#present in a different way in later shows to be sure. all kinds of ways of being Very Dynamic & god bless the fuck out of all of us for it

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 811 - Holy Mother of God

Well I don’t know how coherent this will be after that episode - but I’m gonna give it a go becasue there was so much good stuff to talk about with Bucks costuming this week. Sadly no Eddie to talk about though - he’s busy in El Paso trying to settle in and I’m sure we’ll have lots of things to talk about with him next week. I should also warn you - I will be talking about Tommys costumes as well - because they are relevant - but I don’t want to jump scare you when you come across pictures of him!

Do kind of love that I get to do a full character deep dive into Buck because there’s no Eddie this week? You bet I do - especially with the parallels we get in this episode. As always - below the cut!

Starting with Buck’s first outfit - his moving into Eddie’s house clothes - White Elwood hoodie, black pants, grey adidas trainers and his usual watch.

Buck is wearing the grey adidas trainers for his move into Eddies house - carrying on the theme from the end of the last episode and really connecting them into the Buck-Eddie of it all. We don’t see them again in the episode - but I’m not surprised by that - because the rest of the episode is about Buck navigating his new reality and whilst Eddie is heavily present in nearly all those scenes, its not about him or him and Buck as a unit, it’s about Buck and about Bucks feelings - and so we get the white trainers in the scenes where we do see them visible!

White is never good sign for Buck as it portends struggles and angst - having him open the episode wearing white clearly indicates what the episode is going to bring for him. There is also the fact that white signifies new beginnings or blank pages and is also a symbol of clarity (especially mental clarity) and goodness (in opposition to darkness/evil which is black), hope, and innocence. This hoodie is not the only time we see Buck wearing white in this episode as we also see him wearing white later at Maddies house, so I’ll go into what I think the white of it all is for a little bit later when I get to that costume!

This white hoodie is by Elwood - a brand the show has been using for Bucks costumes for a couple of seasons now - particularly for his baggy fit clothes as it tends to be a style choice of the brand. The logo on the back is about connecting Buck to LA - tying him to a location - we also get Maddie in 2 costumes tying her to LA in this episode as well. I think this is very intentional and it’s about emphasising that they have put their roots down in LA - that it is their home (even if Buck is renting!) and I think they have done this to really bring home the fact Eddie has left for El Paso and Buck has to stay in LA because all of the scenes we see these sweaters with the LA logos on, they are scenes about the gap Eddie has left - Buck moving in to Eddies house, Buck not feeling comfortable in that space without Eddie there and so going to Maddie, Buck talking to Maddie about the hole in his life Eddies departure has left - that he misses him.

It’s about establishing the necessity of that separation - for them to separately learn to love themselves so that they can then love each other once they reach that point - especially with the use of an eagle in flight logo as part of Bucks hoodie is an interesting choice to me - birds are a representation of flight - of freedom and of getting a different perspective on things. Eagles specifically are meant to represent good fortune, strength, resilience, power and wisdom and protection and they are also a symbol of Jesus’ resurrection and therefore renewal. (Its also worth noting that bird is another way of describing a helicopter which feels kind of relevant knowing that we’re getting a big helicopter presence in 814/15 and the fact that one can argue that Buddie has been kicked into action via a helicopter)

Also - remember the use of red as I will come back to that colour later on!

Then we have Buck rocking up at the Madney house asking to stay the night in a dark, almost black denim jacket, a greenish grey tee and a bag with a yellow ochre strap.

Firstly the scene is a repeat of the scene from 210 where Buck, having finally moved out of Abbys, winds up on Maddies dining room floor on and air mattress after outstaying his welcome at Chimney’s! Even the colours are the same - green, yellow ochre and black - as you can see below. This parallel is intentional and it is all about Buck being in this period of flux when a dramatic change has happened to his life. I find it a really interesting parallel to draw not only because it’s about Buck moving on to a new phase of his life but also because in combination with the grey hoodie we see him in shortly it gives us a parallel to the Buck and Taylor hook up from season two.

The other thing about this costume tht is key is the greyish green tee, because we see this same tee later in the episode and this grey and green or greyish green colouring is something have been seeing on buck across the last episode and this one and is actually a developing theme for him this season as a whole - we’ve seen buck in khaki greens, greenish greys, or greyish and green in combination multiple times. In 804 he is wearing a greenish grey jacket at the hearing about the 118 being closed down, in 806 we have the khaki green trousers he wears on his date with Tommy and in 810 we have the grey tee and same khaki green trousers when Eddie leaves for El Paso. We also have a lot more green on Buck across seasons 7 and 8 than we’ve had on him in all the other seasons combined. We get the darker and more bottle green colour on him in 705 - the gym conversation with Eddie when he is trying to come out to him. In 707 he is wearing a bottle green shirt when Eddie drops Chris off before going on his date, and in 806 we see him in this darker green during the break up with Tommy and in the subsequent scene at Eddie’s house on the couch.

I go on about green being a colour of growth and renewal, balance and harmony, but also greed, envy, and jealousy. Or how it is a colour associated with blending in - hiding in plain sight (hence its use by the army) making it a colour associated with safety. The thing with green and Buck in these last two seasons is about when the different versions of green are being used. The bolder - darker bottle greens are seen in scenes connected to secrets or more accurately scenes where a character is not being fully honest - with another character and or with themselves - 806 is Eddie not being fully honest with either himself or Buck, while the 705 and 806 scenes are Buck not being honest with Eddie and with Tommy respectively and the also Buck not being honest with himself. To what degree Buck is not being honest with himself is up to you to determine at this point in time, but my personal opinion is that its two fold - there is the conscious not being honest and the unconscious or subconscious (or unknown) not being honest with themselves at play in all these scenes.

As for the khaki greens and the greyish greens - we have scenes connected to battles - internal and external - the battle to Save the 118 in 804, Bucks battle with his bisexuality (in terms of fully knowing himself and understanding himself not with actually being bisexual) and those same trousers in 810 are about Bucks battle with letting his best friend leave him. In all These scenes we see Buck trying to blend in - trying to be what he needs to be to various people in that moment - the girls asking for a photo, Tommy, the rest of the 118, Eddie. All of the scenes are Buck hinging his true self in plain sight whilst at the same time they are scenes about jealousy (not always Bucks) and present an opportunity for growth.

The green shirt here and in the later scene at the bar in this episode also play into this idea of hiding in plain sight and safety and also jealousy and internal battles. Turning up at Maddies is as a result of a battle Buck has been having with himself over his new house and it not feeling like home because eddie is very present in every corner - its him looking for safety, while at the bar Buck is battling to get over Eddie leaving, his attempts to befriend Ravi are about him trying to blend in and then we also see jealousy at play to some extent during the scenes with Tommy.

Then we have the light grey marl hoodie - which as you can see from the picture is the same one from the billy boils scene back in 805. It’s about paralleling the feeling of abandonment by the people closest to you. The 805 scene of Buck Deep Diving on substack, about Billy boils really comes into play here in 811. This show is really good at Platine seeds for things that will come back up later on in the season, or even further down the line. In 805 the Billy boils arc serves more as a reflection on Buck going above and beyond when things connect into his personality - as we saw with Red back in Season 3. But now we‘re getting both that concept in play here (buck going above and beyond for Eddie by taking over his lease) as well as Bucks feelings and fears of abandonment which have been majorly stoked by both Maddie going missing and by Eddie leaving.

We also have the two watches again - which is making my brain itch with the possible meanings - I should point out that it appears to be two new watches - not his usual watch that we’ve seen him in for a while - one looks like a retro 1980’s style digital screen watch and the other looks like a smart watch. I know we’ve got bts pictures of him with them on whilst in his street clothes, but it is possible he’s just not fully in costume at that moment (especially because in other bts with him out of costume he is not wearing them!) there’s something about the fact that we’re only seeing them like this in certain scenes and not in others. It is entirely possible that Oliver is having to wear a monitor of some kind for some reason - but this doesn’t feel like that - because he is not wearing them in most scenes - its only certain ones - and by this I don’t mean the scenes where his arms are bare - I mean scenes where he has long sleeves on - like under the red jacket later in this episode - when he isn’t wearing any watches at all etc.

There is also the fact that its not just a second watch but that both of them are different - if it was Oliver needing to wear a monitor for some reason, there is no reason why he couldn’t still wear his character watch on the other wrist. The wardrobe department wouldn’t be so lax in catching this sort of thing - actors generally speaking will take off all personal belongings and leave them locked in their trailer when they put costumes on, and part of the costume delivery would include their characters ‘jewellery’ - which would be locked away at the end of the shooting day because a lot of it is very high value (Eddies new watch is over $1k for example) - making it less likely that its just Oliver suddenly forgetting to change his personal watches for his character one(s). So it’s something I am keeping an eye on and tracking to see if I can figure it out what is going on! Right now it feels like it’s some kind of play on Buck existing in two places - in two time zones or that there are two different ‘countdowns’ running in his life right now. We’ll just have to watch and see what is going on with the watches!

It’s also worth pointing out here that the jeans are back! We see them several times during the episode and their first appearance is in this scene at Madney’s house.

We have a red and brown check jacket and also have a cream tee and jeans in this scene. Where everything else has been looser in fit and all about comfort (hoodie) up to now in this episode, here we have a combination of fits going on which really plays into this idea of confusion and BUck not really being comfortable within himself. The kacket is well fitting but intentionally slightly short waisted making the tee look too long, even though it too is a good fit on Buck. The jeans are loose fit and slightly baggy, but again do actually fit him. Each article of clothing on its own is a good fit for buck, however in combination they don‘t fit him because they are ‘fighting‘ with each other. This fits with Bucks attempt to make friends with Ravi - its not a good fit because Buck is trying to force something as quickly as possible to fill the void in his life - rather than allowing a friendship to develop more naturally - or taking Ravi’s hints that he isn’t really interested in being friends with Buck, this also ties into the jacket being check patterned, signifying that there is some form of trouble ahead for Buck - his pushing Ravi to go out leads to this jacket being followed by the orangey brown check jacket we see Buck in the next time we see him.

But we’re going to divert for a moment and talk about the colour red for a second. I already mentioned the red on the white hoodie, but we also see Buck up on the ladder rescuing the woman on the cross surrounded by red -we have the red harness he has looked around him and the top of the ladder is also red - which serves to ensure he is surrounded by the colour as you can see in the picture below.

We also see red flowers in the scene Buck and Maddie share in the kitchen later on in this episode. These flowers are an interesting combination and while we see flowers a lot in the background of the Madney house (and in other houses) their placement in this scene - between Buck and Maddie and drawing attention when they’re in shot is what makes them important in the same way the sunflower and ‘wedding’ bouquets were in 809. From what I can tell (because it was really hard to get an in focus screen grab of the flowers so I’m not 100%) we have a combination of red roses, red gardenia’s , red gerbera’s and what looks to me to be two varieties of Pom Pom daisies - the white with red tips and the solid red with a white centre. All of these flowers have meanings associated with love, innocence (except the red roses), new beginnings or prosperity and success. The daisy is also a symbol of motherhood and fertility so that is obviously a nod to Maddies pregnancy - because the flowers work for both Maddie and Bucks respective storylines.

Back to costumes, and buck wearing red - not something that common with him - in fact he only wears red 6 times across all 8 seasons and it’s 50/50 split on if its check or not and the check seems to connect into Buck himself only, while the solid red seems to be more about something external to Buck that connects into him as well.

We have him in red in 102 at the therapists office which is the most important of all the red costumes in relation to tonight’s episode, because it connects into the parallels the show was drawing between the rollercoaster incident from season 1 and the woman on the cross. I wrote in a post before the episode aired that I thought we were getting a rollercoaster parallel and that I thought that if we did, we would also get a parallel to Buck sleeping with this therapist. And we did indeed get that parallel, with the woman on the cross being Devon in 102 and Tommy in the place of the therapist (and before you come at me for comparing Tommy to a woman who essentially r*ped Buck, it is not about the plot device character or their motivations, its about the fact Buck is in an emotionally vulnerable place and is therefore not thinking clearly - it is about him and not them!) and that parallel is about setting Buck up for making progress with his issues - and reflecting the fact that he makes bad choices when emotionally compromised in some way. we get the rollercoaster - therapist parallel also make an appearance in season 5 - with Lucy - yes it is technically in reverse to these other two because the rollercoaster incident isn’t brought up until after the bad choice (kissing Lucy - which is also connected by Buck getting drunk on tequila/margaritas!) but the parallel is still their - Eddie has left he 118 and had his breakdown and Buck is struggling with all of that - with having to work with someone who isn’t Eddie and is also in a relationship that isn’t actually bringing him much in the way of happiness etc.

I do think it funny that they have drawn tommy into these parallels when both the s1 and s5 occurrences are about Buck seeking emotional intimacy through sex in some form and that the Lucy incident especially is about Eddie and Buck kissing Eddie’s replacement - with Tommy basically being Eddie’s replacement because Buck hasn’t allowed himself to consider Eddie as an actual option.

The next time we see Buck in. Red is 409 - when he is meeting Jee-Yun via video chat wearing a solid red knit sweater

Then we have 513 and Eddies breakdown

Followed by 518 and Bucks chat to Maddie about looking for love

Then we have another jump to 805 and Bucks check cowboy shirt

And now 811 in the locker room.

Hopefully you can tell that all the red check shirts tie into Buck and his abandonment issues, while all the solid red costumes are more external to Buck.

The green tee and brown check jacket from the bar I have already spoken about my thoughts on this outfit in my pre show meta when the stills dropped - you can read those here, and on the whole I was right about what we would see from this costume and the implied meanings - we did indeed see buck in a less than fun situation, but one that did set him up for growth. How the orangey brown played into the idea of transformation, superficiality and predictable and conservative as well as into the idea of loneliness and isolation. While the break up green gave us the start of bt break up 2.0 electric boogaloo - where Buck hooking up with Tommy actually gives him some form of closure on that relationship as his outburst the morning after actually reveals a fair amount about his feelings (the Eddie of it all aside) - Buck even says later to Maddie that he was using Tommy as a distraction - that it wasn’t because he genuinely had feelings for him etc.

The other thing about this costume is the lack of watch whilst at the bar, but he is wearing one later on when he’s stumbling down the corridor to the bedroom with Tommy as you can see below. The entire time at the bar its Eddie, Eddie, Eddie and his greatest hits - its past tense not present or future, and Buck stopped wearing a watch as Eddie was leaving - so the lack of watch here in this scene is part of that - Buck feeling like time has run out on that aspect of his life. But as soon as the costume becomes about Buck in the here and now and the seeking of a distraction - the watch is back on his wrist!

Then we get jump to the morning after when he is still wearing that watch - and when you think that he’s wearing different clothes to the ones from the night before - he’s clearly got dressed after the hook up before falling asleep - at which point one would expect a watch to be taken off, but hasn’t - clearly showing that time is a key element of things in this scene.

We have him in a cut off tee in greenish grey - similar to the one when Eddie departs for El Paso, grey black joggers and black socks. I am especially loving the fact that the tee matches up with his bed linen - especially the pillow he has not slept on - as you can see in the above picture they are nearly an identical match -a more green toned grey, while his own pillow and the sheet, are more grey in the brown spectrum. It’s funny because they’ve done this with Buck before - putting him in a grey shirt and having him fall asleep on his bed in s6 during the sperm donor arc (when they panned across to the firefighter onesie) - blending him into his bedding seem to be something of a theme - I’ve just not quite pieced together what exactly it is yet but it is making me wonder if my suspicions are right and the sperm donor arc is going to come back up in some form!

The cut off is part of a theme we’re seeing emerge with Buck - the distressed look to his clothes in 809, 810 and now 811 is a deliberate choice being made - it ties back into the therapist office scene in 102 - you can see in the picture above the distressed jeans he’s wearing revealing his internal distress. It’s all about visually signalling the character is distressed or feeling raw - emotionally and is in keeping with the fact it seems we’re going to be getting Buck in turnouts that look pretty distressed etc in upcoming episodes - it feels like its slowly escalating and is signalling some kind of breakdown for him - that he will reach a breaking point where he is actually going to have to face up to a few things (making the mini theory that that breakdown might tie into the episode called sick day - with Buck’s sickness being more of a mental one than a physical illness - the like of which many or may not take out the rest of the 118 in some way!). The fact we’re seeing his ‘mask’ slip more and more dramatically as he loses the control he has had on things - and the fact this scene parallels a couple of other scenes is what I’m excited about - the therapist scene from s1 - which was paralleled here on multiple levels including the costume - the distressed frayed look - we see Buck wearing distressed clothing in that scene from s1 - Buck is also wearing red check in that scene and that ties the red check from earlier into things - because it is not something Buck wears - literally there are only 3 times - therapist scene, cowboy buck at the firehouse in masks and the one from this episode.

Appologies - but we need to talk about Tommy - because putting him in the exact same outfit as the break up scene from 806 is a very loud choice and I genuinely cackled when I saw!

When I say exact same, the shirt is technically a different shirt, but it is a black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and it is doing the same thing as the first one, and continues the theme of black shirts being Tommys dominant costume (literally most of his costumes!) - we see him in maroon occasionally and the blue & grey combo of the basketball game, but otherwise he wears black shirts - especially in scenes where Eddie is present and taking up most of Bucks attention!!! The thing that makes this occurance of a black shirt a parallel to the 806 breakup scene is the dark grey singlet underneath - which is the exact same one.

This allows us to connect the two scenes and makes it clear this latest scene is just an extension of the break up scene - a continuation and one where Buck gets some closure over that relationship - even if it doesn’t feel like it initially! It also shows that Tommy is unchanged - that he‘s not grown in any way that while Buck is in a different place (the change from break up green into the grey tee is a visual indicator of that - Buck thought he was in the same place as when Tommy dumped him, but he wakes up metaphorically and literally in a different place), Tommy isn’t - its a clear indicator that the relationship can never work. It helps to connect what he said in 806 with what is said in 812 - connecting the‚ you wouldn’t mean to, but you‘d end up breaking my heart’ with ‘the competition being out of the way’ but mostly with Bucks line about not sleeping with people he’s in love with and not being in love with people he’s does sleep with. The entire scene is about Eddie and about proving both the break up scene in 806 and the Josh advice scene correct.

White tee buck and his black denim apron of baking spirals - Buck clearly has a collection of aprons and we’ve seen various ones depending on the scene and what it needs to convey but this black one has made a couple of appearances now - including in the baking scene with Jee (you can see it in a picture further down this post) its further emphasising baking as a coping mechanism, but it also creates a black and white look on Buck - when everything around him is in colour. The black and white colour theming is literally about showing us the black and white of it all - its telling us that everything we need to know is right there in black and white - Buck bringing up Eddies straightness and being the one to bring up pining and being in love - that the reality is he is in denial.

Obviously there is also the Buck in white of it all - which is evidence enough for me that what Buck is saying in this scene is meant to be read as not being reality him his deepest self - that Buck is in fact in love and pining after his best friend (but he can’t actually look at that fact - Eddie being straight is Bucks last defence and one he needs to hold for his own sanity - Eddie has left - there is nothing to be gained by Buck examining the reality of his feelings except heartbreak) and that is the thing that will lead to some kind of issue for him

Brown fridge in background continuing to play into the brown colour theme we;re seeing for the season

I do want to take a small detour into blue/yellow colour theory for a minute - because it is there and it is loud in this episode!

We have the blue yellow combination appearing on Maddie as she as Buck talk on the couch at the Madney house, and also the fridge magnets behind Buck in the kitchen scene (as you can partially see above).

We also have the blue mattress (again see picture above),

and Ravi is in blue.

The lighting in that scene is very yellow - until Tommy turns up and Ravi leaves - when it gradually cools down to more white lighting - as you can sort of see see in the two pictures below - its actually clearer if you watch the scene through!

Finally we have this light pinky brown tee - which from a colour theory perspective and a paralleling perspective is interesting - more or less the same colour as the baking hoodie and is in keeping with the brown theme of the season as a whole (especially because he ends up by sitting on his orangey couch!) white trainers. This brown/pink colour seems to be about coping mechanisms and finding a way to find joy - the pinkish tone connects into that theme of innocence vulnerability and joy combined with the idea of being grounded and stable whilst also playing into that idea of loneliness and isolation I spoke about earlier - its about Buck finding his feet - finding stable ground in his being alone - its about embracing loneliness and finding joy in it.

That to me is a really loud indicator of where they are going with Buck by showing him in that colour whilst he is unpacking his things in the house that used to be Eddies - after having him explicitly say that a big part of the reason he hasn’t unpacked is because it means Eddie and Chris won’t be coming back. Its about Buck reframing that feeling and being ok with it - using that and the loneliness that brings as the stable ground from which to find joy and rebuild himself. Its the first stage of Bucks path towards working to deal with his abandonment issues (I am not saying it will be smooth sailing from here - in fact I fully expect for things to get much worse for him on that road!)

In the same way as the baking hoodie was also about Buck finding coping mechanisms and some form of stable ground to work from in his loneliness - the change from hoodie to Tee suggests progression.

