#this topic gets me so heated in the community. So badly

[katerinadeannika]

Notes after watching the full Behind the Scenes of Agatha All Along posted on Nov 13th 2024:

There was no way they could have written an ending for Agatha that did not involve death.

I have been saying this to all the naysayers from the get-go, to all the people making posts about being done or fed up or angry about the ending, or how it makes no sense, or how they should have could have done something different and been fine story wise. The behind the scenes confirmed my point.

The main through line for the entire show was the theme of Death; of Agatha never being able to escape it. Where she both loves and hates death and Death, the concept and the woman. Where she's been running from Death for centuries, but Death came for her son and was always coming for her the second she slowed down.

Every completed trial meant someone would die. Billy created the road based off the rumors and witch lore. And the only rumors out in the witch world were that someone knew someone else's aunt/relative/friend who had undertaken the road and never returned. In reality, that was Agatha's doing. But to Billy, it meant that somehow, the Road took its toll on them. And when the coven traveled it, the Road exacted the same price that Billy expected it to. Death or near death at every trial.

The first trial killed Sharon. The second gave Alice her power back and then Billy almost died (and probably would have if Agatha hadn't pleaded with Rio on his behalf, if the coven hadn't worked together, and if Billy hadn't made the Road with his own powers. Some interesting combo of the all the above). The third trial killed Alice who was trying to save Agatha. And the fourth trial killed Lilia and the Salem Seven.

Jac said she intentionally wrote it where Death was a very real thing that everyone in the show had to come to terms with.

And for Jen Kale, her gift was already dead, and she was supposed to resurrect it and take her own power back. She escaped because after Agatha's trial, the fifth one, someone DID die.

And this time it was Agatha.

Agatha had avoided it every other time by either being saved, or having the rest of the coven as fodder for death.

But in the end, when she could have left once again, she must decide who has to pay the final price for her invention of the Road. The Road that she has used to kill and lure countless witches to their doom over the past few centuries.

She can save the boy she has come to love and mentor after the loss of her son. Or, she can leave once again. And so she makes the final moment of self sacrifice, and chooses the final victim of the Road: Herself

She has been running from Death for centuries.

For Agatha's story to have a thematic ending that wasn't cheap or manufactured, she had to stay true to that through-line. That's how writing works. You find your themes. You write about and explore them. And you have a final consequence that determines if it's a positive arc or a negative arc for your main character.

They chose for Agatha to have a positive arc. A moment of final growth. To end the show on her finally making the right decision, even at the cost of the life she's sustained through countless centuries and via countless deaths.

There was no way the show could have ended any other way.

PS: There is no excuse to hate on it. At all.

It doesn't meet any of the criteria for the 'Bury your gays' trope. It doesn't even end Agatha’s story. But it does provide expertly written, well thought out, thematically poignant endings for all the characters in a way that satisfies their personal journey—throughout the show and the centuries.

And I am so glad they made it, and that it ended how it did. I wouldn’t want it any other way. As a writer. As an editor. As a viewer. And as a lesbian.

Agatha All Along is a masterpiece in TV writing. And I can’t wait for more.

PSS: Watch the Behind the Scenes on youtube that Marvel just posted. It’s super good and includes all sorts of info to help with fic writing and just general understanding of the writing and show creation. Also lots of Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza in interviews!

TLDR: Quit complaining and griping about the ending. It was written beautifully. The reason you got so invested is because of all the heavy death elements throughout that made things mean something. Embrace it. Or find media where you were the target audience. Cause if you couldn’t handle something well written that ends like this, you weren’t the target audience. And that’s okay. But move on before you keep griping and causing issues with the community and the cast.

[ohbo-ohno]

It’s cause all these girlies want a gay best friend and slay the house down boots mama *badly done tongue pop* without giving a fuck about gay culture

They hear words not intended for their use and assume they’re the authority on it because they weren’t beating gay kids heads in so they’re not homophobic

Sorry this topic gets me heated

oh my god this ask confused me so much until i remembered the last thing i posted lmfao

but no i totally get what you mean, it drives me fucking insane to see people completely misuse terms that have a shitload of history in the queer community, especially when they misuse those words in a derogatory way (calling people bears or butches as an example)

learn you queer history, kids. twinks are not just bottoms and butches are not just lesbians who don’t wear makeup. words have meanings 👍

[unloneliest]

🗂️ please??

hello! thank you for the ask & the chance to ramble about leverage!!! i hope you're cool with a long answer because good lord, this got very long.

the random headcanon: if the ot3 ends up parent figures to kids who would want to call them dad/mom/etc, i think eliot would be mom, not dad.

my reasoning: i've thought a lot about eliot (<-understatement) and one of the things that makes me SO emo about him & someting that's like, essential to my understanding of him is that i think the team is the first time he's able to safely be his full self in community with others. (this is a simplified version of my take on the team which i would LOVE to elaborate on some time but could write an entire separate essay about and isn't the point right now). i'm talking about this specifically in relation to his queerness, but i've viewed eliot as autistic since reading this meta & that's another angle i could go at all this from, too.

ANYWAYS if we go backwards chronologically from the start of the team, eliot was previously known to be a lone wolf (as they all were) and before that he was working for moreau - and whatever you think happened there, there's no way you could describe that situation as safe. before that, he was in the military, & that would not have been a safe situation for him to be out about his queerness.

take a step further back in time, and we arrive at his life Before. we know eliot was disowned the night before he left home for bootcamp in an argument with his father. i am 100% convinced that he was disowned because he came out, either on purpose (causing the argument) or on accident (in the heat of the argument, which is what escalated it to a disownment). and that was when he was 18, and he never even tried going back - there's no way that the home & town eliot grew up in was safe to queerness, and i think he saw joining the military as his only way to get out. (i could also write an entire essay about my thoughts on this. i love him your honor).

all this is just backstory to reach my point of - i don't think eliot was able to safely be his full self before the team so i have no idea how he'd label his sexuality, and i also don't think that gender would've been on his radar at all. i don't think that the possibility of exploring his gender would've been anywhere near eliot's radar. but i do think eliot has Gender going on. i think that he's very conscious of the ways he performs heterosexual man as a gender, and that it's something he does on purpose to stay safe/unnoticed.

how on earth is this all one topic? well. i think if the ot3 ends up parent figures to kids, it would be nebulously some time after the series finale. (i haven't watched redemption yet, that doesn't factor into my thoughts at all, this is a disclaimer). i also think vaguely after s5 is the point in time where eliot might start beginning to stop performing the heterosexual man gender on purpose, in a way that he never has before. it's something he performed with intention, and i think he'd be stopping the performance with intention. i think it would be healing for him, and it's something i want for him very badly.

and it's why i think he'd never in a million years be dad to a kid. both for gender reasons and because of how his own dad was. i think eliot would be mom, or ma, and i love him, and believe it or not this post is me trying my absolute damndest to be brief.

send me a “📂“ for a random headcanon

postscript: there's two ideas i have that i couldn't fit into this smoothly but that feel very relevant.

eliot and sophie's friendship is something that already means SO much to me - it feels like they both found somebody that they had lost and were missing in one another. it makes me so SO so emo they're family. they're family. and i think sophie's a trans woman and thinking about her and eliot's connection thru the lens of them BOTH being gendery makes me like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

we don't know a lot about eliot's family but he's implied the existence of siblings and he opened up a bit about his dad in the low low price job. but we never, not EVER, hear a single thing about his mom. and i think it's because the hurt is worse. i think she died before he was a teenager. i think she died when he was around molly thecarnivaljob's age. and i think she died of cancer because of how his voice sounds when he's rummaging through cars in the future job & says there's a pink breast cancer awareness ribbon on the mirror. thank you for coming to my bonus ted talk.

[acremi]

I LOVE your Inarizaki headcanons since you include all of them! ♥️ can I get headcanons of their s/o grabbing their face and kissing them to shut them up because they’re stressed or upset? gahhh (≧∀≦)

KISSING THEM TO SHUT THEM UP.

pairings: akagi, aran, atsumu, ginjima, kita, omimi, osamu, riseki, suna x reader

a/n: off topic, but this is my first birthday since i’ve joined the writing community? i view all my requests / asks as little gifts, so writing this made me extra happy today 💕 thank you for sending me a request! i didddd write a little extra for you 😃 so they’re not really headcanons? idk

SUNA was pouting, slowly sinking into the couch as he replayed today’s game in his head. he wished he didn’t slack off at the end, because maybe his team would have won if he tried his best the entire time. but how was he supposed to know that?

“i’m tired, y/n,” he mumbles, leaning further into the couch as you worriedly look at him. “rin, you did well! i’m always proud of you.” even with your words, he looks uninterested, closing his eyes to relax a little more. he felt a weight plop down on his lap, but he kept them shut, silently hoping that you’d just let him be— until he felt a gentle pair of lips on his. unfortunately, you pull back as soon as he opens his eyes, sheepishly apologizing if you ‘scared’ him, and that you “got carried away because he looked so cute!” already tired of hearing you ramble, he pulls you back into his chest, lazily mumbling a “if i did so well, then you should give me more.”

ATSUMU rambles a lot. whether it’s about an annoying opponent he faced in volleyball, a rant about how mean osamu is, he doesn’t seem to take a breath when he goes. today, specifically, he was going on and on about how stressed he was for his upcoming game — spewing out lines of his insecurities as a setter.

“‘tsumu. tsuuumu,” you finally say, standing up to face atsumu. his expression doesn’t change, or he doesn’t hear you, because he continues as if you never said anything. you let out a sigh, before stepping forward to press a kiss against his lips, resulting in a muffled noise of surprise from atsumu, who took a few seconds to finally return the action and wrap his arms around your middle. he pulls away too soon, just to blurt out “how rude, y/n!”

RISEKI is an overthinker. when he thinks of one thing that could potentially wrong, it spirals into an infinite list of things that can go wrong. today was one of those days. he dug himself a hole, now feeling anxious about attending practice. he was still talking, so you reach up and cup his face— making him pause as a blush immediately begins to appear on his cheeks.

“riseki, you’re cute!” you chime, going on your toes to press a kiss against his lips. you weren’t sure if this actually helped, because he started stuttering out incoherent sentences instead, face brightening into a shade of red as he covers his face with the back of his hand.

KITA can stay focused for hours, only stopping for food or bathroom breaks. you’re left feeling touch-starved, so you crawl towards his seated position on the bed as he types away, ignoring your movements as he tries to finish up a paper. you scooted a little closer and closed your eyes to quickly press a kiss to his cheek, but you felt a pair of lips instead. opening your eyes in confusion, kita simultaneously pulls you into his lap, looking at your face with a gentle smile as he tucked a few stands of hair behind your ear.

“i’ll take a break for you, y/n.”

ARAN gets overwhelmed easily. the stress from wanting to spike atsumu’s sets well, the fights between the twins, his schoolwork, and everything else became too much. he was listing off all of his worries without a thought, sentence coming to an abrupt stop as you press your lips into his hand, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes. “relax, aran?”

aran didn’t realize that he needed out a shaky exhale, but he nervously nods, beginning to apologize for going on a rant. he isn’t even sure where to thank you when you start massaging his shoulders, telling him just how amazing you think he is.

when AKAGI talks, he changes topics quickly without realizing. it started with how practice went today, and now— he’s on the verge of tears as he spills out his insecurities as a libero.

he never took a breath to collect his thoughts, so you do it for him— pulling him into a tight embrace and pressing a kiss to his collarbone area. the gentle kiss seems to pull him out of his thoughts, and he apologizes profusely while returning your hug and quickly pressing his own kiss into the top of your head.

GIN was passionate about volleyball. when he speaks about a play he saw and how badly he wants to do it, the conversation sometimes veers into an entirely different one— now about how he’s hit a wall and can’t seem to improve anymore.

unable to listen to his insecurities for any longer, you roughly pull him downwards by the front of his shirt, capturing him a heated kiss. he takes a few seconds to return it— but kisses you back with even more passion. he was pretty sure that he wanted to release his pent up feelings like this from now on.

OMIMI had been alarmingly quiet today. the two of you would often spend time together after practice, cuddling and watching a show while talking about your day. but he hasn’t said a word, and was staring off into space. so, you tap his shoulder, quickly pressing a kiss into his forehead as soon as he turns around. his eyes widen a little in surprise, before snaking his arms around your waist to gently place you in his lap.

“sorry y/n, i was feeling distracted. do you want a proper one?”

OSAMU looked really mad. maybe atsumu stole another one of his jackets, but he was fuming. you weren’t sure why he decided to come over in the first place, but you wanted to cheer osamu up a little. hesitantly, you slowly pick up one of his hands, earning his attention in return. you press a kiss into his knuckle and look at him with pleading eyes, hoping for a hug or anything at all. “‘samu, you o-okay?”

his eyebrows furrow slightly at your nervous stutters, and he moves his arm to pull you closer, cupping your face to make you look back up at him. “yeah, just stay.”

[4joonkookie]

Mirror, Mirror.

➹ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

➹ Words: 3K

➹ Summary:

(smutty) You tell Jungkook that you don’t want to talk. He makes sure to keep you quiet. OR

(Angsty) Your established, long-distance relationship with Jungkook has reached an impasse. OR

(Angsty & Smutty) Jungkook makes you take a long, hard look at yourself.

➹ Tags/Warnings:

SMUT, Established Relationship, Long Distance Relationship, Public Sex, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Rushed Sex, Mirror Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Blowjob, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, (Jungkook literally pulls up a chair to eat you out), Fingering, Rough Sex, Mouth Covering, Shoving, Angry Sex, Drinking, Embarrassment, Spanking, ANGST, Failure to Communicate, Commitment Issues, Avoidant Behavior, Female Character with Fuckboi!Tendancies, Petty!Jungkook, Unresolved Ending, Ending up to Reader Interpretation, Easter Eggs?

**

You’re late on purpose.

You told Jungkook you couldn’t make it until just about when the cars would be leaving to take the boys and their group to the event.

He greets you with a kiss at the door when you rush in, dressed and ready to the hotel room everyone gathers in. You eagerly greet and catch up with the others. Jungkook knowingly raises his eyebrow at you.

