#so I'm thinking very hard about anything I could do

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris spend the night hanging out on his roof after your first day of making sales together.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

The sun sank slowly below the skyline, and the evening turned to nightfall as you and Chris finished up your last deal of the day. You'd been showing him all the stops, introducing him to your customers, and teaching him the way you did everything.

He got into your passenger seat and sighed as his head fell against the headrest, really wishing he had a joint right about now. "Damn, ma. I can't believe how much money we made today," Chris mumbled, slouching down into his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he'd made for the day.

"I know, and we're only a third of the way through the product," you smiled back, doing the math in your head about the potential profit. "I could never work a 9 to 5," Chris sighed, sifting through the $100 bills. "Can't believe I just made in a day what it would take some sucker to make in two weeks at some office job."

You fastened your seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, admiring Chris, who brought his fingers to his lips and slowly licked them as he separated the crisp hundreds. "What are you thinking about, ma? My tongue or my fingers?" Chris flirted, catching you staring out of the corner of his eye and giving you a seductive smirk as he ran his tongue along the pads of his fingers again, flitting through his money.

You squeezed your thighs together as you bit down on your lip. For a moment, you were thinking about both at the same time. You hated the effect he had on you, the way he knew how to get inside your head, intrude on your thoughts, and invade your sexual fantasies. "You're fucking gross, Chris," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to hide how turned on you were.

He responded with a chuckle, knowing that he was getting to you even if you wanted to deny it. "So, am I dropping you off at your girlfriend's house?" You asked, reminding him that he had one. "Nah, can you drop me off at my place? I'm staying home tonight," Chris requested. "I can do that. Just tell me where to go," you replied, your eyes darting around between the road in front of you, your side mirrors, and your rearview.

"So, have you told Daisy yet?" You asked, your gaze flickering over at Chris, who was shaking his head. "I'll tell her, ma, when I'm ready," Chris grumbled. He knew you were right. He knew he had some things to work out, like telling his girlfriend the real way he made his money or dealing with the fact that he was finding himself sexually attracted to his new business partner. He stole another glance at you from your passenger seat as the fantasy he'd had the night before flashed through his mind, praying you wouldn't notice the tent forming in his jeans.

When you pulled into Chris' driveway, he thanked you again for the ride. "I can't believe I've been sober for eight hours," Chris mentioned, bouncing his leg as you parked. "No wonder you've been so uptight today," you teased him. "Maybe you should come smoke with me since you're always uptight," Chris smirked, nudging you in the arm with his elbow, but his offer was genuine.

You gave him an annoyed look, but you couldn't hold back the smile that spread across your lips. "I don't smoke weed, Chris. I haven't since I was a teenager," you replied, fidgeting with the material of your black steering wheel cover. "Why not?" Chris wondered, surprised by your admission. "I like being clear-headed. I don't like feeling out of control," you shrugged.

"We're on a floating rock in space, ma. The idea that you have control over anything is an illusion," Chris laughed, reaching for his door handle. "C'mon. Come inside. Do you drink? I've got a beer with your name on it if you wanna hang out with me for a little."

You were quiet for a second. It wasn't often that people invited you to hang out or just do something fun with them, and for a moment, you thought maybe you could use it. "I could stay for one beer," you responded hesitantly, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "That's what I'm talking about, ma. Let your hair down once in a while," Chris replied, beaming with a smile.

You trailed behind him, staring down at your shoes as you followed the pattern of the stepping stones that led to his front door. "Oh, shit. I forgot my house key at Daisy's place," he sighed, running his finger through his hair. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you need me to take you to Daisy's place after all?" You huffed, slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good anyways. She's at work. Plus, this won't take long," Chris said, pulling a pin out of his pocket and fiddling with the lock. You nervously looked around, worried someone was going to see him picking his lock and call the cops or something, but in a matter of seconds, you heard a click, and you watched as he turned the knob. His door creaked open, and he glanced back at you with a mischevious smile.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What can I say, ma? I'm good with my hands. Gotta show you my skillset somehow," Chris playfully winked at you. You scoffed, biting back a smile. A part of you liked the way he couldn't keep himself from making sexual innuendos and flirting with you.

"If you need me to pick a lock on a deal, though, you're splitting the money 50/50 with me," Chris told you, stepping into his living room. "What kind of shady shit do you think I'm up to, Chris? I'm just selling coke. Not robbing people," you joked, following him in. "You never know," Chris peeked back at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"This is it," he announced, raising his arms to present his place to you. It was a dimly-lit, relatively small place, but it had a safe, cozy vibe to it. "I like it," you told him, your eyes scanning them room. You noticed his sprouting marijuana plants in the corner sitting beneath his grow lights and an old shelf beside it that was littered with comic books and novels you'd never heard of.

His house faintly smelled of weed and sandalwood, like how Chris always smelled, and you found the familiar scent comforting as it wafted through the air. He directed you over towards his couch and motioned for you to sit. You sat down, awkwardly perching at the edge of the couch cushion.

"C'mon, ma. You can relax. Kick your feet up," he told you, heading over towards his fridge to give you that beer he promised you. You exhaled and slowly leaned back into his sofa that was much softer than you imagined it would be. Chris twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to you. The red and white label that read Stella Artois stared back at you, and you hesitantly reached out and took it.

Chris plopped down on the couch beside you, and you watched as he sprinkled a bit of ground weed into his rolling paper. You peered down at his rings and his fingers at the way they skillfully handled the joint, tucking the paper in and folding it in on itself.

His gaze flickered up at you as his tongue darted out, and he licked a long, slow stripe across the edge of the joint. His lips curled into a suggestive smile as he noticed you watching him, but you acted unamused, pulling your eyes away from his. You held the bottle up to your lips, taking a small, refreshing sip, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you relaxed further into the comfy couch.

You peered down the hall to an open door at the end. The room was dark, but you imagined it was probably Chris' bedroom. You found yourself wondering what it looked like, how comfortable his bed was, and how hard it would be for you to keep your hands off of him if you ever found yourself alone with him in there.

"You coming?" Chris asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and standing to his feet as soon as you'd gotten comfortable. "Coming where?" You wondered, giving him a perplexed look. "To the roof. The view's great up there," Chris responded, making his way towards the back door.

You hesitantly followed him back out into the cool air of the backyard where he had a ladder propped up against the side of his house. "C'mon, ma. I'll hold your beer. You start climbing the ladder," Chris told you, extending his arm to take your bottle from you. "Yep. Just smoking and drinking on a roof. What could possibly go wrong?" You muttered under your breath as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, metal rungs.

"Don't worry, ma. I'll be right behind you, so if you fall, I'll catch you," Chris' breath tickled your neck as he pressed his warm body into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the closest you'd ever been to him. You were just glad you were faced away from him, so he couldn't see the unmistakable look of desire written in your expression as heat radiated off his skin.

You cleared your throat and regained your composure. "Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" You snarked at him, peering over your shoulder in an attempt to take control of the situation again. Chris chuckled, but he didn't answer you, leaving it up for interpretation. You started to hesitantly climb the ladder, and Chris followed closely behind, keeping his promise to not let you fall as he held your beer in one hand and the unlit joint between his lips.

The two of you made it to the roof, and Chris handed you your beer once the two of you got settled. The star-filled sky hung overhead as you looked out at the horizon. You saw the tops of the other houses, the city lights scattered across the skyline, and the waves crashing on the beach shore off in the far distance. You brought your bottle of Stella Artois up to your lips and took another sip as you took in the view. There was something about this perspective that made your problems feel smaller and less pressing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, ma?" Chris asked beside you as you heard the flick of his lighter sound as he held the flame up to the end of his joint. You quietly nodded, surprised by how much you could see from Chris' roof. "So, ma. What do you say we get to know each other better and play your favorite game, twenty questions?" Chris smiled over at you with the lit joint pinched between his two fingers.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't have an excuse this time. There was no work to be done, and there was nowhere to go to avoid his questioning, so you took a deep breath and another swig of your drink. "Okay, fine. Hit me," you finally replied after a moment of hesitancy.

"Where do you go to clear your mind?" Chris wondered, his gaze locked on you. "The beach. I like the waves. The sounds of the seagulls. Feeling the sand between my toes. It's peaceful," you shrugged. Even though the question wasn't a very personal one, you felt vulnerable answering.

"What about you, Chris?" You wondered aloud. "You're looking at it," Chris said with his joint tucked between his lips. He didn't need to explain anything further. You could tell why this was the place he went to sort out his thoughts.

"Alright. What kind of music do you listen to?" You blurted out, not sure of what to ask him next. "Anything, really. But I prefer indie over everything else," he told you. "Okay, play me your favorite song," you told him, gesturing towards his phone he had sitting beside him. He picked it up, staring back at you as he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he responded, scrolling through the saved albums on his phone until he came across AM by Arctic Monkeys. No. 1 Party Anthem started playing through the speaker of his phone, and you nodded in approval as the melody filled the space between you.

"If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you choose?" Chris asked, turning off his phone screen and letting the song play softly in the background of your conversation. You thought about it for a moment. "See, I wanna say Pablo Escobar or something, but I think I'd want to have dinner with one of those druglords who flew under the radar so well that we don't even know their names," you replied. "Damn, ma. That's a good answer," Chris mumbled with the joint hanging from his lips.

He glanced up at you as if silently reminding you it was your turn to ask a question. "What did you think of me when you first met me?" You wondered aloud. You gave him a look like he should be careful about how answered this question. He cracked a smile, remembering the first time you'd approached him and threatened him for selling his weed on your block and trying to steal your customers. "I thought you were tough. Not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I also thought you were super hot," Chris admitted. You blushed, hoping Chris couldn't tell in the glow of the moon.

"What's one thing you don't leave the house without?" Chris asked you, pulling a long drag from his joint. "My keys," you sharply responded, subtly teasing him for having to break into his own place earlier. He let out a laugh. "And my gun," you told him. You sipped on your bubbly drink, noting that the song had changed.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High started to play as you glanced back over at the blue-eyed man beside you. "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?" You asked, peeling the label off your beer bottle. "Nothing," Chris smirked over at you. "Nothing?" You reiterated, furrowing your brow. "Nothing," he repeated. "You're a little cocky, aren't you?" You shot back. "I prefer confident," Chris chuckled before he pulled from the joint again.

"What do you think the most important quality in a friend or partner is?" Chris asked after a few seconds of silence. "Honesty and loyalty," you said without hesitation, and Chris nodded in agreement. "You?" You asked. "Probably just someone who isn't going to bail when things get hard," Chris sincerely responded.