And there we have it - the many costumes and colours of Buck for this episode - I hope you found it interesting and thanks for reading - it always means the world to me that people read and engage in these long meta posts 🥰🥰🥰

As always - tagged people below and let me know if you’d like adding to the list!

@lover-of-mine @spotsandsocks @fruityfirehose @wanderingwomanwondering @livingwherethesidewalkends @buddiediaz118 @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual @satvojihusana @elvensorceress @icebergeddie @buckleyanddiaz @eddiedisasterdiaz @kejfeblintz @cookie-kat777 @leothil @bucksbelly @kyoteugly @bi-moonlight @somebodycall911onabc @trudayss @chaosandwolves @lemotmo

[unproduciblesmackdown]

throwback to 2019's 12th annual joe iconis christmas extravaganza being the first time i was aware of the show ft. my interest already piqued via now nonzero familiarity with joe iconis &/or will roland & (almost, b/c of youtube videos) no familiarity with the xmas show in particular Yet but certainly open to it in post-bmc malaise, which it did help plenty with....& i think it was on twitter a clip of This Moment in the mister chestnut's christmas medley sequence that i remember being very struck & delighted by. the combination of the urgently energetic choreography of this classic Chestnut Jenny Macabee stack & the distinctive wailing AAAAA harmonizing speaking to me powerfully & now here we are today, what a treasure

[songbirdseung]

silly boy / park sunghoon

your "friends" keep telling you that your new boyfriend is too much of a shy nerd for you, but they don't know how much of a man the silly boy is.

the bar tonight was much quieter than usual, just a few people spread out in the tiny, cozy bar. quiet background music accompanied the murmurs of different conversations shared throughout the room. you were with your friends, laughing and chatting, having a good time, when all of a sudden, the smile on your face faded into a small frown. the conversation had shifted to your boyfriend, sunghoon.

sunghoon, park sunghoon. your boyfriend of two amazing years. he was currently at home, in his home office, working late. while you were out here with your friends, the same friends who never truly understood why you’d started a relationship with him in the first place.

don’t get them wrong—they thought he was gorgeous, practically model material, but sunghoon’s quiet, reserved nature wasn’t their idea of "boyfriend material." they’d often remind you that you deserved someone affectionate, someone who’d shower you with love openly and without hesitation, someone who wouldn’t be shy about showing the world how much they adored you.

but their words always went in one ear and out the other. because they didn’t see what you saw. they didn’t see how, behind closed doors, in the quiet moments away from the world, sunghoon clung to you like glue—superglue, even. he wasn’t loud about his love, but it was there, steady and unwavering, in every little thing he did. it never bothered you how he presented himself to others; his love for you was real, even if it wasn’t on display for everyone to see.

"i can’t believe you’ve made it this long with him," one of your friends said, breaking your thoughts.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. the urge to speak up, to defend him, bubbled in your chest. "you guys just don’t get it," you said, your tone calm but firm.

"we’re not trying to be mean," another friend chimed in, raising her hands defensively. "it’s just… don’t you want someone who’s a little more… present? someone who’ll shower you with affection all the time?"

you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. "he does show affection. just not in the way you expect him to. not everyone has to be loud about love to mean it."

"but, yn," another friend interjected, "you’re the kind of person who loves big gestures, who deserves to feel like the center of someone’s world."

"and i do," you countered, your voice a little sharper this time. "just because he doesn’t yell it from the rooftops doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. it’s in the little things. like how he texts me to remind me to eat when he knows I’m busy. or how he’ll wake up early to make sure my coffee is ready before I leave. or how he never lets me go to bed upset, even if it means staying up all night to talk it out. you guys don’t see that side of him because he doesn’t show it to everyone. he shows it to me, and that’s enough."

your friends exchanged glances, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"look," you said, your tone softening, "i appreciate that you care about me. but sunghoon and i, we work. and that’s all that matters."

just then, your phone buzzed on the table. you glanced at the screen and felt your heart flutter at the sight of his name. the message was simple: "don’t stay out too late. i miss you."

a small smile crept onto your face as you typed back a quick reply. your friends noticed the change in your expression but didn’t say anything.

"he’s not perfect," you admitted, putting your phone down. "but he’s perfect for me."

the conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but as the night wore on, you found yourself glancing at your phone more often than usual.

later, as you walked into your apartment, you saw him waiting for you in the living room, still in his work clothes, his laptop closed on the coffee table. his eyes lit up when he saw you, and without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’d been gone for weeks.

"missed you," he murmured against your hair.

"i missed you too," you whispered back, your heart swelling with warmth.

and in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you were reminded all over again why their opinions didn’t matter. because this? this was love. quiet, steady, and unshakable.

[martiansodas-blog]

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

standford!art who’s your best friend finds out no guy has ever hit your gspot before :(

“are you being serious?”

but it's so fuckin easy! he thinks

your cheeks get warm. you focus on the various hangnails you have instead of making eye contact.

“um...yeah.” you say quietly.

he immediately regrets having such a big reaction and scolds himself.

those rotten frat guys, they only care about one thing.

“hey, hey,” he touches your cheek and crouches a little so he's no longer towering over you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart. it’s not your fault. they’re just inattentive."

“thanks.” you mutter with no expression in your voice.

he was too curious not to ask,

“have you ever found it by yourself?”

a laugh involuntary escaped.

“i’ve never tried.”

art fake pouts.

“you poor girl,” he coos, putting it on thick.

you scoff, but the heat in your cheeks only gets worse and you cant help but smile. he’s way too good at breaking your walls down, and he knew it

“i can show you, if you like.”

your body becomes unmoving.

"what?"

the most logical explanation you can think of is that he spoke a different language and it was lost in translation. because surely he wasn't offering what you think he was offering.

“what kind of friend would i be if i didn’t?”

he had that stupid smirk on his face.

“wait, you’re serious?? wha-”

he steps closer to you, close enough you can feel his body heat.

“we’ve always been closer than most friends, no?”

you shake your head.

“i mean, yeah, but that’s-“

his body goes stiff, eyebrows furrowed like that's the worst news you could've given him.

now he's the one shaking his head. his mostly blue eyes become fixed on the ground. he looked like a kicked puppy.

“that was a stupid idea. you're right. m'sorry. i don’t know why i brought it up."

he begins to walk off.

are you actually going to reject this offer from your insanely handsome best friend? half the girls at stanford would kill for this opportunity. and here it is, falling into your lap.

“wait!”

he wipes the smile off his face before turning around.

“yeah, uh… i’d like that.”

he breaks into a smile.

"really? i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

there's still a frown gracing his features.

"you didn't! you didn't. i was just caught off guard. that's all."

"...okay" he smirks slightly.

"okay."

another awkward silence presents itself. what should you-

"come over to my dorm at 8 tonight. that is of course unless you want to do it at yours and risk your roommate catching a free peep show."

his sudden confidence caught you off guard. he's giving you whiplash at this point.

"uh, no. no. yours is great."

who the hell can afford a private dorm as a sophomore?

oh right. tennis champions...

before he goes, he kisses you on the cheek. the first of many that would occur that day. his lips are the perfect proportion for his face and they feel like being touched by a pink cloud.

3 hours later

''FUCK, art, please"

"aww, i know baby. no one can treat you like i can."

its relentless. the entire time. the top half of him babys you while the bottom half tries to leave an imprint.

you didn't know your back could arch this much.

"are you gonna cry from how good it is? poor girl."

and you do. saltwater flows down your cheek and he wipes it off and cradles your head, showing you some mercy.

"you can do it, babygirl. you can give me one more, cant you?"

you nod fervently. it wasn't even about orgasming (of which you've done twice) anymore it was about making him happy.

"yes," you pant "ill come for you, artie, shit hnnn."

once you started babbling you couldn't stop. he thought it was adorable, honestly. he's never made a girl dumb on his cock this quickly. you really needed it.

you're gonna be so fun to play with. he thought.

he pecked your cheek while coaxing you through it.

"atta girl, make my cock all creamy for me. you can do it."

you feel every muscle, no. every atom in your body relaxes. and where your bodies met was so warm and slick and art might slip if he's not careful.

"there you go" he whispered into your neck. "so beautiful. such a good girl, im so proud of you. knew you could do it."

you think he is peppering kisses across your face and chest but you cant will your eyes to open yet and every inch of your skin is tingling.

your semiconsciousness works to his advantage because he loves resting inside you. he could fall asleep just like this but you probably wouldn't like that.

he strokes your hair and stares at you while you recover. he wants to let you fall asleep right away but knows that's not wise.

"c'mon, angel," he says softly as he scoops you up. "lets get you cleaned up."

[fatkish]

Alpha Rengoku x Omega Reader

Pt. 2 NSFW

You met again during the Mugen train fiasco. You went ahead of Tanjiro and the others and met up with Rengoku

You both talked, well mostly you talked while he ate, about the theories you had for how a whole train’s worth of passengers could disappear

Rengoku tried to feed you and insisted that you eat but you told him you didn’t want to eat in the event that it gave you a cramp mid battle. Rengoku understood and backed off

When you fell asleep from Enmu’s ability, you dreamt of a future with Kyojuro. You both got married and had children. You were so happy

When you woke up and realized it was a dream, you knew then that you wanted to persue a bond with Kyojuro

When Akaza showed up after defeating Enmu, you refused to let the fight go on after Rengoku lost an eye. You ran in between the two and faced down Akaza

You refused to move and told Akaza that if he’s going to kill your mate, he may as well kill you too, since you wouldn’t want to live in a world without Kyojuro

Akaza, having a self set rule of not killing and eating women and Omegas, decided to let you both live and fled, (it totally wasn’t because his human memories tried to interfere with him)

Once morning came you turned around and began scolding Kyojuro for being reckless with his own life. Whilst you yelled at him, he stood there still trying to comprehend the fact that you called him your mate

When you were finished scolding him and asked if he understood you, he asked if you really meant it when you called him your mate. You shyly admitted that you wouldn’t mind being his mate

Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to do much as a demon slayer anymore, Kyojuro decided that he would spend his time training the next generation of demon slayers, that way he still had enough time to be there for you as your mate

Once Kyojuro got all healed up, he retired and you went with him.

Shinjuro and Senjuro were so happy to have another member of the family. Senjuro was so excited to hear that you would be living with them permanently. Shinjuro was glad to have an omega to help look after

As things settled down, Kyojuro began to officially court you, he made sure you had a comfortable place to nest, he made sure you ate, he kept you safe and at night he’d keep you warm as he snuggled with you, holding you in his arms

When your heat came about, this man unleashed a feral side of him. You saw stars as Kyojuro ate you out like you were his last meal. His tongue writhing inside of you, his fingers curling and stretching your walls as he sucked on your pussy/bussy

Kyojuro has a 7 1/2 inch cock with delicious veins and a red tip. There’s a slight upwards curve and he has about 2 inches in girth. His knot is about 3 inches

When you presented for him, he descended upon you and sheathed his whole cock inside of you before plowing through your insides. He growled and bit at your neck as his cock pummeled your poor sensitive cunt/bussy

When his knot swelled and pushed inside of you, locking you both together, he snarled and bit down on your scent gland, marking you as his as he came

After your heat hit and passed, his rut happened two weeks later. During his rut, he had you in all kinds of positions, enjoying you in every way he could imagine. You couldn’t walk straight for a couple days afterwards

As time went on, Kyojuro had gotten you pregnant 5 different times. Each of your children have his flame like hair. You both had five children, three boys and two girls

When you gave Kyojuro the news, you surprised him by giving him a box that had baby clothes in them. When he asked what this meant, you smiled and told him he was going to be a father

He sat there for a few moments as his smile slowly grew larger as your words sunk in. When he finally registered what you said he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around before kissing you

When Shinjuro received the news of his becoming a grandfather, he smiled and promised to be a better role model for his grandchildren than he was for his boys

Senjuro was so excited to be an uncle and helped you during each pregnancy. He helped you cook and do the chores and even helped you get around when Kyojuro was busy

When your first child was born, Kyojuro wept as he held his first child for the first time. He thanked you endlessly for giving him something so precious as a child

When your milk started to come in, Kyojuro begged you to let him taste it, he gave you his best big puppy dog eyes and you caved. Kyojuro fell in love with the taste of your milk and you’ve had to scold him to leave some for his pups. Whatever they don’t drink, he’ll finish off, you never have issues with leaks since Kyojuro and the pups never let your milk overfill

His pups developed their father’s appetite for your milk, they’ll drink their fill then take a nap. When they wake up they’ll be hungry again

Kyojuro is always happy to get the babies when they cry at night, his pups love him and they immediately calm down

Shinjuro helps out as well. He and Kyojuro take turns with getting the kids

Kyojuro loves his pups and he happily plays with them. He teaches his pups to fight and defend themselves and plays rough with them, even the girls, when they want to

He lets his girls play with his hair and give him ridiculous hairstyles to which he happily shows off as a sign of his love for his children

Your kids love their grandpa Shinjuro and will tackle him to the floor to which he happily laughs at

He reads them stories and spoils them with toys. He loves his grandchildren and constantly thanks you for giving him grandchildren. He does still miss Ruka but he realized that his children love him and that even though there is still a void left from her passing, his loved ones will always be there for him

Senjuro helps you teach the pups and often visits with them. The pups love their uncle Senjuro and they think he’s cool and fun

Senjuro helps you in the kitchen since the family has become rather large and Kyojuro’s appetite has only grown. You and Senjuro share recipes and love cooking together

You’ll give him advice on life and he’ll happily take it. You also give him encouragement to find love and enjoy his life

Eventually, once Muzan is killed, you and Kyojuro open a dojo, there, you and Kyojuro teach people how to wield swords and how to properly fight with them, passing on the flame breathing techniques to your children

Tag list: @imagineshazamlokimight

[hoshifighting]

rockstar!reader x church boy & bestfriend!joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua and you had this contrast, you too embedded in the electric guitars, the polemic rock band shirts, and Joshua deeply focused on taking care of the church activities. He has no idea of the after-parties of your concerts, but after so much insistence of him, you bring Joshua to meet your wildest side, the side you never let him meet before. — Genre: Best friends to Lovers — WC: 11.05k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, slight angst, groupies showing tits references, alcohol, smoking and drug references, religious imagery—mention of a cross necklace, faith-based inner conflict. penetrative sex, rough sex, public make out, fingering, nipple play—reader have nipple piercings, face-slapping, mentions of boy fluids; cum/precum, cock riding, clit stimulation, dirty talk, post-sex care.

The neighborhood kids were a patchwork of personalities—there were the loud ones, the shy ones, the troublemakers, the saints. And then, there was you and Joshua. From the outside, it made no sense. You, the devil-may-care rebel with ripped jeans, always two seconds away from an argument with someone who couldn’t handle your attitude.

And Joshua, with his pristine shirts buttoned all the way up, soft-spoken voice, and the kind of calm that came from growing up in a house where every wall had a cross and every Sunday had a sermon. He was the kid who never missed a single morning of church, and you were the kid who never missed a single rehearsal with your rock band, banging out chords in your parents’ garage so loud the neighbors had to invest in better windows.

But here’s the thing: despite everything that set you apart, you were inseparable. You’d been friends since you were both knee-high, back when you didn’t even care about music or God or any of the other big things that defined you later. Joshua was the kid you trusted with everything. The one who’d patch up your scraped knees when you wiped out on your bike, even if you yelled at him for fussing too much. The one who never let you feel alone, even when the world felt like it was coming down around you.

You’d look at him sometimes—like now, when you two were sitting on the curb outside your house, him in one of those stiff, white shirts with the collar high enough to strangle someone, and you in your old, faded Black Sabbath tee—and wonder how the hell this worked.

“I don’t get why you always button that thing up like that,” you mutter, side-eyeing him as you light a cigarette.

Joshua looks over, raising a brow. “You sound like my mom,” he says, smirking. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“No way. You look like you’re ready to choke.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’re ready to summon a demon or something in that shirt,” he fires back, glancing at the witch printed on the front of your tee. “You couldn’t find something uglier?”

You snort, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re just mad ‘cause you know Sabbath’s better than that crap you play.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Hey, I like Coldplay, alright? Not everything’s gotta be power chords and screaming.”

“I don’t scream,” you retort, half grinning.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Do not.”

“You screamed at the last gig.”

“That was—” You pause. “That was for effect.”

Joshua chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure. For ‘effect.’”

The thing is, Joshua could have roasted you to dust if he wanted to. But he never did. He’d always laugh it off, always find a way to turn the conversation into something lighter. And no matter how different you were, there was this unspoken respect between you. Like how he showed up to your gigs in high school wearing one of your band’s shirts, plastering flyers in the school hallways and sneaking some into the church bulletin board when no one was looking. 

And how you showed up at his baptism, cross necklace and all, standing there in the back, quiet but present. You never took the necklace off after that. The church boy who wouldn’t dare wear anything less than holy had given you a symbol of his faith, and you’d worn it ever since. You believed but weren't dedicated to it like Joshua, you used it because it was from him.

Joshua notices it now, the silver cross resting against your chest, slightly crooked. He reaches out, straightening it with a soft smile. “You still wear this?”

“Never took it off,” you admit, taking a long drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t mean I’m converting, though.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he replies, leaning back on his palms. “I like that you wear it.”

You glance at him, a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says, turning his gaze toward the sunset dipping below the houses. “It’s…nice, y’know? Like, no matter how far apart we get, we’re still connected.”

“Connected, huh?” you murmur, tapping the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You’re getting sappy again, dude.”

He laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Shut up. You like it.”

“Yeah, but your world’s so boring, Josh. All hymns and Jesus. You should come to the dark side more often.”

“Pass,” he says with a smirk, but there’s warmth behind it. “I’d rather keep watching you make it big as a rockstar. Somebody’s gotta pray for you when you’re out there corrupting the youth.”

Maybe that’s the thing about you and Joshua—no matter how much you rag on each other, how different your lives look on the surface, there’s a connection you can’t explain. You’re fire and he’s ice, but somehow, you keep each other balanced.

“Hey,” you say, suddenly serious, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “Thanks for, y’know…showing up. For all of it. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around.”

Joshua’s voice softens. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve always been there for me too.”

You glance at him, your heart doing this weird flip in your chest. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” you tease, though the words come out gentler than you intended.

Joshua grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Too late.”

You take another drag, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, the kind only years of friendship can create. 

You weren’t trying to change him, and he wasn’t trying to save you.

The gossipy aunts on the block could speculate all they wanted—Joshua didn’t convert you, and no, you didn’t lead Joshua down some reckless path. You two were just… you. 

He’d brought you to church bazaars, where the smell of fried dough and barbecue sauce clung to your clothes long after you’d left, but he’d never pushed you to step foot into one of the more serious services. The ones where the hymns stretched on forever and people lost themselves in prayer. You didn’t do that, and he never asked you to.

And you? Well, you dragged Joshua to your gigs. He always stood at the front, close enough to feel the vibrations from the speakers, his clean-cut figure looking hilariously out of place in the sea of ripped jeans, leather jackets, and band tees.

But no matter how much he begged—and he did beg—you never brought him to the after-parties. The kind of chaos that erupted once the amps were off and the guitars were packed up. You’d drive him home, drop him off with a playful slap on the back, and head to the wildness he’d never see.

He didn’t need to know about the after-parties. He didn’t need to see you in your shortest leather mini skirt, the one that barely passed as clothing, as you downed beer after beer straight from the bottle, while the groupies flashed their tits at the band.

Joshua didn’t need to witness the wild shit that happened when everyone was too drunk or high to care about who was screwing who in the corner or the endless river of alcohol. That wasn’t his world, and you didn’t want him to see you like that. It was one thing for him to come to your shows, but seeing you let loose in a way that would make even your bandmates blush? No. He didn’t belong there.

Except… now Joshua was sitting with you in your garage, tuning your guitar like he always did before a big show, and he’d overheard you talking about the after-party.

“It’s the ten-year gig, huh?” he said casually, fingers sliding over the strings, adjusting them with that stupid focus he always had. “Big deal.”

“Yeah,” you replied, not thinking much of it. “It’s gonna be insane.”

Joshua’s head tilted, his lips pursing slightly. You recognized that look. It was the one he got when he was curious about something, when he was too polite to ask outright but dying to know more. He glanced at you. “You doing anything after? Like, after the gig?”

You paused. Shit. You hadn’t expected him to actually ask about that part. “Uh… yeah. There’s an after-party,” you said slowly, not looking at him. You fiddled with one of the tuning pegs on your bass, trying to look busy. “Same old stuff. You know.”

“I don’t know,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ve never let me go to one.”

You glanced up at him, already feeling your cheeks heat up. “That’s ‘cause it’s not your scene, Josh.”

“I want to see it,” he said, leaning forward a little. His voice was soft, but there was a determination there you weren’t used to. He wasn’t backing down from this one. “I’ve seen you perform. Why not let me see the rest?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see the rest.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, studying you. “Why not?”

