. Your small hands slinked toward his waist. "Let me do it," you pleaded, hastily sliding his belt through its loops and tossing it to the floor.

You pulled his cock out of his slacks, leaning down to press sweet little kisses to the head. Your thighs burned with the effort, but it was worth it to feel him momentarily lose control. Logan hissed sharply, "Good girl, fuck-" before guiding his thick cock into your heavenly mouth.

You licked a prominent vein that teased its way above his waistband. The taste of him was utterly intoxicating. You moaned onto his length, choking back tears as he suddenly thrust up into your eager throat.

The delicious weight of his cock on your tongue was short-lived. He cupped your face, forcing your mouth to slide past the tip with an obscene pop.

"Won't last long if you keep doing that, doll. Takes a lot less to get me riled up these days," he explained.

You nodded as you straightened yourself, using your knees to hover above his lap. He teasingly ran the flushed tip of his cock through your folds before sinking into your weeping pussy.

"Oh my god! fuck-" you cried, lowering your hips to embrace his full length. Your hands found stability on Logan's shoulders as you bounced on his cock.

Logan stared in awe at your tits. They were practically spilling out the sides of your cute top, jiggling with each movement of your hips.

As he admired your form, you drunk in the sight of his coarse salt and pepper beard. His wiry glasses barely held onto the slope of his strong nose due to your eager movements. You paid special attention to his crimson-stained shirt, wondering how he was enduring the wounds.

"You're hurt." You stated, pausing to slowly unbutton his dress shirt.

Logan's hands grabbed a handful of your ass and slammed you down onto his lap, forcing you to continue taking his cock.

"Never said you could stop," he huffed. "It'll take time, but I'm healing."

You gasped as your clit hitched on the bunched fabric of his slacks, frantically shrugging off his shirt in the process. A devastating moan ripped from Logan's throat as you peppered kisses on his wounds. The coppery taste of his blood was oddly soothing, reminding you that the man buried in your cunt was real and not just a figment of your lust-fueled imagination.

Logan loved how dazed you looked, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, your pupils dilated and glossy. His cock twitched every time your soft tits brushed against his face. You whined as the steady rhythm of your hips faltered, hinting at your imminent release.

"Lean forward, baby. Let your old man take care of you," he sighed, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to slump forward, arching your back and playfully wiggling your ass in the air.

You yelped as he slapped your ass with enough force to feel the sting radiate from his outstretched palm. "Such a fuckin' tease," he growled, filling you up in one thrust. He set a punishing pace that made you sob into his chest. The loud squelches of your release echoed throughout the limo, mirroring your high-pitched wines.

"Oh, my god! . . ." you mewled, savoring the feeling of his cock stretching your walls. Your breath hitched every time his hips met yours, balls slapping against the sensitive skin of your ass.

He fucked up into your cunt, relishing the fact that you'd probably never had a cock as big as his. Logan stared at where you were connected, hypnotized by the subtle drag of your folds along his rugged length.

"Don't know what I did to deserve a pretty girl like you." His teeth tugged on the delicate strap of your top, exposing your breasts. His mouth enveloped the bud, gently sucking and pulling as they hardened.

"Logan . . . can't take it anymore. I'm close." You clenched around him, earning another hard slap on your ass.

"You gonna come for me sweetheart, hm?" He somehow increased his pace, hips drilling into your sensitive cunt. "C'mon, come all over my cock. Such a sweet young thing, so eager to please . . . " he hummed into your ear.

"And just so we're clear, I am definitely older than your father." His filthy words made you arch even higher, stilling your hips mid-air and allowing Logan to fuck you through your release.

The sound of you faintly chanting his name as you came sent him over the edge. "You can take it," he encouraged as your pathetic whines intermingled with his unabashed groans. His hips drove home, bouncing you harshly against his tense thighs and spilling into you with a low growl.

You almost blacked out at the feeling of his cum spurting into your walls, reaching even further when Logan buried his cock to the hilt. You clenched around him, overstimulated and thoroughly fucked.

"That's it, just relax . . . You look so pretty milking my cock," he praised, brushing stray hair away from your face.

You managed to sit upright and shakily moved to lift yourself off his cock, but Logan quickly steadied your hips. He's still hard, you realized, fascinated by his renewed vigor.

He panted, obviously just as spent as you were.

"So, uh, tomorrow, the Italian place on fifth street, 8 PM?"

You narrowed your eyes, incredibly confused at his choice of words after experiencing the best sex you've ever had.

"Our first date," he clarified. He kissed your cheek and you blushed at the contrast between the innocent action and the fact that his hard cock was still buried in your cunt. "After all, I'm a real man, right? And real men plan dates." He plastered on a cocky grin, repeating your earlier statements.

"Okay, old man. It's a date." You smiled, kissing his mouth with passion.

Ah!!! I had so much fun writing this. Old Man Logan, when will it be my turn >:[

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

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

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

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************************************

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

*******************************************

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

***************************************************

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

***************************************

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

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[wildseababe]

It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong. 

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman, but also always be looking out for other people. You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood. But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know

-Gloria’s monologue from the Barbie movie

[teambyler]

Everything after Mike's monologue shows that El has moved on from Mike

After the climactic events of season 4 including Mike's monologue, we have ZERO scenes between El and Mike talking about what happened. And we're never explicitly shown what she's thinking: we have to pick it up through clues.

Here are ALL the significant things El does afterward that give us any clue of what she thinks about their relationship.

Mike tells El to "wake up," and then El says (while looking at Max) "No... You're not going... No." The first "no" can also be a direct response to Mike. She is choosing not to go back to Mike and to help Max:

Of course, she wants to save Max's life. But her "no" becomes more significant when we see her thoughts while saving Max. She remembers her s3 friendship with Max, where she found herself happier dumping Mike and becoming independent. Max told her about ANOTHER female superhero Wonder Woman, said "Not Hopper, not Mike, YOU... There's more to life than stupid boys... Against the rules? We make our own rules":

We then time jump to 2 days later. Mike and El are sitting next to each other in the van, but they don't interact.

When they visit Max at the hospital, El puts her head on Mike's shoulder and he puts his arm around her. This is the ONLY expression of closeness we see between them after the monologue. Even here, both of El's arms hang at her sides:

But in this and later scenes we see Mike having more interactions with Will than with El. When Lucas says the doctors thought it was a "miracle" Max came back to life, Will and Mike have the same thought -- that El saved her -- but they look immediately at each other first instead of El. El, meanwhile, hadn't shared that Max almost died (and what she had done to save her) with Mike. She doesn't look at him. (Thanks to @romainlettusdinnerparty for pointing this out)

While cleaning Hopper's cabin, El tellingly closes the door after entering her old room, immediately after glancing at Mike and Will together. (There is no reason to close a door when you're cleaning a musty old house!) We find out that she has barely been talking to Mike:

Finally, the last scene. The three of them walk out onto the field side by side. Mike and Will stop at the same time. El walks forward ahead of the other two. Mike doesn't follow his girlfriend and stays by Will:

Since this is the very last scene and there's no dialogue, it's fair to say that what we're seeing visually will foreshadow events in the next season. She is walking ahead into the rotting part of the field (the Upside Down?). And she is moving away from Mike, and Mike is choosing to stay with Will. Mike and Will aren't holding hands, but they're BREATHING IN SYNC.

To drive things home, she sees the EXACT same kind of flowers that Mike picked for El and gave her at the airport, the yellow and purple flowers:

... But now they're wilted... a very on-your-nose symbol of their relationship. She holds on to the wilted flower while looking at the devastation in Hawkins. This reflects and foreshadows her personal journey:

The only other reading of these final images is that she will defend what is good -- Hawkins -- from Vecna. But the chosen symbol is too associated with Mike's bouquet. It can't be her protecting their relationship from Vecna. It has never been threatened by external threats. (In fact, facing shared danger from the "bad men," etc. brought them together.) Their relationship has corroded from within.

The absence of ANY scene between Mike and El post-monologue is startling. We get MANY scenes in the epilogue where we see how the main characters now relate to each other. El and Will hug Dustin, we see that Robin and Vickie might enter a relationship, heck we even see how Mike and Hopper regard each other. But for Mileven, where THE arc this season has been "Will Mike say he loves El?" we get no resolution!

Instead, we get implications and symbols. And everything makes clear that Mike and Will have grown closer, while Mike and El have grown more distant.

This, AFTER Mike said what El told her he needed to say for their relationship to work out! If anything, it made El MORE distant. As if El realized that isn't what she wants after all... unlike early in s4, El is now hardly relating to Mike whatsoever.

Mileven is a sinking ship. But that doesn't mean Mike and El must end up unhappy.