"What's your biggest fear?" You asked him, the questions getting deeper and deeper. "Losing the people I love," he answered, staring down at the build-up of ash on the cherry before flicking it off. "How about you, ma?" He returned the question. "Trusting the wrong person and getting hurt," you responded almost immediately. "I get that," Chris answered, his gaze still fixed on you.

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Chris asked you, his luscious lips curling into a smile as he awaited your response. "Probably those dumb reality shows," you admitted, your cheeks growing warm. "Really? Never took you for a girl who likes trash TV," Chris teasingly nudged your arm. "Daisy loves that shit, too."

"What's one of your guilty pleasures?" You asked Chris. He bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be crossing the line of just playful flirting and venturing into uncharted territory, so he came up with something on the spot.

"Watching the trash TV with her. I'm always making fun of her for watching The Bacholorette and shit like that, but then I find myself watching it with her and getting all invested," Chris confessed.

"I totally get it. Like, I started watching it as a joke at first, and then you get to know the people. Then you start wanting them to end up together," you said, glancing up at him, and his eyes met yours. The song changed again, and you listened as the lyrics came through:

🎶 If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. 🎶

The two of you stared at each other in a comfortable silence for a moment, Chris taking a puff of his weed as you took a swig of beer. "So, what does Daisy think you're out doing all day when you're working?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. "As far as she knows, I work in sales, which isn't totally a lie. She just doesn't know about the drugs," Chris shrugged. "Yeah, she doesn't know about the most important detail," you scoffed, tapping on the glass of your bottle.

"Why are you always judging me for that, ma? I've got my reasons. Why are you so pressed about it?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I had an ex who kept things from me, like how much money he owed certain people. He put me in a lot of dangerous situations. Don't want to watch you do the same shit to Daisy," you murmured, letting Chris in more than you had up until this point. "I didn't know, ma," Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder and relaxing his jaw. "You know, I'd never intentionally hurt her. Or you."

"It doesn't matter, Chris. You can be the most well-intentioned person in the world and still hurt the people around you," you responded. He was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what you said.

"Your ex? Alex?" Chris wondered, blowing out a cloud of smoke against the night sky as he recalled Joe using that name earlier. "Yeah. My dumb fuck ex. He got himself killed because he owed the wrong people money," you said in a dry tone. "Holy shit. Ma, I'm so sorry," Chris whispered. "Don't be. He deserved it," you muttered under your breath.

"Hey, I have a question. Why do you always call me ma?" You chimed in. "It's just a sign of respect. That's all," he shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It's fine. I don't care what you call me. You gotta stop looking at me like that, though. Looking like you're gonna kiss me or some shit," you accused him, following his gaze that danced between your eyes and your lips as you took another drink of your beer. The song changed again.

🎶 How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. 🎶

"I'm not looking at you any type of way! Maybe you're projecting because you wanna kiss me," he shot back. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick, and for a moment, you each thought about it. The temptation was there, and it was strong. You wanted to pull him as close as you could, passionately press your lips against his, and tangle your fingers in his soft, brown hair, but you didn't want to ruin your business relationship with him.

Chris thought the same, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, but he didn't want to screw up what he had with Daisy, and he didn't want to give you the wrong impression. He diverted his eyes, glancing down at his joint that had burned down to the roach, and he put it out. "Get enough of the view, ma? I'm getting kind of tired," Chris chimed in as you admired his profile in the moonlight.

For a moment, you forgot he was talking about the scape of the city from the roof. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. I should probably go," you said, fiddling with the empty bottle in your hand. "You can stay the night if you need to," Chris motioned towards the alcoholic beverage you'd finished off, but he knew he was playing with fire the moment the words left his mouth, inviting you to stay the night.

🎶 Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. 🎶

The two of you exchanged a look like you both knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Even with you both sleeping in separate rooms, you each knew deep down that a closed door wouldn't be enough to deter you two from the temptation. "It's cool, Chris. It was just one beer. I'll just grab a glass of water, sit on your couch for twenty minutes, and I'll be fine to drive," you told him. Chris picked up his phone and paused the song. "I got you, ma. I'll help you down."

You felt elated once you were finally sitting back down on Chris' couch, sobering up. You weren't sure if it was a buzz from the alcohol, an adrenaline rush from being on the roof, or just the way you were starting to feel around Chris.

Chris gave you some crackers to help "absorb the alcohol," because he had "heard somewhere that it does," and even though you'd only had one beer, it was sweet that he cared enough. You also both just knew that you had to sober up, because staying the night wasn't an option unless you were both prepared to give into the force that was pulling the two of you together and end up doing something that could hurt Daisy or hurt your business relationship.

So you were munching away on Ritz crackers on Chris' couch after your single beer, and once you felt like the effects of the alcohol had worn off, you made a comment about how late it was getting and about how you should probably get going.

You left, following the same stepping stones you'd used when you walked up. When you approached your car, you reached into your empty pocket for your keys just to remember you'd left them on Chris' coffee table. "Shit," you whispered, realizing you were going to have to do a walk of shame back up to his front door after giving him shit for forgetting his keys earlier.

Chris had already started to get ready for bed, shedding his layers and slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants when a soft knock sounded at his front door. He peeked through the peephole to make sure it was you, his heart racing and secretly wondering if you'd come back to kiss him or confess your feelings for him, his mind swirling with half a dozen possibilities.

He turned the doorknob, and when you saw him, your eyes were immediately drawn to the fact that he was shirtless. "Uh, sorry. I forgot my keys," you told him, unable to conceal your smile at the irony of the situation. "Oh, you mean, the keys you don't go anywhere without?" Chris asked, leaning against the door frame and indulging in the fact that you were doing nothing to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"Yeah. Those ones," you smirked, biting down on your lip. "I'll go get 'em, ma," Chris chuckled at you as he turned to retrieve your keys. You found yourself holding your breath as your gaze danced over the definition of his back muscles in the soft lighting of his living room.

He handed them to you, and as you took them from him, his hand brushed against yours. You both exchanged a look that was heavy with the words unspoken between you, but you also both silently agreed it was for the best. "Okay, goodnight," you said, unconsciously batting your eyelashes at him. "Goodnight," Chris smirked, eyeing you up and down as you turned to walk away before closing his door again.

As soon as you made it to your car, you reflected on the way you acted and how stupid you must have sounded, silently kicking yourself. You didn't harp on it for long, though. Your embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the intoxication and bliss you felt from being around such an attractive man who was beginning to make you smile more than he made you roll your eyes.

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[gnohomotho]

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

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The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.  

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

“There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.    

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[hard-core-super-star]

OWN MY MIND [wandanat]

pairing: top!wanda maximoff x bottom!natasha romanoff

summary: wanda's crush on natasha has grown to nearly unbearable levels. instead of pining after her, she decides to do something about it during a party.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> porn with plot; wanda has a crush and she's about to make it EVERYONE'S problem; semi-public sex; slightly obsessive wanda go brr; so much teasing; the clothes stay on because i say so; thigh-grinding; fingering [nat receiving]; neck kisses; i got hooked on the idea so there's a lot of expostion; shitty dirty talk; so much bickering

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! i did not mean to disappear again but life had other plans 😅that being said, I'M OKAY! i survived a very stressful january and my writer's block seems to be easing somewhat. every year i say i'll be more active on here and it doesn't always work very well BUT i'm trying! anyway, i hope you guys are doing well, my askbox is always open for you all. that being said, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

There wasn't much Wanda was sure of anymore.

At some point, she'd been sure her and her family were going to be safe. She'd been proven wrong the day a Stark Industries missile crashed into her living room, sending all her childish hopes of safety with it.

After that, she'd been sure she'd never leave her brother's side, even agreeing to become an experiment for HYDRA to guarantee their safety. Their powers had helped and even when Ultron appeared, she was sure they'd figure things out together.

That dream had instantly been shot down, along with Pietro and the remnants of her home, after Ultron's attack.

She hated thinking about it. About everything she lost. About the dreams she'd held onto for most of her life that were meaningless now. That didn't serve any purpose other than reminding her she was alone.

Sure, she had the Avengers now but...they didn't understand her. Not the way her brother had.

Clint tried his hardest to be there for her before he left to be with his family, do doubt feeling guilty over something that wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for Pietro's sacrifice and they both knew blaming him wouldn't bring the speedster back anyway.

In a weird way, though, the archer was the only one who truly understood her grief so when he left...Wanda did what she had always done. She retreated into herself, ignoring the looks of the rest of the team and Vision's borderline annoying insistence that she talk to someone.

She didn't need to talk about anything. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing that could change the pain she carried every day.

Nothing...except Natasha Romanoff.

Their friendship hadn't come out of nowhere despite how hard the older woman liked to act otherwise. Even without her powers, she knew Clint had been the one to push Natasha in her direction. It was also obvious that the Widow had no idea what to do.

It was weirdly charming.

Despite how hard she tried to act like she cold and heartless, Natasha cared. She cared a lot more than she wanted to. Especially about Wanda.

So, when the older woman started appearing outside her door at ungodly hours of the night, seemingly unaware of the tear that stained the witch's cheeks, and inviting her to train with her...Wanda decided trusting her wouldn't do any harm.

That much was true. No real harm came from getting close to Natasha. If anything, she helped more than anyone at the Tower had even tried. She didn't care that Wanda didn't want to talk about what happened in Sokovia, that her inner demons showed their face every night and left her with nightmares too intense to ignore, that her powers grew stronger every day.

The Widow didn't seem to care about the details. She simply cared enough to be there. Sometimes she showed up earlier, before any nightmares could haunt her dreams, other times she showed up later and with a tea in hand that she quickly offered to her. There were no words exchanged but she knew.

And that meant more to Wanda than she could even put into words.

Those feelings, though, quickly grew out of her control. It happened almost on accident, practically without thinking. All she knew is that one day she felt...drawn to Natasha in a way she hadn't noticed before.

To the curve of her neck, the flex of her biceps, the tension in her jaw when she throws a punch. All the little details came together and left her feeling far too confused for her liking.

Confused and yet far too in control.

And to say Wanda was slowly becoming obsessed with control would be an understatement.

This flurry of thoughts is what leads her to do something too far out of her comfort zone. It's a shitty idea, she knows that, but when Vision off-handedly tells her of the party Tony will be throwing later that day, a plan slowly starts forming in her head.

A plan that involves a certain redhead and the confusing feelings that settle low in her stomach when they're alone together. Of course, she's not a stranger to desire, she knows what her feelings really are, but that doesn't mean she's exactly okay with them. With the suddenness and the intensity of her thoughts. Of the fantasies she longs to make a reality.

She's just as patient as she is stubborn, though, so she waits. Waits until the party is in full swing, until she's all dolled up in her favorite dress, paired with the leather jacket she never gave back to redhead, and then she strikes.