Why not? Why not? How were you supposed to explain this without getting even more flustered? You could feel your palms sweating just thinking about it. The thought of Joshua witnessing that version of you—messy, no filter—made your stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“It’s just… different, okay?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “Like, the crowd’s wilder. Things get… crazy. I’m not the same up there as I am here.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and you think I can’t handle ‘crazy’?”

“You’re not getting it,” you insisted, your voice a little sharper than you meant it to be. “This isn’t just a few beers and hanging out. People get wild, Josh. There’s stuff that happens that you probably don’t want to see. Hell, I don’t want you to see it.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he serious right now? Joshua, the guy who got anxious if someone said a cuss word too loud around him, was asking to see the madness that was your after-party?

“Why the hell would you want to see that?” you finally asked, genuinely confused.

“Because,” he said simply, leaning forward on his knees, “I’ve always seen one side of you. The side you let me see. I wanna see the whole picture. I want to know who you are when you’re up there, when you’re with your band, when you’re… being yourself.”

You felt your heart thud hard against your chest. Shit. This wasn’t just about the party, was it? He wanted to understand you. All of you.

“I don’t know, man…” You trailed off, looking anywhere but at him. 

“I can handle it,” Joshua said, voice gentle. “I’m not a kid. I know what goes on. Just because I don’t live like that doesn’t mean I can’t handle seeing it.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. He was stubborn, and you knew he wouldn’t let this go easily.

“Alright,” you finally said, sighing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joshua smiled, wide and a little too innocent. “I’ll take my chances.”

[...]

The van sat parked in front of your house, baking in the morning sun, loaded with amps, guitars, and a drum kit that had seen better days. You were supervising the guys hauling the last of the equipment into the back, hair still wrapped in rollers, trying not to sweat through your shirt before you even made it to the venue.

And then, you saw him.

Joshua was walking up the driveway, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him. The button-up shirt, the clean-cut image you were so used to—it was all gone. Instead, he was wearing one of your shirts, and not just any shirt. 

It was from your solo album outside the band, the one with the wild, scrawling letters across the chest and the cover art below. The cover art that featured your bust, as your tits were covered by an electric guitar. Skin covered in smeared kiss marks, lips of all colors pressed against your skin in a way that had been raunchy enough to make your bandmates whistle when you first showed them.

The album cover had been controversial, to say the least, but it sold like hotcakes. And Joshua—Joshua—was strutting around in it like it was no big deal.

You almost choked on your own spit.

He had black jeans on, hugging his legs in a way you didn’t expect, and he’d thrown on a couple of leather bracelets that looked suspiciously like the ones you’d worn on stage a few times. And the sunglasses perched on his head? Definitely not his usual vibe. He looked like someone who belonged backstage, maybe even on stage, and not at some church picnic. Worse—he looked like the kind of guy you could moan just from looking at.

Your brain short-circuited. You could already imagine the girls from your staff catching sight of him and drooling. Hell, you were almost drooling.

But then you caught sight of that shirt again, and all you could think was, out of all the merch I’ve got, why the fuck did he pick that one?

“Josh…” you called out, your voice full of disbelief as he approached. You gestured at the shirt. “Did… did your parents see you before you left?”

Joshua burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? No way. My mom would’ve had a heart attack. I snuck out before they were even awake.”

You groaned, clapping your forehead. “Oh my God. You realize you’re walking around with a picture of my tits on your chest, right?”

He grinned, glancing down at the shirt like it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s bold, right?”

“Bold?” you repeated, eyes wide. “It’s fucking obscene! You wearing that is obscene. Jesus, I can already hear the aunties in the neighborhood clutching their pearls.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax. No one from church is gonna be at the venue. I’m good.”

You gave him a hard look, still half in disbelief. “I’m not worried about church people, I’m worried about all the other people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

You blinked. Was he pulling it off? The more you stared at him, the more your brain started to fry. You didn’t know how to process this new Joshua—the one standing in front of you like he’d been born to wear that shirt. Born to make you lose your goddamn mind.

Joshua noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. “What? You embarrassed?”

“I—no!” you shot back, though your cheeks were burning. “It’s just… fuck, you couldn’t pick a more normal one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, flashing a grin that was a little too cocky for your liking.

“I can already see the crew girls drooling over you.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Let ‘em drool.”

You had to laugh at that.

“You know what? Never mind,” you muttered, waving him off. “Let’s just get to the venue before I lose it.”

Joshua chuckled and followed you to the van, casually tossing his sunglasses onto the dashboard as he climbed into the passenger seat. You took one last glance at him before slamming the door shut. He was leaning back, arms crossed, looking totally at ease in a way that was both infuriating and… kind of hot. Shit.

You could feel Joshua’s presence next to you, his knee brushing yours whenever you hit a bump. It was distracting as hell, but you did your best to focus on the road, on the gig, on anything that wasn’t Joshua in that damn shirt.

The ride was filled with the usual chaos—your drummer tapping out beats on the seat in front of him, your guitarist tweaking pedal settings on the floor, and the bass player scrolling through social media, barely paying attention. Joshua sat next to you, quiet, but you could tell he was absorbing everything. The energy, the vibe. This was the part of your life he’d never seen before.

When you finally pulled up to the venue, you felt the familiar buzz of expectation in your chest. The stage crew was already setting up, speakers being wired in, lights being tested. You hopped out of the van, gesturing to the others to get moving.

Joshua followed close behind, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The venue was bigger than the high school stages he was used to seeing you on. It was packed with people running back and forth, instruments being tuned, sound checks echoing in the air.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the stage. “This is...bigger than I expected.”

“Told ‘ya,” you said, grinning as you grabbed your bass and slung it over your shoulder. “Welcome to the real deal.”

Joshua nodded, clearly impressed. You could see the awe in his face, and a part of you felt proud that he was seeing this side of your world. The chaos, the noise, the energy. It was all part of the life you lived—the one he’d never been fully exposed to.

As the band started running through sound check, Joshua found a spot near the back, watching quietly, tapping his foot along with the beat. Every once in a while, you’d glance back at him, half-expecting to see him overwhelmed, but he wasn’t. He was nodding along, sunglasses now perched on his nose, looking like he fit right in.

You could hear the low murmur of the crowd outside, getting louder as more people settled into their seats. Joshua was still talking with Rob, your drummer, which gave you just enough time to pull the rollers out of your hair and finish your makeup in front of the cracked mirror in the dressing room. You rushed through it, swiping on your signature dark lipstick, when the door creaked open, and in walked Joshua.

Of course.

He stopped mid-stride, eyes darting around the room, then finally landing on you—and your outfit. You were wearing a black, lacy top that was just sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, especially when it came to the piercing you knew he had seen before. You’d never made a big deal out of it, but every time Joshua caught a glimpse, he’d get that uncomfortable look on his face, like he wasn’t supposed to be seeing something so private.

“Eyes, Joshua. Eyes,” you could almost hear him coaching himself. His gaze flickered up to your face, but it was too late—you’d caught the quick dip to your chest, to the black leather pants hugging your hips like a second skin.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly trying to act casual, but his voice came out rougher than usual. “I was, uh… just letting you know I should probably get to my seat. The crowd’s filling in.”

You smirked, finishing the last swipe of lipstick and tossing the tube onto the makeup table. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and adjusting the top slightly. “You’re not sitting in the crowd anyway.”

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion, still trying hard to maintain eye contact, which was almost comical at this point.

“You coming up for the encore,” you explained, crossing your arms. “VIP section, side-stage. Didn’t I tell you?”

Joshua blinked. “No. You didn’t mention that.”

You grinned, seeing how flustered he was, and it only made you want to push him further. “Guess I forgot.” You winked, loving the way his mouth opened slightly, the words stuck in his throat. “Go get settled. We’ll call you up when it’s time.”

He mumbled something under his breath and awkwardly nodded, backing out of the room with a half-hearted wave. As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath, grinning to yourself. Good luck keeping your eyes up there, church boy.

[...]

By the time you hit the stage, the crowd was electric. You could feel the vibration in your bones, the pulse of the drums and bass weaving through your body. The lights were blinding, sweat already starting to drip down your back within the first few songs. You scanned the crowd, catching sight of Joshua standing where you told him, off to the side, eyes glued to you like he’d never seen you before.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You weren’t just some girl with a guitar tonight. You were in it, the music flowing through your veins, your hands sliding over the neck of the guitar like they were made for it. The band was tight, every note hitting harder than the last, and you felt alive in a way you couldn’t describe. The crowd roared, hands reaching out as your bandmates, already stripped of their shirts, threw them into the audience like trophies.

Joshua’s eyes were wide, watching the sweat drip down your arms as your muscles flexed with every chord change. You were lost in it, mouth slightly open during one of your solos, head thrown back as you pulled the guitar into your body like it was an extension of you. You could feel his gaze, heavy and unblinking, and it only pushed you harder. You let your voice growl into the mic, letting out the kind of raw, strong energy that got you here in the first place.

His mind must’ve been racing. He’d seen you play before, but never like this. Never with this much heat, this much intensity. You weren’t just a rockstar tonight—you were a sex symbol, and every single person in that venue, including Joshua, could feel it.

It hit him then—this was why you didn’t want him to come to the after-parties. It wasn’t just about the chaos or the booze. It was because, in this space, on stage, with the lights and the music and the crowd screaming your name—you were untouchable. And so, so fucking hot.

He’d always known you were beautiful, but this? This was something else. Watching your body move in rhythm with the music, the way your fingers slid across the strings, the sweat glistening on your skin—fuck. Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every part of you was dripping with confidence, sexuality.

The crowd erupted as you launched into the final solo, the room swelling with the sound of your guitar. Joshua’s gaze lingered on your body, on the way your leather pants clung to every curve, on the sway of your hips as you moved, and on your lips, slightly parted as you leaned into the mic. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face as he watched your muscles tense and release, every move planned, every note flawless.

His thoughts ran wild, and as you finished the set, throwing your head back in a final roar of victory, he couldn’t help but think, So this is what she didn’t want me to see.

The show ended in a blur of cheers and flashing lights, the energy still pulsing in your veins as you stumbled off stage, half-drunk on adrenaline. When you spotted Joshua at the back of the room, standing there with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, you couldn't help but laugh.

You walked over to him, sweat still glistening on your skin, a tired but satisfied grin on your face. “Well?” you asked, chest heaving. “What’d you think?”

Joshua blinked, forcing his gaze up from the floor to meet yours. He swallowed thickly, that guilty knot tightening in his throat. “It was… amazing,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. “You were—fuck, you’re incredible up there.”

His compliment was genuine, but there was something else in his eyes. Something conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just seen. His best friend—the girl he’d known since forever—looked like this. Played like that. He felt sick about it. Sick because his heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons. Sick because seeing you like that—half-wild, sweaty, powerful—it wasn’t just admiration anymore.

You grinned, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Told you it was a rush.”

Before he could respond, the two of you heard the unmistakable sound of feet pounding the floor. Fans. A whole wave of them was running toward the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band before they left. You didn’t even think, just grabbed Joshua’s hand and yanked him with you, sprinting toward the van parked outside.

You were laughing as you ran, your grip tight around his wrist, and Joshua couldn’t help the way his heart raced—whether from running or from being so close to you, he didn’t know. He could hear you breathing hard, could see the wildness in your eyes. And for the first time, he got it. The thrill. The chaos. The rush that came with living your life like this.

By the time you both reached the van and slammed the door behind you, you collapsed onto the seat, letting out a long, relieved moan. Joshua just stood there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide. He felt it now—the thrill, the electric hum in his blood. But also something else, something that made his stomach twist.

When you caught his eye and smiled that lazy, satisfied smile, he felt like he was losing his grip. You looked like a sexy mess, hair tousled, lipstick smeared, eyes sparkling. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, and it was doing things to him—dangerous things.

“The after-party’s at a club,” you said, glancing at him as the van roared to life. “Private for tonight. Just the band and our friends.”

Joshua nodded, his mouth dry. He had no idea what to expect.

[...]

The club was another world entirely.

The moment you stepped inside, Joshua was hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something that might’ve been smoke, but wasn’t just cigarettes. The bass was pounding, vibrating through the floor, and there were bodies everywhere.

The first thing he noticed was your bandmates already surrounded by a small crowd of girls—half-naked, some practically sitting in their laps. One of them was making out with the guitarist, her hand slipping under his shirt while the others just laughed, already drunk and messy.

Joshua’s throat tightened, his eyes wide as he took it all in. It was chaos. Absolute chaos. People were drinking, smoking, making out in dark corners, hands wandering under clothes with zero shame.

And then there was you.

You didn’t miss a beat, grabbing a drink from the bar and downing it like it was water. When you turned to face him, leaning back against the bar with your leather pants clinging to your body and your shirt barely covering anything, you were a vision. A sexy, disheveled vision, your hair a mess, lips wet from the drink, and eyes hazy from the adrenaline of the show.

You were the kind of person that people wrote songs about—the kind of person that people lost themselves over.

“You good?” you asked, voice low, almost drowned out by the music.

Joshua blinked, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” But he wasn’t. He could barely keep his head straight with everything going on around him.

You grinned, holding out your drink. “Here. This’ll help.”

He hesitated for a second, but then grabbed the glass, taking a long gulp. The burn of alcohol felt good, grounding him for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to block out the heat in his chest, the strange attraction, the strange guilt swirling inside him.

You chuckled, watching him down half the drink. “Easy there.”

Joshua wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling hard. He shook his head, swallowing again, trying to focus. But then you were close—too close—and he could smell the combination of your perfume and sweat, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You were so casual about it, so relaxed in this wild mess, like you were born for it.

Joshua stared at you, watching the way your body moved with the music, the way your hips swayed slightly, your hair falling in your face. And he couldn’t help it—he wanted you. Wanted to pull you close, to taste the sweat on your skin, to feel the heat of you pressed against him.

But he couldn’t. You were his best friend. You’d been through everything together. But right now, in this moment, you weren’t just his friend. You were a fucking rockstar. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Joshua took another long drink, trying to drown the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. You watched him, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto your lips as you leaned in closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“You feelin’ it now, aren’t you?” you whispered, voice just loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because yeah, he was feeling it. The rush, the heat, the want. And it was all because of you.

Someone in the crowd—a guy with a half-buttoned shirt and lazy grin—held out a blunt to Joshua, smirking. “Want a hit, man?”

Joshua froze. His mind blanked for a second. “Nah, he doesn’t smoke. Leave him alone.” The air suddenly felt too heavy, the idea of it too real. Before he could even answer, you were at his side, grabbing the guy’s hand and pushing it back with a casual laugh. “He’s too saintly for that.”

Joshua froze, the word saintly cutting through the noise. You were teasing, of course, but that single word twisted in his gut. He didn’t need you looking at him like that—like he was too pure, too clean for this world you thrived in. He hated it. Hated that you saw him like some untouched, pristine version of himself that didn’t even exist. That look you gave him, all amused and lighthearted, made his skin crawl because it only reminded him of how distant he felt from you in that moment.

You grinned at him, eyes gleaming. “Come on, Josh. You’re way too neat for this shit. Leave the bad habits to me.”

He clenched his jaw, hands in his pockets, trying to keep his cool. The thing was—you had no idea. You saw him as the same old Joshua, the one you grew up with, the guy who kept his hands clean while you dived headfirst into the chaos. But fuck, that wasn’t him. Not really. Not anymore. You thought he was some perfect church boy who’d never done anything wild, who probably still had his V-card, for God’s sake.

If only you knew.

The way you laughed about it, as if the thought of him doing anything wild—anything sinful—was so absurd it was hilarious. And that burned. More than it should’ve.

Joshua swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but your words dug in deep. Saintly. Neat. Like you didn’t know. Like you couldn’t even imagine him doing anything like that. He wasn’t a fucking saint. He wasn’t clean like you thought. He’d done things—felt things—that would wipe that smirk off your face. But you… you never saw him that way. Not Joshua.

 “You’re lucky, y’know? Not everyone can pull off that whole saintly thing,” you teased, brushing a hand through your messy hair.

He clenched his jaw. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he muttered under his breath. But you didn’t hear him—or maybe you didn’t care.

Joshua felt his pulse quicken, the alcohol buzzing in his system, loosening up the tension in his limbs but doing nothing to calm his mind. He hated how you looked at him. Like he was too clean, too good for this world you lived in. He hated how you never saw him as anything more than “good ol’ Joshua.” The guy who had never gone off the rails, the guy who probably never even had his dick wet before.

That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?

And fuck, he couldn’t stand it. The truth gnawed at him, because you had no idea who he was outside of your little bubble. You didn’t know about the times he’d stayed up too late, desperate to cum, the fantasies he’d let himself get lost in—half of them about you, goddammit. You didn’t know about the nights he’d spent grinding against someone, hands buried in their hair, feeling the warmth of their body pressed against his, the messy nights where he lost himself entirely.

You looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

His breath caught. You were joking—you had to be—but something in the way you said it, so casual, so sure that he wouldn’t… it broke something in him. The club around him blurred as he focused on you, standing there all relaxed, your lips still slightly parted, that familiar teasing glint in your eyes.

He couldn’t stop himself. “You really think I’m that fucking innocent, huh?” His voice was sharper than he intended, the words cutting through the thrum of the music.

You blinked, pulling back slightly, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What? No, I just—”

“You think I’ve never been with anyone? Never had my fuckin’ cock wet before?” He didn’t care how crude it sounded. Didn’t care that it was probably the first time you’d ever heard him talk like that. He was sick of it. Sick of the version of himself you’d created in your mind.

You feel the heat rise in your chest, a compound of anger and something else you don’t even want to admit. The way he said it—rough, out of character—like he was someone else entirely. Part of you wants to slap him for it, for breaking the image of the Joshua you knew. The good one. The clean-cut guy who’d never even raise his voice, let alone tell you he wasn’t so fucking innocent. But the other part of you… it liked it. The tension, the bite in his words, the way he stood there, all riled up.

You narrow your eyes, smirking just a little.

His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. For the first time, you see his eyes darken—none of that usual light. No soft Joshua anymore. His face shifts into something harder, almost dangerous. It catches you off guard, and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re playing a game you can win.

“Don’t push it,” he warns. It sends a cold lick from the beginning of your spine to the end, but you tilt your head, still smirking, testing him.

“What? Gonna do something about it?” You lean in closer, just inches from his face now, daring him. “C’mon, Joshua. Show me.”

And then it happens.

He’s on you so fast, you don’t even have time to process it. His hands grab your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you feel it—the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly. Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, testing the waters, your body instinctively reacting to the sudden heat between you two.

His mouth crashes onto yours, rough, almost desperate, all that pent-up tension is spilling out at once. His lips are soft but demanding, like they’re asking for something, but also taking it without permission. You kiss him back just as fiercely, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, the taste of alcohol on both your breaths mixing as you struggle for control.

His hands slide down your back, grabbing your ass with a roughness that makes you gasp, and he pulls you tighter against him, grinding into you just enough to let you know exactly how turned on he is. “Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, barely pulling away to speak. You can feel the frustration, the years of him being the good one, bubbling up in every kiss, every touch.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him even closer, your nails digging into his skin through his shirt. It’s messy, frantic, and the sound of it—the heavy breathing, the low growls coming from him, the way your lips smack together—fills the small space between you like the only thing that matters is how fast and hard you can make this happen.

And god, it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. You can feel it in the back of your mind, the thought lingering, telling you this isn’t who Joshua is. Not the guy you grew up with. But right now, he doesn’t feel like the Joshua you knew. He feels like someone who’s been hiding this side of himself for too long, someone who’s finally letting the mask slip.

And the worst part? You like it. Maybe too much.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes are almost black with craving, his chest heaving as he stares at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You can see it on his face—how much he wants this, how much he needs to prove to you that he’s not as clean as you think he is.

“You sure you wanna keep pushing?” His voice is raspy, breathless, and his grip on your hips tightens. “’Cause I don’t think you can handle what happens if you do.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down. “Try me,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

And just like that, he’s on you again. This time, rougher. His mouth moves down to your neck, teeth scraping against your skin as he kisses you there, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and you feel the hard press of his cock grinding into your stomach as his hands roam over your body, touching, grabbing, pulling. He’s all over you.

You’re backed into the wall of the van now, his body trapping you there, and for a second, you think about the others. Your bandmates. The people who know Joshua—the real Joshua. You can almost feel their judgment, the silent “what the fuck” looks they’d give you if they saw this. If they saw how you’re fucking with his head, breaking him down until he’s someone else entirely.

But right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s kissing you like this, touching you like this. Not when his hand slips under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bare skin, making you shiver. Not when he’s showing you this side of himself that you never even thought existed.

And fuck, you realize. You’ve been wrong about Joshua. So, so wrong.

And he’s not done showing you just how wrong you’ve been.

Joshua’s hands slide under your top, squeezing your waist, his thumbs teasing your skin, brushing against the underside of your boobs until they find your nipples, flicking at the piercings. The sensation makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you fold under his touch. You clutch his arm, your breath heavy against his neck, before you moan right into his ear. You feel him twitch, nearly stumbling in front of you, his control unraveling.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking it back to force his eyes on you. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you can see the hunger there, the intensity, the rawness of it. “We need to stop,” you breathe, trying to sound firm, but even to your own ears, it’s weak.