He doesn’t deserve this and you’re not proud of it but you aren’t ready to talk about it. Everything was left in the air last you saw each other and there’s a lot to discuss. You managed to get away from work for just 1 night, so, you plan on avoiding it until your next visit, maybe another 2 weeks.

That would give you enough time to think about it, about what you would say. It might give you time to come up with a good reason why he’s completely wrong about this.

So, you settle for getting ready for a formal event in the airport bathroom. That’s how badly you don’t want to talk about it.

A voice announces that the cars are here and people fuss at themselves in the full length mirror before corralling out the door. Soon, it’s just you left, touching up your red lipstick. You almost never wear it but hope It hides your total cowardice.

Jungkook approaches you from behind in the mirror.

Can we talk about it?”, he asks your reflection.

“I’m not sure now is a good time”, you say as casually as possible.

“Well, will there be a good time before you leave tomorrow morning? We never finished talking...”

“We weren’t talking, we were arguing.”, you interrupt and pull his arms around you from behind, hands laced at your waist. “Look, we have one night. And I have to leave for the airport by 7:30 tomorrow.”

He pauses before he speaks. “No you don’t.”, he says plainly. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

You take a breath. “But I will.” You shrug and sigh, still in his arms.

“So, the answer to my question is ‘no’, you plan on avoiding the topic until….”

“...until I come back.”, you finish, trying to sound optimistic.

He pulls his hands from around you and steps away from you.. “In 2 weeks.”, he scoffs. “So, what, you’re here to get fucked and leave?”

You turn to face him and tell the truth. “I miss you, baby.” You plant a soft, closed kiss on his lips. “I'm here to see you.”, you inspect his mouth for any trace of lipstick. “Besides….would it be the worst thing if I came for one night just to get fucked?”, you tease, turning to the mirror again.

He snickers, “...no”. He kisses your neck and shifts his crotch against your ass. “I just worry you think this problem won’t be here when you get back.”

“Please, Jungkook, I just want to be with you, I don’t want to fight. There’s no chance we could solve this in a night anyway.”

Jimin renters the room to gather you. “We need to go_”, he stops when he sees Jungkook’s worried reflection. “Everything ok?”

Jungkook abruptly drops his arms from you. “We’re having an argument,'' he announces. “but we’re not talking about it.” He moves to hold the door open and gestures for you and Jimin to exit before him.

Ugh. Brat.

The back of the private car is your proverbial doghouse as you both sip your cocktails in silence, Jungkook obviously agitated. You sit next to each other, such a big space for just 2 people. A small gap between you feels wider than ever.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not ready”, you finally say, lamely.

“It’s fine,'' he replies quickly. “You don’t want to talk, we won’t.” He finishes one drink and pours another.

You stay quiet, still without the right words. He looks at you and thinks for a long time. You almost ask if he’s ok when he finally speaks.

“You look really good.”, he abruptly spits out and laughs as if he’s missed something that had been in front of him the whole time. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wanted to tell you in the mirror.“

You’re relieved with his light-heartedness and grateful for the effects of alcohol as you close the gap between you, placing your hand on his closest thigh.

The cabin is dimly lit with a bluish light. Jungkook brings his face so close to yours, tingles go down your spine. He smells like a mixture of cologne and liquor.

“I like your pretty red lips.”, he hums, voice deep and low. His eyes, dark in the dim light. “And if you’re not going to use them to talk...”, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip and leaning in to whisper, “...I want them wrapped around my cock.” He moves his hand back and tugs at your hair.

You waste no time. The area of the car is spacious enough that you can get to your knees below him. You work together to pull his trousers down far enough to expose his pretty leaking cock.

You start a long lick with a flat tongue at the base of his shaft and up to the tip. You hollow your cheeks and fully engulf him on the way back down, knowing it’s just a matter of time before you arrive.

He guides your head as you diligently slide up and down, slurping and occasionally stopping to hold the tip at the back of your throat. Soon, his hips lift on every trip down, squirming and unable to hold back the prettiest whines.

“Look at me”, Jungkook urges. You turn your head to the side to look up and run your tongue up a vein on the side of his shaft.

“So good, noona.”, he says with his eyes rolling backward with a smirk. He pushes your head down harder, driving you to increase the pace.

He fills your mouth with a groan. You swallow, eager to take whatever he gives you.

The car comes to a stop and you pull yourself together enough to get to the bathroom inside to check your lipstick.

***

Wherever you are, it’s huge. A massive hall with doors that seemed to go on forever. The party and guests, relegated to one (very big) room.

As the guests and your group get toasted and social, it becomes easier to step away from your unresolved issues than you thought. Jungkook and the boys are laughing and enjoying themselves. Everyone’s guard is down, including you.

That’s why you love these types of events. The ones with no cameras or staff, where boys can bring dates or just be themselves. There’s so many of these things you CAN'T go to; another point of contention between you and Jungkook.

Here, when everyone can just be together without a camera, it seems easy. The last moments of your previous visit begin to replay in your mind, as you watch Jungkook charm the room.

“What are you so afraid of?”, his voice echoes in your mind. Suddenly, the mellow tone of the room fades and it feels stifling and small, heat flooding to your chest.

You make your way to the entry doors. Maybe to get some air, or make an escape, you’re not sure. You calmly peek outside the big room to the empty big hall with endless doors. Before the door can close behind you, Jungkook peeks out, whispering and smiling. “Where are you going?”, worries obviously set aside. His face is comforting and makes it feel like you can breathe again.

“Exploring.”, you whisper back with a wink and extend your hand. He offers a cheeky smile and accepts.

You tipsily giggle down the hall into an empty room. It’s identical to the room the party is in, only this one is empty and one wall is made of full mirrors, like some kind of performance and rehearsal room.

You kiss and stumble into a corner. He takes both of your drink glasses and places them on the floor. He grabs your body so you face away and you’re looking at your reflections again.

“We were like this.” his lips are on your neck again and a hand sneaks up the slit in your dress and inside your thigh. “...when I saw how you looked in the mirror at the hotel.” He lets out a gratified sigh and slips his fingers effortlessly into you.

“Jungkook!”, you scold, doing your best not to sink into his sensation but it’s too late now. Your body is a step ahead of your mind and you’re moving your hips in time with his fingers. You place both hands on the mirror in front of you to brace yourself.

“What?”, he says innocently, still speaking to the mirror. You came here to get fucked and leave right? ”, pushing fingers in and out of your entrance. “Anyway”, he continues, “You know better. You should’ve showed up earlier so I could fuck you before we had to leave. You knew we’d end up like this.”

His skilled fingers stir inside you so delightfully that you close your eyes. He puts a squeezing hand on your shoulder to alert you.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. I want you to see what I see.” You make an effort to keep your eyes on the mirror but shriek when he lays a hard spank on you, cold rings intensifying the sting. He quickly removes his fingers to unbutton himself, lowering his pants again.

“Jungkook...”, you start, fussing to pull your dress down and yammering in panic about how you ‘can’t do this here’ and ‘what happens if we get caught?’.

He grins arrogantly and uses a hand to cover your mouth and pushes at the small of your back with the other so you're bent in front of him again, your hands propped against the glass. Your heart races when he lines his tip to your core.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He thrusts himself into without warning. You let out a shocked moan. “Maybe we can talk about it when you come back in 2 weeks”, he taunts as he sets his rhythm.

Petty brat.

All thoughts wash away as you watch him take you in the mirror with punishing thrusts, so heavy, your eyes are closing again as you feel the brunt. He digs his nails into your shoulder.

“Eyes Open.”, he reminds, never breaking stride. Your bodies echo lewdly in the empty room. “You flew a long way for this, I want you to see everything.” His hand is pressed tight to your mouth and using his free hand on your shoulder to steady you, exhibiting you in the mirror.

Your eyes are open but they’re watching Jungkook. Sweat runs down his neck. You’re terrified to be caught but relish watching him take your body for himself, happy to shut up and watch.

“I could fuck you like this everyday if you wanted, noona.”, he menaces. You whimper behind his gripped hand. “Wouldn’t you like it if I could spoil this pussy everyday?”.

You can only nod in the mirror.

“I wish I could do it every day, baby.” Hand tight on your mouth, he pulls back on your body so his teeth can reach your neck. Arms off the mirror, Jungkook marks you.

When he releases your neck, he directs: “Touch yourself, baby. I want you to watch yourself come with my hand wrapped around your pretty mouth.”

You collect the abundant slick from around Jungkook’s cock at your opening to run your fingers to your clit. The other hand props yourself up against the mirror, back arched. You fight to stay focused on the mirror, the sensation on your clit making your legs buckle. Your whimpers are stifled behind his palm.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. His eyes are glued at your moving fingers, eyes egging you on. The warmth building at your center takes over you when he whispers.

“I'm gonna make you walk back into that room with my cum still dripping out of you.”

You gasp when he releases his grip on your face to replace your hand and continues to circle fingers around your clit while he thrusts deeper into you, and both of your moans resounding off the walls.

He grunts, slows, and lets himself fall out of you . Cum, already dripping down your thighs.

“I’ll see you in there.” He quickly buttons himself and leaves, his footsteps echoing through the empty room until the door closes.

His intentional coldness hurts but you can’t help

but feel that you deserve it. You clean up as best you can before rejoining the group.

***

You casually approach the group in the full room hoping you appear somewhat put together.

They stand in a circle and Hoseok looks at you from across. One arm around his date, he dabs a finger from the other hand underneath his bottom lip. “You’ve got a little…”

“...lipstick.”,Jimin pipes in from beside you and uses his own thumb to wipe the smeared lipstick.

“And a little…” Yoongi starts and dabs a finger in the same motion as Hoseok, only on the side of his neck.

Jimin pulls long strands of hair over your shoulder to cover the fresh bruise Jungkook marked into your neck.

Taehyung turns to Jungkook who has a shit-eating grin on his face. A few in the crew exchange glances and soon a knowing giggle ripples through the group. Blood hits your cheeks.

“What did I miss?” Seokjin says, looking at Jimin.

“They were fighting but now they’ve made up. Now You’re all caught up.”, Jimin chides.

“We didn’t make up.”, Jungkook corrects, his cheery disposition quickly fading. “She said she’s here for a night to get laid. I’m just making sure she gets what she came for.”

He walks away and leaves you to deal with the silence.

Namjoon expertly changes the attention and subject by asking about your job. He must know it’s your preferred way to avoid any real conversation.

The party winds down, the room slowly empties and guests make their way back to their cars.

The car ride home is silent, buzzes fading and exhaustion setting in. You make it back to his room when Jungkook finally speaks.

“You don’t get to be mad at me, you know.”

“Yes, I do.”, you snap back. “I just know I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.”, he says, a flash of guilt passing over his face. “I just want you to talk to me. And we don't even need to solve any_.”

You’re relieved when he abruptly stops himself and raises 2 surrendering hands in the air. He mimics zipping his lips and winks.

No talking.

He shoves you so you fall back on the bed and pulls up a nearby chair to the edge, looking more determined than ever. He crawls above you and pushes your long dress up over your hips and opts to keep himself quiet instead of you. Diving in right away, he uses 2 fingers to spread your lips apart to give a straight licks before attaching to your exposed clit. He moans while he sucks, sending little vibrations through your center. He laps at you like he can’t get enough.

You start to squirm so he hooks an arm around one of your thighs in the air and the other hand to pin your 2nd thigh flat to the bed.

Hunched over, he continues work on you. You cover your own mouth with your hands while he flicks and sucks furiously on your clit, refusing to let up until your legs shake and he fights your thighs, eager to clamp shut around him.

Your hands drop from your face and shamelessly scream when you come, hands gripping the sheets.

He crawls up to kiss you, tasting him and yourself. He lays his head on your chest and squeezes your body tight. You stroke his head until he falls asleep. You close your eyes too, and when you open them again, the sun shines through the window and it’s time to leave.

You fuss in the bathroom mirror. Sleepy face Jungkook slides behind you and groans, voice still rough with sleep. He buries his face in your neck then lifts to look at your reflections. You both smile at the familiar position. He takes steps to turn on the shower and finds his way to you again.

He begins: “I know we’re not talking about it now….”, you flinch from his touch at the mention. He gets closer to you anyway, happy to press up against your thorny exterior. He continues, “but in 2 weeks, I’m going to ask you again. He presses his forehead against your temple and you listen, watching the mirror.

“Quit your stupid job. Please. Stay with me. And you don’t need to have an answer. But we have to talk about it.”

You nearly made it through this unscathed but two strokes to midnight, you finally snap.

“And talk about what, Jungkook? How you’ll be gone months at a time?, eyes on your own terrored expression in the mirror. “How I should uproot my life so I can live in random hotels basically alo_”. He turns you to face him and places his index finger over your running lips before you can finish.

“It’s 7:30. You need to leave if you’re going to catch your flight.” He moves his finger to kiss your lips.

He enters the shower without a word, confident you’ll be gone when he gets out.

PART 2/4 HERE

[creacherkeeper]

for the prompts: ayda teaching adaine or riz how to organize her library 💜💜

Intense scrutiny was never a thing Ayda had been good with. She knew she was skilled in many areas, and wouldn’t hesitate to inform others of that if they asked, because purposefully underselling yourself to make others like you always seemed like a double-edged sword (this Ayda had learned the metaphor of double-edged sword very young, because there were, in Leviathan, many actual double-edged swords around at all times). So, she knew she was smart, and was fine with others knowing she was smart, as well as very dedicated and practical and ambitious. She was, also, as a related point, impervious to heat as a half-phoenix. None of these things, however, stopped her from sweating under her armpits.

“How long until we get to work with the actual books?” Adaine asked, glasses being polished by her cleaning rag as Riz held both their notepads. “If I don’t get to breathe in old book smell in the next hour I might die.”

“I’m sure Ayda has a training process and we’ll follow it and be patient because that’s the best way to learn,” Riz said. He grinned at her encouragingly, all sharp pointed teeth. He didn’t look like he’d slept.

“Yes,” Ayda replied. “I do. I do have a process. And we’ll be following it. It’s- well, usually, it’s being followed by retired pirates who’ve had a few too many limbs blown off, and not high school interns, so- it’s- we’ll have to modify it a little, but that’s fine, and this is going to go fine.”