-teambyler

[milfism-blog]

Bar of Destiny

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem Reader

Summary: You are going through a confusing path of self identity. Will your views on life change when you meet an Italian redhead in the old sports bar? 

Warnings: Inner homophobia, comphet, alcohol consumption, mentions of hetero relationship, little angst, fluff, Smut.

Word count: 6.3k

Author`s note: I hope you'll like it, trust the process. My requests are open for your suggestions\ideas. Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy the story!

On a boring Friday evening, you found yourself in a cheap old bar where men were watching tv and talking shit about their wives. How did you end up there? Well, let's start from the beginning then… 

You heard a lot about the self identity crisis but as far as you knew it was mainly common for men in their late 40s. But you certainly were not a man and not that old. To reconsider your life choices and the most calming and thinking spot you could master became this decrepit bar. Growing up in a conservative household with a single mom and being an older sister certainly gave you a hard time. So you mustered a plan to leave this lifestyle and never get back. But some principles, morals and negative attitudes towards the lgbtq+ community stayed. But again you also knew the saying “The gayest people are the homophobes”. And to be completely honest just one little thought about being or trying something with a woman was scaring you to death. And you came here to show yourself that you are a straight woman who can be in a relationship with a man.

You accepted this challenge from yourself, but if you at least like men a little bit you probably would not call it a challenge. To ease your anxiety, you are sipping your beer carefully while sitting alone close to the bar counter. The bar is supposed to close in 3 hours and you still haven't found a good looking man. To put it mildly, all of them looked strange or not to your taste. So far no more than sharing a gaze with a bartender. He was the most normal? Out of all…?

After a while, you sensed an intense stare. And surely it was not from the bartender he had enough work to keep him busy. You looked around yourself to catch the observer but nothing. But the uneasy feeling of being watched is still present in your mind. Your lateral vision caught some movement on the other side of the bar. You tried your best not to interact or make any eye contact. Again you came there to find a guy or try to. However, even a single conversation or hint is uncomfortable, to put it mildly, now back to the incognito viewer. He revealed himself by sitting beside you. The first thing that got your attention about the mysterious man was his perfume which hit your tender senses. You never were a fan of the men's cologne… It was so strong yet you could detect notes of floral-musky fragrance. That could be sweet notes from the female perfume. The idea provided you with little comfort.

Compared to the others at this establishment, he didn't seem as scary. His hazel eyes were on you, seemingly surveying your evening attire. You did the same scanning his choice of clothes for the lonely Philly bar. Taking a close look at his face, brows turned upwards, eyes bloodshot leaving the expression of sadness perhaps sorrow. Dirty uniform and strong smell of mixed vodka with beer. Which is known for being a hell of a hangover. The red handprint on his right cheek. All this has been telling you that this man has been dumped by a woman, the strong one apparently who does not hold back. 

The man got the courage to start a conversation with you. His words were slurred a bit mixed with a rough Philadelphian accent. His voice is smoked with raspiness. You usually loved raspy voices but if they belonged to women, not to men. Once more your mind still wanders to women. Anyway, returning to the subject in question, the forced conversation, you couldn't call it a conversation, it was more of a monologue, you were answering from politeness. 

“What's a girl like you doin here? Aren't ya scared ya gonna receive unwanted attention with this dress of yours?” He questioned with little teasing in the last sentence while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Already got that.” Rolling your eyes you mumbled so he would not hear the words leveling your lips.

“Don't ya be scared I am a good guy, I`m Gar by the way.” He smiled, giving you his hand for a shake. You were thinking about turning him down but you had a task to accomplish, make sure that you would find a man.

“Nice to meet you.” You forced out.

“It's not that I'm prying but why are you here?'' You made an attempt to shift the topic from you to him. You would rather listen than talk about your business and share it with a random man. 

By asking this question you opened the whole pandora box of problems. The guy has been sharing with you like you were his therapist. However, to be fair, he started talking about his job. Most of the time people don't remember his name, only the fact that he is some “vending machine guy”. Women don't like him. You almost chuckled at that. “Gosh men are so dramatic” - you thought to yourself.  

“Ya are a woman, why don't they like me? I have the body of a young man, I work out regularly, I buy them gifts and all I'm left with is a broken heart.” He complained. Signing sadly.

“If I am a woman that doesn't mean I can answer this question. There might be a lot of factors, maybe you are just not their type. Things happen.” You don't even know why you were answering his rhetorical question. 

“Yeah but, I thought that I had found my woman, for real now, I thought that she was the one. Everything was fine, amazing even. I planned a dream proposal for her. I knew that she was a huge Eagles fan and I was going my way to make a deal with Jalen Hurts himself to play our song. He read my words that I had put on the paper for her. And you know what she did? –” 

There was a long pause. He took a big gulp of vodka. Hissing as the burning liquid traveled down his throat. 

“She said: "No "! Can you imagine, I made all this for nothing, she burned down three years of my life! She is the wrong one. I was perfect. I bought her gifts, her favorite snack from the vending machine, and asked her out to the cafes. One time I even saved MY money up so I could pay for our special cruise. And all this for nothing, for the rejection, best years spent on this bitch!” 

He was whining and complaining like a fifth year old boy who did not get his way on the toy that he wanted to buy. “Gosh respect, come on!” - You thought. You tried so hard not to laugh at his face. He is so miserable as a person by himself. A man in his late 50s calling a bitch a woman who turned him down. “Just learn to accept rejection, hadn't he had half of his life to learn it?”. When your mind was lost in thought your ears peaked at the description of his ex.

“But her beauty, ohhh, her body to die for. The tight fitting outfits were showing off all of her gorgeous body. Her eyes are emerald green, red looks of voluminous hair, make-up was done flawlessly, always put together…” He sighed in the memory of his past lover.

Yes, you kind of liked his description but the sad part was that he cared the most was her looks. He said nothing about her qualities as a human. Is she kind? Outgoing? Extrovert or introvert? Does she like to hang out in bars or is she more like a stay at home person? You were having all these questions even though you never saw her. She might be cool if she pissed him off this hard.

__________________________________________Life works as the most humorous TV show that you can only imagine. Garry the man you met at a bar a couple of months ago. Now you were dating? Or so you called it.  More like friends with benefits or relationships without any responsibilities. Well to briefly describe your dynamics as a couple. He was working, you were working, nothing cool was happening. To be fair he tried to organize some dates but they were horrible. You two would always end up at the oldest, rastest bar in the whole town. Just so he can “legally” watch football during your date. If you are completely honest you did not mind, every time he was occupied it felt like a breath of fresh air. Some free time? You were not only “dating” but also sharing a flat. First it was chipper for you to save some money and secondly he was never there. 

Why were you with him in the first place? Experiment..? Or this one of many excuses. Nonetheless, you set boundaries with him. He was too lazy to work on gaining your trust or any sort of effort in these so-called relationships. But the lack of effort simply led him to spend time with his dudes watching football and all that boring men stuff. It didn't matter if he was occupied with work or if he was having fun with women, you simply couldn't care less. 

The main point was that you chose him, and you were living with him so that equals you are attracted to him. If you are finding him attractive that matters that you are attracted to men…? Right?

Despite this miserably boring lifestyle you got yourself into. You went to the bar again. If he can “cheat” or have fun with other women. Maybe you could try to find someone better than him? It was like your tradition at this point to get to that bar to drink beer or something stronger and that usually helped you to forget about your non boyfriend? Or what should you call him? But instead of seeing men there you saw her…

The beautiful stranger was sitting near you at the poorly lit bar. You were curious how she ended up here? Was she sinking her sorrows into the poisoned liquid or was it just a hard week? Did she break up with her boyfriend? Who in their right mind would not treat her right? This time you enjoyed the company of a captivating stranger. Maybe she did not know you liked her calming aura. But she doesn't need this information or she would think you are a creep. She probably has a lot of men beneath her feet. Ready to do anything for her. 

Using your side vision desperately trying not to stare you noticed her brightly red locks. Her hair was like a halo reflecting the red in her hair. Her green eyes were shining with sadness. You started to wonder who had hurt such a beautiful flower. Her delicate fingers firmly held onto the glass with cognac the courage liquid. Index finger playing with the rim of the glass. Debating whether or not she should talk with you.

“Are ya alone here hun?” - Thick Philly accent had brushed over your sensitive ears.

Your gaze was so fixated on her beauty that you missed what she said or asked, you were not sure. It felt like a dream. Like she was not real. You thought you had too many beers to process the situation you are in. Woman simply cannot be this magnifying and most importantly real… In flesh and blood sitting near you.

“You were talking to me?” You answered nervously. Playing with the rings on your fingers. Why were you nervous?

“Yes, we’re the only one’s here.” She gestured around the bar counter. As if it is the most obvious thing in the world. But you did not care if there were people or not, she was the one that took your interest.