Joshua’s mouth presses back against your neck, and he mutters between kisses, each one punctuating his words. “No. You don’t. Want. To. Stop. Do. You?” His breath is hot against your skin, each word hitting you harder than the last, unraveling your willpower.

“I’m serious,” you insist, but it’s pathetic, because the way he’s touching you—like he’s memorizing every inch of your body, like he’s known this moment was coming—makes it impossible to think straight.

He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, checking if you really want to stop. His expression softens, as if he’s giving you an out. 

“We need to stop, or we’re gonna end up fucking right here in front of everyone.”

For a second, you both pause, glancing around. The crowd is still buzzing, everyone too lost in their own world to notice what’s happening between the two of you. You could, technically. You could fuck right here, and no one would bat an eye, but that last shred of morality keeps you in check, pulling you back from the edge. Barely.

Joshua was imagining just how much worse things could get. But honestly, he liked every single one of these thoughts. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you toward the club’s parking lot, and rushing toward the van.

The heavy door of the van slides shut behind you, and Joshua locks it with a rough click, sealing the two of you inside. The second the door’s closed, it’s like the floodgates open. His hands are everywhere—grabbing, pulling, needy. He kisses you harder now, more frantic, his body pushing you against the side of the van, and your back hits the first seat with a thud.

You stumble, the both of you crashing into a pile of boxed-up instruments. Your knee hits a guitar case, his ass bump on the drum box, but neither of you care. Joshua’s hand slides down to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you into him, making sure you feel every inch of him pressed against your thigh. You’re practically panting, the need between you both building, burning.

You push him back toward the last row of seats, hands fumbling at his belt as you go, your teeth grazing his jaw, his neck, tasting the sweat and the heat from the show earlier.

He moans down in his throat, a sound that rumbles through his chest and straight into yours, and you swear it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. His fingers dig into your hips as he backs into the seat, pulling you down on top of him, your legs straddling his lap, the hard press of his cock straining against his jeans beneath you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grinding against him, and his head falls back against the seat, eyes rolling shut for a second as you move. You take advantage of it, your lips finding his neck, your teeth scraping his skin just enough to make him hiss.

The leather of your pants is sticking to your skin, but you barely register it as Joshua leans down, kissing you again, his hands slipping under your top and pulling it up, exposing you. His mouth moves lower, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and then lower, until his lips are at your chest. He doesn’t hesitate—his mouth finds your nipple, and he flicks his tongue over the piercing, making you arch your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

The leather pants cling to you, slick with sweat, and you can feel every inch of them suffocating your skin. You groan in frustration, hands fumbling to yank them off. In your hurry, you knock your elbow hard against a nearby box, hissing in pain. Joshua’s hands are on you immediately, steadying you as you finally peel the damn pants down, tossing them aside like they personally offended you. He takes the opportunity to shove his own pants down to his knees, and as you glance up, he's yanking his shirt over his head.

You’re back on his lap before he even realizes what’s happening, grinding down on him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers. It’s a hell of a lot better than the rough leather, and you feel the instant response—his hands grip your thighs so hard it’s like he’s holding on for dear life, his head falling back with this breathless, whiny moan.

His fingers slide down the front of your panties, finding you soaked, and he’s instantly wrecked. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he growls, his voice ragged, eyes dark and hungry as they lock onto yours. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

The dirty words coming from him feel so wrong, so foreign, but god, it’s making your head spin, red flags of danger flickering in your mind, and you can’t stop.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble, still grinding against his hand, but then he pushes a finger inside you, and your whole body jolts. A hand flies up, palm slamming against the fogged window for balance, leaving a print there as you rock forward, riding his thick, calloused finger.

His finger feels huge, and the stretch of it makes you dizzy. You’re thankful for the seat behind you, giving you the support you need because you’re practically sprawled back on it, grinding on his hand like your life depends on it. 

He’s watching you, eyes locked on every twitch of your face, every moan spilling from your lips, and then he slides another finger in. The stretch makes you gasp, thighs trembling as he moves them inside you, fingers curling and hitting that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

“Talk dirty to me,” he suddenly demands, voice low and gruff. 

“You… don’t like it when I curse,” you manage, barely coherent as his fingers keep moving inside you.

“Fuck that,” he growls, fingers curling deeper, making you whimper. “Call me whatever the fuck you want. Call me a motherfucker, I don’t care. Just talk to me, let me hear it.”

Your body’s trembling, eyes rolling back as you grind harder against his hand, desperate for more.

You moan, feeling his fingers pumping inside you as his thumb brushes your clit. You’re teetering on the edge, and words are spilling out before you can stop them. “God, Joshua… Always acting so pure. I bet no one would believe how fucking hard you are for me right now, huh?”

His breath stutters at your words, his fingers thrusting harder inside you. “Keep going.”

“Is this what you’ve wanted?” you gasp, rocking your hips against him, feeling that coil tightening in your belly. “You want me to ride your fingers like a fucking slut, huh?”

He groans, low and deep. "Fuck, yes”

Your body’s trembling, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the brink. “You’re such a motherfucker,” you whisper against his lips, your voice breaking. "You feel that? Feel how close I am? You're gonna make me—shit!—cum all over your fingers.”

Your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed as his rough, calloused fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your entire body tense. You're whimpering, struggling to keep the dirty talk going, but it's hard to form words when every nerve in your body is on fire. "God, Joshua, your fingers... they’re so fucking big," you manage to choke out, voice shaky.

He smirks, eyes dark, watching the way your body responds to him. “If you think my fingers are big,” he breathes, thrusting them deeper, faster, “imagine how you’re gonna feel when it’s my cock inside you.”

The thought sends another wave of heat pooling between your legs, and you grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as he moves his fingers faster, relentless, pressing into your sweet spot over and over. Your walls clamp down around him, and a broken cry escapes your lips, your body trembling as the tension snaps, pleasure ripping through you in a rush.

"Fuck—Joshua!" you moan, your voice high and desperate as your orgasm hits you hard, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tight you can barely think. Your slick coats his hand, and he watches you fall apart, eyes locked on the way your body writhes against his, chest heaving, face twisted in pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, and you can feel him watching you, his expression mirroring your own without even meaning to. His lips part in a quiet curse, like he’s just as lost in it as you are, completely captivated by the way you cum on his fingers, riding the digits until you curl up on him.

His fingers slip out of you, slick and shiny, leaving you empty. Your breath catches in your throat when his hand dips down to his own cock, still hard and straining under the thin fabric of his boxers. He grunts softly, shifting, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of it through the fabric—big, thick. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

He’s moving fast, lips already on you again, his mouth latching onto your nipple. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive bud, his tongue swirling over the metal of your piercing like he’s obsessed—after all, besides seeing it through your blouses, now he has them in his mouth. His grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, almost like he’s trying to devour you.

“Fuck, Joshua,” you rasp out, voice shaky, still buzzing from the orgasm he pulled from you with just his fingers. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He pauses for a second, teeth scraping your skin as his mouth moves up to nip at your collarbone, smirking. “What, you think just 'cause I look all neat and clean, I don’t know how to make a girl cum?” he leaves a wet hickey on your chest. “Trust me, babe, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You arch into him, head tilting back as his tongue flicks against your other nipple, but this time, he looks inside your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me… always acting like a saint.”

His hand tightens on your thigh, sliding up between your legs again, brushing against your soaked panties. He smirks against your skin. “You’re the one who’s been driving me fucking crazy. Always teasing me. You know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

You’re about to reply, but his fingers are pulling at the waistband of your panties, dragging them to the side. The next thing you know, he’s pushing his boxers down, freeing his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of it—he’s big, thicker than you expected, the tip already slick with precum. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder how many girls have seen this side of him, but then he’s guiding you back onto his lap, hands firm on your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, feeling the thick head of his cock brushing against your folds. The feel makes you hold your breath, the heat from his body and the sheer wrongness of it making your pulse race.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a brief second, there’s conflict there—like he’s torn between the best friend who used to crash on your couch, and the guy who's about to fuck you. He’s barely holding himself together.

He guides himself inside you slowly, inch by inch, and you can feel every stretch, every pulse of his cock as it fills you up. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as you sink down onto him, his size making your head spin. "Jesus, Joshua..." you groan, head falling forward, overwhelmed by how full you feel.

His cock feels impossibly big, filling you up completely, and for a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re even taking him.

His hands tremble slightly on your waist as he pushes the rest of the way in, a throaty moan slipping from his lips. “Fuck, this is so wrong,” he mutters, voice shaky, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re my fucking best friend, I shouldn’t be doing this—” His voice breaks off into another moan as you start to move, your hips rolling against him.

You watch him, grinning at the conflict flickering in his eyes, the way his face contorts with each movement of your hips. His best friend—the girl he’s never even crossed boundaries with—now stretched out, tight around his cock. It's almost too much for him, his mind clearly buzzing with how wrong it is, but his body craves more, needing the way you feel wrapped around him.

His moans meld with yours, louder now, whiny. "You're making me fucking lose my mind."

You lean in close, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “Then lose it. Let me fuck you like no one else ever has.”

He growls low in his throat, his control slipping completely. He thrusts up into you, harder, deeper, and you moan, head falling back as your body rocks against his. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you down onto him again and again, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

You press both hands to his chest, halting his frantic thrusts, pinning him back against the seat. “Whoa, slow down,” you say, eyes locked on his as you adjust yourself, shifting until you find the angle that makes you gasp. His cock twitches inside you, and you bite back a smirk. You know you’ve got him right where you want him now.

You flick your hair to one side, leaning back a bit, and start riding him slow, dragging it out, making sure he feels every inch. His mouth opens to say something, but you change the motion, circling your hips instead, and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. You scoff, half laughing, half moaning. “What? Why so quiet now?”

His hands fly to the armrests, knuckles turning white as he grips the leather for dear life. You know exactly what he’s doing—trying to stop himself from grabbing you too rough, like you can’t handle it. Like you don’t want him to. But you take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, his palm practically engulfing your head. You lean into his touch, biting your lip before saying it. “Slap me.”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“Come on,” you grind down on him again, slower, teasing. “You’ve never slapped anyone before? Right on my face. Do it.”

He looks torn, breath hitching as you ride him harder. You can tell he’s struggling to even think straight, his stomach clenching, his abs flexing under your hands as the pleasure hits him hard. But it’s your pace that’s driving him insane, the way you bounce on his cock, taking him deep, then slowing down just enough to drag it out. He’s barely hanging on.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Fuck… I don’t—” He gasps when you clench around him on purpose, his hips flinching up into you, reflexive. His hand tightens on your jaw before he lets go, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can—”

“Shut up,” you whisper, eyes burning with challenge. “Slap me.” The way you’re looking at him, daring him, makes his heart pound in his chest. He hesitates for half a second, but when you grind down on him again, harder, his control snaps.

He slaps you, hard. Harder than he intended.

The sound of it rings out, followed by his shocked gasp. But you’re already moaning, your pussy clenching so tight around him that he almost loses it. He watches in disbelief as you react, the slap turning you on even more, your walls fluttering around his cock, soaking him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, staring at you, wide-eyed, as you keep riding him like nothing just happened—no, like it made everything better.

Your body jerks with each bounce, the slap leaving a burning sting on your cheek, but all it does is fuel the fire between your legs. “See?” you taunt. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He groans, the sound low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re fucking insane.” His hands find your waist again, but this time he doesn’t try to hold back. He grips you tight, fingers digging into your skin as you grind against him, circling your hips just to watch his head fall back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Every time you clench down on him on purpose, his whole body flinches, like he’s trying so hard not to lose control. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, voice ragged. “I can feel… fuck, I can feel you squeezing me like you want me to fucking break.”

You bite your lip, eyes half-lidded as you meet his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Joshua's thumb strokes the still-hot skin of your cheek where he slapped you. You bounce hard on his cock, the slap only making the tension between you snap tighter. His thumb lingers, gently caressing the mark like he’s making up for what he did, but you grin, biting your lip through the pleasure and ask for more;

“Slap me again.”

It’s the same voice you used when you asked him to push you harder on a swing—excited, impatient, full of that rush of adrenaline. He sucks in a breath, brows furrowed like he’s torn, but the way your pussy tightens around him makes his decision for him. His hand raises again, and this time, it lands with purpose.

Your face turns to the side from the force, cheek burning red-hot, and fuck, it burns even better than the last one. 

Your pussy tightens around him instantly, and Joshua groans. He can feel the way your body responds, how you pulse around him every time he does it. You moan, “Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum again.” The whine at the end of your sentence makes his cock twitch, and it sparks something animalistic in him.

Joshua grabs your hips, lifting you just enough to pin you down on his lap, grinding his pelvis into you so deep that your vision goes hazy for a second. You roll your eyes, barely hanging on. Before you can catch your breath, he’s flipping you onto the seat, his cock never leaving you as he lays you down, spreading your legs up and grabbing the backs of your knees.

The new angle has you arching your back immediately, hands scrambling for purchase on the seat. He starts thrusting, and it’s so hard and deep you swear your body is melting into the seat. Each snap of his hips sends a sharp lock of bliss through you, his pelvis slamming into yours, and you know anyone outside can hear the van rocking, but you don’t fucking care.

You don’t care about anything except him, the way his thumb circles your clit just as he slips it down, thumb circling the base of his cock, spreading your slickness over the throbbing nerve. Your body jerks, an involuntary sob escaping your throat.

Joshua’s never seen you like this—ruined, makeup streaking down your face, thick tears rolling down your cheeks. His grin is huge, his breath ragged as he stares down at you, fucking relentless in his pace. “Aw, look at you. You’re crying on my cock,” he coos, his voice laced with sweet mockery. He presses harder on your clit, making you squirm, and he chuckles low, shaking his head. “Such a good girl, crying for me like that. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You let out a strangled gasp, your body writhing under him as you feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, everything inside you winding so tight. “Fuck,” you choke out, “Josh, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he growls, leaning down, his mouth right by your ear now. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, gonna make a mess of me?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your head tipped back as your body reaches its breaking point. His thumb circles your clit faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over, and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. You feel the coil snap inside you so hard that you almost black out, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you cum, the orgasm ripping through you with inhuman intensity. 

You scream his name, tears streaming down your face as you sob through it, your body trembling violently as your release floods out of you, soaking his cock and thighs.

Joshua watches, mesmerized by how fucking ruined you are beneath him, and he leans down, whispering against your lips, “That’s right. Cry for me more, baby. Show me how good it feels. Look at you… soaking me like that, dripping all over me.”

Joshua's hips stutter, and you feel the unmistakable swell of his cock inside you, growing thicker, pulsing as he teeters on the edge. He pulls out suddenly, leaving you breathless as he grips his cock, jerking it against your slick stomach. His hand is tight, desperate, moving fast as his chest rises and falls in ragged breaths.

His moans are a mess—whiny, high-pitched, slipping from his throat like he can’t control them. He bites his bottom lip hard, but the sly little whimpers escape him anyway, each sound more desperate than the last. His abs tense, his whole body trembling above you, muscles tight as a cord about to snap. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back slightly as he loses himself in the feeling.

“Fuck—” he gasps, his voice breaking as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His grip falters for a split second, and then his cock jerks hard in his hand, spilling hot ropes of cum. It spurts in thick, messy streams, splattering across your belly, sliding up toward your chest, even reaching your chin. His knees buckle slightly, and he has to grab the back of the seat in front of him to keep from collapsing, his whole body shuddering through the force of it.

He’s panting, still jerking himself through the aftershocks, and his cum keeps dripping from the tip, mixing with the sweat that’s already covering both of you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, falling to the side as your body finally gives out, utterly spent. The van feels suffocating, the air thick and humid, making it hard to breathe as the windows fog up completely now.

Joshua’s hand is still braced on the seat for support, knuckles white, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes flicker open, and when he looks down at you—covered in him, eyes heavy, body limp—you can see the disbelief, the satisfaction, and maybe even a little guilt.

But neither of you moves, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the humid silence of the van, your breaths slowly returning to something like normal.

Joshua settles into the seat next to you, staring down at you like he’s trying to make sense of everything. You both stay silent, like the weight of what just happened hasn’t fully hit yet. Neither of you moves; it's as if you need this stillness to process, to figure out what the fuck this was and where it might lead. Was it the alcohol? The adrenaline? Or maybe the tension between you two, the one you both never admitted but always felt.

He suddenly stands up, his voice breaking the silence. “Where’s your necessaire?” You barely register the question, too lost in thought, so you just point lazily toward the front of the van, your limbs too tired to follow his movements.

You hear the zipper open, the soft rustle of him digging through your things. Your legs ache from the awkward position they’re in, but before you can shift, Joshua is back beside you. Without a word, he gently lifts your legs, folding them in a more comfortable position, almost cradling you. You catch his eyes as he pulls out makeup remover wipes.

He starts with your face, wiping away the tear-streaked makeup, his touch as soft as it’s ever been. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek tenderly—the same cheek he slapped earlier, his movements extra gentle now, like he’s trying to undo any mark he left.

You close your eyes, feeling his hands glide across your skin. “You’re lucky I know how to clean this up,” he teases lightly, the sound of his voice strangely comforting. “You always were a mess after shows.”

You hum, half-laughing. “You should see me after the after-parties.” The humor doesn’t land quite like it usually does; there’s something too real now, something too intimate that makes the joke feel heavy.

He uses a fresh wipe to clean the cum from your body, starting at your chin and working his way down your belly. His touch lingers, but it’s not lustful—more like he’s making sure every part of you is taken care of, like you’re something precious. “Lift your arm for me,” he says softly, and you comply, feeling the coolness of the wipe brush under your arm and along your ribs.

When he finishes, his hand slips to your necklace, the little cross with the rhinestones—one you wear mostly because of him. His fingers fiddle with it for a second, the small gesture almost grounding, like it’s pulling him back to reality. 

“You good?” he asks finally, eyes scanning your face, like he’s not sure if he went too far, if maybe you’re more hurt than you’re letting on.

“Yeah,” you breathe, and even though you’re wrecked, there’s something warm in your chest. “I’m good.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight. “You sure? You need anything else?”

You smirk a little, exhausted but still yourself. “Yeah, I need a nap.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath, still holding your necklace. “Alright, you take that nap. I’ll watch over you.” There’s something sweet in his tone, a promise hidden in the words, something you know he means more than he’s letting on.

And as you start to drift, you can’t help but think that despite everything—despite the wild shit that just happened—Joshua is still Joshua. Sweet, caring, a little too good for this world, and somehow, still your person.

[...]

The nap you took wasn’t just any nap—it was wild, like the kind where time feels like it disappears. When you finally blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, the van’s already moving, and you hear muffled voices. Your crew is in the van now, going about their business like nothing happened. Instinctively, your hands fly to your chest, covering yourself, but you’re already dressed—the same clothes from the show.

Relief floods through you, though you’re not sure why. Then you realize where your head is resting—not on the uncomfortable seat like before, but on Joshua’s lap. His thick thighs beneath you are surprisingly comfortable, his body warm against yours.

You feel him stir beneath you, his body shifting as he wakes up too. His hand brushes against your arm, and you glance up, meeting his eyes. His hair’s a bit messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but there’s this soft smile on his face, one that makes you feel like everything’s okay.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, his hand absentmindedly stroking your arm.

“Mornin’,” you echo back, your own voice low and hoarse.

There’s a moment of quiet between you, the rest of the van oblivious to the weight of everything that passed between you two last night. You shift a little, feeling his thighs under you, and the memories flash through your head—the heat, the sex, the things you said and did. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

“You slept through everything,” he teases, his smile widening, though there’s a hint of something unspoken behind it.

You chuckle, adjusting slightly but still keeping your head on his lap. “Guess I was tired, hm?”

“Tired? You passed out,” he grins, his hand moving to gently fix your hair. “Had to dress you. Can’t have the crew thinking… well, y’know.”

Your face flushes a bit, imagining him trying to carefully dress you without waking you up. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he says, his tone playful but gentle. There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you wonder what’s next, what happens after this.

You glance around at the others in the van, but it’s like they’re in their own worlds. No one’s paying attention, no one’s noticed how close the two of you are, how your head’s still in his lap, how his fingers are still brushing through your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can get used to it, can't you?

[koalayoo]

ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ, ʙᴏʏ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: pure fluff for the most part, soft! bf kaiser, reference to his backstory, kind of cocky, better than my last fic for sure

author's note: wanted to write a good christmasy bday fic for him. bit late, apologies. not really proofread or beta'd. apologies again.

wc. 1.3k

Kaiser had never celebrated Christmas.

Christmas was also his birthday.

That means Kaiser has never celebrated his birthday.

This was what had become apparent to you in your relationship with Kaiser, when all the walls between you two had become bulldozed and you realised, yeah, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You had come to understand that with Kaiser’s upbringing and all that he would have probably never received a gift from his father. You wonder if at that age he knew what Christmas was.