It must look weird. It certainly feels weird, stepping out into the crowd instead of avoiding everyone in her room. She has to step out of her comfort zone if she wants to go after what she wants, though, and she's determined to sink her teeth into Natasha before the end of the night.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to wait long for her opportunity.

As soon as she makes her way into the bustle of the party, she scans the room for the Widow. She finds her by the bar, chatting with Tony and Rhodey with a drink in hand.

Even though she wants to waste no time, she decides to linger. To let the anticipation build and see how long it'll take Natasha to bite. It's both torturous and enticing. A borderline perverted mix of longing that makes her heart threaten to burst out of her chest.

When Natasha's eyes finally meet her gaze, she sends a soft smile her way before pretending to be incredibly interested in her drink. It's a cheap strategy, she knows that, and yet it's one that works in her favor.

She only has to wait a few more minutes before the Widow untangles herself from Tony's drawn-out (although probably annoyingly entertaining) story and makes her way over to her.

"I didn't take you for a beer girl," she says, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at her.

"There is a lot you don't know about me," Wanda replies, her accent coming out strong. It's half on purpose and half on accident. It tends to slip out easier when she's around people she's genuinely comfortable with.

And Natasha is right at the top of that list. Even if she doesn't fully know it.

The Widow lets out a soft huffing sound in response. It's not quite a laugh, but there's an edge of fondness to it that neither of them can fully ignore. It's not every day she allows herself to be so unguarded.

"You're pretty and witchy, what else is there to know?"

The teasing remark only makes the younger woman's smile grow wider. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty?"

Wanda accompanies her question with an alluring tilt of her head, watching in amusement as Natasha takes a long sip of her drink to avoid answering. Even if she doesn't say the words, she's been caught red-handed and the witch couldn't be happier about it. Maybe her sudden desire for the woman isn't as one-sided as she'd allowed herself to believe.

"What are you even doing here?" Natasha asks, her tone far too casual for the intensity in her gaze. "You hate Tony and you hate parties."

The witch in question simply shrugs. "I was tired of sitting on my ass."

This time, the Widow actually laughs. "Clint should have never taught you that phrase."

"I don't know, I think it's quite fitting." She pauses for a moment, letting the air between crackle with a hard to define energy. One just as powerful and unpredictable as her own powers. "You seem to like looking at my ass."

The older woman's eyes widen before quickly darting around them. Sure, they're leaning up against the ridiculously placed bar but no one around them is paying attention. Tony and Rhodey left to find someone else to bore with their competitive stories and everyone else is scattered around the room, too engrossed in their conversations or their drinks to pay them any mind.

Not to mention, Wanda would never allow them to notice them. It's not mind control, not really, which means she feels no guilt at manipulating reality for a few moments.

"Since when are you so bold, Maximoff?"

"Since I decided to start going after what I want." 

This time, she pairs her words with a subtle step forward. It's not enough for their bodies to press together, but the intention is more than clear. It's a hint and a warning all wrapped up in one. One the Widow could easily ignore if she wanted to.

Wanda almost expects her to, considering how shifty her eyes are. How her attention seems to bounce around the room more and more. She's sure she's never seen the older woman so nervous before. It's as cute as it is enticing.

Finally, Natasha relents. She lets out a long sigh, her gaze shifting back to Wanda's. "You couldn't find a more appropriate time for that?"

The younger woman's smile turns into a smirk. Her free hand reaches out, manicured fingers running down the length of the redhead's arm. "We could always...sneak away, just the two of us..."

Natasha lets out a soft chuckle at that, her resistance clearly wavering, even as she tries to hold strong. "I don't think that's a smart idea, princess."

Wanda's pout is almost enough to make her melt. Almost.

"Why not? Aren't we on the same page about this?"

"It's not that simple."

The witch knows she should at least ask why. That she should pretend to care about the hesitations she knows are swimming around in Natasha's head. She doesn't need to read her mind to know what they are, why they matter. But it's hard to think straight when her advances aren't being rejected. When she's so close to getting what she wants.

So, instead of doing any of the rational things the Widow seems to be struggling with, she wordlessly grabs her hand and leads her away from prying eyes. They're a few ways away but still near the hustle and bustle of the party. Far away to fully hear each other but close enough to be caught if someone decided to wander around.

She's not fully thinking about that possibilty, though. All her focus is on Natasha and getting her to admit how much she wants her. How much she needs this too.

Without thinking about the consequences, she pushes the older woman up against the wall, their eyes meeting once more. The bright green flecks of Natasha's eyes seem to sparkle almost dangerously. Unfortunately, Wanda is too far gone to heed the warnings.

"Wanda, we can't." There's no real discomfort in the Widow's voice. No real attempt at getting the younger woman to stop.

So, she doesn't.

Wanda merely lets out a soft hum but makes no attempt to step away or fully listen to the older woman's complaints. Instead, she leans in more insistently, her lips trailing up Natasha's neck and leaving heated kisses on her skin.

The redhead wants to pull away. To tell Wanda to stop and let her walk away before they do something they'll regret. It's impossible to fight against her, though. Especially when her hands join the slow exploration.

"Why can't we?" The witch asks, her hands settling on Natasha's hips. "Why do you want to pretend like you don't want me?"

The sound the redhead makes is somewhere between a huff and a groan. "That's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to be smart about this." 

"There's nothing smart about this," she replies. "But I want you and you want me. What more do we need?"

Natasha opens her mouth to answer but Wanda doesn't give her a chance. In one swift move, she hooks the redhead's leg around her waist before pressing herself against her, drawing a soft gasp from her parted lips.

"You were saying?"

"You're so annoying, little witch."

The teasing nickname makes Wanda huff. Sure, it also makes her heart skip a beat but mostly, it annoys her. "Then tell me to stop, 'Tasha."

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

There it is. The permission she'd been waiting for. The clear admittance that their feelings were the same. That the sparks of desire she'd been feeling during training weren't one-sided delusions.

The witch wastes no time in connecting their lips once the realization hits her. Despite the intensity of their desires, the kiss is surprisingly soft. 

It's still more than a little desperate and yet there's an edge of affection that makes them melt. That leaves them craving more.

Thankfully, they both have more than enough ideas on how to fix that craving. The youngest of the two takes the leap first, though, not one bit embarrased of showing how desperate she is for more.

 Wanda grinds her hips up against Natasha's, slowly hiking her dress up to reveal the smooth skin underneath the fabric. There's something about both the setting and their outfits that drives them both mad. Something about being so exposed and yet so composed at the same time. Something about the matching black fabric of their dresses that turns them on more.

Her lips leave the Widow's just to trail down her jaw, her hands moving down her body with purpose. She grips her hips hard enough to move the older woman against her as she easily slots one of her thighs between her legs, giving her the perfect surface to grind against.

"You're so quiet, 'Tasha," the witch teases, unable to stop her flourishing dominant side for rearing its head.

Natasha knows she's allowing herself to slip. That she shouldn't be letting her guard down like this. Shouldn't be giving Wanda this much control over her.

It's not like she can help it, though. There's an intensity behind the younger woman's movements that she doesn't want to fight against. She wants to let it consume her until there's nothing left. No trace of her fears or hesitations.

She's not about to admit that any time soon, though. Even as her bucking hips give her away.

"That's because we're in public," she replies, keeping her voice as even as she can. "I can actually control myself unlike some people."

Wanda chuckles, keeping up her slow movements. "That's not what your hips are telling me."

"You're the one moving them," she shoots back.

The witch leans back slightly, a smirk forming on her face and pairing beautifully with her dialated pupils. "Is that so? If I move my hands away, you'll stop trying to hump my leg?"

Without waiting for an answer, she moves her hands away from the redhead's hips, allowing her fingers to trail up her torso toward her chest. She keeps her touch light and teasing, using it to further draw out the other woman's desires.

"That's not fair," Natasha huffs, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as the attention piles on. "You're the one that started this, you have to finish it."

"But we haven't even started yet, have we? You still have too many clothes on."

Wanda's fingers linger on the strap of Natasha's dress, sliding it down just enough to allow her lips to connect to the exposed skin. She focuses her attention on that spot just enough to make the older woman's hips buck against her.

"Fuck," she groans. "This is so unfair."

"I think it's more than fair. I can feel how much you want me. You're soaked, aren't you?"

Her question is met with another groan, this one in a sightly higher, more desperate, pitch. The witch is right, of course. She's already drenched and all she's done is lazily grind against her thigh.

It's practically impossible to stop her body from responding to her, though. Even without reading her mind, she knows her cues all too well after spending so much sparring with her.

Then again, she's pretty sure she wouldn't mind allowing her to invade her thoughts. Something about the lack of control makes her gush.

The low chuckle Natasha's thought is met with makes her eyes widen in response, her hands coming up to grip the younger woman’s shoulders. “Are you seriously reading my mind right now?”

Wanda knows the redhead is trying to sound intimidating but she’s far too breathless, far too wet against her thigh, for her to feel anything but satisfaction. “I couldn’t help it, your thoughts are so loud.”

The response is exactly what she had been expecting and all she can do is huff. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Her words only make Wanda bolder. With her words, her touch, her unbearable need to make the other woman fall apart just for her. “I thought you wanted me in your mind, ‘Tasha?”

The Widow knows she's been caught. That even if the witch didn't spend much time in her head, she knows how much she loves this. How much she wants this. This back and forth dance that will no doubt end with her on her knees.

And still, she's far too stubborn to admit it.

"Shut up." It's a weak remark but it's the only one she has. The only two words she can coherently form as her hips roll against the hard muscle pressing so insistently against her heat. "If you wanted to talk so much, you should have taken me on a date."

"If you don't like me talking so much, why are you so wet?"

It's infuriating. For every snarky response she can form, Wanda has two more waiting for her. It's like she knows exactly how to work her up, exactly how to meet her where she's at instead of trying to change her. It's more than infuriating, it's...it's sweet. In its own complicated, slightly fucked up way, the witch is being sweet.

Maybe it's that realization that makes her melt. Or maybe she's just too pent up to care anymore. She knows what the answer is, but she ignores it in favor of gripping Wanda's wrist and guiding it between her legs.

"I'd prefer it if you stopped talking and started doing, princess."

The witch's body tenses for a second, almost like her brain is struggling to catch up to reality, but then her fingers are working their way into Natasha's underwear and they both let out twin moans at the feeling.

Instead of taking a moment to tease her, Wanda dives right in, her patience fading with every buck of the older woman's hips. She sinks two fingers into Natasha's aching cunt, barely reminding herself to take it easy. To draw her pleasure out until she's writhing and groaning.

"Is this better for you, 'Tasha?" She asks, her lips making their way to Natasha's neck once more. She knows better than to leave too many marks behind, but she can't help her urges and she sinks her teeth into the side of the older woman's neck.