Yes, yes you're right sorry.” You suddenly felt so embarrassed in front of this attractive woman. 

“You don't have to be sorry about anything hun. I was wondering why ya would be in a place like this? Why would such a fragile young pretty girl be here?” She asked with curiosity and concern evident in her voice. 

Your mind stopped in its tracks when she called you “fragile”. For some reason you liked it. You were a fight girl. You did not need anyone’s protection. But the word “fragile” tenderly slipped from her lips with care made you want something more. Oh here goes this feeling again — 

“You want an honest answer?” You asked with a chuckle.

“If you’d share” She simply answered, shrugging her shoulders.

“I was gonna look for a man but so far they all are disgusting…” you shared your truth.

This answer made a redhead laugh out loud. The good, sincere happy laugh. When she was giggling her face was hit by the sunlight. Highlighting all of her smile lines and freckles. Her eyes finally lit up with joy. You felt a pleasant warm feeling in your chest. You liked that you could add more smiles to her peach colored lips. 

“I was expecting’ anything but that answer–” her laugh betrayed her.

“Ya are funny, ya know that?” Her eyes sparkled with contentment. And for some reason you wanted to make her smile and giggle more… gosh her laugh sounded like the most melodic sound you ever heard in your life. 

“Well thank you, I guess.'' You were unsure of what to say. It's more like being stuck in wonder. Her beauty was so captivating it was challenging you to stay focused on her words rather than on her looks. 

“I’m gonna buy yа a drink, we need to chat and that’s on me.” She leaned closer to you. Trying to appear dangerous so there will be no room for argument. But it had a completely opposite effect on you could smell her sweet perfume, it was making you more drunk than you actually were. Of course, you said “Yes” to this offer!

That night gave you a new friend and companion during lonely nights. You could always call her and share whatever is bothering your soul. She has a guy for every single problem. The closer you got with Melissa the more tension you got in your household with Gerry. He did not like the idea that you were spending a lot of time with another person. Woman to be specific. He did not know her name or her appearance. But when you brought up all the women he has been with while you were at home he would get defensive trying to find insults. Which you found funny, a grown man doesn't know how to talk with you. He never understands you in the first place.

It didn't matter how open you were with Melissa or how close your friendship was getting. You try to hide that private part of your life. It does not feel right. For some strange reason it felt like betrayal. Initially because she shared with you intimate details of her failed marriage and engagement. You were there with every step of her healing journey. When she was angry, sad, lost, depressed. You started to wonder if all men were like this. Clumsy and ignorant to understand what their woman really wants. Maybe dating a woman is better? 

You felt obligated to share with her but the guilt was too much to be fully sincere. Especially with every passing month, it was enough time for you to gain her trust but you were terrified to admit it out loud that you were taken and saying this to her.. would be the point of no return. So your answer to her curiosity was that your life is boring and you simply don't have a partner. Even if she questioned your honesty with her, it was none of her business. First and foremost she was a friend and not a police officer to question you.

But this particular evening in the Italian's house you felt at peace. You loved to be with her. You felt so content. You have everything you'll need, even wine. She was so sweet to share some clothes with you. To be honest you didn’t bring some of Melissa`s items right back to her until her perfume would vanish away. That’s how much you loved her scent? Her—?

If you believed in God you would have thought that the guy was tempting you today. Melissa wore a short pink pj… That was a strong start to the evening. You could not focus on a single thing. Your mind and body were on fire. Your brain was working one hundred miles per hour. It was too much. But she was acting as if nothing was going on. Of course, all this was in your head. She simply was clueless about the effect this item of clothes was having on you. If you were more engaged in gay culture you would know that what you had at that specific moment called “A gay panic…”.

Your eyes started shamelessly to roam her body in the tight pink pajamas. You could not control it. She looked so delicious. The garment showed more creamy skin than you are used to. Of a year of your friendship you TAUGHT YOURSELF NOT TO REACT at all. Be cool about her tight, sometimes revealing outfits. But this – this was way out of line of your control. Your mind was just screaming how incredibly hot she was. If you didn't know better you would assume that she was seducing you. But gosh those hips and tights. Looked so soft it seemed to you that they were begging for your attention. To touch to explore the new flesh that was open for your eyes to see. And your fatal mistake was to move your gaze up to her chest. Now you were trapped, her breasts were one of the most attractive things. First you thought you were just jealous of her size and how confidently open she was with them. But now, it all felt in place, you got it. How full, squishy and tender they really are. To add to this almost see-through top of her pjs. That was a killer. You honestly don't know how men could be so stupid to miss on this real life goddess. The soft skin and nipples peeking out. You thought you were hallucinating, the buds were calling your name “Touch me” the words were echoing in your overstimulated brain. 

Next final thing was her bare face, it was a privilege to see her without a brave mask which included her makeup. She was a little bit insecure about how she looked without it. But all you could think of was kissing her face every part of it, her nose, eyes, temple. To show your adoration not only with words but with actions. Her skin looked absolutely flawless for you. Hell her body was absolutely fire. The other day she was complaining to you that she ate too much pasta and now she has added weight. But goodness gracious all you could see was the healthy curved body of your favorite woman. You loved her butt the second thing after her breasts and face of course. Even though you were absolutely drooling over her body and sexyness. You were better than a man. At least you respected her more and loved listening to her stories. Back to the subject, her kooley as people in Philly say is a work of art. All natural and seizable. You could only dream of putting your hands there and outrageously roam, pinch, caress all sorts of things. To feel it closer to you to get a better feeling. 

Her hair was put down, all that was left of her styling was a slight wave at the ends of auburn hair. She might not like how she looked like this but god you loved to see her like this. Bare face, less clothes (obviously), and natural hair structure. It was giving you an allusion to the ability to fantasize and experience domestic life with her. Where she is just your Mel and not that tough woman you know. She might appear as a lion but in reality under all these layers of makeup, clothes and hair she is just an orange silly little cat. Who is touchy and clingy to attention and hugs. 

“Hun are ya with me??” Her raspy voice was ticketing your ears pleasantly.  

“Huh? Yes yes.” You tried to sound convincing. Miserably failing with nervousness in your voice. You were caught red handed. She knew that you saw.. more like stared at her body. 

You never could fool her. She saw right through you. The sly smirk on her lips was the evidence that you were completely awful at lying. At least to her. 

“I asked if ya are okay?? You’ve been silent for this whole time.” She said either teasing or worrying, probably both. Slightly nudging your shoulder.

“Ohhh , right I was just thinking about my home stuff you know? Domestic life.” You cringed at your bad choice of words. Stupid lie that you made up on the spot. Without even thinking about it though. You rolled your eyes at the last sentence, which was nonsense. 

When she finally got your attention for the hundredth time. You two began watching the movie which was the main plan for the sleepover. Since you were much younger you would show her some new movies or TV shows that you loved. The biggest secret that you didn't know was that all the shows that you showed to her. Became her comfort movies and series. Calming her down after a stressful day at Abbott. Even though you weren't there with her but when she opened the streaming service to dive into the made up universe and characters it felt like you were right there with her, the whole time. It appeared as if the sun was shining on her during a rainy day. You were her sun.

The movie that she picked today was no help. It was a romantic line between characters who were friends but denied feelings for each other. Kind of reminded you of your situation with Melissa. But even if you would be brave enough to admit it to yourself. You couldn't even imagine what she was thinking about you. Were you her friend? Best friend? A distraction or a good company?

Melissa patted her lap as a sign for you to get comfortable between her plushingly seducing thighs to lay of course nothing more .“What a loss” You considered, but once again you were getting closer and closer with every passing hour. When you back touched her front it was challenging for Melissa to hold down a whimper that was willing to escape her mouth. The warmth of her body was too much, sending all kinds of sensations down to your core. Suddenly you are a hot, nervous mess but in the second she looks at you and pecks your temple you are a putty puddle in her hands. You don't care at this point. You wanted her to decide what will come next. You were just too insecure to make a move on a smoking hot redhead. Sure, she was intimidating but also she had her boundaries that you were too scared to overstep. Because you knew that one little childish mistake will lead you to lose the only person you care about in this town. 

The movie was progressing and a lot of things were happening but you were not focused at all. You tried to steal some glances at relaxed cute and real Melissa Schemmenti. It was such a rare sight for your eyes, but again boundaries. You were unaware how much she thought it was adorable. Oh, how you tried to respect her but also like a cutely clumsy school girl looking at her crush. You were admiring her beauty. Memorizing every small detail of her beautiful features. 

For some reason you skipped the moment in the annotation to the film which was describing the possible sex scenes. And that is certainly something that you would not like to watch together. Firstly it is hella awkward. Secondly you would be left with an uncomfortably wet spot in your panties specilly with Melissa by your side. But here you were with the main characters finally confessing their feelings and passionately kissing. “What dumbasses” you thought. To have all these feelings and not share them with the person you find attractive. (That was currently your situation that you were so stubbornly ignoring).