Then you started tumbling head-first into a hole of unanswered questions. What would he have even done for his birthday? Was anyone there to ever celebrate with him? You knew how bad he had it growing up, you regrettably knew. Part of you wished you didn’t know how bad it was, hoped that sometimes his father grew to be lenient or that maybe the old women in town that would see him around knew his name. Knew him to be more than Michael “professional neighbour thief” Kaiser and instead as the kid he was. That was just wishful thinking though.

He had received gifts, which was expected. He was a pro athlete but he also had Ness from the age of 15 who had most definitely gifted him something you assumed but weren’t privy to the details. However, he hadn’t celebrated. Hadn’t experienced true Christmas joy. He doesn’t know the feeling of waking up early and ripping open the wrapping paper on specially curated gifts that sit under the tree you both decorated together. Hasn’t felt what it’s like making cookies with the radios ruffled Christmas carols sputtering in the background. Wearing matching sweaters while watching stupidly predictable themed rom coms. Making a wreath to put on the front door. Kissing under the mistletoe. Ughhh, there was so much you needed to show him.

So, you did just that.

As soon as December started, you did your utmost best to get him into the festive spirit.

On the 1st, you brought home a tree and excitedly decorated it with Kaiser. Putting various coloured ornaments on, some the typical solid coloured balls, others with stripes and patterns, differing sizes, differing shapes. Then, Kaiser had placed you on his shoulders so that you could place the star on the tippity top despite your insistence it be him.

On the 5th, you went shopping with two very important things in mind. A wreath, and some ugly sweaters. On the way you slipped in some ingredients for cookies too.

On the 14th, you had started wrapping some presents. You had both agreed 3 presents was a good amount to give one another but you couldn’t help but feel a gnaw at the back of your head. It was also his birthday, you just had to double it.

On the 17th, you had put the wreath up which welcomed him home from a long day at practice.

On the 22nd, you had finally worn the sweaters which you had taken a polaroid of before promptly taking them off, sweltering from the heat of the oven that was baking the cookies you both had put hours into making. Later that night, bad christmas movie #1 was watched.

The 23rd and 24th followed a similar routine. Jam out to a different song before you got sick of it and watch another bad christmas movie. 

Then, it was the day.

All the extra presents you hid from him were placed under the tree and you made hot cocoa for two. You had to work quickly, Kaiser was used to waking up at the odd early hours of the morning and there was no doubt he would feel you missing next to him.

Soon, he had stumbled down the stairs and was greeted with you wrapping a blanket around him. You had pulled him down onto the floor and planted a present in front of him, a chaste kiss pressed against his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” You whispered softly into the air.

He had begun to wake up more and noticed the excessive amount of presents under the tree. He looked at the presents, then at you, and an eyebrow raised comically.

“And, Merry Christmas too, I guess…” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile appearing on your face. “Although that one’s of lesser importance.”

He sighs although he can’t help the small upwards tilt of his lips. “Thought we agreed on 3 each?” “Yeah, but it’s your birthday too! I wasn’t gonna be one of those people, ya know? The ones who just say the Christmas presents are also their birthday presents. You deserve to be celebrated twice.” 

“Yeah but-” And you briefly cut him off because if there was one thing you knew about Kaiser which was wrapped behind layers just like the presents was this feeling of foreboding. That he didn’t deserve this. However, your job as his brilliant partner was to teach him to sit there and take it.

So you started to celebrate, taking turns ripping the presents you both put love and care into wrapping. For every 2 gifts Kaiser opened, you opened one of yours in tandem. You giggled seeing him get you exactly what you wanted and teased him when a small blush appeared on his face when he got the same.

Although, there was one last present you wanted to give him.

A house full of love.

You wanted him to learn this holiday season that you were truly never leaving. Not like his mother, or even his begrudging father. That you were full of love for him and everything that came with choosing him. The arguments, the boundaries, the fear; you couldn’t fix it but you could help and that’s the sentiment you hoped to get across.

Later that day when you finished putting your gifts away and throwing the egregious amount of wrapping paper, you enter the living room to see Kaiser plotting. 

Before you can fully enter he spits out, “Stay right there.” You murmur in acknowledgement and stay put, eyes trailing the figure that is walking towards you suspiciously, one hand placed firmly behind him. You shoot him a questioning look to which he shakes his head, not budging.

“Should invite Ness over.” 

“Why would we do that?” He questions. “Fine with just me and you here, no?”

“Season of forgiveness, champ. Do I need to teach you how to be a good friend too?”

He’s stalked all the way over to you now. He towers above you and the hand he isn’t hiding comes to hold the top of the frame, leaning down towards you. His shirt lifts a little. You look. Then you look back at your boyfriend who has leaned in even closer.

His nose nudges against yours and you knew this was one of his ways of trying to assert dominance with the way a small brazen smirk made its way to his face. Could this guy try not to be a dick for one day? You notice the way his lips brush against yours slightly and you sigh, trying not to be pulled in.

“Answer?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it?” He chuckles and leans in to swoop your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It didn’t last long because his smile broke the seal between you two apart. His eyes have a gleam in them and they flick up causing you to do the same.

Oh. 

A mistletoe.

“When did you learn about this one?” You whisper softly, genuinely curious.

“I had a tough childhood, doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.” He laughs again, this time more joyfully. You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that he successfully tricked you or that you truly rendered him this clueless.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. You see the sliver of magenta hair through the window panels near the door before you hear him.

Oh.

Maybe Kaiser doesn’t need you to guide him after all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Title is from December by Ariana Grande. Thanks for reading!

[piastappies]

📸 BETTER THAN REVENGE

synopsis. after a fight with sirius, regulus comes to his girlfriend sulking and she decides to have a little talk with his older brother.

notes. regulus black x malfoy!reader

you and regulus had many more similarities than anyone could guess just by simply looking at the two of you. the most obvious included your background — ancient, pureblood families, who were nuts about purity, both in slytherin, both richer than most of the hogwarts students together, and in everyone’s eyes you were petty, stubborn and pretentious.

you two were petty and seemed pretentious, but it wasn’t all that. the two of you both had siblings, who maybe cared about you in some way, but never showed it well enough for you to be sure they cared. you were sure sirius cared, but you weren’t sure if lucius did. your brother was far from being a family guy.

both you and regulus were also painfully ambitious, and it kind of made the two of you so close as you were paired to one group in slughorn’s classes, and to secure yourself a top spot, you had to work together. and so half a year later, you were planning a trip to france, lying next to each other on the bed in his dorm.

after that one summer everything has changed, and now you two were an official couple, though not many people knew since neither of you wanted to make a big deal out of it. the amount of classes you shared had shrunken since you took different ones, but it just made your bond stronger.

it all happened on a week before both of you were supposed to return to your respective houses (though, regulus would be staying at potter’s), you were wrapping your present for barty, when your boyfriend stormed into the room. pandora, who sat there with you, claimed she would leave you two alone and left. you could easily see that something happened from the look on his face.

“reg,” you began, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden appearance. “is everything alright, love?” a soft ask left your lips as he just laid down on your bed, face buried in a pillow.

silence filled your room right after you finished your sentence. it was time for you to just sigh quietly, putting a hand on his back and scratching it gently. “you know you can talk to me, right?” your soft tone and the sensation of your nails on his back made him grunt.

“i’m not leaving for christmas.” he stated, catching you a little off guard. you were sure it was about the upcoming christmas ball that slughorn threw and since you were invited, regulus was ought to go with you. “i… got into a fight with sirius, so either we make up or i’m gonna go to my parents.” now, he was looking at you with misery and sadness flickering in his eyes.

“he thinks james is more of a brother to him than i am.” regulus adds, his head now resting on top of your laps as you play with his hair, trying to comfort him at least a little. “and he says it’s not that big of a deal, since i consider evan and barty my brothers and i’d probably say that they’re more of brothers to me than he is, but that’s not true.”

his words made your heart ache. it was clear to everyone in your friend group (including remus, who often just tagged along) to know how much regulus needed sirius’ validation, how much he needed to be reassured that he doesn’t hate him as much as regulus thought he did.

“i know we haven’t talked until he moved out, but it still hurts.” he whispered, not even looking you in the eyes. “and he doesn’t even recognize how much he means to me. he’s the only one in our entire family that matters more than everything. i got his initials and constellations tattooed and he thinks i would choose barty and evan over him?”

“you’re brother is an idiot, and i mean it.” you murmured, showering his head with kisses. if regulus was in his usual mood, he would say he just acts like an idiot, but now? he didn’t even want to defend him. “i’ll stay with you. i’d go nuts if i had to spend a minute with lucius.” you say softly, fingers running through his hair.

it took you a few more minutes to comfort him enough to leave your dorm for his evening practice, and even though you were supposed to finish packing your presents before christmas. you had to talk to one, annoying gryffindor, who was no other than sirius black.

getting into their common room was easy, lily, friend of a friend of yours, let you in after hearing your explanation, showing you how to get into sirius’ dorm that he shared with james, remus and peter. “one of you better hold me or i might kill your friend.” you let out, looking specifically remus, who looked at you with a glint of surprise.

“what did he do again?” lupin asked, his expression scolding. “what’re you doin’ here, malfoy?” peter began, but before he could elaborate, remus put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head as you looked for the perfect words.

“how can you be such an asshole, black?” you hissed, the end of your wand pointed at his throat. “one time you’re all on being the best older brother you can, but next time all i see in yourself is my brother, and believe me, that’s the furthest from a compliment.”

“i’m not done, yet.” your teeth gritted, eyes narrowed at him. “he’d never choose anyone over you, yet you’d always choose him —” you looked at james for half a second, then turned your eyes to sirius, again. “— over your own brother, who’d jump into flames just if you asked him to? unbelievable.” you sighed, putting your wand down, sliding it into your boot. “and you know what’s the worst in all that? that i wish he’d pick anyone else over you, but he won’t, because he can’t even get mad at you for not choosing him, he’s just sad.”

the atmosphere in the room is so tense, someone could cut it with knife. “you’re an idiot for making regulus feel so little about himself, and y’all are idiots for letting him.” another sight left your lips as your eyes were locked with sirius. “maybe even regulus will let you treat him like shit, but i won’t, black. i’ll make sure to haunt your dreams and turn them into nightmares, i can promise you that.” you gave him your most ironical smile. “i’m a malfoy, don’t underestimate me, cutie pie.” you sent him a wink,

“protective girlfriend, huh?” remus chuckled as you passed him, giving you a high-five. “oh you bet, lupin.” and you left, sirius almost shamless at your sudden outburst, but… it was quite impressive — though, he’d never admit it.

you haven’t seen neither of them till the next morning at breakfast, when they walked to the great hall together, talking about something until each of them got to their respective tables. “what did you do?” regulus asked, sitting on the bench beside you.

“what?” you asked with a sweet smile, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “just had a small talk with sirius, why?”

“a small talk? with the tip of your wand pressed against his throat?” you nodded at his words, sending him a fake-puzzled look. “you know i love you?” he bit back a smile, leaning closer to whisper those words right to your ear.

“oi, malfoy.” barty started, interrupting your somehow intimate moment with regulus. “theoretically, if i paid you, could you do that to me as well? that must’ve looked bloody hot.” crouch grinned, getting a light punch on the shoulder from your boyfriend.

“i would rather not touch you, crouch. i don’t know where the hell have you been.” you laughed, your head resting on regulus’ shoulder as his arm was wrapped around your waist. “don’t worry, baby. if any of them bothers you, i can fight.” you winked at him playfully.

[wisteria-lodge]

If you're comfortable answering, how do you think JKR intended Draco to come across, and how did he actually come across in your mind?

I think Draco was intended to come off as a weak and kind of pathetic bully. The Dudley Dursley of the Wizarding World. 

That’s how we’re introduced to him: “Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.” Almost he first thing we hear Draco say is the very Dudley-ish -  “I'm going to drag [my parents] off to look at racing brooms... I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Later books re-contextualize this as a brag - he is not actually able to bully his father into buying him presents, and instead of Dudley's tantrums Draco likes to embellish things in order to seem more impressive and get the result he wants. But initially, I think Draco = Dudley. They both dislike people who are different, dislike Harry for being more special (and because they’ve been given tacit permission to bully him...)They’re spoiled by their parents. They’re even both platinum blonde. 

JKR loves the idea of an antagonist who realizes that they were wrong and *you were right* a little too late, and then has no choice but to punish themselves. (Basically the entire deal with Snape.) So - Draco and Dudley get some of that treatment too. After Dudley meets the dementor he breaks down, has a moment where he leaves Harry a cup of tea, and another where he says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” BUT Dudley’s initial breakdown is framed as pathetic (even a touch comedic.)The tea he leaves outside Harry’s door has gone cold, and when Harry steps in it he initially thinks it’s a dumb prank. Dudley says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space” only in response to a comment Harry makes. Hestia Jones is super unimpressed, and thinks Dudley should be doing more. 

Like, JKR is aware that it’s not *completely* Dudley‘s fault he’s like that. Dumbledore comments on the “appalling damage [Vernon and Petunia] have inflicted on the unfortunate boy sitting between you.” But the damage is still done, and Dudley is meant to be seen as a figure of pity. All this is supposed to read as ‘too little, too late.’ If Dudley were less of a coward, a stronger person, a better person, he would’ve brought Harry the tea directly. 

Now let’s look at Draco, who is given some *very* similar beats. We see him crying in the bathroom, comforted by Myrtle (a comedic character) very similarly to how Dudley basically goes into shock after the dementor. Draco and Dudley are both framed as weak, but able to see the error of their ways, and their breakdowns set up an important plot/character moment for Harry.

Draco’s little “I can’t— I can’t be sure,” when he’s asked to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor is another beat of ‘too little, too late.’ Harry takes Draco’s wand a few minutes later (absolutely castration imagery - just look at how the text treats Lucius losing his wand) and then Dobby shows up to low-key shame Draco by doing the job that he [narratively] was supposed to have done: rescuing Harry and friends, probably dying in the process. I do think that’s how we’re supposed to read that scene. And then Harry gets these very similar selfless beats of saving Dudley (from dementors) and saving Draco (from fiendfyre.) That’s why JKR is so baffled when people like Draco, think he’s attractive, or ship him with Hermione. It’d be like shipping her with Dudley, it doesn’t make sense.

But a couple things went “wrong” when Draco was released into the world. For one thing, I think a lot of people saw his more indirect underhanded approach (he likes rumors, smear campaigns, blackmail, poison, sneaky back entrances, tricking/provoking Harry into breaking rules) as evidence that he's clever, and not that he’s a cowardly, spineless little weasel.

Then because JKR is committed to making Draco look ineffectual and comedic, she also makes him… not that bad? Most of his bad behavior goes down between books 1 and 3, and I’m sorry - when you’re 12 your politics are your parents' politics. You are not not responsible for that. By the end of the series Draco’s politics *have* changed, pretty drastically, and they changed under challenging circumstances.

I also think JKR accidentally gave him a better relationship with his father than she meant to? Jason Isaacs plays Lucius Malfoy as cold, I could see him being a *bit* of a bully when it comes to Draco -  but in the book, they go on outings, Draco complains to his father, Lucius is patient with him, gives him advice, sets boundaries, sends him little newspaper clippings in the mail. Lucius and Narcissa are running around without wands during the Battle of Hogwarts looking for him, and it’s supposed to be like “here are the Malfoys defanged.” But it's just a sweet moment. And if you’re positioning Draco as a romantic lead, then yeah I’d say that “good relationship with his parents” is an attractive trait.

The movie also did Draco Malfoy a HUGE favor by saying that yes, he absolutely does have the Dark Mark. That is never confirmed in the book. You can make the case that he doesn’t have it, and he’s doing what he does and embellishing the truth to seem more impressive. Hermione doesn’t think he has it. Ron says “I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join.” If he doesn’t have the Dark Mark, Draco gets to stay a semi-pathetic minor villain. But the second he does have it… well now you have someone who was given this tattoo/brand thing the *moment* he turned 16 (Draco has a June birthday) and now is 100% stuck. He is on a magical leash to Voldemort. He can’t run, can’t hide. All he can do is ride out this thing as best he can, and hope it doesn’t kill him or his parents. That’s a much more sympathetic character.

And my last thing, about the moment where he lies for Harry in Malfoy Manor (movies frame it as 100% a lie, books keep it more ambiguous)... is I don’t think J. K. Rowling realizes that Draco is the first person in the entire 7th book who helps Harry, at all. Molly Weasley is actively sabotaging the Golden Trio's planning by splitting them up and making them do wedding chores. Xenophilius Lovegood betrays them, Bathilda Bagshot betrays them, Rufus Scrimgeor is no help, Remus Lupin needs *their* help, Dumbledore gave them a series of maddening riddles. Snape gives them a weird puzzle to solve (also he’s very much acting under Dumbledore’s orders…) So when Draco DOES put himself on the line to buy them a few minutes, it makes for a pretty striking moment. He also keeps to this lie even when Lucius tells him not to, he lies to Bellatrix, he is almost certainly going to have to repeat this lie to Voldemort, who can read minds… 

So I think most fans look at Draco and see someone who is arrogant, a little bit of a shit, but is also sensitive, clever, emotional, nonviolent. (He’s definitely got a little bit of boy band non-threatening sexuality going on.) Draco will go out on a limb for the people he loves, and he comes through when it counts. There’s a survivor-mentality practicality to him, which is especially appealing in a series where so many characters are so willing to martyr themselves.

[secret-moonstruck]

NOT SO SWEET REVENGE | k.sn

— Pairing: dom!sunoo x sub!fem reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N made a comment in front of the others about her boyfriend being too sweet to try anything harder, and he decides to get revenge.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, cum eating, overstimulation, injuries, slaps, pet play, submission, blood.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

They were all celebrating Sunoo's birthday, her friend handed her a gift and said it was for the two of you. But as soon as he opened the present you saw him blush, without understanding why you approached to look at the contents of the box, as soon as you saw that they were handcuffs and lingerie you quickly closed the box and took it out of his hands,but it was already late, all his friends had already seen it and started making fun of it.

- Wow, apparently Sunoo's gifts aren't finished yet, you won't receive the real gift until later. - Ni-Ki was teasing him.

- Poor Sunoo. Don't overdo it with him, the child may not be able to handle the gift.  - Jake made a mocking joke.

- That was unnecessary. - You scolded your friend.

- What, but the present is your face. - Her friend said laughing. - Don't pretend you don't like these things.

- I already said he's too sweet for that kind of thing. - You tried to whisper to her but Heeseung who was nearby heard you.

- “I already said he's too sweet for that kind of thing” - Heeseung couldn't help it and started laughing. - Lol, I can't believe you have a perverted girlfriend and you are “SWEET Sunoo”.

Sunoo, who was just blushing out of embarrassment for the gift, was now red with anger, you realized that he was really offended and you understood, the jokes out there would hurt anyone's ego.

- Sunoo, I'm sorry. - You approached trying to calm him down.

- You will certainly regret it. - His look scared her, he didn't have his usual sweet expression, his gaze seemed fierce, and his voice was much heavier than normal. 

But when he took your hand dragging you to the room taking the box with the gifts you weren't afraid, the way he looked different made you want to know what this angry side of him could show you.

You could hear the others arguing, surely thinking that the jokes might have damaged your relationship, that he was really angry.

At the same time you thought about how he looked so sexy angry you wanted to grab him, you were also getting scared that he might break up with you, maybe he was really offended.

When he opened the door and pushed you inside making you fall on the bed you were already nervous about his silence, but when he turned to the closet looking for something and started talking, you were really scared that everything was ruined because of a stupid gift.

- I always strived to treat you as I thought you deserved. Always ignoring my own desires by always thinking of you first. And for what? So you can humiliate me in front of my friends? Saying I'm not good enough. - He laughed sarcastically

- Sunoo you know it's not that, you are perfect in everything, I would never complain about anything.

- No? But it looks like you've been complaining to your friend, right?

- It wasn't that, I wasn't complaining... Please tell me you don't want to break up with me.

- Break? It depends on the context. - He laughed ironically. - It doesn't matter, I tried to treat you in the best way possible, but if you want to be a bitch I will treat you exactly as you are, a bitch.

He found what he was looking for and turned back to you holding a box that he threw next to you on the bed. Your eyes widened, understanding what he meant by the context about breaking. Why did her always so romantic innocent sweet boyfriend have these things in his closet?

- Get out, put this on. - He threw some things at you and pointed towards the door telling you to go. - I'll give you some of what you wanted. But don't forget that it was you who asked for it.

- Get out? Wear this? But how will I get back?

- You've already made it clear to everyone that you're a bitch, what's the problem? - So many words you never expected to hear from him, it was making you dizzy.

You left the room with the things he gave you. You certainly couldn't leave the bathroom wearing that, the black lingerie might be pretty but it didn't cover anything, and the ears and tail... that was too much, you'd never walk down the hallway wearing that. Looking around you saw a towel and wrapped yourself in it so you could leave, luckily the hallway had no view of the room and no one passed by.

When you entered the room wrapped in a towel he got up from the bed and walked over to you.

- Who said you to cover yourself? - He pulled the towel from his body angrily.