“It’s totally gonna be fine,” Riz agreed, handing Adaine back her notepad. “We’re going to be great interns and you’re not going to regret this at all.”

“Right.” Ayda blinked. “That’s correct. I won’t.”

Riz had a habit of saying technically encouraging things in a way that most people would find highly disconcerting, but Ayda reminded herself that he truly did mean it well and tried not to read the comment badly. Some people were thrown off by him ping-ponging back and forth between completely literal and menacingly sarcastic, and while Ayda at first found herself to be one of them, after spending more time with him (and explicitly asking Adaine through message cantrips) she was getting better at reading his intent.

“I’m so excited I could eat a book,” Adaine said, bouncing on her toes. She quickly continued, “That was not literal. I respect books too much to eat them and it would also likely kill me. I’m just very eager to be working here for the whole summer. Couldn’t possibly think of a better way to spend it. What are we learning first?”

Ayda tried to force her wings to smooth from their bristled state. Eating books was explicitly banned in the Compass Points.

“We’re going to be learning about the library’s organization system,” she said, slipping into her more rigid and formal vocal affect without really meaning to. “It’s unique to the Compass Points and will require dutiful study to master.”

Riz beamed. Adaine’s face skewed in confusion.

“You don’t use the Dewdrop Decimal system?”

Don’t bristle, don’t bristle. The quills of her feathers itched against her skin.

“No. My system was developed decades and decades before Dewdrop and is superior in every way. Dewdrop Decimal was basically a scam artist and is no academic in my eyes. If his organizational system were ever to touch the Compass Points, I’d rather burn the whole thing to the ground and start over.”

Tension crackled between the two girls. Riz grinned again, this time more of a face-wrinkling grimace. He held out his hands.

“Well, how about while we’re here, we just focus on learning Ayda’s system, since that’s what this library uses, and you can continue organizing all the shelves at Mordred by Dewdrop, and not try to reorganize anything here because Ayda might literally kill you?”

There was a loud pop. They turned. Aelwyn stood with a large, dusty tome in her hands, chewing slowly. She popped her gum again, then spoke.

“Is she being a nerd again?”

Ayda stared. “There’s no bubblegum allowed in the library.”

A pause.

“Rawlins gave it to me.”

“Well, Rawlins is expected to know all the rules here, so if that’s true, he’ll be punished swiftly and harshly.”

A few blinks. “I … I traded Rawlins some gum so I could look at this book.”

Riz stood on his tiptoes, neck craning. “Is that the book he keeps with him at all times because if he doesn’t have it, he turns into a pile of bones?”

Aelwyn shifted defensively. “I don’t see why I’m under interrogation here, I just came to say hi.”

Hands rising to cover her face, Ayda tried to breathe.

“Aelwyn, give Rawlins his book back,” Adaine said, short. “And stop stealing my gum, you know I need it for when I study.”

“None of you are any fun at all, but fine.”

The gum popped again as Aelwyn walked away.

Little flickers of flame heated Ayda’s palms as she breathed—deep, calming breaths in and out. Usually, if a new recruit didn’t work out, she could just drop them out the window and let them swim back to some other part of Leviathan while she put a new sign up on the banned patrons wall. But these were her friends. That made it more stressful, somehow.

“I’m really excited to learn about this organizational system, Ayda,” Riz said pointedly. There was a small thump, then a sound like a whap.

“Yes, I am too,” Adaine said.

Ayda dropped her hands. She stared at the floorboards in the space between them.

“Yes. Okay.” She cleared her throat, trying to speak more confidently. “The Ayda Aguefort Library Informational System was developed to revolve around the domains—both divine and scholarly. Some topics are obvious to sort. A book about frogs would fall under the Animal Domain. A book about the legal system would fall under Law. But all books are sorted by their primary domain and then within that, a secondary. So, a book about Leviathan, for example, would fall under the primary domain Civilization and then secondary Watery Death. It’s most important to know a book’s primary domain, and is usually easy to find the secondary following that, as long as you have adequate knowledge of what you’re searching for.”

“Watery death?” Riz whispered.

“Where’s the friendship section?” Adaine said curiously.

Ayda shifted. She blinked a few times, still not looking at them. “Primary, Community. Secondary, Joy.”

She risked a glance up. There was a broad, warm smile on Adaine’s face, eyes squinted happily behind her glasses.

“I take it back. I like this system much better than Dewdrop.”

Ayda’s chest flushed with pride. “Thanks. I do too.”

Footsteps. They glanced up as Aelwyn approached again, one hand on her hip and the other swirling the heavy tome in the air. “Yeah, I don’t know how to put Rawlins back together.”

Tension lessening, Ayda let herself chuckle. “Okay, we’ll take care of that, and then we go back to learning about the library.”

Adaine bounced up to her and linked their arms. The contact was warm and comforting.

“Lead the way, captain.”

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - First Time With MC (Lemon)

(Author’s notes: These scenarios do NOT assume a gender for MC, but do write the boys penetrating the reader.)

– Zen –

This isn’t his first rodeo, but he’s not exactly experienced; he’s had, like, one-and-a-half relationships before you. It’s been years since he’s had partnered sex.

And he’s never had sex-ed, either, so his knowledge of the Nasty is kinda lacking. He thinks he can re-use condoms as long as he keeps it on, he believes coconut oil can be used with latex, he thinks birth control pills act as a spermicide, and so on.

You and him initiate sex pretty early on in the relationship, perhaps merely a few days after the RFA party. He’s very romantic about it, too, planning a whole day in advance with rose petals on the bed and scented candles dotting his room. But in the middle of making out, you ask if he’s clean, and he pulls back, confused. “... I think? I mean, I haven’t been with anybody in years, so ...”

Turns out he’s never been tested for STDs. He’s almost offended when you bring it up, like you’re insinuating he’s been cheating on you. You have to explain that getting tested is just what everyone does before having sex with someone for the first time. 

So ... he’s not tested. “Can we ... still do it?” He’s blushing like crazy now, embarrassed he’s so behind on the know-how when he’s the one who wanted this in the first place. 

Partnered sex can still be relatively safe even when an individual’s not been tested, so long as you use lots of protection. But depending on who you are, you might say no, just to be 100% safe. Either way, Zen’s disappointed - not in you, no way, but in himself. God, he’s been looking forward to this night for so long, and he fucked it up by being stupid. He stews in his thoughts silently for a while, and you can tell he’s feeling down so you cuddle him close to have a good long chat about sex, relationships, and communication. Afterwards, he feels much less insecure. The two of you take the rose petals and candles to the bathroom to enjoy your first romantic bath together, instead.

Two days later, he bounces back from the clinic with a negative on every test imaginable. It’s finally time to dig in, and go ham he does, passionately wrapping you into his arms while thrusting deep and slow, trying to have as much skin contact at all times. Oh, god, he loves you, and he’ll spend the whole night proving it.

(Except he definitely couldn’t last the whole night. Your first time having sex was a mere two turns before he clonked out. He’s still embarrassed about that.)

– Yoosung –

It’s his first time having sex, and he’s really nervous. He wants it, wants you badly, but oh my god what if he messes up? What if he farts? Or scratches you in the face? Or he thrusts weird and hurts you and you start bleeding or something?? Dear lord help him

He considers proposing sex like, eight different times. He’s always chickened out, just kissing you on the doorstep before saying goodbye, or letting you leave his dorm without offering to stay the night. It doesn’t help that his dorm is tiny, he’s got a twin bed barely big enough for him. And anybody passing by the door would hear what’s going on inside clear as day. Take his word on that.

He had spent several hours worth on his laptop, doing research on ‘how to have sex for the first time’. He’s got his list of positions to try, how to minimize pain and discomfort, etc, all memorized.. He eventually goes out to get condoms and lube, making sure to use the self-checkout. 

You and him are hanging out in his dorm after a date, and he wasn’t even planning to suck it up and ask you, but you saw the condoms in the shopping bag he forgot to stow away, and you asked him gently, “do you want to be intimate with me, Yoosung?”

He blushes like crazy, you could swear you saw steam lines radiating from his face. But you take his hand in encouragement and he nods eagerly, looking anywhere else but your eyes. “I - I really want this, MC. I’ve been thinking about this for so long ...”

You can tell he’s nervous. The two of you sit on his bed and talk explicitly about what he wants, how you should proceed, what lines to avoid, and lots of other important details. A safeword is confirmed; ‘server maintenance’. He feels much more confident. 

The two of you begin by just kissing on his bed, he slowly dares to feel up your shirt and eventually the clothes come off bit by bit. His body is lean and soft, and he’s loud, too. Just nipping at his pillowy tummy makes him cry out. 

You give him oral, and he’s twisting around, grabbing at pillows and sheets like he’s tumbling down a cliff. He comes without warning and collapses, wrung out and overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Some cuddling afterwards, and then he’s hard again and kissing at your neck. He asks you to ride him, and when you do, he’s sobbing without shame and grabbing hard at your hips.

Some time afterwards, when you and Yoosung are trying to cuddle on his bed without either of you toppling off, he remembers just how loud he’s been and dreads facing anybody in the building tomorrow. You just laugh and tuck him into the bedsheets.

– Jaehee –

She shyly shows off a beautiful new set of lingerie as her way of asking to ‘take the relationship to the next level’. And she’s a real bombshell in it. It’s sometimes easy to forget that Jaehee’s got a bod underneath her suit/cafe uniform.

Unlike certain younger boys, Jaehee didn’t feel the need to agonize over this night over a period of several months. This is a natural progression for her. Once things feel ready between the two of you, it’s natural that the question eventually comes up.

She first shows you her new lingerie in its original packaging, and waits to hear your ‘yes’. Then, it’s time to hop into the bathtub for a long soak and thorough wash before putting it on.

She also gets new toys. Entire shopping bags and shipping boxes filled with insertables, vibrators, pumps, impacts, (and also the supplies needed to maintain them). She didn’t come out and show you these all at once, she’d probably die of embarrassment if she did. But she had them all unwrapped, clean, tested, and ready to use in a discreet box.

You and she actually end up making out on the couch rather than the bedroom. She’s sitting in your lap dressed in her lingerie, you’re fully clothed, and things get so heated the two of you decide to go at it right there.

She’s surprisingly wild. She keeps as much of her lingerie on as possible, even while you’re knuckle deep or pelvis-to-pelvis. The floor is eventually lined with toys as one is used after the other. And she loves taking the initiative with a gentle but firm hand, directing the positions one after the other, or deciding what toy to be used where, and for how long.

A round on the couch, and Jaehee cools down long enough to freak out about staining the upholstery, so she ushers you into the bedroom while she busts out the Lysol. 

After she cleans up, she joins you on the bed for some belated cuddling, and perhaps a second round. Or three.

And it’s actually in the middle of the day, not during the night, so the two of you are completely worn out by dinnertime. Food is takeout, and there’s a lot of it because you need to replenish all that energy.  

Jaehee doesn’t get blushy until you feed her a bite of dessert. It���s cute how confident she is when it comes to sex, but shy about small acts of intimacy. 

– Jumin –

He’s not a virgin, (not that it’s any of your business, Luciel), he had sex with a random girl back in college just to see what the fuss was about, and nothing else since then.

Jumin’s a conservative guy. “Liberalism can only flourish with a good foundation of conservatism.” He believes unmarried couples shouldn’t live together. Of course he’s not gonna be fond of having sex before tying the knot.

It’s not like he rushed the engagement for that reason, but if he was perfectly honest, he did wake up in a cold sweat at 3am when he remembered that this meant the two of you would be intimate very soon. 

Jumin’s got that reputation for being some d/s sex-mad sadist daddy, but that’s not the full picture. You might be able to get him into that specific mood after the two of you establish your relationship more. But for the first few times, it’s all vanilla.

It takes a long while before the wedding actually happens. And, no, Jumin’s not gonna really want to have sex for that entire period. Sure, he’s excited about it, but it’s not a driving, burning need. You, on the other hand, might say differently. 

So if you don’t want to wait four to five months, you’re gonna have to breach the topic yourself. And he’ll be torn - on one hand, he rationally realizes that it’s completely harmless to have consensual sex without martial ties. But he also believes in that supposed virtue of being abstinent until marriage. He also liked the romance of waiting. It’d make the moment more special for him.

Either way, he’s excited. The bed’s furnished with fresh sheets, the lights are dimmed, and there’s five dozen roses in crystal vases throughout the bedroom. 

It’ll start with wine while sitting on the bed - if you don’t drink, you have a glass of something you prefer while he’s sipping on some $12,000 vintage - and he drills a hole in your face with his loving gaze while singing your virtues. He wants you naked before he is, so after some kissing you’ll be nude on the sheets while he finally takes his clothes off.

Jumin has no idea what sex is ‘supposed’ to look like, which is both good and bad - you can tell him to do anything, and he’s not gonna worry about feeling awkward or stupid. But he also needs to be told to do anything. 

If you want him to go faster, or use more tongue, you have to tell him. He’s not gonna take the initiative. If you want him to switch positions, you need to describe exactly how you want to position yourselves. It’s a mixed blessing.

The first round goes quite a while because Jumin was taking it slow. There’s a second round where he gets more adventurous, and maybe a third round depending on how you feel. 

The next morning, the chef’s been hired to prepare a special breakfast, and you can tell that they know. Jumin doesn’t care. He just smiles all day.

– Saeyoung –

He actually was a virgin, which was kinda a surprise. His agent job never require any sort of sex-related work, thank god, and it’s not like he ever earned the attention of anybody else before this point. 

If an agency job had enough time to have sex while in the field, then that meant the job was going down the dumps fast. And whenever Agent 707 was involved, a job never nosedived that far.

It’s (semi) canon that Saeyoung asked to be intimate during the after-ending, while on the search for his brother. It was the night before all your plans would come to fruition, and he didn’t know he would come back alive. “I want to leave evidence on you that I existed.”

But it’s ALSO canon that in Saeyoung’s ‘dark chocolate’ Valentine’s Day ending, he asks to ‘take the relationship to the next level’. Which implies that the two of you haven’t had sex yet. 