One blink of your eye and the older woman is pressing you down on her coach. Mumbling something under her breath. Her hands were passionately roaming your already overstimulated body. Her long sharp freshly manicured nails draw shapes over the fabric above your hips. These actions elicit a moan from your rosey lips. She fakely paunted at your moan playing innocence herself. Her sly smile and shiny with lust eyes were telling you another story. There was fire behind the emerald forest of greens in her eyes. She was more than ready to overstep, even ruin those stupid boundaries. Redhead was so tired of looking at the lips she could not kiss. It was a pure torture to the unpatient woman. But you were more worked up than she was. Which led you to yank her fiery locks of hair to make her meet your lips finally. You were so tired of this game for being a year long. Your lips were desperate to taste hers. Sloppy movements of tender flesh against each other. Smearing her cherry red lipstick all over your faces. Slightly biting on her sensitive bottom lip pulling it. The curiosity and excitement is rising in your body, making you buzz. 

But Melissa wasn't planning on holding back. She liked the way you tried to take the lead, but she will teach you manners later by edging you. While she was in thoughts the animalistic instincts took over you and the fact that she was sitting on top of you was just adding fuel to the flame. Her breasts are free from her usually tight bra, all free for you to see. Your hands were faster than you thoughts, you ripped the poor flap of her night t-shirt. And her breasts fall right to your face. Too blissed out to care, your palms squashed the desired flesh of her silky breasts. Nails teasing the very sensitive areolas making her chocolaty nipples stand in anticipation. Silently begging for any sort of attention.  

“Yesss… ah– like dis.” she whimpered out. Her eyes are rolling in pleasure.

Her accent is getting thicker with a mix of arousal and desire. Her raspy voice is like a natural aphrodisiac for you, making you more eager to please. Pushing stubborn redhead on shoulder blades, taking her by surprise, making Mel open her mouth and sneaking your tongue into her warm welcoming lips. She tasted so sweet her perfume was intoxicating your senses, making you addicted to a mix of musky and flowery scent. Her whines were getting louder with passing kisses. Suking on her tongue, your strong hands traveling over her tiny waist. Willing to see all of her you asked permission to tore down the seducingly tight pajama shorts she gave you an assuring nod. 

“No, no, I need your words.” Shaking your head in disapproval. Eyes shining with want.

You whispered in her ear, slightly biting the earlobe. Sending shivers all over her neck and making small hairs on her nape to stand up. You absolutely enjoyed the effect your actions and words were having on her body and state in general. Where is the lion everyone was so afraid of? Right now she appears incredibly lustful. Completely lost in the fog of want, desire, sexual longing. 

“Yes, yes please huunnn” She cried out. Bucking her exquisite hips to ease the job for you.

Ripping down the last garment of clothes seemed like a gift. She was your present to unpack and find the most sensitive buttons to tease and push. Carefully rather agonizingly slowly taking off the light pink, cotton shorts slowly revealing the glistening pussy. It was a view to see. Sexually frustrated Schimmenti trying so hard to suppress her frantic cries. But the ruined garment was the shameful evidence of her desire. You were admiring her long legs and lustrous hips. Now on full display only for your eyes to see. Her thighs seemed immensely empty, lacking any potential markings. Getting under your desire you felt like a predator eating its prey. You carefully started to explore the exposed flesh to your eyes, so hungry for more. Leaving slight love marks here and there initially provoking a sweet melody from the object of your admiration. Finally squeeze her deliciously seducing butt. Electrifying a nasty groan. 

Mel had a naughty idea to catch you off guard. Abruptly grabbing your hands makes your gaze meet. Her pupils were delayed, absolutely fogged out. You looked at her questingly, but she had her own plan, the lion was back and now you were the cat. Pressing tightly her body against your sweat mixing. She boldly licked your earlobe, slightly pulling on it. 

“Look who`s gon` all shy right now, let me be the boss.” She made accent on the last word clearly showing you your place. 

Just the slight dominance from her was sending you to another orbit of fantasy and possible pleasure. Her boobs were again in your face but instead of focusing on pleasuring the Italian beauty you felt how she was tearing your clothes off. Slowly, teasingly to make you taste the same treatment you made for her. She could smell your fluids in the air as she got closer. Sultry sweet, sweat, skin, wine. All in one, that's how she likes you and to add the cherry on top, you were completely at her mercy. Looking at your chest rising up and down, your heart is jumping straight out of your rib cage. To ease the beating she left the hickey right above your heart, leaving a purple and pink mark from the smeared lipstick. Your breasts were tantalizing her. Aroused nipples screaming for any sort of relief from the teasing partner. She took the hint and licked the stripe over the right nipple, her hand playing slowly with the left one. You are crying out at the wet sensation. Melissa`s hands continue shamelessly to crumpling your sensitive tits. Licking, sucking, blowing at the wet aroused skin. Making you surrender completely.

The redhead smiles at your relaxed face but now it is time to give you two a sweet well deserved release. She's been fantasizing about it, how you will come, how she will pleasure you, what faces you would make and how you would sound. Would she use her mouth on you or her sharp fingernails? Or maybe you would enjoy a bit of pain and pleasure together?  Would you scream, cry, fight? She often was getting off on these fantasies. Now she was getting desperate and her inner monologue was turning her on even more. (If it was even physically possible).

But the idea of cumming together and feeling each other's bodies was the one for tonight. So full of delight Melissa has stopped her assault on your reddened breasts. She had a look of concern and excitement written on her face.

“Baby are ya willin` to try somethin`out with me? Do you trust me enough?”

She asked in a gentle voice. Mel broke her dominant attire for this minute, she needed you to understand her intentions were nothing but good. 

“Yes fully. I am all yours.” You whined out in a weakened voice.

Your mind was clouded with all sorts of feelings. Love, arousal, overstimulation? Everything at once. But the concern in her voice and love in her gaze was warming your heart. Even if she wanted to destroy you, you would say “yes” in a heartbeat. 

She carefully parted your legs with warm hands of hers sending shivers to your sentave thighs. The sight of your glossy cunt was making her mouth salivating, just one thought about the exquisite taste was making her hips buck unconsciously. The action made you slip a tiny moan. Melissa put her legs over your hips making your cunts millimeters apart. Heavy breathings, chest rising in anticipation of the pleasure you two gonna share together. You broke the teasing it was too much at this point it felt like hours of torture. (You liked little bit of torture, but now its not about it, now is about connection). 

You palmed her hips, focusing the main attention on her kooley. Slightly pressing your pussies together, clits throbbing against each other. You both moaned at the pleasant contact. The wetness pressed to wetness. You could sense the surprised look from Melissa, she never thought she'd be this wet, and certainly that she could make you this wet. As Schemmenti is, she took the lead. Plush hips riding yours, sending electricity through both of you. Soaked clits touching, making you whine both shuddering at the aching feeling.

“Agh– like this please Mel.” You begged. 

If only you knew the effect begging had on Melissa. She liked every single sounds you made together whether it's a moan or watery sounds from your cunts. You cupped her rosy cheeks, making Italiano look you right in the eyes. The light banging of hips and the wet sounds filled the room. It felt like it was only you two in that room. Just you, just your feelings, pleasure. The heated kisses shared in the tender moment. Tugging at fiery red hair just added to the general bliss. Her soft skin, full puffy lips from all shared kisses between the steamy sessions, dark green eyes completely blown by lust. Melissa swirled her hips again making your clits in contact bringing the sweet pleasure from wonderful frequstion. It almost made you see stars. You were close and so was she. Breasts closely pressed together, nipples brushing, cunts closer than ever.   

“Mel baby I`m closeee.” You cried out, with tears in your eyes.

“Don't come yet, hun I want us to do it together.” Melissa breathed out with drops of sweat running down her face. 

You eagerly nodded, you didn't want to disappoint your lover. Bodies knit together, sweat, skin, smell of sex, and perfume overflowing the room. Melissa`s movements became increasingly stiff and steady making it her mission to make you cum. Putting all her body weight on your pelvis, humping her hips on your clit providing each step closer to the finish. She had her concentrated face which looked hot as hell. At this point anything could make you blow up with pleasure, but as a good girl you waited for your lover. Fiery Italian was getting closer and closer. Her first instinct was to press your head tightly to her deliciously full breasts.

“Yeah I'm almost there, suck on my nipple, hun please! I'm almost there!” She cried out while moving her thighs faster.