Natasha's walls clench around her fingers, nails digging into the witch's jacket as sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. She arches her back into her touch, her hips bucking a little too wildly for her taste. It's not like she can help her movements. Not when it feels so good.

"Wanda," she moans, her cheeks heating up as she realizes how desperate she sounds. "Fuck, don't stop."

If Wanda was slightly more sadistic she would push her to beg. As enticing as that sounds, she'd much prefer to show her how good she can make her feel instead.

"I won't," she says as her thumb finds its way onto Natasha's swollen clit. "Not until you fall apart for me. Until you admit how good I make you feel."

Her pride seems like a small price to pay for the pleasure that's turning her brain to mush. She opens her mouth to stroke Wanda's ego some more when the younger woman speeds up her movements, her fingers curling just enough to leave her gasping.

She pushes her hips into her fingers with every thrust, looking far more needy than she ever allows herself to be. "Right there, fuck, feels so good."

Natasha's never really been one for talking during sex, far too accustomed to selfish lovers who don't need her approval to feel like they're doing things right. It's different this time, though. Not just because she genuinly feels good, but because it's so clear that Wanda feels good. That this is what she wants. Touching her, pleasing her, driving her to the brink of madness. The witch has never looked more comfortable, more in her element, than she does right now.

"You gonna cum for me already?" The witch teases, pretending she's not doing everything in her power to make the older woman fall apart. "Here? Where anyone could see you? See how desperate you are for my fingers?"

The slight degradation shouldn't turn her on more, but it does. It makes her head fall back as an incoherent string of curses leave her lips. She knows she should at least feel a little emberrased but she can't. Can't think about anything except Wanda's fingers pistoning in and out of her wet pussy.

"Yes," she replies breathlessly. "I need- need to cum."

Wanda doubles her efforts as soon as she hears Natasha admit how close she is. Her thumb presses down on her twitching clit, rubbing fast circles against it until the Widow's walls are spasming around her fingers. 

"That's it, let go for me, 'Tasha. Make a mess on my fingers."

She doesn't have to be told twice.

The coil in Natasha's stomach snaps almost instantly, leaving her clinging to the witch as the pleasure crashes into her all at once.

Wanda watches her with wide eyes, greedily drinking in every twitch of her face, every desperate sound she can't hold back. She's sure she's never seen anything so breathtaking in her life.

All it does, though, is make her realize how much more she wants. How badly she needs Natasha. How her mind has filled up with fantasies she's not sure she can live without.

After losing everything she's ever had, she has to have the older woman.

That will come later, though, right now, she has more important things to focus on. Like making sure Natasha can walk long enough for them to retire to her room for the night.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics

[apolloendymion]

for the record btw, the answer is no, there is no such thing as an "addictive personality."

some key highlights from the article (emphasis mine):

During the 1990s, the term "addictive personality" was used by some pharmaceutical companies – and, perhaps ironically, to promote addictive painkiller drugs.

While marketing the opioid prescription drug OxyContin, for example, US pharmaceutical company Purdue Pharma instructed their representatives to tell doctors that only people with an "addictive personality" were at risk of becoming addicted, despite knowing that it was highly addictive and widely abused.

[...]

The idea that your personality determines whether or not you become addicted to a substance would have "suited the pharmaceutical industry very well", says Ian Hamilton, associate professor in addiction at the University of York in the UK. "It kind of lets them off the hook. The message is: 'if you're weak enough to develop a problem with our product, it's due to your personality, it's nothing to do with us'."

[...]

The addictive personality "is a black-and-white way of thinking about something that's highly complex", says Anshul Swami, a psychiatrist in adult mental health and addictions at Nightingale Hospital in London. "There is no one personality type [predictive of addiction] and there is no one person who is the same as another addict."

The article goes on to discuss various risk factors for addiction, which include high neuroticism, depression, childhood trauma, genetics, and even sex and gender.

The experts they interviewed also go to great lengths to point out that some of these traits are a "chicken and egg" situation. A study may find that addicts are more likely to be depressed, but is that what made them an addict, or is the addiction causing their depression?

They mention that establishing causility for genetics, sex, and gender is especially tricky.

But Hamilton warns that there may be significant data gaps as women are less likely to seek treatment due to childcare issues and stigma.

[...]

"Psychosocial factors like violence, sexual abuse and emotional neglect are strongly associated with addiction," says Swami. "Many people will say 'I've got a history of addiction, it's because of my genetics'. But when you drill down in their clinical history, you find that there was a lot of drinking, neglect, abuse, trauma and deprivation. That has been passed down from generation to generation and has surfaced as an addiction."

I'm reminded of my own family. My sister worked like hell to avoid losing custody of my niece due to her heroin addiction. I'm grateful that she could keep her daughter and receive treatment, but not everyone is so lucky. I can certainly understand women who are too afraid of losing their kids to seek help.

My father has been sober around 40 years, and he used to tell me allllll the time that we both had genetically addictive personalities, as did his father. This gave me a complex, to be honest! When I consume alcohol, cannabis, my own prescriptions, even TV, video games, and sex, his voice rings in the back of my mind. It's hard to have a healthy relationship with these things when you feel like you're constantly teetering over a precipice.

Nevermind the fact that my late grandfather's abuse and neglect, plus the family's abject poverty, created ripple effects throughout his descendants. Nevermind that my father abused and neglected me. Nevermind that I had undiagnosed ADHD, and I suspect he does, too!

The problem must be that I have some kind of inherent evil within me. I must avoid anything that makes me feel good, lest I fall into sin. (sarcasm)

From my own experience, and from watching my friends and loved ones go through it, addiction is a combination of self-medication and built-up chemical dependence. There's no inherent "weakness" in a person that makes them a potential addict.

People will fill their needs with whatever they have access to. Sometimes this negatively impacts their quality of life and they want to get off of it, in which case we must help them find another way to meet their needs. Sometimes they're chemically dependent as well, and we must provide education and treatment to prevent serious harm (do NOT quit addictive substances cold turkey, I don't care what your AA sponsor said, that can Kill You!! yes, that very much includes alcohol!!) Sometimes they aren't even addicted! Sometimes they just successfully medicate with a stigmatized substance like cannabis or opioids. Maybe this creates a chemical dependence (as many medications do, addictive or not), maybe it doesn't. Maybe it has negative side effects, but the benefits outweigh them. Maybe it only works temporarily, but it gives them the support they need to build long-term solutions -- like a cast on a broken bone. Or maybe they'll be on it for the rest of their lives! Ultimately, they know the pros and cons, and they've decided it's the best way to manage their health. It's up to us to believe them, and to give them the tools to reduce potential harm.

One final quote from the article:

"Addictions are highly complex biological, psychological, social illnesses, just like every other illness on the planet," says Swami. "Everyone is looking for a simple answer, but there isn't one."

Okay I do not give a shit about this article at all but where did they get this picture of the skeleton wearing prescription pill armor

Like this is the coolest fucking thing I have seen in a while who made this

[aprilblossomgirl]

i feel like i'm hurting so much for faifa in this episode. he doesn't deserve to hear that many hurtful words. before i continue, i think i need to say this first: as an asian myself, i will always understand why most (asian) shows choose forgiveness when dealing with bad parents/parenting, no matter how unforgivable they might be seen by the rest of the audience. and that, i believe, is not of any agenda by the showmaker. of course, to not generalize it, few medias didn't go through that route because of a different preference or goal in the storytelling. however, understanding forgiveness doesn't necessarily mean i believe it is always the 'right' way of wrapping up an arc.

thinking about the upcoming faifawine's story starting next week, i feel like some dialogues in this episode, no matter how they really felt off to me, are intentionally right there as a further backstory for faifa. and especially if the directing choice of faifa's expression changes through that scene with the whole family is anything to go by.

when yotha called fai, he said this first: "Tell me honestly. Don’t be scared of hurting anyone." as if yotha knows that fai always keeps his feelings to himself to avoid hurting anyone else.

fai trying to come up with a reasoning, "I was probably just angry with her, but I think everyone was hurt by what happened— Dad, Newton, and Mom." as if to avoid answering yotha's question, "Do you hate her?" with his real answer.

"If Mom really wanted to abandon us, why would she have taken me with her?" shows that fai was not being optimistic (as yotha implied) but somehow trusted the mom. only to be shattered later, "I thought if I brought Faifa who loves being with his Dad and brothers, at least he would ask me to bring him back to visit everyone often and we’d all see each other sometimes. On the other hand, if I’d brought you, Yotha, we might have been so happy that we wouldn’t have wanted to come back and see anyone here again..." (what nonsense! i cannot understand any logic behind this one.) in a way implying that she might haven't been that happy with fai, which somehow validate what he and yotha had been talking about before: "I don’t know why she took me with her even though you were the one who wanted to go." / "Because she loves you more than me." / "That’s definitely not the reason." oh, i was right. mom doesn't love me. but she's hurting. but...

imagine being faifa, hearing all of those hurtful excuses, but his immediate response was trying to justify why mom did what she did instead of trying to validate the real feeling he himself was having. and i say this with my whole being: that's a pretty accurate representation of how we, asian kids, mostly were nurtured. the scene just stabbed me right in the heart.

faifa might haven't said anything, but his face didn't lie. you could very clearly see how his face instantly dropped once mom told her reason for taking him instead of yotha at that time. and i still cannot forget the face he made a few episodes back when mom gave him something he was allergic to. the level of gaslighting here is too suffocating to witness. the emotional neglect just hits too hard. i cannot even begin to break it further into fai's loneliness.

all these made me wonder how the upcoming third arc will 'deal' with fai's inner wound. i hope the show won't brush it off because i think it would add more depth to the romance part, how he navigates his feelings once someone finally enters his life, as it has been implied that wine was also dealing with heartbreak.

[rekino2114]

I've got a few Lacey requests, if you don't mind! Could you do either: 6. or 20. for Jay with a male reader 12. for Lacey with an equally insecure transfemme reader. You can do any or none of them if you like! Thank you for considering!

Jay being your secret admirer

Pairing:Jay x male reader

A/n:Sorry, I don't write for trans readers just because I'm not trans myself and don't think I could write them well. Hope you still enjoy this. Also, I did this because I wanted to start writing for Jay and Maisie too to celebrate the lacey games trailer. Also, all of my lacey posts will take place in the same au where all of the main girls are dating their own version of y/n cause they need love.

Lately, you've been receiving some weird things on your doorstep. It's nothing creepy, quite the opposite, in fact, it's very romantic things.

It's mostly love letters in which the mysterious sender writes about how much they admire you and love everything about you. They describe everything about you in details and compliments.

The letters are always signed "your secret admirer" and are often accompanied by flowers, your favorite type nonetheless.