So what’s the dealio? Basically, Saeyoung wanted to have sex with you that night in the cabin, and after some kissing, you realized that you (1) didn’t have protection, (2) neither of you have been tested recently, and (3) your current emotional states weren’t ideal for sex, especially since Saeyoung was a virgin. He left a lot of hickies on your neck instead, and the two of you held each other close the whole night. 

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, it had been two months since Saeran was rescued and Saeyoung was feeling a lot happier. You made it to the end of the scavenger hunt to find an amorous redhead that was ~prepared~ this time. An entire shopping bag full of prophylactics, lube, band-aids, water bottles, and everything. 

He managed to fake a confident persona up until he undressed you fully, then he found himself blushing like crazy when you undressed him in turn. Damn, he really was hiding muscles underneath that hoodie. His arms were woven cable, and underneath his pudge you could feel shapely abs. 

He asked to be on top, you complied, rolling over and allowing him to explore your body with his hands and mouth. It took three tries to enter you, because without his glasses, you were a bit of a blurry blob. But once he was in, he went at it. Maybe even a bit too enthusiastic for the first few thrusts, he was just running on some animalistic instinct he didn’t know he had. 

Two minutes later, he was blindsided by a surprise orgasm. Embarrassed, he rolled off of you and buried his face into the sheets. You had to stroke his hair soothingly for ten minutes before he would look you in the face. 

Saeyoung’s first evening of sex had one ‘disastrous’ first try, then a much better second run, and then after dinner there was a third ... and also .5 a prance while in the shower.  

– Saeran –

You’re his first sexual partner, but more than that, today also marks a big step in his self-confidence. He’s cashing in his newfound tolerance for his body and constitution. Saeran spent most of his life hating his ‘weak’ health and thinking anybody’d be repulsed by him. He wouldn’t have sex if he didn’t believe differently. 

So it’s probably several months - perhaps years - into your relationship that he even brings up having sex. Even though he may be ready, he’s still nervous and shy and unsure about how to proceed. 

Before the big night, he spends several minutes in front of the mirror, looking at his body. He’s gained weight and a new color to his skin thanks to his healthier lifestyle, and there’s this confidence to his posture that wasn’t there before. A sparkle in his eye. It’s incredible how far he’s come from hating every inch of himself. He smiles.

He prepares one of his Patented Saeran’s Romantic Dinners, complete with candlelight and ambient music. The two of you have done this several times before, but this time there’s an electricity in the air ‘cause of what’s to come. You notice that the food has no garlic, or other strong smells. Saeran’s more cunning than he looks. 

As dessert finishes up, he gets more quiet, until the conversation dies down and there’s nothing for it; he takes a deep breath and says, “....Sh-shall we go to bed?” Like this hasn’t been planned weeks in advance. The two of you walk hand-in-hand to the bedroom, where there’s even more candles and another stereo playing soft music, and you picture Saeran putting together a ‘having sex for the first time’ playlist.

You begin by kissing Saeran lying beneath you, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder and asks to switch positions, because he doesn’t like the feeling of you hovering over him. It’s another mark of his progress that he asks for adjustments. 

Things progress slowly. Saeran feels out what makes him feel anxious, and what makes him feel good. The two of you end up side-by-side as he takes you, facing each other with your legs wrapped around his waist. Very intimate. Very sweet. He loves threading his fingers through your hair, and he mewls every time you fondle his ears. 

His health is still shaky, so he only has the stamina for one round before he needs to rest. He all but demands you inch as close as possible so he falls asleep holding you tight. When he wakes up the next morning, he’s got a 1000-watt smile. 

– Jihyun –

Out of the entire wacky cast of Mystic Messenger boys, Jihyun’s the only actual experienced one. You don’t have to tell him that a single pack of five condoms is waaayy too little, you don’t have to explain what dental dams are, or worry about him using oil-based lube on accident, and he’s the only one who actually showers thoroughly beforehand. 

It begins with your typical night of cuddling-and-kissing, then Jihyun says he’s clean and he’s got a bedside cabinet full of supplies. He gently holds your hand and asks, ‘”if you’d like …? We could … if you’re comfortable. If you’d have me.” He’s blushing, but he’s confident. 

Of course, even if you’re experienced, the first time with anybody is gonna be awkward. And Jihyun’s a surprisingly big guy to maneuver. There’s a lot of accidental elbowing, bonking of the heads, kneeling on sensitive bits, and little scrapes. His long limbs seemingly end up everywhere on the bed, and it’s like you’re playing twister. 

Mistakes just make him laugh. You trip over his outstretched forearm and face plant into his shoulder, and he just chuckles and pulls you into another kiss. 

He’s just so soft and loving. ‘Cause to Jihyun, it’s about ~making love~. He wants to go slow, looking into your eyes, cradling your head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

Tries to get you off first, either through oral or otherwise. He’s not a big fan of any positions that turn you away from him, it’s just too rough and aggressive. He’d rather carry you on his shoulders before he prefers doggy style. 

Checks in with you constantly, asks what you like and where you like to be touched. Tries to get you to literally guide his hands. In turn, he asks you to please, touch his legs, his thighs ... yes, kiss me there - 

For your first time, he’d rather have a one-two long sessions than multiple quick ones. He believes sex is one of the most intimate methods of non-verbal communication, and the longer you go in one sitting, the more is passed between the two of you. 

He’s never used toys in his life. If you decide to pull one out for your first time, he’s gonna blush like crazy and actually decline. He wants the first night to be 'organic’. And he’s so driven towards that romantic face-to-face lovemaking, he won’t go too hard or fast, even if you’re begging him. 

After the sex, he wraps you up in a cozy blanket before fetching some hot tea and fresh fruit. Then there’s several minutes spent reviewing how things went, what things worked well, or how they can improved. He catalogues it all for later. 

He rarely wants to fall asleep right after sex, so you might pass out peacefully, but he’s gonna stay awake, just gazing at you for a while. 

[makeroomforthejolyghost]

have again encountered (old? maybe defunct?) infighting about which communities belong to which disabled people and which parts of their discourse others are allowed to relate to and who has it worse and blah blah blah

this is all so silly? like, i don’t particularly want able-bodied nd/mentally ill people to use the term cripplepunk either, but that’s because a. the term’s creator didn’t intend it to be used that way and i have some prescriptivist sympathies + kinda miss their posts and want to respect their memory,* and b. when i want to read the words of other physically disabled people i find it a slog to skip past posts about mental illness. even tho i’m also mentally ill!—i just. when i’m in the mood to commiserate about physical disability/chronic illness i get annoyed to see other topics clogging up the tag. in the same way i’d get annoyed if trying to look up content for a fandom that shared its acronym with something else

and i feel like that’s? fine?? like i realize this discursive well is too badly poisoned for that argument to convince anymore—that if i tried to argue that to someone in favor of broadening the term, they’d probably make an eloquent plea about gatekeeping and win the rhetorical contest instantly (unless i, like the people in this and other posts i’ve seen on the topic, were willing to respond with moral arguments of my own)

but that’s what annoys me! i feel like “hey please leave this tag/slogan to us because it’s a convenient way to communicate and we don’t want to lose that by changing/broadening what it means” should be a persuasive argument on its own. andddd frankly it’s one i respect a lot more than all these overwrought guilt trips about how physical disability is importantly different or who gets to reclaim a slur** &/or c. and like………. i don’t keep up w/ this discourse so idk to what extent the dispute continues now, and if most people consider it a settled issue then i don’t know who “won,” but

i do suspect that in the long term, spaces originally populated only by physically disabled voices will be ~infiltrated~ by mentally ill ones and i’ll have to scroll through more posts about anxiety and autism while in search of that precious resource the chronic pain meme.

and i find this mildly disappointing. but no worse. and like—i know many people will/would find that very upsetting! i know that! but i don’t think that was inevitable. like: i feel like if you are a partisan of either side in this debate and are/were very upset about it then……. that’s valid, but only because the discourse got so heated. and i think it’s fucking silly that it did

*their original post outlining the rules, where they explicitly stated that they wanted only physically disabled people to ID with cpunk—that post is what, seven years old now? which for tumblr is an impressive heritage. i can’t shake my intuition that it’s rude to expect this tradition to make room for you while disobeying its number-one rule. but also, i don’t think it would strike me this way if the person who wrote those rules were still alive and could be argued with. somehow the fact that they’ve died and the community they left behind maintains these rules in their honor makes the idea of flouting them while cloaking yourself in the movement’s name seem ickier to me, even though logically i would argue that the “respect for the dead” element makes the rule more arbitrary? idk. i guess i get the feeling that people who want to identify w/ it see it as like a political coalition they shouldn’t be gatekept out of, but,,,,,, to me it has never looked like that? it looks more analogous to a small insular community, or an art movement, or a hobby group. an entity that doesn’t owe shit to outsiders because dissenters can easily make their own group instead.

**i’ve never been called a cripple, lmao. only in media have i ever seen this word used in its original sense—viz., as a noun for a disabled person. in my daily life i encounter only the verb, and only hear it used metaphorically (“with this venture they’ve crippled their chances of success,” and similar). the word to me signifies only “edgy self-deprecating thing to call myself when i want to signal that i’m annoyed about ableism”—and i doubt that’s rare. like, yeah, i too get kind of annoyed by the prospect of an able-bodied ND person calling themselves a cripple, but… mostly because it just sounds silly? like a rail-thin bespectacled college boy trying to reclaim “himbo,” or a lumberjack trying to reclaim “metrosexual.” it doesn’t feel more personal to me than those examples would, and if it does to other disabled people then……… ok, but is that because you actually endure being called a cripple on a regular basis or just because you enjoy getting to use this word as a symbol of the ableist judgments you used to fear but are learning to embrace? because if it’s the latter then. the fact your legs don’t work right doesn’t make this a less arbitrary word choice for you than it would a mentally ill/physically abled person. there is no moral high ground here imo because it’s not a moral question, it’s about convenience of communication

[shining-louist]

- Misbehaving Honeys by @thinlines on ao3, 29k words

“Hey, since we’re on the topic of newbies… Don’t you guys feel like,” As casual as possible, Louis, you can do this. “That Styles kid has it out for me?” He kept his tone as neutral and unperturbed as possible, but judging from the startled looks he was getting, the comment must have taken his teammates by surprise.

“Styles? You mean Harry?” Liam asked, hands on his hips as he frowned.

Louis nodded and for a second Liam stared at him before bursting out in laughter.

In which Omega Louis can't figure out why the alpha newbie on their footie team seems to hold a grudge against him.

- Why Didn't We Make Out the Night We Met? by @berzerkshires on ao3, 52k words

Louis and Harry meet in an alley outside the hotel Louis is staying for the weekend. Harry introduces himself as Ed, and Louis is completely clueless. They have a relationship through text messages, phone calls, shared pictures and Facetime calls.

Is a cell phone being the only source of communication enough? Will Louis ever learn that he's really talking to an international popstar? And what happens when the world is shutdown due to a wide spread virus?

- The Journal by 4ureyesonly28, RecycledStardust on ao3, 14k words

When Harry finds himself purchasing an antique journal in the ancient bookshop of a town he's never heard of, he doesn't exactly want to admit that he has no idea how he got there. A myriad of odd coincidences and a few kind smiles from the shopkeeper have the two of them working hard to solve the mystery of this strange journal that seems to have been waiting for Harry for almost a hundred and thirty years.

- Lost & Found In Oblivion by @thinlines on ao3, 75k words

Everything wasn’t at all like he had planned. He was supposed to answer the door calmly and coolly, like a proper experienced adult dressed in protective hoodie and joggers. Not like this. But this was what he had and he had no choice but to roll with it.

“I fucking paid for this, didn’t I?” Louis muttered to himself and took a huge inhale.

OR Omega Louis decided to hire an alpha for his heat to ease his touch deprivation, but little did he know everything would grow into so much more.

- Here You Come Again by @Neondiamond on ao3, 22k words

A year after taking over his family’s peach orchard, Louis thinks he has it all figured out. His routine on the farm is mundane, yet familiar, and his dog Clifford is more than enough to keep him company. It isn’t until Harry, his ex-boyfriend who broke his heart and left their small town a decade ago to pursue a bigger, brighter future in the city, comes to stay on the farm that he realises just how badly he was lying to himself.

- No One Like You by @myownspark on ao3, 20k words

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely,

Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

- Right down the line by @Poopish_scoopish on ao3, 61k words

Louis knew what was coming before Amanda even opened her mouth. He turned down towards his plate and pretended not to have heard their conversation, begging in his mind for her not to say anything.

"Louis lives in South Village!"

Bollocks.

He kept his head down. Don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me.

"Louis!" Amanda called across the distance between their round tables.

Fucking hell.

Louis tried his best to seem surprised at the sound of his name, uttering a reluctant, "Yeah?".

"Harry here has gotten his car damaged and has to take a taxi to work every day." Harry seemed to shrink in his seat, head hanging down a bit as if to cover himself. "Says he lives in South Village. Can't you pick him up on your way?" she asked with a smile, oblivious to both Louis' and Harry's apparent discomfort.

"Sure, I can pick you up."

OR, Harry's the new math teacher who loves to make new friends and Louis hates to let new people in his life. As they say, opposites attract.

[hrtiu]

I know you're probably tired of writing but I LOVE your Rexsoka!!! Would it be possible to see a Rebels Rexsoka where Ahsoka gets injured bad and Rex has to sit by helplessly as she's taken care of by medical staff... and maybe with the Ghost crew seeing how it affects him... (aka they figure out how close the two are). Also, maybe a follow up of Ahsoka frustrated with her injury because she's not used to needing help. Was thinking leg injury. Love seeing vulnerable Ahsoka. Thanks!

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this ask, but thank you so much for submitting it! Rexsoka will always be my favorite TCW ship, and I love writing for it! I hope you enjoy.

“We’re coming in hot!” Hera shouted from the cockpit.

“Ezra, get the door!” Kanan said, moving to grip Ahsoka under her shoulders. “Zeb, you get her legs.”

The Ghost’s breaking thrusters screamed in protest as Hera pulled her in for a rushed landing. The landing gear struck the landing pad of Chopper Base with a heavy thunk and Ezra dashed for the door and punched it open. He ran down the gangplank and Kanan and Zeb carried an unconscious Ahsoka out of the ship after him.