Melisa`s fist was in your soft locks pushing you impossibly close to her sensitive breasts. Sucking, nibbling, licking it later to smooth the reddened flesh. To provide the redhead release faster you bucked in the unison. Clits caressing against each other, hips riding the last straw to send you both into pure bliss. On the pick of your best orgasm you said:

“I LOVEE YOUU MEL aghhh!!” 

“LOVE YOUU HUN ughh!!” 

No awkwardness, just all the feelings that were bubbled inside were finally sent free by the sex, no it was lovemaking. Two souls tied together by love. Finally the ability to share and be honest with yourself ended up in a warm embrace with Melissa. She looked incredibly charming, her face a little red, sweat on her forehead but the smile and eye she was giving you. That was worth all the self doubt, battle and toxic thoughts of fixing yourself. You knew for sure you would never find another person who would fit your soul like Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmeni can. 

__________________________________________

And what about Garry? You got the message from him during the night you were too busy to respond. Simply he wanted to know where you were “Where the fuck are you?” But why would it matter if you are laying in the arms of the most beautiful woman you ever saw. You were done with him. He was fucking around and still expected of you to be faithful? Delusional. 

Thanks to Melissa and a lot of self analysis you get to the conclusion that men are probably not for you. No, they were surely not for you. You were lying to yourself for so long and now you were free. You just needed to find the right person and Melissa certainly was the one for you and you were the one for her. She just happened to be a woman and there is nothing wrong with it. There are more benefits than disadvantages.

Happy end! 

The moral of the story is gays, love women and only women. Girls don’t want men, they want Melissa Schemmenti.

tags: @janeyseymour @springwitch26 @pinkthrone445 @melagnes @iamnotoriginalphil @spoilmesweetieforficssake @realwitchieshit @fadingdaggerr @schemmentisbranzino @milfandh0ney @aspirationalpeony @agnessharknes @mandy-asimp @milfjuulpod @cosmichahn @schemmentigfs @daddy-heather-dunbar @spooky-holtz @the-bad-batch @beshbarmak1

[petew21-blog]

Dream of McDreamy

George O'Malley couldn't stand it anymore. Meredith was into Derek, but he was playing with her. Always on, off, on, off. Why would she choose a guy who treated her like that?

Derek used to date Meredith in Seattle Grace Hospital. But that was all crushed when his wife, he claimed that he was divorced to, came to town to get her husband back. The wife, Addison Montgomery, a brilliant surgeon, wasn't thrilled to watch Meredtih every day, but she was willing to do anything to get her husband back. The husband that was still in love with Meredtih, but his connection to Addison couldn't be severed so easily.

George was always the one on the side. He liked Meredtih a lot, but she would never notice him like Derek. Derek was McDreamy for her. Geroge was... well George.

He wasn't ugly or anything, but he couldn't compare himself to Derek Sheperd. The hair, the face, the smile. And especially those skills and knowledge. He was a god for so many people here.

George knew why Meredith like him so much. He envied him his good looks. It made it so much easier for him to get the lady he wanted. But he doesn't deserve her. Meredith deserves to be treated with respect and love.

George planned it. Either he was gonna die trying or it would work. He connected electrodes and sensors to gis head. And the EEG machine. He timed it so that Derek would be coming around the corner just in time to see his alterations to the machine. And just as George thought, Derek did what he wanted him to. He touched the button to turn off the power, because the machine on George's head cracked and sent many electric impulses into his brain. Derek tried to turn it off, but he felt a spark and then BOOM

Derek flew to the next wall where he crashed. The emploees rushed in to help him and George. They had had to revive George for many minutes and eventually succeeded. But it took them too much time. Certain parts of the brain weren't oxygenated and died out, leaving him in a coma.

As Derek woke up. He was a bit confused. Looking around, trying to find someone. They had to hospitalize him as a normal patient and therefore, Derek was on the hospital bed, waiting to be checked and released.

Looking back at himself in the mirror reflection, Derek, or to be specific, George in Derek's body felt proud that his alterations worked.

He was playing with his hair, non stop. How come that this guy is in his 40s and has a head full of hair

Addison came by to check if he was truly ok.

The new Derek looked up at her:"Addison we are done. Please, do not call me, do not beg me. I am in love with Meredith and this is my final desicion. Goodbye"

Addison was so surprised by all this that she couldn't even react to the monologue Derek just spat at her. But she was done too. No more chasing men, who don't want her, no. She was the star of her own life. And left.

George got up and went straight to the bathroom. He looked at his poker face reflecting in the mirror. "It's gonna be weird, getting used to seeing your face every day, Derek. But it's something I can do for Meredith"

He untied the hospital gown he had on. He examined his new body. It was much better than his old one. It seemed that Derek really took care of himself

George looked down and smile. "Not bad, Derek." I knew Meredith had a good taste.

George grabbed his dick and smiled at himself in the mirror again

Meredith:'You talk to yourself in the mirror?"

George turned around, not covering his dick. "Meredith! Yeah... from time to time"

Meredith was a bit caught off guard by the nakedness, but Geroge stepped closer to her

George:"I made a choice Meredith. I pick you. I choose you. I love you."

Meredith:"You know you don't have to run away after we had sex"

George in Derek:"Yeah, right. Sorry, force of habit"

Meredith:"Hmm, right. Wanna join me in the shower?"

George:"Why din't you say that before?"

They laughed as Derek threw off his clothes and chased Meredith naked all the way up to the bathroom.

In the hospital

Meredith:"So this was all I wanted to show you. I was thinking that it could help some patients like George to fully recover. Or at least partially."

George:"Meredith, George is probably not waking up. The chances are really low."

Meredith:"But there are some studies who tried this method too and it worked."

George:"You know what? Let's just enjoy the day tonight. We got a big event to celebrate"

Meredith:"Yeah? Which one?"

George:"The two of us finally being together"

George was happier than he would ever be. He had his crush pressed against him, while his new dick was getting hard. He was now kissing his crush after so many years.

As they were making out in front of all the scans, George thought about tomorrow. How they would have to study all those cases. And how he would have to disconnect his old body to make sure he would stay with Meredith forever

An anonymous request from inbox:

Ooooh, Ive always though it might be fun to have George O’Malley swap bodies with Derek Shepherd? Maybe using it finally be with Meredith? And just being jealous of his good looks.

[piracytheorist]

Episode 32 notes!

Starting off right in the middle of action, right where we left off!

And some great animation there, too!

The thing about Anya is that her plans are so innocently silly that thanks to her young age, they actually work.

She's right there in front of Yor, acting like she doesn't recognize her, and Yor accepts that because a) it's easy and b) well Anya is a little kid, isn't she?

The fact that Anya is visibly sweating and has a very nervous expression shows that she's worried her plan won't work, and the entire family could come apart right there. She knows it's a risky plan... but because of the circumstances, it works perfectly not only to cover Yor but also to cover Anya's knowledge of Yor's secret.

I love her.

Also, a great way to take the fear of exposure away from Yor and help her focus on the fight! Worth waiting the entire week for!

I also love how excited the entire crowd was about seeing two people "play" with what seems to be lethal weapons. They'd do numbers as WWE fans.

The camera focuses on Yor as she's starting to question herself.

Yes you are! You're hesitating to get close because you fear you'll get hurt and you know that will make Anya and Loid sad! (And of course because you'll have no excuse to tell them but okay yeah)

Anyway. I just like how in comparison to the manga, we see her expression there during her inner monologue.

Yor comments about how professional the guy is with the chain, but then she has no problem using the chain's momentum to wrap it around his wrist and then his torso. Some excellent animation there showing the small details of her control of the chain!

~YOU'VE BEEN HIT BY-

YOU'VE BEEN STRUCK BY-

THE THOOOORN PRIIINCEEEEEEEESS~

She even used his immobilized body to make him bow. She's an absolute legend.

I've talked before that this isn't even a five-year-old roleplaying. She's actually getting involved with actual enemies of the state, helping their plans without them knowing, and having a blast. Her moral compass may be a little unhinged but by god is it steadfast XD

And then. The Grand RevealTM

WHITE ASS LEGS

I love him your honour. How did he even combine all that, I don't wanna know. The rainbow-tinted glasses is what ended me.

Anya Forger, professional heart-breaker.

Again. Talking with a guy who believes humans will never understand each other and who wants to wage another war, while Twilight has his own war trauma? No big deal. Anya calling him uncool? THE SHOCK AND DESPAIR OF HIS LIFE.

And off to the next chapter! Great transition in the anime - I can usually notice when they jump onto the next chapter, but this time I was surprised with how smoothly they took it from one to the next.

Turtleneck guy says he can't pick up Yor's scent? Even though he seems to have extraordinary smelling abilities?

Is that another reason why Yor is so good at sneaking up on people? She did sneak up on Twilight, after all...

"The bones" mentioned above... is that Loid talking about the skeleton keychain? There was, after all, a hidden bug in the store Loid and Anya were in...