While the content isn't creepy in on itself, the fact that your dear friend Lacey had a similar experience with a stalker, which she thankfully managed to get out of, made you uneasy to accept the letters as actual love notes so you decided to talk to your friends about it.

"You have a secret admirer? Dude That's so cool"

"Is it? It kinda makes me uncomfortable"

"O-oh does it?"

"Yeah i mean, remember what happened to Lacey?"

"......yeah"

"It's not that bad, thankfully but still"

"Don't worry if you're ever in danger just tell us, we can help you"

"Thanks girls, you're the best"

"Don't mention it, it's the least we could do"

You all fist bumped each other and then you started talking with Jay, which seemed uncharacteristically nervous

"Hey Jay, wanna go skating today I know-"

"N-no it's fine I'll just hang out with Lacey and Maisie"

You looked at her a bit suspiciously but shrugged and left, saying goodbye to everyone. Jay breathed a sigh of relief seeing you go away, since she probably couldn't have kept a straight face anymore around her crush, but quickly got worried again as she saw her friends approaching her with teasing smirks on their faces

"Soooo when are you gonna tell him?"

"Eh? W-what are you talking about dude, I don't have to tell h-him a-anything"

"..............."

".....is it that obvious?"

"I mean........."

"It's a miracle he didn't find out yet"

".....y-yeah"

"Why didn't you just confess?"

"You have any idea how hard it is? I was sweating just writing the letter"

"But why? I'm sure he loves you too, you two basically always hang out"

"I don't think so, he probably thinks of me as just a friend"

"Why do you think so?"

"I mean I'm not girly like you two I don't think he-"

"Stop it there, Jay, you're amazing in your own way, and if y/n really loved you, then he'll do it because of who you are"

"Oh.....thanks lacey...i-i didn't expect you to say that"

"O-oh thank you, m-my partner says stuff like these all the time to me so......it just stuck I guess"

"Well did you hear her? Go and get your man, it's even valentine's day so it's perfect"

"Yeah! Thanks dudes!"

Jay said goodbye to her friends and quickly skated away to pick up another bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of the letters she had already written, then rang the doorbell to your house and took a deep breath to calm herself as she saw the door opening

"Hm? Jay? What's with......the....flowers"

"Hey dude, i-i mean y/n, so yeah I'm your secret admirer, please don't think I'm weird I wasn't stalking you or anything I just really know your face, a-and was too scared to confess. I want you to know that everything I said in the letters was true, I really, really like you.....a-and so....wanna be my boyfriend?"

"......I'd love to"

".....wait seriously?"

"Of course, I love you too Jay, I never confessed cause I thought you only thought of me as a friend"

"Really dude!? Me too! I thought I was way too boyish to be your type"

"What are you saying? I love tomboys and you especially"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're so cool, I love how boyish you are if anything, it makes you special and so I love that"

"W-wow that's great! So are we like a thing or something now?"

You smiled and hugged her, making her blush, then proceeded to kiss her on the lips. She loved your lips so much that she couldn't help but feel disappointed when you pulled back

"Does that answer your question?"

"D-definitely"

"OK so now wanna go skate? As a couple"

"Sure thing dude! I bet it feels so much better than skating as just friends"

"I'm sure it does"

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #5 - CoimbraBertone and the Indiana Jones Blogpost.

So, I watched the first three Indiana Jones movies for the first time these last few weeks. Those being Raiders of the Lost Ark, Temple of Doom, and The Last Crusade. Also, before that, I was watching my friend Andy play through the video game, Indiana Jones and the Great Circle. I have thoughts.

Plus, the Super Bowl was last weekend and that's kinda an unavoidable black hole devouring anything else that could've happened that weekend, so there isn't much racing news to discuss right now.

Indycar aired some commercials during it which hopefully draw people in, but until we get to St. Pete for the first race, it's hard to say how effective they were.

So, onto Indiana Jones.

I liked them. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Last Crusade are both great movies, Temple of Doom isn't as good, but it still has plenty of iconic moments and I enjoyed it well enough.

My first impression was honestly...wow, I've seen so much references to this stuff. Like there were moments I knew were from Indiana Jones, like the giant boulder chasing Indy, opening the Ark and it melting the Nazi faces, and the minecart chase from Temple, but there other things I didn't realize.

Like in Family Guy, Road to Germany, they do the whole escape the plane in a raft thing, with Stewie even making fun of one of Willie's lines. I didn't know that was from Indiana Jones. The motorcycle chase in that episode is probably a reference to Last Crusade as well, albeit a bit less 1 to 1.

So yeah, iconic movies that I've seen referenced a lot, and now I finally understand those references.

So, Raiders of the Lost Ark...

I liked Belloq as a villain. His Egypt clothes with the way his hair looked kept making me think of Alain Prost even though objectively he doesn't look all that much like Prost, but there's where my brain went. I like that he's a different kind of evil than the Nazis around him - he doesn't have a cause, he's just self-interested and wants to get one over on Jones - but he is still very much evil.

Toht is another fun character because he's just so ridiculous. The coat hanger scene made me burst out laughing.

Colonel Dietrich is probably the flattest of the villains, but I get that they needed more of a straight-up Wehrmacht guy to be the direct threat that neither Belloq nor Toht could really be.

As for the heroic characters, I have to admit, with everything I heard about Marion from watching the game and reading up on the movies a bit, she is not at all what I was expecting. For some reason I kinda thought she was gonna be a non-action rich girl who is the daughter of a rich gentleman type - and in fairness, Ravenwood does seem like it would be an old money name - but instead she's a lot more of a rougher and more confrontational character.

And I suppose that is more interesting.

Sallah's fun, John-Rhys Davies has a great voice, and I was happy to see him back in Last Crusade.

Some of the effects are very dated and the sounds - especially the punch sounds - are as well, but it's an old movie so what are you gonna do? I accepted that as a relic of the time and enjoyed the movie in spite of that.

Something dated that's a bit harder to forgive is Temple of Doom.

Let's start with the positives: Lao Che's club is a lot of fun. I think his club is a reused set from Return of the Jedi because with how white and smooth it is, along with the seating bowl we see in one of the shots, it reminds me a lot of the Mon Calamari cruises from Episode VI. I could be wrong about that, but they were filmed a year apart and Lucas literally named it Club Obi-Wan, so I wouldn't be surprised at all if the whole thing is a redressed Star Wars set.

Willie's a bit grating. There's no way around that, I'm sorry.

Short Round though...yeah, he has a few annoying moments, but I actually found him endearing. The ways that he looks up and mimics Indy - sorry, Dr. Jones - are fun, and it's nice to see Indy cares about him too.

The portrayal of India though...oof.

Spielberg and Lucas have apparently said that the whole dinner scene with the eels and eyeballs and monkey brains and all that is supposed to be a ploy to scare off Indy and the British officer dude, but...they did not do a good job of conveying that at all. It just feels like over the top orientalism.

Same thing with the Thuggee cult in general. Mola Ram's costume is all over the place and with his skull helmet off, that red paint on his forehead feels a lot more like the other type of Indian. It's like a storm of foreign culture cliches thrown together at random and it's pretty damn jarring. They even got the Maharaja torturing Indy with a voodoo doll which...okay then, I guess we really are just throwing anything and everything at this, huh?

From what I understand their portrayal of Kali is also completely off.

There's also a lot of brown face in that movie. The late Pat Roach was playing the slavemaster, for instance.

Then making the British Army show up at the end to save Indy & co...sheesh. No wonder this movie got banned in India for awhile.

Still, if you can get past all that and see it as a product of its time, it's a fun enough movie. It's the weakest of the trilogy though.

Onto Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

Harrison Ford and Sean Connery, what else do you need?

No seriously, that's it. It's good, watch it.

...

...

...

Okay fine, I'll talk about it.

I like this one a lot. I know Raiders is the classic one that everyone loves, but this one might be my favorite.

Venice, Austria, Berlin, Antioch, down to Petra in Jordan...it's a lot of fun set locations and set pieces. I really enjoyed Elsa as the "Indy girl" of this movie, I really enjoyed the banter back and forth between Henry Sr. and Indiana, and I think the Nazis in this movie are just great antagonists.

They look evil as fuck, they have the Hugo Boss fit on fleek, Vogel is a great villain, the modified World War I tank was a great set piece, and we have plenty of old car porn in this one - particularly the old Rolls Royce, which is not, in fact, a Phantom II - so what's not to like?

Well, Donovan probably goes down a bit too easy. I know that these movies are big on the whole villains are destroyed for trying to harness a power they cannot understand, but he does die pretty quickly and pretty stupidly. I guess the Vogel fight was pretty long, so a long Donovan fight probably would've bogged the ending down a lot, but it was a bit disappointing to see him easily duped into killing himself.

Elsa's end, meanwhile, i thought was fitting. She couldn't let go of her obsession, and in the end, the grail's spell got to her. It almost got to Indy too, but then Henry gave him the fatherly love which is what he really wanted. And yeah, that's a bit schlocky, but who cares? it's nice and meaningful.

So yeah, none of them are perfect movies, but I enjoyed them a lot.

The Great Circle fits in among the movies quite nicely, I think. Gina fits as another "Indy girl" and is probably my favorite when adding her in to the classic movies, and Troy Baker does such a great job as Indy that even Harrison Ford gave him his blessing.

Plus ending on karate fighting a Nazi on the top of Noah's Ark is exactly the type of goofy shit these movies would come up with and I mean that in the best way possible.

Oh, one other thing I wanted to yap about: there are a lot of scenes in these movies where the guns are very clearly not firing anything, and again, I get it, old movie, but wow, sometimes it's really obvious. There was a bit in Last Crusade where Indy thrashed around an MP40 that wasn't doing anything, and it straight up took me a second to realize they were trying to show him shooting.

Old movies gonna old movie.

I'm gonna watch the next two movies soon, probably this week, but from what I hear, they're not quite up to snuff. Let me know if you guys want my thoughts, otherwise, this is probably gonna be the last Offtopic Offseason for awhile because it's the Daytona 500 this weekend. They'll be a NASCAR race every weekend from now until November, and once NASCAR starts, the likes of MotoGP, F1, and Indycar aren't far behind.

Looking forward to the Henry Jones Jr.polis 500.

[isaspsp]

I think my parents did pretty similar things. I'm feeling sensitive right now so, story sharing time.

I did misbehave every now and then, as all kids do. I don't remember this incident, but my mom does. I was doing whatever naughty thing, and she hit me to make me stop and discipline me. I stopped, started crying, and went away. My mom never hit me after that. She says it's one of her biggest regrets.