The first person Ezra saw was Rex, puttering around by the generator. “Rex! Get the med unit ready! Ahsoka’s been injured!”

Rex looked up from the generator in confusion, then his eyes fell on Ahsoka’s limp form in Kanan and Zeb’s care. The bacta pad tied around her waist was keeping her alive, but it couldn’t block the trail of red liquid oozing from her torso. 

Rex’s face went white as his beard. “What happened?”

“No time,” huffed Ezra. “Get the med unit!”

Rex’s eyes glazed over, and Ezra wondered if now would be the moment Rex’s unstoppable soldier persona decided to fail. Then the former clone captain snapped to attention, dropped the tools he’d been carrying to the ground, and ran full-tilt towards the med bunker near the back of the base.

Ezra helped hold Ahsoka steady while Kanan and Zeb carried her to the med bunker. They set Ahsoka gingerly down on the med unit and Rex set to work cleaning, cauterizing, and redressing her wound. Kanan and Zeb left to update Hera, and Ezra made himself useful however he could, grabbing bacta, bandages, the cauterizer—whatever Rex needed.

“What happened?” Rex asked again as he carefully peeled off Ahsoka’s ruined bandages. “I thought this was supposed to be a low-security munitions factory.”

“It was, but something went wrong with the charges we set. The explosion radius was bigger than we thought, and a piece of shrapnel got Ahsoka.”

Rex’s lips pulled together and his brows furrowed, but he didn’t look away from his work. “Got it.”

The rest of the crew of the Ghost hovered about just outside the med bunker, but the space was cramped and more hands wouldn’t help. Rex was the most experienced with emergency medicine of their little team, and Ezra thanked his stars that he’d been the first to respond to his cry for help on Chopper Base.

Rex asked for the handheld cauterizing laser, and Ezra placed it in his hand.

“I need you to keep her still, alright kid?” Rex said. “This next part might be rough.”

Ezra put his hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders in preparation, but worried he wouldn’t be able to do much if she jolted. She was strong, both physically and in the Force. That’s when it occurred to him that he wasn’t too shabby with the Force either,

Ezra kept his hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders, but instead of pressing down he closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink into hers, like he did when negotiating with a tooka or calming a loth wolf. He communicated peace and comfort, as well as a willingness to bear some of her pain.

Rex turned the cauterizer on and Ahsoka’s muscles seized up, her jaw clenching and her hands balling into tight fists. Peace, comfort, security, Ezra sent to her, and some of her pain flowed into him. Together, they bore the harsh cleansing burn of the laser, and Ahsoka managed to keep still.

Rex put the laser away and held his hand out to Ezra again. “Bacta.”

Ezra let go of Ahsoka’s shoulders. She was limp again, likely passed out from the pain. He found Rex the tub of topical bacta gel and handed it to him. Rex took it and spread some of the gloopy gel onto his fingers then, with infinite care, slowly spread it across the burned surface of Ahsoka’s wound. His touch glided over the angry wound like it was the most delicate, beautiful flower in the galaxy, like she might fade away if he was too rough.

The charred wound slowly began knitting together, the burnt brown fading to a crusted tan. The tension in Ahsoka’s unconscious features faded, and to Ezra it seemed she shifted from unconsciousness to sleep. Rex leaned back against the wall of the bunker and sighed, deep lines of stress aging his already-worn features.

“We’re past the dangerous part, now,” Rex said. “You should tell the others.”

Ezra nodded and left to find the rest of the Ghost crew. Hera beamed with pleasure and Kanan let out a sigh and a small smile. Sabine acted like she’d never been terribly worried in the first place, but Ezra knew how guilty she’d felt about her explosion not going according to plan. Zeb whooped in triumph and Chopper was, well… Chopper. Everyone’s relief was clear, but underlying it lurked an enduring anxiety. These past few months it had become too easy to think of their work as fun and exciting rather than dangerous and potentially deadly.

It took Ezra some time to track everyone down, so by the time he finished his task he decided to go back and check if Rex needed anything else. The door to the med bunker was open when he arrived, and through the opening he could see Rex sitting at Ahsoka’s side, his gaze warm and tender. Ezra cleared his throat and knocked at the side of the door.

Rex looked up. “Oh, Ezra. Care to help me clean up?”

“Sure.”

Ezra stepped inside and set about throwing away used bandages, sterilizing tools, and putting things back where they belong alongside Rex. They were just about finished when a soft moan sounded from the med unit.

Ahsoka stirred on the stretcher, and Rex looked up at her with worried, eager eyes. She looked back at him blearily and tried to sit up.

“...Rex?”

Rex gently pressed her back down. “You’ve been injured, little’un. Try not to move.”

“I remember the blast,” she croaked. “How bad is it?”

Rex frowned. “Bad enough.”

“You were bleeding like crazy on the Ghost,” Ezra said, “but luckily we got you back here in time.”

“Then… I’m going to be alright?” she asked, voice small and uncertain for the first time Ezra had ever heard.

“Yes, you should be. Probably,” Rex said, his frown growing. “The bleeding has stopped, and none of your internal organs were injured too badly. But this was much closer than it should have been.”

Her vulnerability disappeared, and she attempted a weak smile. “How close should it have been?”

“It’s not funny,” Rex said. His eyes dodged hers and his fingers curled tightly over the “501st” scratched into the vambrace he always wore.

Ahsoka’s expression softened, and she reached out to him, setting her hand on his. He looked up at her and the softness in his eyes brought a heat to Ezra’s neck.

Rex reached his other hand to Ahsoka’s cheek, his hands smearing the leftover bacta gel against her white markings. She didn’t seem to mind.

“I already lost you once, I’ll be damned if I lose you again,” he said.

“Rex, you know the risks.”

Rex’s eyes fell to his lap, and she squeezed his hand tight. 

“But I promise I’ll always do everything I can to come back,” she said, her voice smoky and soothing like Ezra sometimes liked to imagine Sabine’s, in his weaker moments.

Rex looked back up at her, his eyes dark and intense. The small room was suddenly stifling, and Ezra’s face was on fire. He was going to die. Maybe he was already dead. He coughed loudly, and Rex and Ahsoka turned to him as if surprised by his existence.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll leave you two alone, then,” Ezra said, backing slowly out of the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were together. I mean, Kanan explained to me about the age thing, but-”

Ahsoka dropped Rex’s hand and Rex scooted away from her, his eyes going wide.

“W-we’re not together,” he stammered.

Ahsoka’s lekku flushed a deep blue. “Yeah, just old friends. Wartime buddies.”

“Oh, ok,” Ezra said, still backing away. “Well, um, I think Hera needs me for something.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to say something, but Ezra was out the door before she had a chance to vocalize it. The door whirred shut behind him, and he leaned back against the durasteel, his skin hot against the cool metal. Well, that was mortifying.

“Kids have such… vivid imaginations.” Ahsoka’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, and Ezra froze.

Rex chuckled, though it rang weak in Ezra’s ears. “Yeah. Crazy, to think that… You know. You and me? Crazy.”

Ezra leaned closer to the door, letting the sound from the other side seep through the crack between the panels. Being in the same room as a couple melting all over each other was a fate worse than death, but eavesdropping? Eavesdropping was one of his favorite pastimes.

“Rex, what if what Ezra said… It might be nice…”

Ezra pressed his ear harder against the cold metal.

Rex’s voice cracked. “Ahsoka-”

A firm hand yanked Ezra away from the door by his ear.

“Ow!” Green headtails bobbed in his peripheral vision. “Hera! What was that for?”

“I’m pretty sure that conversation was none of your business,” Hera said, marching him further away from the bunker.

“I just wanted to know what their deal is,” Ezra said. “Don’t you?”

Hera crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. “Sure, but that’s their business. They’ll figure it out when they’re ready. Relationships… They’re complicated. Especially when Jedi are involved.”

Her focus shifted to some distant point beyond Ezra, and Ezra bit his lip, thinking of Kanan.

“Alright, I get it,” he said. “But I hope they figure things out. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Hera said, her attention returning to him. “Me too.”

[sisternihil]

Chapter Two: The Experiment

Series: Douce (masterlist)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, Sex Toys, Hand jobs, Vaginal Fingering, 18+ only

Word Count: 2.6K

Two kisses. Two. Kisses. That’s how many kisses Spencer received that night. One in the pumpkin patch and one at her doorway. Achingly sweet and gentle. The second time his hands had cupped her face while she rested hers on his waist. He could still smell her perfume on his scarf after they had a hug that felt everlasting. Soft, soft, soft. It’s the only word his big, stupid brain could use to describe her.

Lately, he had been able to sleep. She relaxed him, he had even broken down and used FaceTime just to see her during an, especially long case. However, this wasn’t the only thing helping him sleep and he felt downright guilty about it too. 

Jokingly, some time ago he had bought a Fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever you’d prefer to call it. He had read things and it just sounded too good to be true but when it arrived at his apartment door he just couldn’t bear to use it. All this time it had sat under his bed still in its original shipping container until two nights ago. 

It was insufferable really, with sleep had come wet dreams and with wet dreams had come more frequent erections and he needed relief other than his hand, and he needed it badly. Late one night he had leaned over the bed, almost upside down, and reached until his fingers touched cardboard. Pulling himself and the box up he opens it and inspects the toy. He read the instruction manual and washed it up. His heart was racing and he was flushed at just the thought of what this might feel like. 

It had been some years between his last sexual encounter but it all happened so fast he wasn’t quite sure what he felt. Hopefully, this would be a reminder. Safe under the covers he lifts his hips to push off his boxers and bottoms. On his nightstand sits a bottle of lube and the Fleshlight. He pops the top of the lube open and squirts a bit into his hand. This is messy. A few drops are on his chest and stomach but most made it to it’s designated area. 

His muscles contract at the cold sensation and he grips the toy with his other hand. Studying, he pushes a lubed finger as deep as it can go. He adds another and his thoughts drift. Specifically to what his fingers would look like this deep inside of you. Were you this tight? What did you sound like when you were turned on? What would it feel like when you came? These thoughts were feeding his fire and he needed to quell it.

His cock was laid against his belly with a slight curve and several prominent veins. He was a bit longer than average and thick. 

Taking in a few shaky breaths he runs the entrance over the head of his cock. Hissing at the sensitivity as he sheathes himself inside and adjusts to the slick, tightness around him. He hasn’t even moved and he’s almost ready to cum. Maybe this is good practice. Steadying his hand and breath, he moves up and down - straight to the point, no funny business.  

Until now he’s been too afraid to watch himself but he works up the courage. Now he’s fucking the Fleshlight - shamelessly. PING. Fuck, now he’s lost his rhythm and who the fuck is texting him so late. It’s her. A simple picture. She’s wearing a pajama short set in lavender cuddled into a pillow and blanket with the text, ‘wish you were here 🥺’ 

Involuntarily he thrust into the toy and looks over the picture. It’s purely innocent in content but when he closes his eyes he can practically see you riding his cock, your blouse open and breasts exposed, his hands all over you. 

That’s the image that brings him over the precipice. Fingers dug into flesh, buried deep inside of you. 

It takes him a few minutes to recover. He’s sweating, chest heaving, and cum dripping out of the toy and pooling around the base of his cock. 

‘You have no idea pumpkin’ 

— — — —

You don’t remember when he started calling you Pumpkin but you do remember how fuzzy and warm it made you feel. 

It had been a little over a month since your first date. 36 days, 12 hours, 3 minutes and 54 seconds to be exact. Unfortunately, the second date had yet to happen because of his job. You talked as often as possible and met up for coffee on the mornings that he didn’t have to be in early but you needed a night alone with him. 

You deeply wanted to be intimate with Spencer but with constant conversation you two had eventually stumbled onto the topic of bullies. Both of you had experience but Spencer’s was heartbreaking. Blindfolded and mocked. You could hear the hurt that still coated his memory.  You no longer saw yourself as the things people had said about you but he still did. You’d make it your life’s mission to teach Spencer how beautiful he truly was. 

— — — —

‘I have a surprise for you tonight if you land early enough. We’re going to make blindfolds fun again.’

Text wasn’t your usual means of communication but you needed to him to get him over. 

Nervously you wait for a response. 

‘We are?’

‘Hopefully. Only if you’re comfortable though.’

‘I trust you’

I trust you. Three words that were inexplicably more important than anything he’d ever said to you before. 

— — — —

A gentle knock and you’re on your feet to greet Spencer at the door. You’d opted to stay in pjs to make tonight seem more relaxed.

‘Hi.’ he says pulling you in for a big hug promptly kissing your forehead and then lips. He pulls the silk fabric from your hands and dangles it in front of you. 

‘This is for me?’ 

‘Only if you want too.’ you lean in to kiss him again as he says ‘I do’. 

Stepping behind him you tie a knot careful to avoid pulling his hair and you guide him into your bathroom. 

A garden tub is situated in the corner of the room and is filled with steamy water and soft scented oils like lavender and rose. Candles line a shelf above the tub and wash the room in warm, swaying light. 

He looks delicious and you can’t help but take advantage of his sightlessness. Unbuttoning the second and third buttons of his shirt cause his breath to hitch and you kiss him, tongue brushing against his lips. He parts them in a sigh, bringing his hands up to still you and swirling his tongue with yours. Reaching behind him you unknot the blindfold and he breaks your kiss to take in his surroundings. He’s silent and swallows thickly.  

‘I want to bathe you’ you whisper. 

He looks confused but not nervous. 

‘Why?’ is all he can think to question and you explain the intimacy of it and that you want to see how beautiful his body is.  You continue ‘If you’re aren’t ready, I understand but you should still take the bath. It’ll be relaxing’ 

‘I want too’ he’s hesitating and you offer to undress him or step outside while he gets in. 

‘You can undress me’ lights across your skin as he pulls you in for another kiss and you work the remaining buttons. For every inch of skin that’s exposed, you lay a kiss in its wake stopping just above his belt buckle. You rise back up, peppering love bites to his chest while he shimmies out of his pants and shoes. 

You swat his butt as he turns to get in the bath. 