Some things never change.

I can't wait for the moment he realizes how soundly she sleeps on his arms because she trusts him and he makes her feel safe, just like his mother did for him :)

Zeb! I finally get the name of the guy! I won't lie that calling him Furseal felt so weird, like, apologies if your name is Furseal but hey.

Anyway. His outburst felt so real. This man doesn't belong in crime.

And of course, Olka is way too desensitized to such violence, having grown up in the family, after all, and I kinda like how she goes like "Yo snap out of it". Endo really doesn't hold back from having women tell men off huh. I also love the baby talk she used with Gram. So cute.

This scene has the very same music used in the first episode where Twilight has his flashback and remembers what his reason to become a spy was. I feel kinda sad hearing it here because I'd thought that this melody would be used as [redacted]'s leitmotif, but its meaning seems to be connected with how people broken by war can find the hope in humanity needed for peace. Or something.

McMahon berates Yor for going near the door earlier even though she didn't hear their secret knock, but in reality it wouldn't matter - unless the assassin heard their voices from outside the door - because the assassin shot anyway. It would have been the same if she had protected Olka from the first moment and then tried to assess how to attack the guy. So maybe calm down, dude.

The moment Zeb was like "How are we supposed to sleep like that?" I was certain we'd see him sleeping and snoring deeply. I was not disappointed XD

Me when proper trigger discipline: 🥳💯👀🥳👌💯👀👌👌👀🎊👌🎊💯

First, good ol' focus on the ring on McMahon's finger. Second, I'm confused by the translation here in comparison to the manga. Here it says "as long as people continue to be people" while the manga says "as long as people are the way they are", and that can have a different meaning. The former sounds like conflict is in the nature of humans and that it's something we can never avoid, which doesn't seem to follow the story's ideal. It's what Donovan Desmond beliefs are based on, after all. The latter sounds like people are currently very focused on matters that cause conflict, and have a chance of reaching peace if taught differently.

I think, depending on the interpretation, it can tell a lot about McMahon's character. I will wait to see the rest of the arc to make up my mind.

And after he says that they're soldiers even in time of peace, the manga treats us to a panel of a pensive Yor, but the anime doesn't.

Stop robbing us, anime team!

Yor tells the others they should keep their shoes on - nice detail, btw - and Olka looks very familiar with such a concept, while it's Zeb who is a little surprised but accepts it. It's interesting what a character not reacting to something can tell about them!

As expected, Yor and Olka are vigilant, while Gram and Zeb sleep like babies. Let them rest XD

Some brand new music there! There's a lot of new music in general. And then THIS!

THIS IS THE FUTURE LIBERALS WANT ETC

The way Yor widens her eyes when she realizes what she just imagined! AAAAAAAAAHHHH!

And BOY we talk a lot about Loid's denial but the way Yor is still going like "No, no, no, priorities!" though. THE WAY SHE THINKS OF YURI BEING PROUD OF HER, THEN BEING AN INDEPENDENT MAN SHE MANAGED TO RAISE WITH A FEW ISSUES, AND THEN THE HAPPY FACES OF LOID AND ANYA EATING HER FOOD I WILL GO FERAL

Someone hug her omg she deserves the world 😭😭

Neither Twilight nor Yor are the only people neck-deep in denial though.

"The man decided to live for his job" yeah right. He sees one (1) pretty woman pay him some attention because of Bond and he's like "Well imma adopt a dog then". Bond's doubtful and rejecting reaction was priceless XD

This is so fucking funny to me for some reason aadshadfhsdgh. Look at him. Brought into despair by one (1) five-year-old.

I kinda love how he admits that he does fear the unknown, and has been simply trained to overcome it and try to deal with what he has in front of him.

And currently, his fear is for Anya's emotional state.

Having no idea that she's actually having the time of her life, even though she hasn't realized how deeply dangerous her situation is.

Anyway, I love that she brought Mr. Chimera with her on the trip <3

LOID HAVING HIS VERY OWN OH MAH GAH MOMENT I LAUGHED SO HARD

He is very seriously focusing on how he can make Anya happy. He thinks she asked to go for mini golf because she likes it, so he followed along, he saw her upset with how she lost, and believed she needed to experience winning in order to feel fulfilled, so he was determined to stay there until she won.

Anya takes him to the library and of course he's read everything. And even if he hadn't, he has photographic memory and can practically read through an entire tome in minutes.

But still, he's focused on her happiness, and he's satisfied that Anya is having fun reading comics. She goes for the puzzle (btw I love the idea of having a big puzzle available and leaving it to passersby to solve it. I once visited a school where they had one on a table in the halls and students would sit and try and solve it during recesses) and he analyzes it, thinks he can solve it quickly. Anya reacts in shock, and we hear a tiny hesitant "Oh" from him, because he noticed her sudden change in reaction.

Oh no. Twilight is rubbing off on her a little too much. You're five, darling. Enjoying yourself is your job!!

Just like with the bullet in butt date, Loid cannot understand why Anya looks so angry now after having spent an entire day having fun - and he cataloguing what she seems to be having fun with.

The way that he ends his internal monologue with his fear of the Forgers breaking apart and Operation Strix doesn't cross his mind once, tells a lot about how his priorities are starting to change enough to even silence his "For the Mission" talk. My mans falling hard.

Anya sees how worried Loid has gotten... and maybe she reads even deeper and realizes how genuine of a worry it is? That he's not worried for her as an asset of Operation Strix, but as a kid that deserves to have fun and be happy. And she steps up to reassure him.

And oh, how his face changes! T_T

And the way he alternates between "Loid voice" when he speaks and "Twilight voice" when he thinks. Have I congratulated Takuya Eguchi for this feat yet?

And by the way, he "justifies" Anya being so upset of missing her mama because she's still a "small child". Because of course only small children can miss their mothers, right? Twilight definitely doesn't miss his, right?

Forget neck-deep denial, this man is deep down the Mariana Trench of denial.

And the "Small Daily Life" track from the soundtrack plays, with the beautiful family leitmotif...

I love them. He can be so sweet with Anya, I can only imagine how he'll end up post-identity reveals and especially post-feelings realization.

The final few hours before Olka, Gram and Zeb get safely transferred! I think you can see the tension on their entire faces.

Also some intense, new soundtrack there! Interesting! The composers have done a lot of job this season, carefully mixing up tracks from the previous season with new ones to create the respective mood.

And that's it for this week! I foresee way more action on the next episode! :D

[lunchboxpoems]

you up?

you think food would taste different

if you ate it underwater? how long you

think magic hour lasts for on neptune?

what do you think cellulite would look

like on fish? can you believe olives are

a fruit? you ever notice that OM is, okay,

yes, the sound of the universe, but also

the sound literally every little kid makes

when speaking into a fan?

you up? you ever think about how

english maybe isn’t our first language?

the way I’m sitting right now is my

first language. the way I bring my

hand to your jawline is my first language. the

way I become movement inside

your hands is my first language.

you up? did your mom ever make you

talk to shit? my mom imbued life into

every corner and crumb of my small

world, and now as an adult woman

my heart breaks every time I find

an empty snail shell, or for the worms

on rainy mornings who aren’t going

to have enough time to make it to

the other side of the driveway.

you up? you ever feel like when you

fall in love it’s just this feeling of

having known someone before,

but also of wanting to find out

how much time you can kill

counting the pockets and handles

you can make together with your

bodies? there’s the age-old that goes

love is forgetting about death but

when I’m with you I also

forget about the internet.

you up? how do you arrange your

apps, by the way? what’s your

favorite shade of blue? sometimes

when men talk about themselves I

like to imagine I’m transcribing their

monologues in my head and I like

to picture how many page breaks

I have to make. I file them into a mental

folder called brief interviews with hideous

men. but with you I would take the things

you say and I would stick them inside a

leaf book. did I ever tell you about the time

a dude asked me to be his scribe for him?

you up? why are people who love

each other still sending each other

heart emojis when there’s the shooting

star emoji? the sunset on the horizon emoji?

I want to trace an excel sheet over your

body and share it with you on google

drive. I want to do with you what

night does to the smell of the

ground by morning.

RACHELLE TOARMINO

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Best QL of 2023: Favorite Lines

Okay so I am slightly over my one year mark in the BL Fandom, and have watched over the past like...12-14 months a little under 100 shows, so I am forcing myself to stick to the shows that aired in 2023 or else I would never be able to finish this. But I saw @abstractelysium do this so I had to climb aboard:

Top Five Lines that Lived Rent-Free In My Brain This Year:

"Have you been well? Without me?" - Shin Ki Tae, Our Dating Sim, Ep 4

Y'ALL THIS FUCKING LINE. KNIFE. CHEST. EVERY TIME! This line sits on the same level of absolute and total emotional devastation for me as the "I just want things to be nice for him" link in Big Eden.