I remember when we got our big TV. I was maybe 8-9 and we had been at the store all day. I wasn't particularly interested in picking out a TV cus that seemed like adult business, and children have no right to poke their nose of that. But then, my dad crouches next to me, points to the final two tvs they were deciding between, and asked me which one I thought was best. And I do remember asking, "Why are you asking me this? I am a child." He laughed and said something among the lines of, "Children are always honest." And that gave me all the confidence and reassurance to choose what would be our TV for the next 10+ years.

They took the effort to see my side aswell. I grew up with my cousins. We were 6 kids in total, and with two of them being older, we 4 youngsters played together a lot. Of these four, the oldest used to bully me a lot (I bit him really hard once as revenge, but that is another story) and I had two younger cousins, the youngest of which, was the one I saw most often. He would come with us to trips and such. But he was the younger child, so he had preferences over me. If I had anything he wanted, I HAD to share. If he wanted to sit where I was, I had to move, lest he makes a fuss. But, if he had something that I wanted? He was under no obligation to share. It was Easter time, I was about 13 (?), and we had gotten ourselves fancy chocolate eggs. My aunt had gone along with us to shop. I'd done my research at the site of the store we were going to, so I knew exactly what I wanted. My aunt didn't know what to get my cousin, so she followed my lead and got him the same two eggs. My aunt used to be paid to clean our house once in a while and just so happened that that week my little cousin had come along. I was going to travel that weekend, and my eggs would be left behind, I'd only have them when we came back. So, having been thinking and fantasizing about the chocolate eggs for weeks, I sneaked around, opened one of the boxes, grabbed a piece, ate some, and put the rest in the refrigerator My aunt saw me do this. Later, my parents confronted me about it; my aunt had told them what happened, that I tried to hide just so I wouldn't have to share. I started crying about how if I didn't sneak around I would've had to share with my cousin, who had the exact same egg at his home, who wouldn't have to wait to come back from a trip, and that I would never get the same kindness back, the piece he would've taken from me, the egg that I so researched to get, that I beheaved and did well in school to get, I would have to give away, even if it was a small piece, and tgat, even if I asked nicely, my cousin wouldve said no, and nothing would be done anout it. And the damn was broken, so I mentioned also all the other times I had to give in because I was older, he was younger and I was bigger and could hurt him more. They looked at each other... and agreed with me. I was forced to share less after that. I still shared, of course, but now... I wasn't forced as much. (At least by my parents, we couldn't control everyone or course u_u)

I genuinely remember very VERY few times of my parents taking away my stuff or banning m3 from activities. If I remember at all, because all I have are "vague feelings" that it happened. And honestly, I think I turned out better for it.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[ledesaid]

Billy has a special trunk 💼 #2

Or Billy Batson can travel between trunks and meet two Jasons.

◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉

Bambi went out every morning and left Billy watching television. Billy took advantage of that moment to travel through the trunk. It's not that he was forbidden to sneak away, but he preferred not to worry her and waited until she went out to work.

On the other hand, the one he really wanted to scare was Jason, who considered Billy a ghost.

Jason: Do you have unfinished business on Earth?

Billy: Yes, a few. Haven't you seen letters or a crystal ball when you opened this trunk?

Jason: No, kid, and I know for a fact that this trunk hasn't been opened in fifteen years.

Billy: Well, I had to try.

Jason: Speaking of cards, do you want to play? I have a deck.

Billy: Sure, I have nothing better to do... Are you grounded or something?

Jason: Is it obvious?

Billy: I don't think you voluntarily spend your afternoons next to a trunk waiting for it to appear.

Jason: I like you too, ghost boy.

Billy: Jason, it's been days, are you going to keep calling me kid or ghost?

Jason: Sorry, I was told it's impolite to ask a ghost for their name.

Billy: I'm Billy and it's not a problem, but I'll let you know if you ask something too personal.

Jason: Can you eat?

Billy: Definitely...

Billy evaluated his situation as "Billy, the friendly little ghost". Do ghosts eat? He wasn't so sure, but... Billy did eat. So that is the absolute truth.

Billy: We can try if you bring something.

Jason: Great, I'll ask Alfred for a snack.

Billy: I'll shuffle, my friend Freddy taught me a trick.

Jason won, he had more experience, but Billy was happy. It had been a while since he interacted so freely with another kid who didn't want to hit him or ignore him. At least not since Fawcett's kidnapper appeared.

Jason is a very kind boy, apparently very rich, but very kind and talkative. He listens to how he was adopted by a big shot when he tried to steal the tires of his favorite car. Years have passed since then, but they get along quite well and although he is grounded, he knows his father appreciates him.

Billy changes his expression while he wonders how much longer he can keep invading Bambi's space. He couldn't stay forever... She has plans in another city as soon as she passes her exam.

He is not going to think about the small or minimal possibility of believing that she could adopt him. She was quite young and that was impossible... Besides, she was like an older sister.

Having someone permanent like Jason has not been that simple.

Jason: Come on Billy, I grew up in an alley. I'm a professional, obviously it's hard to beat me... Are you worried about something?

It seems his expression said too much.

Billy: Jason, what if I wasn't a ghost?... Would that change anything between us?

Jason: You could stay in this room as long as you want, I mean, you already do, but if you want to keep something here, I promise not to interfere and I would introduce you to Alfred... he's like a grandfather to me.

Billy: So, I'm a ghost.

Jason: Or I could simply bring more snacks... I'd give you one of my old jerseys and... maybe I'd ask you to play with me on the basketball court we have, if you want.

Billy: Well, now I'm less of a ghost.

A normal day

A normal day, not considering that the heating in the apartment was broken, Billy asks the trunk to take him to Jason to escape the cold... He doesn't expect this harmless chat in the air to lead him to a very elegant dark office with a lit fireplace. Nor that someone would stick him to the ceiling like a fly.

...: "Who dares to intrude into the home of Jason Blood?"

Billy: This looks bad, Mr. Blood... But I swear I shouldn't be here, I planned to go to a friend's house...

Jason B.: Your excuse is hardly believable, mischievous little wizard.

Billy: I swear, his name is also Jason... Excuse me, did you say wizard?

Billy doesn't miss how the red-haired man takes a crystal ball from the mantelpiece. Suspiciously like his own.

Jason B.: Just like with Merlin, I see your magical signature, but I must ensure your intrusion doesn't leave negative effects.

Billy: Magical signature?

Jason B.: Hoping not to fall into a deception. Are you really a child as your physical form shows?

Billy: Yes, I am!

To his relief, he is returned to the floor of the study. The soft carpet reminds him a bit of Jason's mansion.

Jason B: Little wizard, you are very lucky I can tell when someone is lying.

Billy: Can I ask you a question, Mr. Blood?

Jason B.: Be quick, kid.

Billy: Is that object in your hands yours? I have lost my belongings and I am looking for them with the help of a... magical trunk.

Jason B.: Coincidentally, it is not. It appeared in that trunk a few days ago and your strange explanation confirms your possible right over this object. However...

Billy: Please, a dear friend gave it to me and I have taken care of it for several years until the trunk played a bad trick on me.

Jason B.: I'm not familiar with the term bad trick, but I can accept to give it to you in exchange for a favor.

Billy shudders, alarms of a bad idea ringing loudly in his head. He's a stranger, with powers...

Billy: You're a stranger.

Jason B.: And you're a trespasser. I have a problem with loose fairies in my closet, due to my... mystical nature, I can't touch them or they will die, but I trust that your magical signature will make it possible for you to see them and free them for me.

Billy: I didn't say I would do it.

Jason B.: If you want the sphere, I expect you can achieve it. I'll be back in half an hour, I hope you succeed.

Blood doesn't give Billy time to object more before leaving the room, taking the sphere with him.

Billy scolds himself while trying to do what he was asked. It takes longer than expected, but he manages to throw three fairies out of the redhead's window.

Jason B.: I thank you for the help, by the way, in respect for my old friend I must warn you to be careful, your magical ability could make you a target for evil sorcerers. I'm not aware of this, but if you like, I know a wizard named Zatara who could give you some instruction if you use your words wisely.

Billy: Thanks... I guess.

Blood keeps his promise and Billy gets into the trunk. He appears in the mansion and, to his relief, carries the crystal sphere with him.

Jason: Billy, why are you covered in glitter?

Billy: Some fairies spat their magical glitter on me, maybe if I jump out the window I can fly...

Jason: Fuck, you meet Tinkerbell?

-------

Part 1 |

[beescrafting]

So this is going off of what I've been talking to @panchulien about,

Which is Demon Nikolai and Price. I'll be copy and pasting a lot of it, so if you want to get to new content please go to ~~~ :3

Also some warning, I'm not religous, but I do enjoy the idea of angels and demons as reading and writing stuff... So if some of this is off then yeah.

---

So I was thinking that Price was either a priest or a regular church visitor after being in the army (he had to retire after a bad mission that took something or because of PTSD) this trauma is such a meal for any negative being, demonic anything truly... so one night during an bad episode when he was at a bar, this slick beefy man slides over and in a thick russian accent purrs into his ears, "are you an angel, because I wanna prey to you~" and that caught Price off guard so much it helped ground him!

the two start talking, and as the bar starts to close the russian gives his name, Nikolai, and his phone number before paying Price's uber to take the drunkened englishman home.

this goes on for a few weeks, them talking and getting closer, and then price invites him into his home.

And as per the vampire and demon rule, once you invite the entity in, they can come in with their power :3

everything still went on as normally, but as price slept their was a weight on his chest, worse nightmares start to inflict him more and more, it gets to the point he starts missing going to church due to how bad it gets.

Nikolai being the ever nice friend, makes sure he's okay, treating him to food, drinks, holding him during movies.. price feels calm around nik... falls asleep on his shoulder, and that's when the nightmares stop for a night....

they start spending even more time together, but price starts to notice some things, some things he picked up on from the army, such as eyes always on him, something lurking... Price mutters about it, and Nikolai suggest that he sticks around later at night to make sure he's okay, at first Price is against it because like, he was once a strong captain, he could handle this!

but it gets worse...

so eventually he gives in.

Nikolai becomes a common appearance at his home, making russian breakfast, babying price truly... and Price like it slightly...

and then nikolai starts talking on the phone more... it's Gaz.