‘Dr. Reid, I don’t think you need socks for this’ you bend down and remove them one by one. ‘Let me know if the water is okay’ he nods his approval making ripples with his hands. 

He lowers himself into the water and rests against the cool acrylic. 

‘Comfortable?’ you ask and he just nods, eyes heavy. You explain how you’re going to wash him starting with his hair and one eye shoots open glaring at you suspiciously. 

‘I assume you’re tender-headed? I am too and I promise not to hurt you.’ He closes his eye back and leans forward, dropping his head back to allow you access. You’re careful to not get water or suds in his eyes or ears and he’s leaning into your hands, mewling while you massage his scalp. 

‘This is nice’ he breaths out opening his eyes and you hum in response. He watches your concentrated expressions as you gather up sudsy body wash on a cloth. Spencer looks at you longingly, like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. Before he can lean back, you’re resting the cloth to his back. You work in gentle motions moving from his sides to chest to legs to toes and everywhere in between. He laughs and pulls away, splashing water as the cloth touches the pad of his foot.  ‘Don’t tickle me, no please’ he’s begging and laughing simultaneously. ‘We can save that for another night’ you move back to him and kiss his nose, ‘how are you so stinkin’ cute Spencer Reid?’ He scrunches his nose and shrugs in response. ‘Am not’ he teases and you pinch his arm.  

‘Do you wanna stay in a little bit longer?’ 

‘I’d like that’ he answers resting against the acrylic again. You stand and kiss his forehead turning to leave and his hand rests on your wrist. ‘Stay’ it’s a question and command that’s dripping with need and you can’t deny him. You seat yourself on the footstep attached to the tub and let your hand rest in the water drawing shapes. 

While his eyes are closed you glance over his form, taking in the surprising definition of his arms and legs. He’s svelte. You feel heat wash over your face as your eyes move lower. He’s hard but not achingly so. 

You reach for him, your touch is light but firm. His eyes flit beneath the lids and he whimpers ‘oh’. You find a slow pace that makes him throw his head back. Spencer loves to talk and this time was no exception. ‘I’ve thought of you so much, I touch myself almost every night. Fuck, faster please.’ It all spills out at once and he can’t bother to be embarrassed when you’re touching him like this.  

‘What do you think about Dr. Reid?’ your voice is hushed and lusty. He groans at the use of his title. Stuttering out he answers ‘a few nights ago when you sent me the picture of you in bed, I-I came thinking about you riding me. How you’d feel around me. I want to fill you up.’ He’s panting under you as you clench your thighs trying to get relief from your arousal. 

Your pace picks up to match his breaths as his muscles draw taut and his hands reach down to squeeze his thighs. ‘So close, I’m so close. Please make me cum, please.’ You grab his chin, pulling him into a kiss. Then he’s moaning so loud you’re almost sure your neighbors can hear. 

His head rests on your shoulder as you coax him out of the bath. Standing, you help to pull him to his feet and wrap him in an over-sized towel. 

‘Can I touch you?’ it’s a quiet request and he’s blushing down to his chest making his best puppy eyes. 

‘Where do you want to tou-’ 

‘Anywhere’ he’s on you before you can finish your sentence and suddenly he has your lower half pressed against the counter and he taps your hip. 

You adjust to a seated position on top of the granite as he moves between your legs. His kisses are different now, softer still but there’s something else behind it, something fervid. 

His hands are warm as they snake under your plain black tee. His hands are everywhere and his fingers linger over your softest parts. He hums in appreciation and moves to undo your bra. You move to discard your shirt and bra. Spencer’s eyes slowly take all of you in. He’s studying you, memorizing each curve and dimple. 

‘Spencer, touch me’ you whine and he’s on you. His fingers are in the waistband of your shorts, you lift your hips as he pulls them off and tosses them and his towel to the side. His chest is pressed against you as he kisses a pattern over your neck and shoulders. Breathy moans escape from your lips. ‘I wanna hear you’ is ghosted over your skin as he lifts your breast to his mouth. His lips close around the stiff peak of your nipple and he begins to suck. Your back arches as you lean against the wall for support giving him better access. Your hands tangle in his hair and his free hand comes up to massage your other breast. ‘Oh fuck, Spencer, that feels perfect.’ He switches sides and continues his ministrations letting his hand drift between your thighs. 

He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you to the edge spreading your legs so he can see you. He’s moaning out at the sight and you catch his hand wondering to touch himself. ‘Can I?’ He looks sheepish as he’s asking. ‘Of course’ it’s heady and you can’t remember a time you’ve ever been so ready for someone.  

One hand is spreading your lips as the other collects your wetness with a single digit. He brings a slick covered finger to his mouth and cleans it. You groan out and grab your tits gently tugging at your nipples. His finger dips back and he pushes inside of your heat and pumps in and out at a rhythmic pace. Spencer is concentrated, his forehead resting against yours as he watches his finger disappear inside of you. He presses a second digit to your entrance and you moan out in approval. It burns and stretches in the most delicious way. ‘You’re so tight around me and you’re taking me so well’ he praises. 

Your legs fall open further still as you bring your knees up and you can feel just how deep he really is. ‘Scissor your fingers’ you breathe out as you circle your clit. Ever the good student he does so and he can feel you clench around him. He picks up his pace and tries curling his fingers up slightly. Your thighs are shaking as you grip onto him riding out your orgasm. ‘Fuck’ is all you can manage as he brings you in for a sloppy kiss. 

His weight is resting on you as you come down and his fingers are playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Come on let’s brush your hair before it gets too dry.’ you huff out slipping off the counter to get dressed. 

You pat the edge of the bed and he follows your request and sits sideways while you expertly brush through his messy curls. You press kisses across the horizon of his shoulders and he leans into you, back resting on your chest. He looks relaxed yet exhausted, so you offer to grab his overnight bag from the entrance way. He lifts himself off of you unwillingly and you make quick work of your task. 

‘I’ll make us some food while you get dressed.’ 

He meets you in the kitchen as you set out two plates of lasagna. He asks you about your day and watches as you animatedly tell him. After it quiets down you reach your hand out for his and ask if he wants to stay the night. ‘Of course’ he says bringing your hand up to kiss the knuckles. 

Dr. Reid is deeply, deeply infatuated with you. 

— — — — 

[halfpint55]

A Defence of Kataang with regards to how they are portrayed in TLoK (it’s long but there’s headcanons at the end)

Note: This is not about shipping wars. This is a safe zone. This is not about Zutara vs Kataang. This is me defending Kataang and the characters themselves...from the writers. 

I initially wrote this as a response to a post that got me heated. My reblog just made it too long so here it is as its own post. 

Now this post ripped apart Kataang as a couple but more than that said some stuff about Aang himself that hurt my heart. I didn’t really want to pick on this post but its condemning of Kataang was based almost entirely in what we know of them as parents in TLoK and honestly it’s that lil nugget of canon that I take issue with. It has bothered me from the get go because it doesn’t make sense from a writing and story perspective, and it’s been pissing me off since I watched it.

TL;DR nice and early bc this post is gonna be a long one:

This particular condemnation of Kataang rests almost entirely on the SHITTY way they were portrayed as parents by the writers of LoK, and in all honesty, on this particular topic, canon should be ignored.

Overall Kataang parenting is of my biggest gripes with LoK because in terms of writing it’s totally incongruous - it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t align, and it makes zero sense for what we know of those characters, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive the showrunners for allowing it to be written it into canon.

I will also preface this by saying I like LoK - love it. I had a scroll through the comments and reblogs on this post, and a lot of the hate towards this portrayal of Kataang ended up being blamed on the “terrible writing of LoK” which is not where I stand at all. That being said I am so angry at the writers for this one.

The other portion of the concurring comments that were very hateful towards Kataang came from Zutara shippers and honestly for me, although I do ship Kataang, this not a just a Kataang issue. I’m of the belief that Zutara would’ve just as easily been written to have similar issues due to very similar dynamics - Zutara also would have been two powerful benders from very different cultures, and with Zuko/Aang (whoever you ship w her) having a massively important global leadership role that is embedded in who they are, and therefore impossible to ignore as a factor in their relationship.

Now let me be clear, my desire to reject canon on this front is by no means me wanting to believe the best of my faves, and not wanting to hear a word against Aang. It’s not even necessarily a defence of Kataang bc I ship it that hard (I mean I do but I can set that aside for the sake of argument if that’s what you need from me here). 

The first, and main issue people have with Aang/Kataang in Korra, is the first point of the original post:

So why in hell would [Katara] be okay with Aang ignoring TWO of their children’s complete existence once he found out they had an airbending son?

And I agree with the post on this front; Katara would not have allowed her children to each be treated differently by their father. I had the same initial thought when watching LoK, and it’s the reason I hate and want to ignore the canon of LoK so badly. 

As much as it hurts to think of, we have to accept that Aang wouldn’t have been able to stop his preferential treatment for Tenzin from bleeding through into his parenting just out of a desperate desire to save his culture (which is absolutely understandable - doesn’t make it okay, but it’s understandable; Aang suffered an incredible loss, a massive cultural trauma which he alone carries the burden of). So of course he wasn’t able to hide how excited he was, and forgot to be mindful of his attitude and behaviour towards Kya and Bumi. So this aspect of canon Kataang? Yeah, I’m with it. So far so good. EXCEPT the most unrealistic element of canon is now that Katara would let him. I simply do not believe for a second that Katara would’ve allowed Aang to be the kind of parent LoK painted him to be.

However, I do not think it would’ve been a point of contention between the two of them! Katara would pull him aside, Katara would gently (but firmly) point out what Aang mightn’t be able to see for himself - he’s focusing too hard on Tenzin.

And Aang would listen.

All throughout A;tLA the two of them often help the other sort through their stuff. Aang has a great track record of being receptive to Katara’s advice and help (calming him down when discovering Monk Gyatso’s body, The Desert when he Appa is stolen, Serpent’s Pass when he’s bottling his feelings about Appa being missing). He’s also just so receptive to others’ ideas - he just goes with it and trusts in his friends (think of his trust in Katara’s plan to rescue Haru, his trust in staying behind with Sokka in the library to get the eclipse info). Aang’s humility is one of the most incredible things about him and it’s at the core of who he is. He would absolutely be able to hear Katara telling him he’s focusing too hard on one child - he would be open, and he’d listen.

So to me now canon just does not make sense at all. it does not align with their established character traits. And yes, people change as they get older and grow into adulthood but honestly, the elements of their respective personalities that we’re talking about here are pretty core elements of who these two people are.

Katara has always been fiercely protective of those she loves, strongwilled, stubborn, and ready to (vocally or physically) fight for what she believes is right and that wouldn’t disappear as she gets older. She wouldn’t let Aang’s preferrential treatment slide.

Aang has always been, and chose to be despite his loss, an optimistic, kind, believe in the best of humanity kind of person. He’s open to all points of view, he’s a good listener, he always tries his absolute best to find solutions that are good for everyone. And again his humility, his willingness to love, is who he is.  He believes all humans (including fkn OZAI) and all life are sacred, he believes in the absolute right to life. The kid is a vegetarian for crying out loud.

Now the parts of the take in the post that hurt my heart to read about what OP thinks of Aang:

“Aang never made an attempt to establish anything resembling a real familial unit with Katara, basically just stayed around until she popped out an Airbender [...] she was treated like some trophy wife to give birth to airbenders and that’s it!”

I wasn’t going to address this in this post until I read the comments in the notes, because people seem to agree. They share the sentiment that Katara was reduced to “just a love interest” by the two ending up together.

However I do very much take issue w the notion that Aang “basically just stayed around until she popped out an Airbender” (and honestly that entire paragraph - we don’t actually know that Aang didn’t make an effort to establish a family unit). As much as the LoK writers fucked up in their portrayal of Kataang as parents, this is a much harsher judgement of Aang’s character as a husband and father than anything implied by Aang and Katara’s children. I just don’t buy that Aang would view Katara (or anyone he married, even if you don’t ship Kataang) as a trophy wife, whose only role is to have airbender children. He never has viewed her that way - he has always looked at her like she’s the sun, and the most important person to him after she pulled him out of the iceburg. He loves her the most of anyone on the planet. It does not align with his character, his values or beliefs that he’d think of her (or any partner) that way. He is so besotted with Katara for who she is it HURT me to read that part of your take. Aang simply would never. Look at how he looks at her! 

What’s more is the unwavering respect and deference he shows Katara as his waterbending master - he recognises and loves her as the whole, complete, three dimensional, TALENTED POWERFUL INCREDIBLE WOMAN that she is. She is NEVER “just” a love interest for Aang. (But ALSO, do we respect Suki any less for being Sokka’s obvious love interest??? No. suki is written to be so badass that Sokka is HER love interest and I think Katara has equally badass energy but I digress).

Moving on!

OP made an excellent point that there would’ve been culturally different values between the two but I don’t think it would’ve been family that was the clashing point. Yes the airbenders value spirituality and enlightenment. But they lived together in massive communities! They supported and raised one another. Their community and culture was strong, and they were bonded in their spirituality! They value love, as well as enlightenment, peace, and the lives of all.

Now, again the points they made about the cultural divides within the Kataang family unit are valid, but also again I dislike how they chose to portray this in LoK. It would definitely be a struggle they faced as a couple. However I think they really missed an opportunity here with where they took it. Because they do at one point in the comics have Katara bring up the fact that their family will be a blend of two cultures, and she brings it up because Aang is trying so hard to bring balance back to the world by means of seperation.

They’ve known from the get go of being a couple that they’re going to have to navigate being a culturally blended family unit.

So I find it so shitty that they wrote it so that Kya got to learn the waterbending culture, Tenzin got Air and bumi got…nothing? It’s dangerously close to the way Disney does the “the girls are carbon copies of mum, and the boys are carbon copies of dad” thing (think Lady and the Tramp). It’s lazy. Especially when we had that “separation is an illusion” episode, AND things like Zuko learning different nation’s styles and applying them to his firebending, and Sokka learning an element of strategy or fighting from every nation. 

So give us Kya using Airbending moves with her waterbending (maybe she invents the water scooter)! Give us Tenzin doing more grounded moves that Aunty Toph (or Lin, while they were together) taught him from earthbending.