"Are you tired, Uncle Jim?" - Li Ming, Moonlight Chicken, Ep 8

Jim and Li Ming's relationship just makes me absolutely so fucking emotional. I love them individually, I love them together, and I love how much Jim does for his community. But no one ever asks him this. And it is so striking to me that Li Ming is finally the one to demonstrate how much he understands and appreciates everything Jim does not only for him but for the entire community when he ass him that question.

"My family is old fashioned. I kept everything in my heart and didn't want to tell anyone until I was 15. My family went to Europe with Wa's family. We saw two women kissing on the street. I saw her and wanted to talk to her. I want to know how she did it. I want to release it like them. But Wa's mother and I...You can probably imagine. A pair of old-fashioned women who think same-sex love is wrong...That's when I realized I wasn't the only one feeling terrible. When we got back that night she broke down and cried. No one knew why. I asked her if it was about the afternoon incident. She asked me if a kiss between two women was wrong. I said no. It's just like two men kissing. It's not wrong. On that night a 15 year old boy and a 13 year old girl held each other and cried." -Sailom, Wedding Plan, Ep. 6

Okay this isn't a line, it's a monologue but holy fucking shit this was such a beautiful speech, and I will quote @bengiyo here and say "I CAN'T BELIEVE PEOPLE HATED THIS MAN." He has spent so much of his life in the closet protecting not only himself but especially Yiwa. Sailom was going to go through with the wedding just to ensure that Yiwa and Marine could be together without anyone prying.

"This is as tender as I can be. Someone like me." -Mhok, Last Twilight, Ep. 4

Honestly you could replace the first sentence with whatever you want, the part that sticks in my brain the most is "someone like me" because I know that Mhok must have heard shit like that his entire life, and Day is here saying it in a way that I don't think Mhok takes as an actual insult or passing of judgement. I like that the line is used whenever Mhok does show who he truly is and how much tenderness or warmth he is actually capable of in a subversion of the expectations placed upon him.

"But you know, I already knew your preferences so well. When I go shopping with Kakei-san, he talks about you all the time...He says it with a smile" -Kayoko, What Did You Eat Yesterday?, Season 2 Episode 11

THE WEEP I WEPT WHEN KAYOKO TOLD KENJI HOW MUCH SHIRO TALKS ABOUT HIM. This entire second season of WDYEY Shiro has just continuously shown so much beautiful beautiful growth and my heart twists with pride every single time I see him looking more relaxed and smiley. WDYEY is the most perfect show to ever exist.

[meekoftheweek]

**SPOILER WARNING FOR "SLAY THE PRINCESS"**

I know I said in my post from earlier that I didn't want to put anything out there that might be spoilers but I'm going more in depth because I can't just let these thoughts go away

the thing that resonated with me about this game and its characters and themes was the portrayal of gender roles and the way that they manifest in heterosexual relationships

now, I know that seems like weird connection to make and a bit out of left field but let me explain

we can start with a quick summary

you play as "The Long Quiet", who is told by his inner consciousness to seek out a princess, who we eventually discover is "The Shifting Mound"

Now, we have a man being told his only purpose has to come through a woman by his inner conscience, a predisposed expectation thrust upon our main character. Even worse, when attempting to leave this incredibly confined chain of events, the world collapses, unable to function without this key part of his destiny.

If we look at just the names of our two main characters, we can see that they fit nicely into the old fashioned problematic gender roles of men and women in a heterosexual relationship.

"The Long Quiet" never speaks a word throughout the game, his only form of communication is text based or inner monologue and although this may just be a tactic by the developers to make him more relatable to a wider audience I have trouble seeing this as non deliberate.

Although great progress has been made, men still struggle with talking openly and honestly about their feelings, dealing with the inner conflict of trying to tough things out and deal with their problems on their own and with their own experiences and wisdom instead of speaking up and asking for help. This is why the voices are such an important part of the story, they each represent a branch of possible advice for Quiet, a different perspective - commenting on what should happen next.

It is only through the use of the mirror that these inner voices dissapate, leaving us room to think about ourselves and the decisions we have made free of expectation and worry. It shows our true self and the consequences of our action, no good or bad biases.

Next, we get to "The Shifting Mound" dummed down and objectified as simply "The Princess" - already indicitve of the themes of pre assigned gender roles and ideas. We, as Quiet, in our very first run are encouraged to make a choice - kill or save the princess. It is through following the path of blind devotion and saving her without a second thought that we arrive at the path of The Smitten, a new voice that emerges within us that wants nothing more than to blindly love the princess for all of eternity. This kind of unhealthy attachment is directly addressed by the other voices and when we interact with the princess, she is shown to both physically and mentally simplify before our very eyes. In the mind of The Smitten, the princess is nothing more than a cardboard cutout, a vaugely womanly shaped being without an ounce of depth or meaning, and this is exactly what she becomes, through the conversation with her, she slowly begins to lose all of her meaning, loudly proclaiming after every question you ask that all she wants to do is make you happy - this eventually reaches a breaking point in which this is all she can say. becoming truly emotionless and void of any possible sign of humanity in order to fill our selfish idea of love.

this ties into her name and her role in the game - she's labelled as "The Shifting Mound" and depending on our choices - In another word "us", she will change her form and personailty in order to fit our expectations. This ties into the problematic old fashioned expectations of women to change themselves to fit the wants and needs of men, which cruelly removes them of the ability to genuinely express and be themselves. It is only through repeatedly exploring the different versions and facets of the princess that we eventually learn to truly love her, all of these parts must be accepted - the key to a healthy relationship being a mutual acceptance and understanding of both people involved - free of the societal expectations that bind the way we think and percieve one another.

this is why this game resonated so much with me. these beautiful themes of being more than your label and breaking free from the monotonous loop of holding yourself back in the case of Quiet or changing yourself in the case of Mound for the sake of your significant other I feel is a really important and valuable message, no mattter who you are.

anyway rant aside go play this game it's really good!

[too-antigonish]

Lovely sad men being romantic...

This started out as a post about Win for Thursday Thursday--but I got sidetracked by this absolutely perfect scene between Thursday and Bright from Degüello.

Both men are on the verge of losing their wives. They can't quite bring themselves *talk* to each other about it. They can, however--while hiding in the dim light of the basement and standing in front of the vending machine for cover--work up the courage to perform side-by-side monologues:

Bright: The first time I saw her, she was 19. I was...not much more. The governor’s house. Garden party. Thursday: Me and Win, it was the Palais. Bright: Father was something in the Colonial Service. Thursday: Win’s old man worked the docks. Limehouse Basin. Thought I might not be too welcome, being a young copper, but he was a straight guy...

Bright: Sky was pink and pearl, band playing... Thursday: Geraldo, I think it was for us... Bright: The crowd parted for the briefest moment, and... Thursday: ...there she was, pretty as a picture.

Bright: Surrounded by all these dashing types, desperate to light her cigarette. Next thing I’d crossed the lawn. I was standing beside her. “Have you come to save me?” She said. “Yes,” I said, “I rather think I have.” And now I can’t.

The writing is beautiful and the actors' performances are so nuanced and agile--a perfect two-hander.

If you want to check it out it's in S6E6: Degüello starting at 52m46s in the Amz streaming version.

[elijasz]

Malevolent Part 43 "The Witch" thoughts

Notes made as I listen to the episode.

Oh hearing John say "I am the king in yellow"!

Not a fragment of the king in yellow. Just the king in yellow.

Giggling and kicking my feet right now. I know John thinks it suits his agenda right now to say "who he truely is" but it still makes me smile like an idiot.

And its very aromantic of me to say this but noone can ever make me feel what these fictional little men/entities in my favourite horror podcast are making me feel.

Go little fictional man/entity! GO!

"who?" YES! Fuck his ego up! FUCK HIM UP!!!!

Man, I love people using the power of titles, just to be met with indifference. That's my shit.

Wow John is easy to break. Good to know.

I love the witch. She's disgusting and terrible but she's a ✨️ Girlboss ✨️

"You care for [him]. Tell me Yorick!"

"He most definitely does, my queen"

"GODDAMMIT!"

"I connected with him....THAT ALONE WASN'T ENOUGH TO MAKE ME QUESTION WHO I AM!" honey...baby...John, darling....You didn't even know who you were, my sweet child. Also isn't that a bit too defensive? A liiiittle over the top, don't you think?

The nurse again. Talk more about her, John. I need to confirm something.

When John starts talking about the nurse but doesn't say anything to confirm or deny my Lillith theory:

Damn the witch has been through some shit. Give her a break. She deserves to cause a little suffering. Maybe just not to Arthur? Maaaaybe someone who has suffered less? So also not John.