Would also be funny if ghost and soap were two fallen angels banished for the lone reason of loving one another, and then when they visit their human friend price they get met with two demons hanging out... THE TENSION!

~~~

Price is an Average human guy. just some poor retired captain who has horrible PTSD from watching so much death and being in so many battles...

Nikolai is a high ranking demon, like really fucking powerful. Around the rank of a Leviathan. He wasn't born a demon.

Perfect angst right there

Gaz is a demon as well, but is lower then Nikolai, most likely being trained by the elder demon. Rank: Iuvart.

Ghost is a fallen angel at the rank of Archangel

Soap is also a fallen angel of the rank of angels.

Laswell is human, of course she knows about the demons and angles because her wife is a fallen angel. Her wife fell in love with her and chose to fall to be by her side.

tempted to put roach in but Idk what he'd be, human, demon, angel??? I'll think about it...

Also some fun facts:

Demon's can only die from the hands of another demon in a rank battle, or by angelic means.

Angel's can only die from the hands of their creator, or a demonic sin blade used from the wars both heaven and hell have faced.

Fallen angels have some immunity towards the Sin blade, but over time they can die from it. if its a hard hit they will fall further into the void.

Blessed demons have some immunity towards angelic means but just as much as fallen angels their not immune to it. They can die from it.

-

Now to write about the relationships and thoughts about that person.

Price-

Nikolai: Friends (atm) --Their becoming great pals, getting very close, in fact a few times they've nearly kissed thanks to alcohol fueling their actions.

Gaz: Semi-friends(ATM)-- He seems like a nice lad, he a nikolai are very close, he's very strong for someone having never been in the army or going to the gym every day. He's cool.

Ghost: Friends (best coworkers ever)-- One of the best men I've fought along side. A real good soldier of a muppet.

Soap: friends (bloody muppet)--Bastard still owes him from the amount of times he's nearly died and price has had to drag him around.

Laswell: best friends (need a whisky..)-- they might be ex.coworkers but damn do they tend to bicker like a brother and a sister over ceral.

Nikolai-

Price: Friends (atm)-- He's a good human, strong, handsome, perfect for a human, the pain and misery in his mind clouds his thoughts making it such a buffet. He's got a nice ass too. Love this human, calls me Nik~ such a cute nickname I've been given!~

Gaz: Underling (Atm)-- little demon in training, got a nice face, would work wonderfully in the succubus or incubus division, but here he is, not that I mind this department needs prettier faces then Karen from HR.

Ghost: not mutals.-- Fucking angel.. fallen or not he and that other one could ruin what me and Kyle have with Price. Keep an eye on him.

Soap: Not mutals-- for a angel, he would have made a fine demon with how well he can fight. Same thing as ghost.

Laswell: Friends-- She actually trust me with Price. Both me and Kyle.

you should read the last one in a smug tone lol))

Gaz-

Price: Friends (atm)-- pretty handsome for a human, I see what Nikolai means by it, hope he becomes a demon instead of an angel or gets reborn, would be a shame to lose him.

Nikolai: Leader (Atm)-- I'm lucky to be able to work under him unlike other high ranking demons that just kill their underlings if they mess up. He's firm. I like when he pats me on the back while laughing, it makes me feel what humans would describe as... Giddy.

Ghost: unsure-- He's a fucking freaky ass fallen angel, but I like his jokes. I only talk to him when Price and Nikolai are around. He seems to be alert but won't act out unless given reason.

Soap: Friends-- We've gone drinking on our own time without the others, he's a pretty chill guy, gotta admit I love messing around with human lives with him around. So not all angels are blood thirsty god fearing lunitics. Fallen or not...

Laswell: Friends-- A real nice lady, I like her wife.

Ghost-

Price: Friends-- After falling down to earth, the first job as a human both I and Johnny had was fighting alongside this man. He's an amazing man and soldier. I hope he doesn't get a bad fate.

Nikolai: Not good...- Fucking demon, he's going to hurt Price's soul... damange him to the point he'll go into the void. I won't bloody allow that. Price is one of the only humans I'll make sure heads to narvana.

Gaz: Fine-- Not as bad as the higher ranked demon, clearly a fledgling demon. Not much of a threat and if anything could possibly be turned into a blessed demon.

Soap: Lovers-- My love, the man I have fallen in love with and from heaven with. I would take gods heart out of he asked.

Laswell-- Friends: a good amazing lady who knows how to do her job. Her wife makes a mean pasta.

Soap-

Price: Friends-- A bloody great bloke to be around, if I were to fall down again i'd do everything the same. He has some bloody pipes on him when ever he thinks I'm in danger and risk of dying!

Nikolai: Unsure-- A high ranking demon, bloody hell... He's not good enough to be around Price >:[

Gaz: Friends-- A bloody great bloke! Wish he was a blessed demon. But he's fine the way he is. He's fun to mess around with. Drinking is quite fun.

Ghost: Lovers-- fucking love you Si... Would move the moon and earth for you and more.

Laswell: Friends-- she's cool, but mean, but cool.

Laswell-

Price: Friends-- Annoying prick in my side... Would kill for him though.

Nikolai: Mutals-- He's fine, hasn't done anything bad on earth yet... So he's fine in my books.

Gaz: Friends-- He's good kid. Hard working, I can see him becoming a blessed angel. And if not, That'll be fine as well.

Ghost: Friends-- He's a good man, hard working, devoted to his husband. Needs to wear a bell though. Appers out of the shadows often.

Soap: Friends-- he's a good man. Bloody annoying with how many times he's given Price heart attacks...

{{REDACTED}} (Mrs. Laswell the wife): Lovers- The missus, love her so much... Her beauty is more then heaven and the earth.

-

For design's I'll doodle some stuff, I have idea's and I've been meaning to redraw a past failed project (angel ghost)

But I do have some firm idea's...

Nikolai's demon form has refrances to bull's and bears...

Gaz's demon form has refrances to bat and horse (this one is iffy.)

i think i'll have more firm idea's later on when I'm doodling them.

:3

--

When Nikolai confesses what he and gaz are to Price I see it in a small library store owned by the demon. And Price just goes: "Had a bloody feeling..."

And Nikolai is just shocked from that, so is Gaz who falls form the ceiling.

They both shout, "HOW?!"

And Price just goes: "ye both bloody avoid spilt salt like it insulted your mother... and your eyes... they glow in the dark slightly with a red hue... unlike johnny's and simon's who have a white hue... had a bloody feeling."

And Nik and Gaz just turn to one another, before looking at price and Gaz asks, "and you love us both still?"

And Price goes and pulls them both into some heated kissing.

Lets just say when they got back to Price's house that night, not even the screams of hell could be that loud. AHA!

Anywayyyy thank you for my reading my rambling and ted talk.. Imma write some little stuff about this au when I'm not writing my other fics, and the designs will come when I'm not doodling my oc's and my friends (cause GOD one of my friends oc's is so fine. 😔)

If I do ad roach, it'll be another post and Imma learn how to link the two together... CAUSE GOD DAMN IT I LOVE ROACH, Roach and Graves... 😔

[27dragons]

Hiii I‘ve been loving seeing you more on my dash lately, been following you and reading your fics for like six years now and truly no one else’s works have filled my bookmarks as much as yours (and Tisfans of course).

One of yours was the very first winteriron fic I ever read and it had me fall in love instantly, haven’t found anything else like them since. I love that you found your writing muse again, and I know it’s been a long time and a lot of the fandom has fizzled out. But I just wanted to pop in an ask if maybe one day you could see yourself writing MCU again?

In any case, it’s been a lot of lovely years with your writing and you’ll make (and are making) a lot of other new people incredibly happy with your amazing skill and talent for words, worldbuilding and characterisation <3

Hey there! I'm so delighted that you've enjoyed my fics so much!!! It really means a lot to me.

The tldr is that yes, there's at least a slim chance that I might write winteriron/MCU again one day. There is a whole stack of partially-written WIPs still in my writing folder that I can't bring myself to archive and retire.

I'll admit that my enthusiasm for MCU faded a lot when they killed Tony off. And then a massive surge in my depression (thanks in part to COVID and then tisfan's death and then my mom's) all but extinguished my ability to write. I had a creative burst for about 3 months in 2023 with Sandman and the Dreamling ship that resulted in about a dozen fics, but the one fic that I managed to write in 2024 (which was winteriron!) felt like pulling teeth to finish.

But I'm still reading some winteriron fics (and the occasional stony), so it's not entirely dead to me. (For that matter, I did quite a few winteriron/MCU ficlets with my Countdowns here on tumblr in both '23 and '24 - check my "countdown to 2024" and "countdown to 2025" tags if you missed those.)

It's just that winteriron is closely tied to tisfan for me (even before we were writing together, she was always my beta reader), and it's hard to think about it without her. (Also, I've written SO MUCH winteriron, it's hard to come up with any scenarios that I haven't already done, lol)

The Arcane/Jayvik bug has bitten hard, and it's such a relief to know that I can still write, but I'm still waiting to see if this will fizzle out again after a few months like the Dreamling stuff did.

If I do keep writing, there's a pretty decent chance that I will eventually come back to winteriron, at least occasionally. If nothing else, I'd love to one day finish the fic that tisfan and I were working on when she had her stroke.

But I expect it will take a while. If you asked because you're considering unfollowing/unsubscribing so your inbox and dash aren't cluttered with notifications for a fandom you have no interest in, then I promise I won't be offended if you want to do that and just set yourself a reminder to check back in a year to see what happened. I've made that decision myself a few times, and I know it comes with a sliver of heartbreak and guilt. But I understand that not everyone will want to follow me everywhere that I go, and that in no way diminishes my appreciation for the love you've given my fics in the past, whether you just clicked kudos or left a comment on every chapter.

Thank you again for this very kind note. I'm so happy to have given you something you've enjoyed so much.

❤️💛

[innocentcurse]

"I totally understand that," Stoker nodded their head. They couldn't understand what that was like personally, not being a beekeeper or anything of the likes themself, but what Winter said made complete sense to Stoker all the same. There were a lot of things that Stoker was made up off, things like speculation, substance use, and adventuring, and without any of those things, Stoker would have lost of piece of himself and who he was. It was different to Winter's connection with his honey, but enough for Stoker to respect that it was a big part of who Winter was.

Even while Winter was experiencing no honey shortage, Stoker still appreciated the gift endlessly. Even as Winter was just about belittling the gift, reasoning that it wasn't as special as Stoker felt it was due to the large amount of honey he had, Stoker's feelings about it didn't change. "You're a really nice person, Winter," Stoker felt a flash of insecurity hit him in the chest as he felt so very different from that. He was friendly, sure, but Stoker had also done things that would always make him feel like an inherently bad person. He ran a hand through his long hair, as if to reset himself and will the bad thoughts away. "That makes no sense to me at all," Stoker shook his head in disbelief - though he did believe that people were sometimes put off by Winter's memory issues, but only because he knew all too well how awful human beings could be. "I'm not perfect, but something like this would never put me off."