There are much more creative ways to illustrate the bumps and troubles Kataang might have run into in trying to navigate incorporating equal parts of their cultures in their children and family unit. Even just smaller scale issues like food and meals - how do they figure out how to do mealstimes with Aang’s vegetarianism with Katara’s culturally significant Water Tribe meat dishes? And then even taking into account how picky little kids can be!

Give me a scene where they literally just ate moon pies for a week because toddler Kya would scream if you put anything else down in front of her.

Maybe Bumi demanded sea prunes over and over but Katara and Bumi are the only ones who like them, and Bumi bonds with his mother this way - they go on little one-on-one outings to water tribe restaurants in Republic City, searching for the most authentic sea prunes!

Kya maybe likes the water tribe fashions the most because it helps her connect with her namesake BUT Kya also has a playful sense of humour - not unlike Monk Gyatso - Aang sees how much she loved moon pies and teaches her to throw them with waterbending.

We know Tenzin was a calm, quiet, and possibly shy child. Maybe he loved to hole himself away learning crafts. Give me Tenzin learning to tattoo, Tenzin learning to carve (and carving his first glider - it crashes of course), but also Tenzin learning to carve water tribe adornments and necklaces. Katara tries at first but when she gets busy Sokka comes in and teaches Tenzin to break all the carving rules Katara has laid down (”it doesn’t need to be perfect my little pupil - let the creativity flow!”)

Tenzin may not be able to waterbend but that doesn’t mean he can’t learn other means of healing. As the littlest he spent a lot of time watching Katara work - she teaches him to tie splints, dress wounds, and yes deliver babies.

If you made it here I love you so much for reading. I love sharing my thoughts so HIGH FIVE YOU MADE IT, ur now my friend - the friendship is non-refundable sorry 😌😌

[the-scottish-costume-guy]

JK Rowling, transphobia and a hopefully helpful post.

A few days ago I posted on my Facebook (yes I have one sue me) debunking some of the things Rowling has been saying on twitter. Since she made a statement I felt the need to make another one... but this time Im sharing it here. Please note this is long, it is fairly opinionated in places but her statements have felt so insidious I want to share something in depth. If you are cis I implore you to read, but I understand this is long and a lot of people wont want to. No judgement. 

Jk Rowling’s latest statement is a mess of valid concerns and fear mongering. At this point there can be no claim she doesn’t know what shes talking about - she herself has said shes been researching this for years. She throws in token acknowledgements to “real” trans people while framing the rest of her statements as concern for confused teens.So first things first - and something that might not be popular with some of my trans friends. I agree that teenagers should not be able to medically transition. It is a choice that should be made when the brain is fully mature. Hormone blockers are something I trust - and that are reversible. I have seen enough detransitioned people hurting to feel like we do need to be careful - especially with children who are trying to find themselves. I dont know about other people but during my teens I was coming to the crushing realisation that I wasn’t special. I was learning that no matter how well I painted someone else did it better, no matter how badly I hurt someone had it worse - I was learning about the wonderful mediocrity of life, and having anything that made me stand out gave a brief reprieve from learning to be okay with all these things. For me to be fair it was dying my hair outrageous colours and dressing in black leather during 30 degree summer heat - but its still something we cant forget. I KNOW a lot of kids claiming to be trans are - and I dont want to keep that from them, however I dont want to cause harm to the kids that are wrong. Continuing on, I’d like to address her comments about TERFS. Terfs are Self Described Trans-exclusionary-radical-feminists and the term does get thrown around a little too liberally at times. Terf is not and never will be a slur. No more than “White” is. It is about a group of people who have taken it open themselves to segregate another group - and calling that what it is, is not a crime. The reason Terf and transphobe have become synonomic is because the ‘radical feminists’ that subscribe to this have lost focus on nearly all other issues of feminism and sit squarely on “dropping the T” from the lgbt community and “keeping men out of womens bathrooms.” Terfs are overwhelmingly women - this is sadly simply a fact. Terfs are reviled because of how much it feels like a betrayal to the community. A group that fights for rights - except ours. A group that wants equality - except for us. Its different to the conservatives who hate us all equally - with Terfs we are singled out. Terfs are not, as Rowling claims, inclusionary to Trans-men. I’ve been met with a combination of pity, loathing, mockery and revulsion by people within this group. I’ve been told that I shouldn’t let homophobia push me into transitioning - only for all correspondence to abruptly drop when I mention Im marrying another man. I’ve been told my old body was beautiful - only for stunned silence when I agree. I was beautiful - I was curvy, I was a dancer and had a body to match - but I wasn’t Me. When their usual arguments against me fail - I’m met with hate. Im called anti-woman, traitor, homophobic. I even have some such comments saved on my blog. I have yet to meet a Terf who was pro-trans-man. Rowling claims that had she had the ability, as a confused teen, she may have sought to transition. I hate to tell her but she did have the ability and trans people didn’t pop into existence in the twenty-first century. I’m actually looking to do my dissertation topic in my final year on lgbt presentation throughout history - and in my overeager way I’ve already started researching. James Barry has been becoming a common name for years - a transgender surgeon who died in 1865. If Barry was able to at least socially transition from 1790 to 1860, I am fairly sure Rowling could have in 1980 - over a century later. Rowling also claims that groups of friends in schools all suddenly identify as trans at the same time. Speaking from my school experience - the queer kids group together. We seek out others like us, and we take strength from each others bravery to come out - often around the same time. We almost get a rush of resolve when one of our group musters the courage and strength, and some of us use that rush to bite the bullet ourselves. Its one of the beautiful ways the lgbt community is here for one another - and the influx of people identifying as trans is partially a factor of more people knowing the name of their feelings. Survivor bias will ignore the trans people through history without the knowledge or means to transition - and will claim they were never trans at all. Her initial statements about charities worry me in particular. As I said last time - we know sex is real, we just dont really like to be defined by it. She is worried that we’re going to “rebrand medicine” and ignores that medications for years have had warnings in their leaflets about “If you are or become pregnant” regardless of if the person receiving it has a dick or a vagina. We dont advocate for ignoring the differences in how people respond to heart attacks - and I for one would like research to be done on how hormones effect that. I dont actually know if I would respond more like a cis gender woman or a cis gender man if I were to have a heart attack or a stroke. But where possible we do want to change the language around some of these things. I have had a double mastectomy, but some Cis-men have these as well. This is not a gendered term. Why should a period be called anything else? Why call it a “womens problem.” I and Im sure many other trans people, support the research into how different medical and mental issues affect different sexes. I just think that should be extended further - and we know it should, as some medical issues affect people of different ethnicities in different ways and we don’t know how. I am truly sorry that Rowling has experienced abuse and assault of any nature. I am truly sorry that she has felt unsafe. But her feelings do not invalidate others experiences. Of the trans people I know, a saddening number have been assaulted, have been abused and in particular have experienced these things domestically. There is much work to be done on this in the UK. There are nearly no mens shelters for sufferers of violence to my knowledge. I, a trans man who have experienced some of these things in my teen years, would Not want to be around cisgender women even if I could be. A cis woman was responsible for much of the pain I personally suffered - and in fact one of the acts of violence she carried out against me was directly after I came out as trans to her. Trans women, even if they could go to male shelters, should not have to be surrounded by a group that put them in danger - in a place that is detrimental to them physically and mentally and is frankly degrading. The belief that allowing trans women into shelters for those escaping abuse is dangerous is sad. To be so afraid is deserving of pity. To let fear blind you to the suffering of others - to think its better that a trans woman face homelessness or a return to an abusive household because you personally would sleep better at night is the kind of passive evil we should be aware of in this day and age. It comes from choosing to see the word “trans” before “person.” Its from choosing to see a persons genitals before their humanity. Trans people are not dangerous - and cause no greater risk than any other demographic.  Her claims that she can empathise with this fear are empty. A gender recognition certificate is not a ticket into womens bathrooms. Funnily enough you dont actually require a piece of paper to go almost anywhere. I do not have a gender recognition certificate and use male bathrooms, can enter male spaces as I please. All a gender recognition certificate does is change the letter on your birth certificate. It doesn’t even affect other forms of identification - my passport, my student id, my drivers license all already say male. I am not sure why so many people have chosen this as their hill to die on because its the least relevant thing to them on the planet. How often have any of you seen another persons birth certificate? Rowling says she and other ‘gender critical’ (a terf dogwhistle) people are concerned for trans youth. Well… she can take her condescending concern and direct it to matters that are relevant to her. Trans people want to be left alone. Its a simple request, and yet people endlessly seem to trip over the dirt level bar.

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Part 3 of ?

(part 1 here)

(part 2 here)

They fall into a pattern after that. Sid works in the labs during the day, going over previously gathered data and doing just enough to keep Bettman thinking that all is well. Natalia teaches him the staff rotations and camera locations to allow him to reach the observation room without being caught, and they meet up there in the middle of the night to discuss their plans.

Natalia just calls the being “malysh” most of the time, but Sid had wanted to call him with his name. The being had only laughed in a riot of color and explained that Sid had no hope of replicating it with human vocal cords. Much of the being’s communication, aside from color and telepathy, he explained, was subsonic, at frequencies too low for human ears. 

“Evgeni,” Natalia says firmly, in order to move the conversation along. “Good Russian name. Can call you Zhenya for small.” 

I like it the being--Zhenya-- had replied, radiating mental warmth in response. 

 “Zhenya,” Sidney had said, testing the sound of it in his mouth. The lights on Zhenya’s body had all flickered in response. 

Now, they have the rudiments of a plan. Zhenya needs some of the equipment on his ship, badly. 

My kind, he explains. We….adapt, easily. I can stop your gravity and atmosphere... from killing me. But I need my ship. 

Their communication comes so much easier now. Sid wonders if there’s some kind of link or connection that grows stronger with use. He knows that it still takes effort and that Zhenya has to rest after long sentences, but the gaps are becoming shorter. Zhenya’s personality, vibrant from the first, comes through even more clearly now. Sid can see why Natalia is so fiercely protective of him, and he aches thinking about the suffering he’s had to endure until now. 

I will be able to assume an almost human biological form he tells Sid one night. Tell me...what is considered good, to your species? In a person’s form. 

His lights are all soft yellow and his eyes are wide and innocent-looking. Suspiciously so. When he imitates a human facial expression it’s deliberately done. 

Sid flushes. “You mean, like, what is aesthetically pleasing? Or um.” 

Lights pulse, a rainbow of other colors flickering through the yellow. Your species is very focused on...reproductive availability, correct? 

“Oh god,” Sid says, feeling his face heat up even further. “Uh. Well, height is considered pretty important, for guys? And, um.” 

Reproductive organ size? Zhenya says, still wide-eyed and butter-yellow with what Sid is beginning to think is faux-innocence. 

“Such a dick,” Sid blurts. His face feels like it’s on fire. 

Not yet Zhenya sends, smugness radiating from the words like bad cologne. 

“You told me last night that your people have monitored our radio and television signals for decades,” Sid accuses. It had floored him to learn, but it explained Zhenya’s ability to speak human languages, albeit telepathically. “You know exactly what is considered attractive to humans.” 

I only want to program the DNA successfully, Zhenya claims.

“Uh huh.” Sidney rolls his eyes, but has to smile as Zhenya’s lights edge toward pink. “Sure you do.” 

***

Sid has more than a few overwhelming fears about their plans. 

“If I disappear at the same time you do,” he says, one night about two weeks in. “They might come after me once I return home. They’ll be watching my place, probably.” He feels terrible even bringing this up. Zhenya and Natalia are both risking so much. 

Once I have adapted Zhenya tells him, lights flowing down his skin in a way that seems intended to comfort and reassure. I will still have some of my abilities, and my technology. I will be able to protect you. 

“You’ll be staying with me?” Sid asks. “After this?” 

Zhenya goes very still. If. If you consent. 

“Of course,” Sid says. He feels a strange sense of relief. The scientist in him, of course, wants every opportunity to continue to learn about extraterrestrial life, and the rest of him has begun to grow...fond of Zhenya. His curiosity, his surprising playfulness. His affection for Natalia. 

Sid leans his forehead against the glass. He’s exhausted from weeks of fractured sleep and strung out nerves. They’re alone tonight- Natalia’s husband has a cold and she stayed home from work to care for him. 

Zhenya leans his forehead against the glass as well, making one of his low, rumbling hums. 

It was my dream, he thinks wistfully. All my life. To come and study this planet. I’m not ready to leave it. I just need to be free of this place. 

“I know,” Sid says softly, and tries something new. Just like the times he sends thought Zhenya’s way, he tries to send the complicated bundle of emotions lodged in his chest. Fear, affection, resolve. 

Sid is all Zhenya sends back, and the glass between them trembles with sound that Sid mostly feels, rather than hears. 

He has the strangest sense that there’s more that Zhenya would like to say, but he holds his peace, moving instead to the less emotionally fraught topic of the facility’s containment breach protocols. 

***

After a while, there isn’t anything more to discuss. There is only the execution of their plan. 

Their saving grace is that due to the paranoia of those running the facility, nothing so much as a laptop camera is allowed in the observation room. They decide then, that getting through the window is their best bet, as they will have at least two hours between guards making security checks of the room. 

Sid has access to the equipment storage area for the research department. He manages to steal a reciprocating saw and an acetylene torch easily enough, hiding them in one of the equipment lockers close to the observation room. He packs a backpack with only the absolute essentials, and makes his way to where Zhenya is waiting for him, tense and pacing as they wait for Natalia to arrive. 

When she arrives, she wastes no time. She presses a wrapped package of food into Sid’s hands and kisses him on both cheeks. Sid has to swallow and clear his throat before he can ask her how preparations went. 

“Pipe is blocked in office block. All cleaning staff go there, big mess.” 

Sid nods. They have to get Zhenya out, then time their race to reach the hanger just right to avoid security patrols. 

Natalia pauses, then presses something heavy into Sid’s hands, wrapped up in what appears to be a flowered tea towel. 

He goes cold all over when he realizes that it’s a handgun. 

“I’m take from guard’s room,” Natalia says. Her expression is worried but her gaze is flinty. Whatever it takes, her eyes say. 