Honestly the conversation with the witch is just a whole weird therapy session for John and the witch. Its likely noone will emerge from this better than before but it's definitely some weird therapy.

New info on the dark world? Nice. John had a little snackie? Uhoh, did the king in yellow fall to gluttony? How very human of you, Johnny boy.

Oh? Kayne is more powerful than you, John? Are you sure? Are you really sure on that?

Yorick, after saying nothing for a while: "I remember you, my king!" He just doesnt care at all, he's licking the dirty shoes of whoever holds any power. Disgusting. Free. Unbothered by morals or pride. He's worthless, he's my everything, he disgusts me and I love him. I'm ashamed for him and I am proud of him.

Hehehe, yes John, admit you lied. I'm sure Arthur isn't listening at all and is just unconscious. (He probably actually is. Would work better for the narrative.)

I love how John says "Fuck you". I wish my "fuck you" sounded like that. My gender? Oh its fucking the king in yellow from the hit horror podcast Malevolent.

More witch therapy for John. Good for him, good for him. He's getting fucked up real bad.

Noooo please witch, don't manipulate my emotional comfort entity into abandoning his humanity. (DO IT!)

HIS LOVE FOR ARTHUR SAVED HIM!!!!

"Do you miss being the king?" That's not an easy question to answ....oh. Oh John, honey that was not the right answer. You shouldn't have said that. I bet she's going to...jup. Jup she's stabbing him.

The witch:

John, manifesting:

LMAO, I told you she's a girlboss! Get him! Humble him! Make him believe that he needs to gain power and make him make Arthur his domain. Make a guy your domain John!!!! The witch controls her domain fully and is stronger within than an old one. I wonder what would happen if an old one (the king in yellow aka John) made Arthur his domain.

"Orthur :(" yeah you're still alive even with Arthur dead. Now untangle that complicated ball of feelings John.

Witch, that's a stupid question and stupid things to say about hope and all that. John did change. If he didn't, you'd be dead.

John is a bad liar. Luckily the witch rolled a shitty insight check.

Monologue time!

Bet reviving Arthur won't work because he's human.

Oh damn I was wrong, maybe? Well, there have to be complications then. I wonder what the complications are. I love complications. :)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

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

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do.  You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a  relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.” 

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it.  Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends.  You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

**************************************

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs. 

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.”  You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved,  you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful.  She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

 “Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.” 

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away.  It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

 “You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way?  Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way." 

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath.  "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk.  “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."  You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

*************************************

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands  gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

 He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

 “Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

********************************************

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

[knightotoc]

Just finished IWTV book, so now I can say the differences between the book, movie, and show. The movie is quite accurate to the book, while the show is more original. I love them all quite a lot, but I think the show is my favorite since it's the most romantic. Long post with spoilers below the cut.

book:

The depth of Louis' interiority, especially his thoughts about religion, can only be found in the book. I am also ex-Catholic so this is high-key my shit. Especially knowing Anne Rice went back and forth later in life. I can relate. Louis wants to talk about his feelings with other vampires, but Lestat and Claudia aren't interested, which is the main reason Louis is attracted to Armand. Where is the Brideshead Revisited crossover?? Louis get in a bisexual love triangle with the Flytes for me🙏

I learned in the Matt Baume video on Anne Rice that she wrote IWTV while grieving her daughter, who died of leukemia just before her sixth birthday. This feeling of grief, reflected so clearly in Claudia, is the most moving and unique aspect of the book, far more than anything between the adult characters.

One reason this feeling is watered-down in both adaptations is that in the book, Claudia is only 5/6, the age of Anne's real daughter. In the movie she is 10 and in the show 14. Of course it would be impossible to find a 6 year old actress who could act with the maturity of an 80-year-old woman. But the character is even more pitiful and bizarre as a little child than as one nearing puberty.

In the book, Lestat is shown to have survived the murder attempt pretty early on, and he keeps jump-scaring Louis and Claudia on their adventures. I prefer the movie's version where they hold off on this reveal. Though of course I always love to see him, lol

In the book, I got the impression that Lestat and Louis are both bi, but Lestat prefers men and Louis prefers women. Still, their motivations aren't driven by sexuality in a straightforward way. For example, Lestat's ideal prey is a young man, because he loves to destroy their potential. Louis feels something like love for a few women characters, because he feels empathy for their misfortunes.

The adaptations soften/change Louis' status as a slave-owner; in the movie, he frees his slaves, and in the book he just flees. As much as Louis is a soft-hearted quasi-feminist, defined by his guilt and regret, he is still racist and close-minded in most ways. This seems realistic to me.

I did think it was interesting and cool that the enslaved people can tell Louis and Lestat aren't human, while the other plantation owners and even Lestat's dad have no idea. But we don't get their perspective, just Louis' racist assumptions.

Yeah in the book Lestat has a dad! It is rather confusing since Lestat explains nothing, but it creates some great melodrama. I guess I have to read the next one and hope for a backstory reveal.

Fun spooky detour into Eastern Europe! I hope the show goes there in season 2.

Louis and Armand's discussions are really cool. I especially loved Louis' monologues after Claudia's death. There wasn't room for these discussions in the movie, but I feel like it'll be a main focus in season 2 of the show.

movie:

Like I said, the movie is impressively accurate, and a beautiful work of art on its own. The best innovation is holding off on the Lestat reveal until almost the very end. This makes it look like their murder attempt really did a number on him, and it took decades and decades of rat-eating to even drag himself out of the swamp. I like that.

The movie also has a more exciting and ridiculous ending, in which Lestat attacks the reporter in his car and drives away to Guns N' Roses. The book ends with the reporter hurrying off to find Lestat himself. It's funnier and more awesome if Lestat is the one driving the plot and the car. Pleased to meet you :D

"How avant-garde." Best line in the movie, and it's not from the book!

Since the movie cut out most of the minor characters, there isn't as much evidence for Louis' bisexuality. Louis seems more like, gay but closeted. And Lestat seems more like, gay but misogynist, so he'll prey on women just for sport lol.

I'm a Fight Club guy so I love that this is, like, a reverse companion movie (this time, Brad Pitt is the pushover in a dangerous gay duo)

show:

This is the only version that is clearly gay. But this dynamic is the same: Louis wants to talk about things, and Lestat does not. In this case, the focus of these discussions is not vampirism or religion but their relationship. Louis points out that he is gay and Lestat is bi. Perhaps it's just because I saw this version first, but this is my favorite version of their sexualities. The show simply spends more time with this dynamic, and how it affects everything, including their interracial relationship and openness in society.

In the book, Lestat is a talented but soulless musician. He can play anything, but without heart. In the show, music is Lestat's one genuine connection to humanity (even if this connection just leads him to kill musicians who don't impress him). I believe later books go more into Lestat as a musician, so I'll have more thoughts on this later.

Since the reporter is cynical, old, and dying, this creates a much more compelling conversation within the framing device. He holds Louis to task with a forcefulness that rivals Lestat. It is a clever way of modernizing the story, since Daniel references their last interview in the 70s (when the book was published), and you are meant to wonder which version is more truthful.

Since Claudia is 14, she can pass as an adult, and she is able to go on her own rather disastrous adventure. It is exciting, terrifying, and sad, and a welcome addition for this character, though it is much different than the book's helpless, heartless Claudia.

The Catholicism in the show is flashier, but not as interesting as the book. For example, in the book, Louis is haunted not just by Paul's death, but Louis' failure to meet Paul's faith-driven monetary demands. In the show, Paul's ideas seem like more of an annoyance. Maybe there will be more religious doubt in season 2, but I don't really expect it.

In the book, it seems like Louis and Claudia throw Lestat in the swamp since it's faster and more thorough than fire. In the show, the oven they use is a major plot point, and Louis can't bear to put Lestat's body in it because he still loves him. Instead they throw Lestat in the trash, which is one of my favorite tropes (see: Maul in The Clone Wars, Soldier 1998). This is just one of the many ways the show complicates and deepens Louis and Lestat's bond.

I feel like the show is more believable and has more deepness in general, since it's a smart retrospective on an old franchise and a response to decades of vampire fun in pop culture. For example, in the show Louis has volunteer humans to feast upon, and it's very "safe, sane, and consensual," versus the universally predatory relationships in the book and movie. Because we all know now that if vampires were real, and they were hot and rich, they could get all the blood they want without hurting anyone. An ethical vampire like Louis isn't impossible anymore. Compared to other billionaires, he's a pretty decent guy.

So, I'd say the book has the most profound perspective on grief, the movie has better structure, and the show has the most complex romance.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

America Ferrera :: The Barbie Movie

Here is Gloria’s monologue in its entirety:

It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman, but also always be looking out for other people. You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood. But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know.

[Los Angeles Times]