Stoker had already thought that Winter was incredibly interesting, but to be gaining an insight into his issues - issues that Stoker hadn't even caught a glimpse of, unknowingly - it bumped that interesting level up by several notches. Of course, Stoker wasn't happy to hear that his friend struggled so much, but that didn't change the fact that it was incredibly interesting to learn about, both the issues and the way that Winter dealt with them. "I can only imagine just how difficult it'd be," Stoker nodded his head. He had never experienced anything like what Winter was going through, but he had altered his mind with drugs and other substances; that was uncomfortable enough as it was, when Stoker came to, sobering up and realising he had no memory of the time he had spent under the influence. For this to be a constant for Winter, one that he didn't inflict upon himself willingly each time, would have been awful. "You don't need to be embarrassed around me, though," he smiled, though he knew his words were only words, and that if Winter were to ever believe them, it would likely take time and proof.

"Oh man," Stoker's face lit up at the comment about honey on toast. "I used to eat that for breakfast all the time as a kid, but I haven't had it for years. I'd almost forgotten about it completely," Stoker shook their head, smiling fondly in recollection. "I think I know what'll be on the menu tomorrow morning," she chuckled, wondering if it'd be a throwback for Silas, too, or if Silas wasn't subjected to the same one-trick-pony that was the live in staff that made Stoker's breakfast as a young child.

"I guess we don't really know that much about each other, no," not past the surface facts and the small pieces of information that had been relevant thus far. Stoker chuckled as he tried his best to think about what exactly he did with his days, always finding it hard to come up with an answer. "Yeah, it's absolutely fine," he first reassured the other, still not put off by the other's need to have information written down for the sake of his memory issues. "That's a hard question though, honestly," he cocked his head to the side in thought. "I like to explore kinda, I guess that's the best way to put it. I'm..." he hesitated as he thought about whether or not he wanted to be so honest, but as Winter had already established a close, open connection between them, he quickly realised that he wasn't afraid of doing so. "I'm a bit of a... Well I don't know how to put it, but I think this town is kinda strange, in ways, and I'm always trying to find out more about it. So I like to explore, and talk to people, and- well find things out, I suppose."

Nodding, Winter agreed, "Yeah, especially me. I mean...I always have honey here. It's sort of my thing. But I need different ways to enjoy it or else I'll...well, stop enjoying it, you know? And I don't want that because..." Winter trailed off; he knew what he was about to say, but he also knew it might sound stupid. Still, he said it anyway, telling Stoker, "It's so much a part of who I am, beekeeping and selling my honey and all of that, and I kind of don't know who I would be without it." There was one thing though that Winter didn't say out loud: that his bees brought him so much comfort because sometimes it felt like they were the only ones to truly understand him. Their bond was unexplainable and deep, and Winter truly loved them. But he thought that might be too much for Stoker. It seemed like the other understood Winter's point though, and that made him smile. Yes, he was glad the two of them had met.

Upon giving the honey to his new friend, Winter saw his reaction, which made him smile even more in turn. It always felt good to him to make other people happy, and he already knew he'd be giving Stoker another free jar of honey at some point. "It's no big deal," he said, still grinning at them. "I mean...I've got more honey than I can manage sometimes." Right now he didn't have quite as much because it was winter, but he still had more than enough to sell at the markets for the next couple of months. And besides, that wasn't Winter's livelihood anyway - he'd only ever done this because he loved it, not as a job. "I wanted to do something nice for you," he said softly. "I just...I always appreciate when people like me." Winter felt himself getting a little vulnerable now, and he blushed slightly, but still he continued. "Sometimes people think I'm weird or are put-off by the fact that my memory is so terrible," Winter explained further, "so I just...I'm glad you're not one of those people." His cheeks were just a little redder now, but Winter didn't feel embarrassed; he felt like Stoker would understand.

And that was why Winter found himself talking further about the memory issues - he could tell that Stoker wouldn't judge him or make an excuse to leave or something (at least he hoped not). "It's...it's been hard," Winter explained. "I don't even remember how to drive. You know that car in the driveway? That's mine, but it's pretty useless to me. And...and it's not just like a couple of notes." He walked over to a drawer nearby and pulled it open, taking out a stack of notes and holding them up to show Stoker. "See what I mean?" He didn't want to dwell on it too much, but it just felt nice being able to open up about this. There were some things Winter didn't say though, like how he was afraid to even try learning how to drive again because he was worried he wouldn't be able to retain anything he learned. This felt too personal to reveal though, at least for right now. Stoker had nothing but positive and encouraging things to say, and their support made Winter smile, feeling a little less self-conscious. "I'm getting by," he replied, "I am. It's just...it's hard sometimes, and it's embarrassing too." His cheeks were just a little red now, but mostly Winter felt safe and comfortable with his new friend, and he appreciated that greatly.

After the pair had made their tea, Winter sat at the counter with Stoker, taking a sip. "Another way I like honey is on toast," he told Stoker. "Just like drizzled on. If you haven't tried it, well..." He trailed off, nodding toward the jar of honey he'd given the other, a smile on his face. For a couple more minutes, they sat there enjoying their tea, and Winter asked, "So what do you like to do in your free time, Stoker? I guess we still don't know a ton about each other, do we?" Winter felt like Stoker could end up being a good friend, but he wanted to know them more. He removed a small notebook from his pocket as well as a pen, blushing slightly once more. "Is it okay if I take notes?" Winter asked the other.

[anothermonikan]

good gifts for laptop. anyone. anyone pls

[necrotic-nephilim]

i personally have very complicated feelings on the Gotham Knights video game and the routes it takes with characterization. i think it has a charm to it and it goes in an interesting direction with everyone (especially within the confides of the plot of the game) but it does have certain moments that veer painfully fanon for me. (such as: the dialogue where Tim drinks too much coffee) it's an interesting story for what it is but i don't view it comics-based for characterization and therefore don't care to interact with it much for like. fanfic purposes.

that *said* though. i do have to give the game some kind of credit for giving one of the top five JayTim moments that lives rent free in my mind. every since i played the game, the cutscene lives in my mind daily. it's the specific cutscene where Jason and Tim are arguing about whether or not Jason's non-lethal bullets are too dangerous for the field, and the argument leads to TIm *standing in front of the target* Jason is shooting and telling Jason to shoot him. it lives rent free for me. i never stop thinking about this.

the absolute certainty Tim has that he is in no danger standing in front of Jason, who has a loaded gun pointed at his face. the way Jason *hesitates* for just a moment before lowering the gun. he thinks about it for just a second. Gotham Knights JayTim seem to get along very well and can rely on each other, but Jason still clearly holds a bitterness about his death and Tim that flickers through in some lines of dialogue under the guise of jokes. especially since this game deals *heavily* with concepts of Pit Madness causing an altered state of consciousness, i think it's believable that occasionally, Jason fights the urge to fight and hurt Tim for the feeling of being replaced.

i like their tension so much in this canon. they get along but you can *tell* Tim is afraid of addressing Jason's trauma or even addressing Jason head-on, and Jason leans into spooking Tim about it. which isn't very comics feeling in their dynamic, but it is an interesting way to place their dynamic if you're playing with a more timid Tim who's newer to the role of Robin. (which he seems to be in-game) he really doesn't want to offend Jason, or worse, piss him off. but he'll still face Jason head on for things like this, while completely aware of what Jason could be capable of.

and Jason seems very protective of Tim and respecting Tim as a Robin in typical Jason fashion. if Tim pushes, Jason *will* relent. he knows this is a kid who's proved himself and should be treated with equal respect, sometimes even more than Dick and Babs do in-game.

so for all that to culminate in Tim stepping in front of Jason's loaded gun that he *knows* is on the edge of being too dangerous, just to force Jason to listen? it's the most unhinged way Tim could've gotten his point across in this scene. he was literally daring Jason to hurt him and playing with a very dangerous fire. but he did it anyway bc he believed he could make Jason heel just at the thought of hurting Tim. and he was *right*. they're gay and i'm feral ty.

[sforzesco]

"Since you've named yourself after Julius fucking Caesar, perhaps I'll follow in your lead and choose one of the conspirators." "Interesting," says Giuliano. "Should I worry about finding you at the center of some kind of conspiracy that ends with my death?" "Not from me," replies Ascanio. He sounds tired. "Not anymore."

informally, some kind of. conversational follow up to the last comic. I'm trying to get the atmospheric conversational whimsy out of my system because I have a vision of the vatican as a body in active decay, a point of infection spreading out and poisoning the well, a jaw unhinged that people walk into over and over, and I am so close to figure out how to convey this visually. maybe.

[elancholia]

@torschlusspanikattack

i’ve stopped both before and never felt anything; tbh idk if i’ve ever felt anything that could be classed as a withdrawal so always worried i’ve misunderstood some experience and actually all kinds of things were actually other things all along

It seems some people get them (with SSRIs) and some don't. Even the specific experience of brain zaps seems to vary a lot from person to person. You'd know if you had them, I think we can be sure of that much.

But the more nebulous "backlash", worsening of depressive symptoms, is hard to pin down because these things come and go anyway. So you may be right. I didn't become fully aware until I got on stimulants that my condition hadn't been a flat line, that it had had peaks and troughs. Tracking your mood over time is not necessarily obvious. But the most serious withdrawal was accompanied by a very bad depressive episode, bad enough that people made remarks.

Stimulants, though...that's (ime) just being dog tired all time, like really knock down exhausted (and anhedonic), way beyond the normal range of variation, more tired than me at my most getting-five-hours-sleep-a-night. So I don't think I could miss that one. Maybe on a lower dose or after a shorter term of use, you could miss it.

@queervegancryptid

#i've been on so many ssris and other meds for mental health reasons#about three dozen maybe forty total#at a certain point you start to wonder if there's a better way

Good lord. I'm sorry. I thought they gave me the runaround. I'll say that I did eventually find a good combination of drugs that does not involve SSRIs, treating ADHD and insomnia. SSRIs are the system's first recourse, they'll gladly keep you rotating through them forever, and I get the impression that they're sort of pissing into the wind trying to just straight-up treat depression wholesale. I also think that, at least by the time I stopped taking them, they were doing more harm than good, making me complacent and static if they were doing anything at all. I don't know if that's remotely helpful.

One thing that sucks about SSRI withdrawal brain zaps is that it implies that the brain medication you've been taking, potentially for years, has been having far-reaching and previously undetected effects on your whole nervous system. And there's no clear causal mechanism between the idea of an antidepressant and the feeling of a bunch of blood suddenly rushing into your fingertips all at once, as if displaced out of your heart by the sudden introduction of a large weight, so you're sort of just left wondering.

There doesn't even seem to be a solid neurological account of the mechanism involved.

Like, due to a combination of negligence on my part, negligence on the part of various medical professionals, supply shortages, and chance, I've gone cold turkey a couple times each on both SSRIs and stimulant ADHD medications, and let me tell you the SSRIs are way, way worse. Withdrawing from Adderall fucking sucks, but I've had worse colds.