He admired you, looking at every detail of your body, your smile completely the opposite of his normal smile. He always seemed sweet to you, but now his eyes really looked like a fox, a wild fox that was going to devour you.

- I knew it would look perfect on you.

As he walked away you remained frozen in place, feeling a mix of emotions, at the same time being confused, as it seemed like the sweet Sunoo had been replaced, you hadn't recognized him, but at the same time you were loving it, feeling already excited looking forward to what would happen, you loved him for always being so romantic, so careful, but now everything about him seemed different, his posture, his look, his voice, his smile...

- Come here Y/N. - He called her sitting on the bed. His voice seemed to hypnotize you, you obeyed him without even realizing it.

When he pointed to the floor, you again didn't hesitate to obey, sitting on your knees in front of him.

- I ordered it for your birthday. I thought I would never see her using it. - He took what you thought was a choker and tied it around your neck. - It suits you perfectly. Go to the mirror and look.

Standing up and walking over to the mirror you saw him through the mirror, his gaze never leaving you. When you finally saw your own reflection you noticed that it wasn't a choker...it was obviously some kind of collar, and it had your name set in red stones. 

Sunoo saw how your initially shocked look showed how much you liked the gift and smiled at you through the mirror.

Little by little they both realized that they were mistaken about how they saw each other, and how they wasted time with a facade of innocence.

You ran back to him happy with the gift, excitedly sitting on his lap, but when you tried to kiss him he pushed you away.

- I think you forgot why we're here Y/N. - As he spoke he attached a chain to the collar around his neck. - Why are you so excited? Have you forgotten that we are here to punish you for humiliating me?

- Sunoo I… - He didn't let you finish, he squeezed your face making you look into his eyes before pushing you making you get off his lap and pushing you away, he wanted to see you.

- If you beg, maybe I will forgive you.

It was obvious what he wanted, you got down on all fours and walked towards him.

- Please Sunoo, forgive me. - You begged, your eyes fixed on his. Now on your knees in front of him again.

- Sunoo? I think you didn't understand. - He pulled the chain on your collar, slightly choking you.

- Master... Please forgive me master! - Now tears rolling down your face, not from fear, but from excitement, why doesn't he fuck you soon?

- Better… But forgive you for what? - Pulling the collar again, this time harder.

- For underestimating you, master. For allowing them to tell these lies about you..

- Very well, but that's not enough. You're not begging enough.

This time he pulled hard on the leash taking you to him before kissing you. This was also different from normal, it was much hotter, more engaging, sexy. You truly looked like a bitch, moans and sighs leaving your lips as he kissed you, your body melting from how hot it felt.

When you stood up a little, wanting more, trying to get closer to his body, he pushed you away. 

- I didn't allow that. - His low and deep voice made you increasingly wet, but what really moved you was your face burning, the loud crack echoing through the room when he slapped your face. 

First the shock of what happened, but without realizing it you smiled, he also noticed that. You let out a mix of scream and moan as he landed another slap on your face, you could feel the cold ring that was on his fingers against your face, and then the collar being pulled to make you face him.

- You smiled. - He laughed in admiration. - You really are a bitch.

His eyes shining with desire as he saw your face red, your lip bleeding from the impact. 

- Oh... I think I hurt your beautiful face. - He said smiling, his tongue passing over a small cut made on his cheek by the ring, then also over the blood on his lips.

Your entire body frozen in place… OK…You were definitely falling more and more in love with him.

Your eyes followed his every movement as he took off his clothes. You always thought his body was perfect, it wasn't too thin, and he didn't have excessive muscles, everything was perfect, his skin that you loved to mark, but always avoided being so obvious...damn it now you didn't have to worry about that anymore. Your mouth watered as you watched him now completely naked in front of you, the veins around his length so inviting...you knew it would be different from other times, and that seemed to make him even more attractive.

He didn't need to call you or pull you, you immediately got on your knees in front of him, but you waited, not wanting to risk doing something without him giving the order.

- Very well, good girl, you are already learning. - He touched her hair like someone praising a puppy. - I don't need to send it, do I? You know what to do. - Sunoo sat back on the bed, leaning back in his arms.

It was just what you needed to hear, when your hands finally touched his cock, you heard him sigh. You pumped him a few times before running your tongue from the base to the tip, catching the precum with your tongue before licking it again, you didn't notice that he was holding the chain around your neck until you felt a tug, and understood that he was getting impatient, soon you had him in your mouth, while your hand was on his balls. He obviously wasn't trying to hide his moans as you sucked him.

You couldn't take it anymore, while he didn't see you, you lowered his other hand to your wetness, pleasuring yourself. But when he felt you moaning against his dick he realized what you were doing, he pulled hard on your collar.

- Do that again and I won't let you cum tonight. - Your tone was authoritarian and you obviously wouldn't disobey.

Taking your hand away from you with a disappointed sigh you turned your attention fully to him, soon he came in your mouth, and you swallowed it all before opening your mouth to show him.

- Good girl, I think I can reward you. 

He helped her up and signaled her to sit on his lap, but that was it. Then he took the chain off his collar and attached it to his wrists. All the while you were controlling yourself not to move in search of friction against his thighs, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he noticed it.

- You can move, I'll let you. - He barely finished speaking and you were rubbing against his thigh, your moisture spreading over his skin.

He watched for a while as you looked so pathetic and desperate moaning on his lap, the tail you wore swaying as you moved on his lap, he wanted to leave you there longer but he couldn't wait any longer, he needed to be inside you. 

Sunoo removed the lingerie you were still wearing and pushed you down making you lie down and attached the chain to the top of the bed. Then he stopped to observe you for a moment, admiring you, thinking about how many times he could have had you like this under him if he hadn't been so stupid to worry about how you seemed so fragile and he looked so perverted, just to know that you were exactly like him. 

Soon he lined up at your entrance, and you felt every inch of him sliding inside you, he didn't need to wait, you were too wet, his movements were fast and strong. 

The loud moans echoing through the room, mixed with the sound of the chains that hurt your wrists as you tried unsuccessfully to free yourself, mixing with the wet sound of the contact of your bodies, your names leaving your lips like mantras.

Sunoo's hands gripping your waist tightly, leaving marks.

- Sunoo…please, Sunoo I beg you. - You asked when you were close, squeezing yourself around him, leaving him about to cum.

- That's right Y/N. Beg for me. - He said cumming, but without slowing down, making her cum too.

When he finally managed to catch his breath a little, he laughed, leaving you confused, he seemed to have had some idea.

- Come here. - He said, releasing the chains of the bed and picking you up, your legs around his waist as he carried you to the door, your back hitting her hard.

- Let's show who the sweet child is? - His voice was nothing sweet, his whole body got goose bumps at how his voice sounded in his ear.

You tried to hold back your moans as he quickly pushed himself against you, your nails digging into his shoulders hard trying to keep yourself quiet, which was useless with the noise of your body hitting the door.

- No Y/N, let it out, I want to hear your beautiful voice moaning my name, go, you don't need to hold back. - His hand around your neck tightens, the collar under his fingers tightening even more on your skin making you dizzy.

- Please stop Sunoo, it's too much. - You asked, I was still very sensitive of your previous orgasm.

- Are you sure you want me to stop? - He said, slowing down. But that wasn't really what you wanted, you are close again, if he stopped now it would be worse.

- No, don't stop no, more, I need... - You begged.

- What do you need? 

- I need to cum, please master. - Hearing you call him master again was the limit for him, not being able to take it anymore he came, you feeling every drop of him inside you made you come too while his name came frantically from your lips. 

Your head falling onto his shoulder as you tried to remember how to breathe. He took you back to the bed and saw how screwed you looked, he removed the plug with the tail and your ear headband that was hanging from your hair, before kissing your chain injured wrists.

- Have you forgiven me? - It was the first thing you said, your voice weak.

- For now, yes. - He responded, pulling her to lie on his chest. 

- I never really complained about you. I just said you were so perfect and sweet that I wanted to corrupt you. But apparently you were far from needing to be corrupted.

- It seems that they were both mistaken. You obviously didn't need that much care.

- Yes, we are the same, we are equally mistaken, but now we no longer need masks.

- Exactly, and now that I know that you are not my fragile girlfriend, but a perverted little slut, next time I won't be so nice. - Nice…?

The next morning you felt like you could die from the embarrassment, everyone was wake up and when you entered the kitchen the conversation stopped immediately, everyone's eyes turned to you in shock. 

- You could have been more discreet. - Jay scolded them. - We already understand Sunoo's message, next time remember to respect the other residents of the apartment.

Note: I corrected the many writing errors i noticed. Maybe there are still some left. I'll try to pay more attention to this.

[noriimura]

namgyu headcannons’’

warnings: dark! namgyu, drugs, thinness, eating problems, addictions, family issues

an: my thoughts on how I see namgyu outside the game, it's okay if our ideas about him may differ. english is not my first language. this is my first post of this kind, so I hope you enjoy it

part 2 is coming soon…

i think he grew up without a father, with a cold, distant mother who didn't need him. he always tried to get her love and attention by doing housework, drawing her pictures with the caption "mommy, I love you" or "mommy, you're the best," then finding the drawings in the trash. he tried to study well at school, achieve heights in the classroom and be better than his classmates, thus receiving the excellent student syndrome. however, as he grew older, he realized that it was useless, his mother would not love him, the imaginary interest that was present only out of a desire to please his mother disappeared altogether. he gave up on his studies, and in high school he periodically skipped school with friends, drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes one after another. after finishing school somehow and passing the exams with a low score, he gave up on education and decided not to go further to study, he went to work in a nightclub on the advice of his friend who worked there

due to the fact that his mother was often absent from his life, he developed an anxious type of attachment. he is not sure of himself, he is afraid that he will be abandoned, that he can be intrusive, constantly demands confirmation of love, but without saying so directly, he considers it humiliating and shameful even in front of his partner.

speaking of his anxiety, his partner will have a hard time, he is the most anxious partner who will be jealous of every pillar, will constantly write and ask who his partner is with, will constantly suspect infidelity, check the phone for suspicious correspondence and make scandals from scratch.

there is also a theory that namgyu has an avoidant type of attachment, it is difficult for him to get close to people, show his emotions and trust, which is why he does not enter into a relationship in principle, trying to avoid any obligations, responsibilities and the opportunity to get attached, when he wanted to have fun, he met another girl in a club with whom he was rude, animal, dirty sex without any feelings. in the morning, deleting the phone number without giving a chance for something more.

it seems to me that he grew up in a family full of violence and debauchery, even as a child when his mother and father communicated but were not married, his father often came, they drank, smoked and then quarreled, he beat her, they hated each other, he saw it, he grew up in it, he absorbed such an attitude between parents this became one of the reasons for his cruelty and problematic nature, later his mother went into fornication, she began to bring new men to their house, they had fun, had sex, and drank, little namgyu saw all this, he hated her for it, this also became one of the reasons for his consumer attitude towards women.

he does not like to contact people, even though he works in a profession in which communication skills are extremely necessary. he never starts long dialogues with visitors unless they arouse special interest or are beneficial to him. if he is not interested, he shows it with his whole appearance, gaze and actions, he never tries to look interested, which is why he is not very respected at work. if he finds the dialogue not interesting, he will not say a word from himself in an attempt to maintain the dialogue, except for a couple of clear phrases that his work requires of him.

for namgyu, drugs are primarily a way to forget about all his sins, problems, and debts. It is in his hallucinations that he lives happily. before using drugs, he was trying to find himself, something that would save him. he stayed up late at computer clubs, draining money for an extra hour in the game, his hometown club and attempts to forget himself in new acquaintances, alcohol and cigarettes, which to this day help him relax. It was his first time trying drugs with his friends. hallucinogenic trips in which he could stay until morning, complete relaxation and loss of touch with reality, this was what he had been looking for for so long, only this state allowed him to smile and feel in his place.

although namgyu found an outlet in drugs, however, his gambling addiction remained, most likely he would have played some kind of strategic team games in the MOBA genre like dota 2, I'm sure he screams all over the apartment when he is killed or someone else's team demolished their throne.

namgyu prefers sportswear, usually a size or two larger, it seems to me that he would not wear fitted clothes in principle, making a choice towards slightly baggy T-shirts and wide trousers.

I think namgyu would have eating problems, he often has no appetite, which is why he refuses to eat or intentionally does not eat, plus due to drug use and lack of physical activity, the guy has a rather thin build.

he's a misogynist, which is already canon. i think as he gets older, he just gets disillusioned with women. perhaps he liked the girl who rudely and shamefully rejected him and he remembered it forever. Indifferent, strong, wayward and cold women remind him of his mother, which is why he literally wants to kill them so that the metaphorical death of his mother would happen. yes, he won't kill every woman he meets, but passive aggression towards them is clearly present.

edited: part 2

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentySix

Eddie climbs into the beemer, looking as hang dog as Steve has ever seen him, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie fiddles with his sweater cuffs, plucking at them with his finger nails, frowning, “we...speak English?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what the language is called, English.”

“And...many more? Languages? Lots and lots, right?”

“Yeah baby, that’s right, what’s wrong?” Steve grows increasingly more alarmed, Eddie actually looks like he might cry.

“I have to learn more? Learn all?”

“Oh! Oh no, not if you don’t want to. You could learn another one one day, but only if you want to.”

“Sure? Do you promise?”

“Yeah. Yes, baby, I promise. Just this one.”

Eddie sags in his seat, whole body crumpling with relief. Steve can’t help but laugh, but he does give Eddie’s hand a comforting squeeze.

Eddie gets into the beemer holding one massive fucking sunflower. Like, the head of the thing is just. Huge.

“Too big. Too different,” Eddie elaborates, “can’t sell it.”

“Well, that’s okay, it’ll fit in perfect on the coffee table,” Eddie nods affably at Steve’s suggestion.

“Stevie?” Steve hums to show he’s listening, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the car parking space. “Should we go to church?”

“Church?”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Eddie sounds the name carefully, “say she’s worried about my immortal soul.”

“Does she now. And who is Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

“She makes flower arrangements for church. Stevie? What’s an immortal soul?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “well. Uhm. So there’s...some people believe that there’s God, and heaven and hell and stuff like that. And there’s loads of religions, like with languages, lots of places have different ones and...God is kind of like...do you remember El explaining about Santa at Christmas?”

“Yes. He has a beard and reindeer and choose if you’re good, then gifts. Not real though, fun for kids believe.”

“Yeah. Yeah God is like that, but for grown-ups. And instead of gifts you get into heaven when you die.” Steve sees Eddie’s face crinkle up in his peripheral vision, “actually, you know what, I bet there’s a book about this, library detour?”

Eddie nods, humming agreeably.

The book on religions they find at the library is probably, now, a little below Eddie’s reading level, but it seemed like the best option at the time. When Eddie looks up from it and asks, “think The Upside Down is hell?” Steve sort of regrets the idea of a book.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Hell's probably more like, fire. And brimstone. And I never once saw a little demon with a pitchfork. Also, and I know this for absolute certain, there’s no way someone as good as you comes from Hell.”

“Oh.”

“I think...it’s up to you want you want to decide baby, you read as much as you like, and you think about it, but I think it’s made up, like a-” Steve hesitates over actually saying 'fairy tale', since he’s talking to a guy who, literally, is like a character from one of those stories, “like something that’s made up," He finishes lamely. "Anyway, forget the book, come up here, I haven’t won the kissing game for a couple of days and I’m feeling lucky.”

Eddie leaves the book, forgotten for a while, and Steve decides the first chance he gets he’s taking that one back.

“Stevie!” Eddie bursts through the door of family video, luckily it’s the middle of the day and the place is dead. He breezes straight past Steve and presents four pink roses to Robin, “from Chrissy,” he tells her, causing a spectacular blush to form on Robins cheeks before she sinks down behind the counter.

Eddie completely ignores her. “Knock knock.”

“Who's there?” Steve asks reflexively.

“Eddie with some flowers,” Eddie says proudly, and then promptly bursts out laughing.

“Uhm...Eddie with some flowers who?”

“What?” Eddie looks confused.

“...what?” Steve asks, feeling as confused as Eddie looks.

Eddie brightens again a second later, “knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Steve asks again, cautious this time.

“Family Video.”

“Family video...who?”

“Family video not house!” Eddie declares, and then laughs uproariously.

From behind the counter, Robin Whispers, “what is happening?”

“I have...absolutely no idea,” Steve answers, right before Eddie starts again on another nonsensical knock knock joke.

There isn’t much that Eddie does that annoys Steve, to be fair, there’s not really anything. But this. By the time he gets home he’s had enough of Eddie’s one man comedy act. “Joyce,” he hisses down the phone desperately, “you don’t understand how shit they are; they don’t even mean anything.”

She has the audacity to laugh at him, “I remember the boys going through that phase. They both did it when they were...four? Maybe Jon was five.”

“How long does it last???”

“Oh, I don’t know, few months maybe, off and on?”

Steve, very gently, bangs his forehead against the wall.

Eddie’s holding a bunch of something pink and only, maybe, a tiny bit wilted. He’s bright eyed as he gets into the car, “Stevie, Chrissy say at me about a new thing. We can try?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?” Steve has the car in reverse, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the spot.

“Blowjobs.”

Steve’s really pleased with how well he just...doesn’t react to that. Because, truthfully, he’s thought about it. He has. Really. But...well. Eddie’s teeth are sharp. And it’s not that Steve thinks Eddie would ever, ever hurt him on purpose, but that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have some, potentially, unresolved toe loss related trauma. And then there’s Eddie’s dick, and how...wriggly it is. How the end opens up and the...well. Just the whole thing, really.

“Stevie?”

“Why...are you and Chrissy talking about blowjobs?”

Eddie shrugs, “Chrissy not really like them, she ask if I liked them. I say I not try them. She said…” Eddie frowns, thinking, “she said, ‘you never get a blowjob?’ and got...angry sad? At Stevie?”

“Oh, she thought I was getting blowjobs but never giving you blowjobs?” Steve can, vaguely, feel his eye starting to twitch. He also can’t help but be fucking irritated with Chrissy, not only is it not her business, but he also can’t really be annoyed with her because...really if that’s what she was worried about, she is only sticking up for Eddie. He’s so naive, there’s no way Chrissy hasn’t picked up on just how innocent Eddie is, so Steve can't really blame her for thinking that anyone could take advantage of Eddie.

Even if it is fucking annoying.

“Yes, but I tell her no blow jobs at all. But we can try now, right?”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Sure. Uh hu.”

Eddie nods, “when we get home.”

“Right,” Steve says, with far more confidence than he feels.

“Stevie? Why not tell about blowjobs before?”

Steve hums, “just kind of...was saving it for a special occasion?” He tries desperately, he can’t look at Eddie as he speaks, keeping his eyes on the road, “didn’t want to go through all the good stuff too fast, you know?”

“Oh okay.”

Eddie limpets himself to Steve the second they’re over the threshold, demanding kisses, his fingers already exploring around Steve’s jeans button, “hang on hang on, couch or bed?”

“Couch,” Eddie answers easily, still kissing Steve as they walk awkwardly though the house. Steve sits, letting Eddie kneel between his legs, fumbling with his zipper.

And, the thing is, Steve really, genuinely believed he could do this. He trusts Eddie, he does. He loves Eddie, really, but he’s not even half hard when Eddie gets him out. And like Eddie...is, he tends to just go for things. Steve catches sight of the teeth and just...can’t. His hands are in Eddie’s way and he’s tucking himself away again before he can really think about it, “could we, maybe, leave this until...later?”

Eddie pouts, “want to try.”

“I just, I don’t want to do this right now, okay?” And the guilt Steve feels is a live thing. He remembers so clearly when he’d been frightened of Eddie’s dick, and how upset Eddie had been. That same fear raises it’s ugly head.

“But why? Chrissy tell me boys really like it-”

“I mean, I do. Kind of. But I just think we could...not do this.”

“But Chrissy say-”

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” Steve snaps, getting angry now. He’s not going to be prodded into doing something he just doesn’t want to do. Especially not by Chrissy Cunningham. “Since you’ve been working with her it’s been Chrissy this and Chrissy that, can’t you just, leave it? For once?” Steve gets up, needing to be away from this conversation.

“But why?”

“Because I just don’t want to, okay? Why don’t you go and ask Chrissy since she knows everything,” Steve snaps again, he knows he’s snapping, and it’s just making him angrier at himself for reacting this way, but he can’t seem to stop himself, defensiveness fueled by the guilt eating at him.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, hands on hips, frowning from the doorway.

“Go then. Go ask her what I should do about it.”

Eddie’s frown is nuclear now as he faces Steve across the kitchen, he tries to speak, half formed words at first, Eddie clearly struggling as he gets upset, “you think? You think?? You promise forever! Stee scared of Eddidie more! Eddidie different! Stee tell away!”

“You are though, you are different!” Steve knows he's wrong the second he says it. He knows Eddie well enough that saying that in anger is a cheap shot, and unforgivable low blow.

Eddie’s mouth pops open, shocked and affronted. He goes to speak but just...doesn’t. He turns and leaves...Steve hears the front door go.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs to himself, angry and upset with himself, the fight goes out of him as he’s swamped by guilt. Steve makes himself move to follow Eddie out. He opens the door just in time to watch Eddie pull the beemer out of the driveway, “oh fuck.”

“There’s pretty much only one place he would go, I think.” Steve tells Hopper, “so I’m pretty sure he will be there.”

Hopper hums from the drivers seat, “and what exactly did you two fight about?”

“I...well. I think this is one of those times where you don’t ask unless you’re really sure you want to know.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, there it is,” Steve breathes a massive sigh of relief, the beemer is parked near the florist. Tight to the curb too, a good parking job, and there’s not a single mark on her. The florists however, is shut for the day.

Steve bangs on the door, peering through the glass. It’s dark inside, but there’s some light shining through that little door in the back. Steve knocks on the glass again, and eventually Chrissy appears. She unlocks the door, immediately telling Steve, “he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Kid, can I go?” Hopper calls from where he’s half tucked the truck out of the way.

“Yeah,” Steve waves him off, turning back to Chrissy, “I need to apologize to him. Please.”

She scowls and makes a vague humphing noise at him, “fine,” Steve slips awkwardly through the gap Chrissy allows him, and once in she locks the door behind him. Steve follows her into the shop, “Eddie, I’m putting some stuff in the car out back, you come get me if you need me, okay?”

Steve comes around the doorway to see Eddie nodding sadly, he’s sitting in what must be their tiny break room. There’s two chairs and a beat up Formica top table, a little electric kettle on top of a under counter refrigerator. Eddie’s got a scrunched up wad of tissues in his hand where he’s clearly been crying.

“Hi Eddie,” Eddie fiddles with his tissues and keeps his eyes on his knees, not looking at Steve, so he pulls up the other chair, “I’m really sorry.” Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just,” Steve sighs, rubbing at his face roughly, “I did get scared okay? But I shouldn’t have...I should have just explained, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Eddie nods, shredding the tissue, “I sorry too.”

“It’s...not you're fault. Not really. I just...Eddie, your teeth are really sharp you know, and my dick is...my dick. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, okay, I know that but…”

“Chri-” Eddie bites it back, and stops speaking again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that too. It’s good you have a friend okay? It’s good she’s...teaching you things I haven’t thought of. It’s…you can talk about Chrissy, it’s fine.”

“Chrissy say...no people should do anything they don’t want to. Especially with sex stuff...so Eddie a bit wrong,” he sniffles, “but she help me dig hole anyway.”

“What hole?”

“For your body. Dead soon, but that...kind of funny joke?”

Eddie says it in a way that means he did not find it funny at all, and Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah. Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

They sit in silence for another minute before Steve offers, “you did a really good job of parking the car...do you want to drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stands, and so does Steve, and then they both move in for a hug at the same time, Eddie desperately throwing his arms around Steve's shoulders and holding him as tight as he can.

Steve swears to himself he’s going to do better with this stuff, and lets himself nose at Eddie’s ear, his skin tickled by Eddie’s new curls.

Eddie answers the phone, “Harrington residence,” he says carefully.

Steve watches him frown for a second, before he says, “yes, wait please,” and then offers the phone to Steve, “doctors.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Steve takes the phone, confirming his address and date of birth, before the lady tells him his test results are ready to pick up.

He hangs up, and Eddie’s there, offering him a pen, “that your birthday?”

“I- yeah. Yeah it was.”

Eddie nods, “should be on calendar before, Stevie,” Eddie admonishes gently.

“Okay, I’ll do it now, and then we can go get my results, okay?”

Eddie nods, “no more condoms,” he says solemnly.

Steve snorts a startled laugh.

There’s a frantic banging on the front door, then the bell rings. The bell rings again before Steve can even clamber up off the couch. It’s Eddie and Chrissy, and they hustle into the house before Steve even has the door all the way open.

Steve’s already alarmed, he isn’t due to pick Eddie up for another hour at least, and Chrissy wouldn’t just close the store unless it was an emergency.

“What happened?”

“There was a man,” Chrissy explains a little breathless, “Eddie hid behind the counter the second he saw him, and I’m sure he didn’t see Eddie, I’m sure. But he was asking questions. If a young man worked at the store, weird things about Starcourt. I just kept telling him no Steve but- he’s definitely looking for Eddie.”

Steve feels a mounting sense of dread as she speaks, “Eddie, did you know him?”

Eddie nods, looking frightened, “Starcourt. When I was in tank.”

“Tank?” Chrissy pulls a face, “what tank?”

“Uhm,” Steve suddenly realizes that Chrissy maybe shouldn’t be here for this part, Steve definitely needs to call Hopper, “Chrissy, thank you, but maybe you should go-”

“Absolutely not. Not if Eddie’s in trouble-”

“Okay, but the thing is-”

“Steve.” Chrissy huffs, “I know, okay?”

“You know...what?”

“I don’t know!” She flails a little, “I don’t know what I don’t know! But I do know that Eddie had never heard of the moon landing! He didn’t know that the guy on the five dollars is Abraham Lincoln! He didn’t know that other languages exist and he certainly can’t speak anything other than English even though, according to you,” she pokes Steve in the chest, “he should be able to speak Finnish! And he can’t!”

She’s getting worked up now, and Steve finds himself taking a step back, his hands up in defeat. For a tiny cheerleader, Chrissy’s kind of scary.

“He can find one bug in a delivery of a hundred stems Steve! And do you know how, he told me he can hear them! Hear them! I’ve watched him trim anything from daises to roses to full on sunflowers with his thumbnails Steve! He can cut baler twine with them. And don’t get me started on the florist wire, do you know what he does with that? He just straight up fucking bites through it!” Chrissy gets louder and pinker the longer she rants.

“He came to work with a mashed potato sandwich, like that's normal!! His tears are fucking brown! Brown! Those fingernails, that’s not polish, they’ve never been chipped, not once, they just grow that way, right? And I might be a blonde cheerleader but I am not stupid. So no. Okay, no. I don’t know what Eddie is. But I do know he’s my godamn best friend and if he’s in trouble, I want to help, okay?”

She’s all bright eyed and kind of breathless, and just a little terrifying. Eddie’s got his hands up in front of himself, nervously pulling at the threads of his cuffs, eyes big and worried as they slide back and forth between Steve and Chrissy.

Steve sighs, “okay. Okay. We can explain, but I just...I need to make a call first.”

Part TwentyEight

[darnell-la]

𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x wade’s goddaughter!reader

warning: ghosted, crying, mention of alcohol, Wade getting mad, fighting another mutant, SEXUAL ASSAULT, etc.

summary: Logan tried ignoring y/n, afraid something would happen to her like the rest of the people he cared about. That was until Wade told him about the man she was afraid of. The man who would do anything to hurt her.

After seeing the sight before him when he went to get y/n, he was crushed. That man needed to die, and Logan was going to make that happen.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

Logan has been away for thirty minutes, thinking about what he just got himself into, and what he’s gotten y/n into.

He truly believes that he is cursed and there’s no saving him. Even if he was cursed, it was just the devil's luck that everyone he loved died. Karma is also on the way for what he’s done.

He didn’t want you y/n to know what kind of person he was, even though that was just a one-time thing. He didn’t mean it, but he was just so angry. They killed his family, and he wasn’t just going to walk away.

Logan slowly got out of bed so he wouldn’t wake y/n up. He wanted her to get a good rest before she started her day.

Logan looked around the room until he found a mirror. He slowly walked up to it, getting a look of himself. He hasn’t looked at himself in the mirror since that day. He couldn’t deal with it.

He scanned his body, surprised at the work he’s got on him, even though he hadn’t gone to work until Wade picked him up.

The man smiled to himself, feeling great that he could look good for someone like someone. At her age, she might not want a sloppy Joe. She’d want a Logan Howlett, old but can fuck her on the wall.

The man soon stopped himself, feeling like he was smiling too early. What if y/n just wanted a one-night stand? What if the Wolverine she was crushing on is way different than him?

Does he deserve to settle down? Would the people's family members he’s killed accept this? Would you accept what he did?

Logan’s thoughts were all over the place. He could stay here. The man quickly put his clothes back on and left, making sure she didn’t wake up to the sight of him leaving.

A couple hours later, y/n woke up. She had almost forgotten what happened last night until she felt the dent right next to her, in her mattress.

Y/n smiled to herself, already missing his presence. He was so good at what he did. She felt safer than she’d ever felt. He truly is a hero.

It’s been a week since Logan has talked to y/n. Wade had given him a flip phone a few days ago with his hand y/n’s number in it for emergency contact, but he never reached out. Y/n did, but he hung up. He didn’t ignore it, he hung up.

Every day when y/n woke up, she looked straight at her phone, hoping Logan had texted or something, but he never did. Her smiles always faded and stayed faded for the rest of the day.

“Are you going to Max’s party tonight or no? I know you two don’t really — get along,” Y/n’s friend asked after she sat down at the cafeteria table she always sits at.

“Don’t want to, but I might have to,” she said, knowing Max would text her about it later today. “Why have to?” Carla, her friend asked, making y/n snap out of her memories of her and him.

“Oh, nothing, just- Because I want to party,” y/n switched how she presented herself so she wouldn't alarm her friend. She didn’t want anyone to worry. This was her problem. No one else.

Skip to the nighttime, y/n had gotten a text from Max, demanding her to show up at the party. She wanted to argue and tell him she was not coming, but she knew what would happen if she didn’t.

She’s exposed her, and while he did, he’d take whatever else he wanted from her. He was evil, but she was the only one who knew that.

As y/n got dressed, she got a call. She jumped on her bed to see who it was, hoping it was Logan, but it wasn’t. It was Wade. “Fuckin’ hell,” she sighed.

“What, Wade?” Y/n asked, annoyed. “So, how have you been?” Wade asked, starting a boring conversation, so y/n put him on speaker and continued. “Same old, Wade. What do you want?” She asked, making him giggle.

“Wanted to ask how you and Logan get along. Kinda needa make him some new friend, ain’t that right, peanut?” Wade talked to the man like a puppy.

“Wait, he’s with you? A-Are you on speaker?” She asked, feeling her heart pound. “No, of course not. Privacy matters,” the man spoke as he winked at Logan, totally on speaker.

“Oh, well — I don’t think me and him are going to work. Like friend wise,” y/n said. She wanted to be more than friends, but he ghosted her after they had sex. The best sex she’s had in her life. She can’t put that all behind her.

“What!? Why!?” He asked as Logan stood up quickly, wanting to say something, but Wade stopped him. “I-I don’t know,” y/n lied and Wade knew it. He hoped the man didn’t yell at her or make her cry.

“Look- I gotta go to a party, so, uh, please just- Don’t try to fix my life,” y/n said. “What are you talking about? Wait- Are you going over to his house again!? Y/n, we talked about this,” Wade got serious, and Logan has never seen that from him.

“You know him, Wade. I-If I don’t go, he’ll tell everyone and then I can’t live a normal life. That’s all I want. A normal life,” y/n’s eyes began to burn.

“It’s 2024, y/n — People will accept-“ Wade tried saying. “No, they won’t!” She yelled. Wade could hear the change in her tone, so he let it go. “I-I’ll call later,” she said before she hung up.

“The fuck was that about?” Logan asked. “It’s a long story that I can’t tell,” Wade said as he leaned back on the couch. “What!? But you had her on speaker when you told her she wasn’t. What’s the big deal about telling me when she’s not even here?”

“Look- It’s different, peanut. My baby girl has been through a lot, and it’s not to easy make this guy go away,” Wade grabbed the remote to his TV to turn it on and watch some kind of cartoon.

“Woah, and — The fuck did you do to make her not wanna be friends? God, you’re so fuckin’ hard to deal with. Always lashing out like the big ole beast you are,” Wade rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything — I just left before I could hurt her,” he said. “What?” Wade looked up at the man who was standing in front of him. He was confused until it finally dinged in his head.

“Y’all fucked!?” Wade jumped on his couch as he shouted. “Oh god,” Logan rolled his eyes as he walked back to the small couch he’s always on and flopped down.

“You do! You dirty little gribble. God fuckin- Fuck! You’re a fuckin’ dumbass,” Wade couldn’t stop rambling. “Heard that before,” Logan said as he grabbed his half-empty beer before chugging it down, thinking about how much of an asshole he is.

“You can’t just fuck a girl- Especially a college girl, then leave! You like- Dude, you broke her heart!” Wade grabbed his head, stressed that Logan could fuck up this bad.

“Well, clearly I didn’t even she was heading over to another man’s house that she’s clearly not supposed to be with,” he was jealous. Once she mentioned a dude, Logan’s blood boiled. She moved on so fast.

“You dumb bitch — He’s abusive! He’s making her go over there!” Wade yelled at the man. “What?” Logan asked as he placed his bottle down. “Why would she go over there if he’s abusive?”

“Oh, well maybe because he’s a mutant, and would kill her if she didn’t. Or expose her which I think she’d rather die than let people know she’s one too,” Wade said then covered his mouth. He fucked up.

“She’s a mutant?” Logan asked with a soft voice. One of his worries was that she’d never understand him, or die years before he would somehow grow old.

“Fuck it, let’s go. I got the Wolverine now so we have a ninety-nine point ninety percent of winning, but that point 1 percent can fuck us,”

Wade and Logan quickly rushed out of the apartment and rushed over to Max’s house, not knowing there was going to be a huge party.

“Who the fuck is this kid?” Logan asked as they got out of Wade’s car. “He ain’t no kid — Bro has been awhile for almost as long as you. He just looks like he’s in his late twenties,”

“He’s a strong mutant or what?” Logan asked, not really caring what he was. He was still going to kill him for doing the things Wade told him he’d done. He’s sick.

Wade told the story of how y/n came back up bleeding everywhere. Even from her legs. The sick man has been trying to trap her with kids for the past couple of years after he found out she was a mutant himself.

He wanted to rule, and he needed a family to do that. Y/n was one of the strongest mutants he’s seen, and he’s one of the strongest mutants Y/n has seen. She’s too afraid to fight him. He made sure of that.

“You call y/n?” Logan asked as he pulled his flip phone out. “Yeah, but she’s not answering,” Wade said as the two walked towards the home and inside, ears instantly ringing from how loud the music was. “She ain’t answering me either,” Logan said.

Y/n was currently in Max’s room, laid out and drugged. Some days he’d want a fight while the others, he just wanted it to be relaxing.

Y/n could barely move, but she could see everything clearly. Even though her head was spinning, she could see Logan calling her phone.

It was so close. Her hands were so close to it, but her body was weak.

“Who’s this?” Max asked as he picked up her phone, making her sigh. “Hm?” he turned the phone to her face, showing the calling picture being Logan when he was knocked out the night that had sex.

“No one,” y/n got out with a struggle. “No one, huh? Well, that looks like the Wolverine, and last time I checked, he died,” Max said before he hung up and tossed her phone to the side.

“Don’t make me ask again, y/n,” Max threatened as he looked down at her. “N-No one,” she said, not wanting to put Logan in danger after he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

Max laughed low as he took his shirt off and leaned over her body, his waist coming up and between her legs to spread her enough for him.

“Once I find out who he is, I’m going to kill him — Slowly,” Max added as her head moved side to side, begging him not to. “And I see he’s shirtless — On your sheets, so I’m going to do all of it in front of you while I show him who you belong,”

Y/n sobbed at the thought of him hurting someone because of her, again. He was evil.

“She’s not down here,” Logan said, feeling his heart raise. “Upstairs,” Wade spoke before running up the stairs to search every single room. The house was big, but that was their least concern.

“Always so tight for me. You sure you don’t want this? If you just give in, we could have a perfect and happy family,” he was insane, and she wanted no part of it.

“Y/n!” Logan’s voice could be heard down the hall. Max looked up, knowing he’d heard that voice before. “Y/n!?” He yelled again, making Max look down at her with a smirk.

“So, that is the Wolverine? Fuuck, y/n — You really outdid yourself. You think getting with another mutant will keep him alive?” Max slapped the girl across her face before pulling out and throwing her off of his bed.

Y/n struggled but moved her panties back in place before curling up on the floor. She didn’t know what was going to happen. She couldn’t watch.

Max fixed himself up and looked at the door, waiting for it to burst open until it did. There he was — with a friend.

“Deadpool and the Wolverine — Well, isn’t this new,” Max said, but Logan wasn’t focused on him. The man was looking around for y/n until his eyes landed on her. She was in her bra and panties. What Wade said was right…

“You young son of a bitch,” Logan had charged at him, and though Max hasn’t gone against a mutant like Logan, he was lasting a long time. A little too long which scared y/n.

“Let’s get outta here,” Wade picked y/n up to her feet but she instantly fell down. “Fuck- Did he drug you?” He asked and earned a nod. “Fuck!” He said, about to pick her up until he was tackled.

Logan was on the ground, head spinning from the beating he just took from Max, but he wasn’t done. Logan went to charge at the man with his claws out until he saw y/n, still laid out on the floor.

“Y/n?” Logan ran up to the girl, quickly trying to pull her up. “We need to go,” he said but noticed her body was slumped. “He fuckin’ drugged you?” Logan asked, earning a nod just like Wade.

It took everything for Logan not to attack Max. He had other things to do, and Wade handled Max just fine for now with his jokes and fake yells.

Logan was able to sneak out without Max noticing. Some people at the party looked at the man carrying her but paid no attention to it. They only double-checked because she was half-naked.

He made it out of the party and into Wade’s car. He was thinking about driving off until Wade was thrown through the third-floor glass, right next to the car.

“God- Fuck! Fuck, that motherfuckers strong,” Wade groaned as he got up, cracking his leg and arms back in the right spot. He looked to the side to see Logan and y/n lying in the back of his car.

“Get on the car motherfucker!” Logan yelled on the driver's side right before Wade jumped through the passenger side window that was rolled down.

As Logan stomped on the metal and took off, he looked back seeing Max standing in his room that he threw Wade out of.

Y/n was currently sound asleep next to Logan. They’re back at Wade’s apartment. Logan had taken her to bed so she could rest. She didn’t need to go to school tomorrow. He didn’t want her out anywhere until they dealt with Max.

“Next time we see him, we end him,” Logan said, laying on his bed and looking up at Wade who was standing in the door frame. Wade came to say the same. Y/n didn’t need to live a life like this just to be normal.

“All he is, is you without the claws. He regenerates, is fast, grunts a lot, and growls,” Wade had to say something funny. “If we give him around all, we’ve got a chance,”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

[moosesarecute]

December 6th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s letters to Y/N:

I think therapy is helping a little.

I thought about you yesterday without crying. Do you remember our first dance? Not our first as a couple, but our first one ever?

Sneaking around in the woods behind Windhaven and dancing to the song from the shadows swirling around us. Our feet making the snow crunch beneath us.

If only the bond had snapped earlier or if I was just a little braver. I would have danced with you every moment I could.

Annette waited, and waited, and then waited a little longer. She needed to know everyone had gone to bed.

After it had gone 30 minutes since the last member of her family went to bed, she decided to go for it.

She had been anxiously wating the entire day. She had been planning what to bring, but other than that, it was a poorly planned adventure.

Making sure to be as quiet as possible, she packed a small backpack she had found in the bottom of her closet. In it she put a thick sweater, some snacks and a bottle of water. She made sure to dress up in all her warm clothes and made her way to the library.

Before she went on her adventure she put two books in her backpack. The one about the Winter Lights and the one about the different kinds of fae that stood right before the doorknob.

Knowing the door would squeak, she decided to open it quickly to make the noise last as shortly as possible. Once more her face was hit by fresh air and the smell of ocean. It felt like it lightened her entire head. It felt so refreshing. Annette couldn’t find any other word to explain it by than safe. It was comforting and safe to be outside.

She took a deep breath as she walked to the first of the three stone steps and closed the door behind her. She walked down the next two steps and as she heard almost frozen gras crunching beneath her feet.

Annette saw ocean in the distance, she saw trees and mountains. Even though it was mostly dark, the light from the moon showed her a path. It was guiding her, and she went where it wanted her to go.

Without looking back, Annette walked further into the forest.

Annette felt like she had walked forever, but she wasn’t tired. She felt good. The tiredness in her legs felt nice. She had stopped and sat down on a tree stump to eat her snacks and drink some water.

She had touched every tree she walked past and said hi to every bird or stone or river she saw. Everything felt so alive. It impressed her.

She had walked through the entire night and as the sun started to rise in the horizon, she realized she ought to make her way back to her family before they realized she was gone.

She turned around, but the moonlit path she had been walking until now, suddenly seemed gone. It was like they didn’t want her to go back. She pushed back the feeling that something was wrong and started to make her way back.

That’s when it started. The pain.

Cramps spread through her chest. The further she walked, the worse and more often they became.

Annette started to become afraid as she realized that she hadn’t taken her medicine the last couple of days.

She felt so stupid. How could she leave the house, without permission and not remember to take her medicine? If something went wrong now, they definitely would not let her out again.

However, she didn’t manage to think long about it before the pain became too unbearable. It was like something in her chest was screaming. Screaming for her to come back. To come home.

Where did it want her to go?

Annette sat down on the ground and not even seconds later, her body slumped, and she ended up passing out in the middle of the forest.

 “I’m not doing that,” Azriel told Jonathan.

This was going too far. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to.

“Writing about her in past tense might help your mind understand that she’s truly gone.”

Jonathan had read his letters and pointed out the fact that he sometimes wrote about you in the present tense. Wrote as if you were here with him.

Azriel shook his head. He couldn’t admit that you were gone. You weren’t gone. Not to him. You were still alive. In his heart, you were still alive.

“Taking these steps in the beginning is very hard,” Jonathan said. “However, after a while it becomes easier and easier. Eventually, you’ll take just as big steps on a daily basis, without it feeling too hard.”

“I can’t,” Azriel said.

“What if we write one together?” Jonathan suggested.

Azriel only shook his head once more. It felt like the only thing he could to. The suggestion left him almost paralyzed.

“That’s okay. We’ll try again another day.”

Azriel stood up from the sofa and made his way out of the room. As he walked out, snow and wind were the first to greet him.

He flew up to the House of Wind and went straight to the training ring.

This was the first time he left therapy feeling heavier than when he entered. He felt like he needed a hug. He needed someone to say that everything would be okay. To explain to him that the pain would go over.

He punched the dummy.

You were the person that always held and comforted him. You would hold him and stroke his face.

He punched it once more.

You would kiss his forehead and his hands.

Azriel didn’t notice his shadows covering him and the training ring in blackness. He didn’t feel the difference. His entire mind and soul felt heavy and black.

He kicked the dummy, and he then slumped down onto the ground.

“Please,” he cried out. Tears were streaming down his face. “Please, Y/N. Just come back to me.”

He did however notice when his shadows abruptly stopped moving. He felt it in his entire body.

“Azriel?” he heard a voice. It sounded like it was far away.

But he couldn’t care less about the voice. He only cared about the feeling in his chest. The extreme feeling that filled his entire chest.

He let out a shaky breath.

The feeling was so overwhelming it almost felt painful. It was painful, but at the same time not. It was screaming at him.

“Get her home,” it told him.

It was the bond. He was sure of it.

But then it disappeared and Azriel has never felt as empty as he did in that moment.

His ears started to ring and just as Cassian sat down beside him, he passed out.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn

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Dividers by @issysh3ll

[swimming-karyss]

Sabo: loneliness, connection and affection

Trying to organise my thoughts on this matter hehe

I just thought that Sabo's relationship with loneliness and connection are very interesting, and not much people talk about how terribly lonely his childhood days were(even compared to Ace&Luffy).

Ace has been alienated from people from the beginning. Raised in the middle of the jungle, by bandits who never showed much affection, and who repeated the same hurtful words as others did. The state of loneliness is the norm for him. He has never known any other life. Naturally, he'd be protective of what little he has(Sabo) and reluctant to open up and accept new connections(Luffy).

As for Luffy, he has been left alone. Shanks left him after a year staying at Windmill village. Garp constantly took him out of his regular life only to leave him alone in the jungle. And he as well took him away from the village and Makino, after he ate his devil fruit. And while he didn't have [present] parents, he had been cared for. Luffy knows the difference between loneliness and companionship. Which is why he chased Ace's recognition so much.

Sabo's situation is more similar to Luffy's.

But do you ever think that Sabo loved his parents? That he wanted them to love him too? He wouldn't have drawn them if he didn't. He wouldn't be so disheartened at their dismissal if he hated them from the start. But his parents made their love conditional. Sabo had to earn their love and his happiness, while they ignored his pain and attempts to connect. 

And as you know this kind of relationship could leave a lasting impact on how one navigates their future relationships! But on that later😊

Now, Sabo ran away and that opened a whole other can of worms. He's a child, that for five years didn't have anyone to rely on. Of course, Ace was with him, but after he left for the day, Sabo was left completely alone. I mean, at least Ace had Dadan and occasionally Makino and Garp, they shared meals together, he could turn to them in case something happened and they provided him with company and a roof above his head. Sabo lived on the Gray Terminal by himself, in a place where people considered him either a troublemaker to avoid, or a pest to get rid of (those like pirates and bandits). So through Ace and Luffy Sabo gains not only brothers but also other connections and people who care about him! And he welcomes both Dadan and Makino with a bright smile :) Now that I think about it, just like Ace told him about Luffy, he also must've told Sabo about them too🥹

And while all this is nice, his previous problems didn't go away magically. 

(… But his issues aren't stated or shown as explicitly as Ace and Luffy's, so they are easier to dismiss.)

Even though Sabo trusted Ace with his life, he still kept his origins a secret from him, whether it was because he felt them insignificant compared to Ace's or because he feared abandonment in case Ace would be disappointed. And he was more than willing to keep his secret until the very end - Luffy&Ace literally had to beat(strangle) the truth out of him. Sabo also put distance between them in another way too: Ace thought the two of them would sail together, Sabo didn't.

That is honestly also a point to how controlling his parents were. Sabo wanted freedom so much that he didn't mind the loneliness that came with it. Well, he got what he wanted ;) 

Now it would be easy to say that his amnesia also erased his trauma. But it didn't! Sabo still felt hid parents' influence. (And unlike the other weird amnesia case (the sea sure likes to take people's memories huh) - Big Mom - he didn't revert to his younger self, he only lost access to his memories, his feelings and 'character development' remained). If anything it only led to Sabo not being able to identify the cause of his issues → not being able to treat them properly. Now, the RA seem like decent guys, they very well could be the needed support system for Sabo, but again, it's an army with a whole lot of other issues to deal with. So either way his trauma most likely was allowed to fester for a while as we see its consequences show in his adulthood. 

Even though Sabo seems to be doing well as an adult, there's still some signs of emotional distance. He has never reciprocated a hug, even though he doesn't have a problem with physical touch in general, he didn't even think about approaching Luffy in Dressrosa at first and was very tense when actually talking to him. And it's honestly fascinating just how stiff his body language was in Dressrosa (maybe I'll talk about it in general some other time) - be it shock or anger he keeps his arms to his body, unlike Koala or Hack, who choose violence.

He also showed barely any reaction during Vegapunk's speech despite the panelling focusing on him specifically. I'd say he mostly keeps his negative emotions in check, bc in Robin's little flashback he was quite expressive! The main counterpoint is 'special Luff' where he is very open about his anger, but he has a really decent reason for it: his feelings being made fun of. And as you'll see later it's a very sensitive topic for him →

To begin with, he avoids talking about things that have emotionally impacted him in any way.

1.This one might be a stretch, but he begins to talk about his encounter with Fujitora, only not to say anything in the end, idk what's wrong with him; 2. After a very emotional fight with Burgess Sabo dismisses any worries without even mentioning the fight; 3. He refuses to talk with Hack about Luffy, even though we know that he loves to yap about him to Dragon. And that is right after he didn't want to wake Luffy up to even say goodbye! He also changes the topic quickly so Karasu wouldn't be able to further question him.

Even though these scenes are played as gags, he really seems to have trouble with emotional intimacy and opening up about his feelings. And that makes him seem inattentive and irresponsible, thus affecting his relationships with others even more… 

And speaking of which, he is accustomed with either suppressing his feelings or at least just keeping them in check. He hides his worries from his colleagues, appearing as cheerful as always. And during his meeting with Dragon and Iva he brushes aside his guilt and grief for king Kobra (but, I mean it's a work meeting, they need to be professional) and never once he acknowledges his injuries.

And if he's willing to disregard such a thing as grief, how do you think he really feels about his new title, which was gained by the blood of a man he failed to save?

And frankly, right now we don't know much about Sabo! We know about his childhood, and the way he presents himself now(and that is some material to work with), but the 12 years in the Revolutionary Army are a mystery, and again it's an army, I bet he's seen many things, especially considering how high his position is!

tldr: like Luffy, Sabo has a special relationship with loneliness and abandonment. But unlike Luffy, who especially in pre-ts hated separation, Sabo pushes people away. And what makes it even harder for others to connect with him, is that he tends to hide his feelings and problems.

(like a cat)

but again, I might be reading something wrong, my bad

[sewersewersewercouch]

Microphone and ADHD: yet another very rambly analysis

GUESS WHO’S WRITING LONG TUMBLR POSTS ABOUT MIC AGAIN!!!!

i’ve been trying to formulate this post in my brain for a while and i’m finally writing it. I should add a disclaimer here: while i’ve done my own research for this, i’m also mostly writing from my own experience, which a) obviously every case of adhd is different, and b) while adhd is my only diagnosis at present, there are various other things that i’m questioning and in the process of being evaluated for which might also bleed into my experiences with adhd. If there are any issues please feel free to point them out! Also i don’t want to imply that if you don’t have adhd you can’t relate to mic, i’m just discussing the things i personally am seeing in canon. Also also, if this is weird and disjointed and rambly, well, you signed up to read a very long post by someone from adhd about blorbo from their shows.

I think what first comes to mind with Mic and ADHD traits for me is her impulsivity. This is something we see trip her up again and again—for example, when she yells at Fan in Tri Your Best, not considering how the noise could boost him into the air and ahead of her, or in Mazed and Confused, when she calls after Knife in the maze without realizing that Test Tube is in there as well. (And yes, she didn’t hear Baseball say that Test Tube was in there, but if she’d thought before she’d acted she might have considered looking around to make sure there were no Bright Lights missing as well.) Hell, another example I noticed was that during Mine Your Own Business, when Taco and Knife are arguing, Mic physically shoves Knife into the gem, and like, not gently, either—he slams into it pretty hard. It’s been pretty well established at this point that Mic is very averse to physical violence, and she definitely wouldn’t do anything like that intentionally, but the fact of the matter is, when she’s stressed like that, she just kind of makes a snap action without using her head.

This also ties into my second point, her difficulties with emotional regulation, which is something that’s very common with ADHD. I kind of struggle to describe how this shows up in Mic, because honestly, a lot of her seemingly overblown reactions are more of a “straw that breaks the camel’s back” type of situation where she takes so much shit from her teammates that obviously, who wouldn’t be upset? However, I do think it’s fair to say that she’s someone who’s quite easily frustrated, and can have a tendency to lash out quite harshly when she’s in this state. For example, in A Kick In The Right Direction, she’s pissed off about being relegated to goalie, which is fair, but she takes this out on Dough, who wasn’t involved in this decision, just because he happens to be near her, and she’s, like…pretty mean about it, too? Like, when he says he’s bored she says “so am I but not enough to talk to you” and then later flat out tells him to jump off a bridge. Yes, this second one was after he was distracting her and the Bright Lights got a goal past her, but still, it does feel like a pretty dramatic reaction. Especially as in general, Mic’s demeanor is friendly and outgoing, she clearly is someone who cares a lot about others’ well-being, and she’s just a nice person all around, but when something gets under her skin she’s immediately on the defensive and says stuff like this.

Also, just in general, Mic is very outwardly emotional. It’s one of the ways the narrative contrasts her with Taco, who for much of the story is incapable of giving up her facade, whereas Microphone is incapable of not wearing her heart on her sleeve. You can usually at any given time tell from Mic’s expressions and tone exactly what she’s feeling. This is especially noticeable as she’s frequently in a position where she has to lie, and she is…not good at it. Some of the time she falls back on the aforementioned defensiveness—for example, in Alternate Reality Show, when Suitcase asks what she’s painting and she replies, “Uh, zilch! Why are you picking today to talk to me for the first time ever?” and when Knife immediately after asks why she was late, she says, “I got other places to be? What’s it to you?” A lot of the time, though, she just gets all nervous and awkward. Adorable, undeniably, but not helpful when she’s in the position she’s in. (I was very charmed to find that she keeps this trait even after the game, what with her telling Taco to act natural and then going “Heyyyyy!!!! I, uh, found someone! :))))” as if that’s at all acting natural. Never change.) Mic feels everything very strongly, and she can’t naturally hide that like Taco can.

I also wanted to bring up Mic’s extreme sensitivity to negative feedback, or what’s often referred to as Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria—which, yes, I know that isn’t actually technically a diagnostic trait, but I would say it’s kind of an offshoot of emotional dysregulation combined with a response to being ostracised for being neurodivergent in a shitty ableist world. A lot of the time when Mic shows the traits I’ve mentioned here, and they trip her up, her teammates show her very little patience and compassion. (Baseball and Nickel are particularly guilty of this—Cheesy does it as well, but he also apologizes to her and it seems like they get along afterwards. Baseball, however, will be on thin ice until I hear a goddamn apology from him.) And while she tends to respond to their disparagement with anger externally, as mentioned above, it also clearly really upsets her in a deeper way. For all the amount she takes it out on others, she takes it out on herself tenfold: look at the words she uses to describe herself in her diary. “Annoying, harmful, random, useless, insignificant, loser.” This treatment, along with her previously mentioned sensitive emotions, make her very reactive to any form of perceived criticism or failure. Even in the finale, when she’s been through her own arc and had a while to heal from the toxic environment of the show, the image shown in the red line game shows that this is still what upsets her the most—the idea of being ignored and rejected by others.

I think this also goes the other way—she’s so sick of being disparaged that it turns into a desperation for approval and connection. This is kind of the foundation of her entire arc. I noticed this one moment in Mazed and Confused, where Taco offers to help her out and Mic says “Really? You would help me out?” as though she’s completely shocked by the idea of someone offering her help. Which makes sense—the only person who’s actually been there for her is Soap. And one could ask, why does Mic stay in her alliance with Taco? Clearly she realizes, deep down, that what she’s doing is unethical. Mic is someone who has a strong moral code that I think in most circumstances she’d care about more than the money. (Yes, I know, I know, the twist, but it’s been proven several times that contestants are more than capable of putting other things above the game. Look at Marshmallow, Clover, Lightbulb, and obviously, eventually Mic herself!) But I don’t think what keeps her pushing her cognitive dissonance down is actually anything about the money. It’s the approval she gets. Baseball, who as I’ve said is normally quite hard on her, compliments her when she does something right as a result of her cheating, and in so doing cements in her mind that cheating=people liking her. She also gets approval from Taco, which fuels this even more. And as this alliance goes on, it transforms into…well, I don’t know if I’d call it a friendship, per se, but it seems that Mic really does value Taco’s company and wants to connect with her on a more personal level, rather than just as a means to an end. This just muddies matters further, as Mic now has not only approval at stake, but also one of the few actual relationships she has in the game. It takes Taco killing two people in front of her for her to decide that’s not worth it.

I think I maybe got a little sidetracked from my point there, as I am very much wont to do, but I think this leads Mic to display some kinds of masking behavior. One facet of this is politeness/friendliness—and this is not to say that Mic isn’t genuinely an outgoing, friendly person. In my own experience, masking isn’t as cut and dry as “not acting like yourself”---rather, it’s often more putting certain, more socially acceptable aspects of one’s personality forward and suppressing the less acceptable ones. Her politeness also comes off as very stilted to me. For example, in Theft and Battery, where she says, “Guys, not to sound rude, but didn’t MePhone5S and 5C just try to kill MePhone4? Didn't this guy create them? Why would he support us if he just tried to kill us?” It seems like a weird thing to have to tack “not to sound rude” onto—it’s a completely valid and truthful point. But she’s so used to being perceived as rude that it seems she feels like she has to say that. There’s also another example I already talked about in a different post but will go back over here—in Mine Your Own Business, when Mic and Taco are trying to sneak past Knife, but Mic sneezes and then follows it up with “Sorry! ‘Scuse me!” Which, as Taco points out, isn’t something people normally do. And immediately Mic falls back on her other defense mechanism, lashing out. If you listen to what she’s saying when they’re arguing, it’s “What was I supposed to say, ‘bless me’ and bless myself? You’re the one who’s always trying to be proper, what’s your problem?” I think this moment says a lot about her—when she knows she’s messed up, she tries to cover for it with politeness, but she also doesn’t quite get the social rules right. It’s very much something that’s put on, not that comes naturally to her. (This is where I realized she has many parallels with my other favorite Cabby, but that’s a whole different can of worms.)

However, she also masks in kind of the other direction, that is, putting others down to boost herself up. The Grand Slams are not the healthiest of teams, to put it lightly, and Mic mimics the behavior she sees in others that brings them social success. For example, when she jokes to Baseball about not wanting to “pull a Balloon—” Balloon being unpopular as he is, she knows other people will find mocking him funny. And it works! Baseball laughs! She tries this again later, when she says to Knife “talk about emotional baggage” in regards to Suitcase, but this time he doesn’t respond well. Mic seems genuinely surprised at this—this method has worked for her before, so she’s put off by the fact that it doesn’t work this time. And I should say—this isn’t something Taco tells her to do. She does it entirely of her own volition.

Actually, looking at this more, it seems more like part of something she mostly does during her alliance with Taco—an unaffected, jokey front she tends to put on when she’s lying or messing with people, to…limited success, as discussed earlier, but I think she also uses it when she’s lying to herself, or trying to convince herself that what she or Taco is doing isn’t wrong. I had a few examples in mind. The first is in Kick the Bucket, right after the Nickel and Balloon double elimination, when she says, “Well, ha, what a lively experience! Well, not much to gain from sitting around and doing nothing. See ya!” It’s oddly nonchalant when clearly everyone around her is upset, and we see her look concerned for a second beforehand before she goes into this. I interpret that as her…kind of seeing that what just happened messed things up for a lot of people and that it was her fault, but she’s not ready to accept that truth yet. She also uses this affect throughout Mine Your Own Business—both with Taco, as an attempt to get her to open up, and with Knife, I think in some ways trying to mimic what Taco did to recruit her in order to do the same with him. Neither of these are successful. Knife being Knife, he’s someone who’s very able to see right through people (figuratively speaking, that is, because now people can literally see right through him! Get it? Because he’s a ghost? Please imagine the sound of Cheesy slapping his knee from somewhere in the distance). He plants seeds of doubt in Mic’s mind by telling her about Pickle—and she’s still not ready for those seeds to grow, but they certainly are there. In fact, the next time we see her use this behavior, it’s in Hatching the Plan, when she jokes that Taco will “inevitably drop me too or whatever.” She says it casually, but clearly what Knife said is still on her mind, and she’s trying to convince herself that what happened to Pickle won’t happen to her even though she doesn’t at all believe herself. I also think looking at this behavior has really clarified my view of her in the movie—at first I was frustrated at how she seemed much more calm and collected than I would have expected her to, both about the general horrors happening to everyone, and specifically about Taco. I talked about those criticisms in another post, and I do still stand by them to some extent, I would have written her differently. But I don’t think it’s as incongruent with her character as I did before—in fact, I think there’s plenty of precedent for her masking like that in situations of greatly conflicted emotion. (Oddly enough, I think it’s something she has in common with Taco, but Taco’s just better with it.) I kind of doubt she was quite mentally ready to reconnect with Taco yet, but in such a dire situation she doesn’t have time to process all that, so she just kind of shoves that to the back of her brain. Not to say that I don’t think she genuinely cares for Taco, but I do think there’s a lot of processing she hasn’t done yet about her that will hopefully be a topic of discussion later please please please AE please for me???? Anyways, I do think this is a response to her aforementioned emotional dysregulation tending to create problems for her, and it’s definitely a masking technique in my eyes.

I also want to touch briefly on Microphone and Soap’s friendship, because while it’s not evidence for my point exactly, per se, I do think it’s relevant. While unfortunately pretty stereotypical representation, I would say it’s generally considered true that Soap is coded as having OCD. Now I’m not going to say that all neurodivergent people can easily be friends with one another, I know that’s not true. However, looking at the scene we see with the two of them in Rain On Your Charade, it certainly plays a part in this specific friendship. Mic helps Soap cope with her compulsions, and Soap is the only person at this time who really values Mic and doesn’t see her as a burden just because she’s accident-prone.

One minor thing I also wanted to point out was how it’s pretty common for people with ADHD to struggle with controlling our voices, including the tone, speed, and…well, volume. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve had people tell me that I’m talking loudly and I didn’t even realize it. I trust I don’t have to explain how this point is relevant to Mic, and it does very much fit.

There was one specific line that inspired me to write this post, from Everything’s A-OJ: “I’m trying harder than anyone else, so why do I always lose?” One of the diagnostic traits for ADHD is described as making “careless mistakes” in activities, and I never have particularly loved that phrasing. It may look careless on the outside, because it’s often mistakes that other people can easily avoid, but when you have a disorder that affects your attention, impulse control, memory, executive function, et cetera et cetera et cetera, you doing your best might look like someone else half-assing it. Not to get too personal on my blorbo post, but I keep thinking about this one teacher I had in middle school who, when I messed something up in a class, said “oh, that’s such a Clonnie move!” I’m sure she doesn’t remember that, but I do, because when you hear over and over again that people associate you with making mistakes, that shit sticks with you, and eventually when nothing you do helps you start to feel like you’re the mistake. That’s why Mic as a character resonates with me so much. God willing AnimationEpic will bring my girl back because I would like to see how Mic heals from that mindset as time goes on and where she goes from here.