Sid’s hands shake a little, but he checks the safety, and tucks the weapon in the waistband of his jeans. The reality of it is, he doesn’t know how to use a gun properly, and the guards here are most likely going to bring him down and ask questions never. Some of the tension leaves Natalia’s shoulders though, and that is enough. 

The plexiglass of the viewing window proves insanely difficult to deal with. It emits billows of noxious-smelling smoke as it melts, and when Sid has to alternate between the torch and the saw. His shoulders and arms are burning and sweat is running off him in rivers as he grits his teeth and shears through the window centimeter by hardwon centimeter. They’re cutting a diagonal across one of the corners, hoping for the sealant to fail and make for fewer cuts. 

His brain is just an endless loop of come on come on come on come on as beside him Natalia starts to murmur what sound like prayers. 

A glance into Zhenya’s enclosure shows smoke collecting at an alarming rate. His lights are flickering a sick green-yellow that turns Sid’s stomach with worry. 

Finally. He hits the edge of the window and starts in on the massive bolts on the frame, working his way down from the top as Natalia starts in on the ones on the bottom. 

They’re not going to have enough time. There’s no way. Sid wedges a crowbar under the edge of the frame and heaves on it, with a strangled grunt. Natalia grabs on as well and they both haul on it as Zhenya pushes on the opposite side. 

There’s a horrible squeal of metal on metal, and, miraculously, the frame gives. The plexiglass falls out of it with a thud.

“Go, go!” Natalia cries. She pushes Sid’s bag at him and he throws it over his shoulder. He turns and holds out his arm to support Zhenya as he folds himself through the gap. He’s lighter than he looks, as if he’s hollow-boned as a bird. 

Quick.

He extends a tendril to Natalia and she holds out her hand. Sid watches in puzzlement as Zhenya’s lights flare. 

It is an honor, Natalia  he says. 

Natalia’s eyes are wet as she hurries them out of the room and down the long corridor to Zhenya’s ship. Sid can hear an alarm start to blare in another part of the complex. 

“Be safe,” Sid tells her with a final kiss to her cheek. She nods, and takes off. She has to make it to an electrical panel that will allow her to throw the fuses for the hanger bay. 

Come, Zhenya tells him, and they take off down the endless hall, sirens and flashing lights now blaring around them. Zhenya stumbles, and Sid has to haul him upright. 

As if in a slow motion nightmare, just as they turn a corner and the hanger doors come into view, Sid registers a guard standing there, raising a radio to his lips. 

Sid reaches for the gun before he can think. Sweat-slick palms, nothing but the drum of his heart in his ears. 

He fires. The shot goes wide, the guard swivels, bringing up his own weapon. 

Sid fires again. The guard goes down, clutching at his leg. Before he can reach his dropped weapon Sid kicks it away. He wants to lean over and vomit. 

Later.

The guard’s key card opens the doors for them, at least, and as they run inside, the lights all go down, save the faint glowing ones on the ship itself. 

Past the electric barrier erected around it, up into the gaping entryway that opens at Zhenya’s touch. 

Hold on Zhenya thinks tersely at him, as Sid half collapses against a bulkhead, lungs burning. 

The ship hums to life, and Sid sways on his feet as it rises into the air. Zhenya is standing inside a curved, organic looking arch, a web of light rising around him as the ship turns, screeching and throwing sparks as it brushes the hanger walls. 

The doors are corrugated steel, and Zhenya had told them that his ship can break through. Sid still closes his eyes as he hears the thrum of the engines increase in pitch. Nothing around him had looked anything like an identifiable jumpseat or safety harness, so he just braces himself against the bulkhead. 

Then the ship’s sudden acceleration presses him back into the wall like an enormous hand, there’s a jolt, an awful shearing sound of metal on metal, and the floor beneath Sid tilts. 

The ship is shuddering, G forces pushing on Sid until the edges of his vision start to go dark. He might be screaming. Everything is sound, and roaring, and pressure. Time itself seems to stretch.

Then, easy as a sigh, the pressure lets him go. The floor rights itself, the engines calm. 

Sid is on the floor on his hands and knees, panting for breath. When he can raise his head again, he looks up, out of the cockpit window.

Beyond it is deep, velvety black- too deep and dark to comprehend, spangled with a billion points of light. 

The stars.

***

Sid is lightheaded with residual adrenaline and his hands shake with fine tremors. His eyes greedily devour the sight outside as he stands in front of the main viewing-window- the blue of the sky going cold and deep at the very edge of space, the infinite blackness beyond the fragile curve of the earth.

“Zhenya,” he breathes, and turns to look at him.

Zhenya is manipulating the web of light that must make up the controls, but he seems unwell. He’s hunched over a little, and his breathing seems rasping and labored.

Sid realizes, with a flood of guilt, that he’s able to breath perfectly, and that the gravity of the ship, after the press of rapid acceleration had ceased, feels normal to him.

“Zhenya,” he says urgently. “The life support systems. You’ve set them to human parameters, haven’t you?”

Zhenya blinks at him, slow. You would suffer ill effects from my species’s ideal parameters.

“Maybe of atmospheric composition,” Sid says. “What about gravity? Does your species need higher or lower gravity than humans?

Lower.

Sid sighs in relief. “That’s fine then, my species has done great in zero-g, even, without too many ill effects. Go ahead and change it.

Zhenya does something, and Sid grins like a child as his feet slowly leave the floor. Zhenya sighs, taking a deep, rattling breath that sounds, to Sid, relieved.

“This,” Sid assures him,”Is so fucking cool. I’ve dreamt of stuff like this, space and weightlessness, my whole life.”

Zhenya’s lights pulse, and Sid feels a swell of wordless affection wash up against his thoughts.

Zhenya just feels so fond when he looks at Sid. Sid doesn’t know quite what to do with that so he turns to look out of the window again, just in time to see the Baltic Sea slide by underneath them.

Something occurs to him. In all this planning, they hadn’t considered-

“Uh, where are we going,” Sidney asks.

I need time for the adaptation  Zhenya replies. I still want to conduct my research. I could take you anywhere. I have earth resources we can use.

Sid has to stare out the window at that a little. Instead of northern Norway, he watches the reflection of Zhenya’s lights, gone gently blue and pink.

He’s sitting in a spaceship. He’s sitting in a spaceship with an extraterrestrial and he’s on the run from a shadowy government organization. He shakes his head.

“I don’t even know,” he says softly, and for some reason, he thinks, “I shot someone today,” and his hands start to shake.

Sidney. Zhenya moves to stand behind him, and he rests one of his long-fingered hands on Sid’s shoulders.

He can feel...regret, he thinks, bleeding across the connection of their minds. He turns to face Zhenya.

“I’m so glad we got you out,” he says decisively. “I am.”

You are… Zhenya pauses. Extraordinary. You and Natalia. You have both risked so much for me.

His eyes are fathomless, his face as unreadable as it ever is. But the pulse of his lights and the warmth in his mind tells Sid everything that his expression won’t.

Sid, for some reason, feels his own face heat. “It was the right thing to do.The humane thing.”

Humane, from the word for your species Zhenya thinks, and his mind does something that feels a lot like the equivalent of a smile. You humans are creatures of such staggering contrast and potential.

Sid can’t meet that steady gaze anymore. He looks out of the window again. Are they over the North Atlantic?

“So this adaptation,” he asks. “What is that going to entail?”

Natalia brought me a hair of her husband’s and one of her own. I will be very nearly as if I had been their son.

Sid shakes his head in amazement and feels a curious sense of loss. All that Zhenya is, all of his otherworldly beauty, compressed into a human shell. Necessary to live on earth and fulfill his dream, perhaps, but still.

I look forward to a mostly human body Zhenya goes on. I will only hold up to the most rudimentary medical scrutiny, but I will definitely stop being killed by your environment—at least not any faster than you. He flickers his lights wryly.

I will need to spend about an earth month in a nutrient bath as my DNA is re-programmed and my body restructures itself. The DNA from Natalia was the final piece, the rest of the scaffolding was already completed as part of the preparation for this expedition.

“You guys really can just rewrite DNA, huh,” Sid says, shaking his head.

Our technology for genome manipulation arose out of necessity, Zhenya explains. My people were dying out. After we discovered space travel, we discovered that almost everything foreign to our planet caused our DNA to mutate. We were fragile. Luckily, we developed the technology before it was too late.

Sid cannot help but think,for a moment, of children dying of cancer. Of his grandfather losing his mind to Alzheimer’s.

I’m sorry, Zhenya says, having probably ascertained some of that from Sid’s thoughts. The ability to accept radical gene therapies and be effectively re-written is a particular trait of my people’s DNA. Our technology would not be of any use to humans, to my regret. You are noble to think of it.

“Ah, well,” Sid says. “We’ll have to muddle through on our own, then.”

Zhenya flickers at him, then tilts his head to one side.

You grow tired, he says. The extensive telepathic communication is hurting you.

Oh. Now that he’s paying attention, Sid can feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temples.

“We never decided where we were going.” He has to laugh a little.

We will stop at your abode, and then-- Zhenya doesn’t finish the thought, but Sid gets a quickly stifled mental flicker of... palm trees?

Wherever you would like, Zhenya defers politely.

“It’s your research trip.” Sid smiles at him. “What was your plan?”

Zhenya’s lights glow excitedly. In my research I encountered several cultural artifacts of popular entertainment set in Miami. One in particular seemed to imply it would make an excellent hiding location for those involved in espionage and covert operations.

“Are you….talking about Burn Notice?”  Sid says, and laughs. Why is that so cute? “Face it, you just want to go to the beach, eh?”

Maybe so Zhenya replies, and his mental tone is a warm as a smile, even if his slit of a mouth doesn’t move.

“Sure, let’s go.” Sid winces as a bolt of pain stabs his temples.

Rest, Zhenya tells him both in word and in a soothing ripple of light. I shall take you to your home and we will then travel to our next hiding place after you have gathered your belongings. Please. He motions to an entryway in the rear of the cockpit.

When Sid goes where he’s bidden, he finds a handful of compact rooms. One is dimly lit, with soothing colors playing over the walls and a white, squashy blob the size of a king mattress on the floor.

Just to be sure, Sid hollers up the hall. He doesn’t want to end up sleeping in the equivalent of an alien toilet. When he receives the affirmative that it is, in fact, a bed, he puts down his pack and takes his shoes off, studying the weird, organic shapes of the room’s mysterious furnishings.

He snorts out a laugh when he notices, enshrined in a wall niche, a little collection of earthly looking doodads including, of all the fucking things, a Funko Pop figurine. He goes over to look and the objects make him smile. There’s a pine cone, a dented tin can of baked beans, and a postcard from Seattle. He knew Zhenya was fascinated with Earth but this tenderly displayed cluster of random artifacts just drives it home.

The bed is strange. The surface feels like silicone rubber and velvet had an oddly comfortable lovechild, but it’s pillowy and soft and he drops immediately off to sleep as soon as he lays his head down.

***

Sid.

Sid jolts awake as though his name had been spoken aloud, not just into his mind.

Zhenya is leaning over him.

How is your head?

Sid’s head feels a little like it usually does after a big headache- sort of like it’s a fishbowl made of brittle glass that he needs to be careful with. But it’s manageable.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Where are we?”

The roof of your apartment building.

That wakes him up. “Okay, nice. Are you coming in with me?”

Zhenya’s lights flicker excitedly. I would love to finally visit a private human domicile.

Sid smiles. The thought was accompanied by the same feeling of giddiness he imagines you’d get from a kid walking into a toy store.

***

Sid’s apartment is thankfully on the top floor, and they get Zhenya inside without incident. Zhenya does something with some sort of scanning device and his thoughts pulse with concern.

We should not linger. This building is being surveilled.

Fuck.

Go Zhenya tells him. I will keep watch.

Sid’s place is dim with all the shades drawn, and the still air with its closed-for-weeks smell adding to the surreality of it all as Sid makes his way through his rooms with a pounding heart.

What do you bring with you when you might be leaving life as you knew it behind for good? He grabs a duffle bag, then decides he doesn’t have time to be tidy and finds a garbage bag in the kitchen. He can organize later.

A couple changes of clothes, his backup hard drive, a photo of his parents. Does he take a bottle of shower gel? It’s not like he’s leaving the planet (ha). There’s going to be a CVS or something in Florida.

In goes his favorite quilt that his grandmother made him. A coffee mug he’s fond of from his sister. A stack of research materials and books that he’d hate to lose. There’s no reason he can’t keep working. A few more things get shoved haphazardly into the duffle and the garbage bag.

Just in time he realizes that he should probably grab his birth certificate and social security card. Just in case he really never comes back. Shit, what about rent? If he keeps paying rent, can the Russian organization that held Zhenya hack in and find out, tracking his credit card usage?

Too much to think about now. He’ll have time. He’s supposed to be in Russia for another month, in any case, and it’s paid in full.

He has everything he can’t do without. He takes a last look around. He has the strangest feeling that he’s never going to see the place again.

He shoulders the duffle and nods at Zhenya.

“Let’s go.”

***

[abrasife]

" let’s talk about it. " - Ophelia @ Keith

MEME┊accepting.

He had recalled phrasing things badly the last time he had brought up the topic. He had asked in past tense, whether Ophelia had liked someone or not. It was only after talking with Rachael that Keith realized how it could be misinterpreted. Of course, he didn’t mean for her to get the wrong idea, but that was his poor communication as usual. If she thought he was going to ask for advice to pursue someone else... he definitely had to fix it.

In order to do that, he’d need to get some privacy when talking to her, and because it was a hot summer day, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go grab some frozen yogurt or something. Keith, of all people, actually considering getting frozen yogurt?! Although part of him was conflicted, it was better to have a little bit of the thing than get another lecture from the people at home. Thankfully, he was able to surpass the urge to not go for the sweet dessert and got the courage to phone her with the invitation. 

❝ Are you free to talk over frozen yogurt? It’s kind of... not really important. ❞

❝ Sure! ❞ she accepted cheerfully as she usually would, ❝ let’s talk about it. ❞

It didn’t take them long to meet up outside their homes and head over to the frozen yogurt parlor on foot. But because of the heat and the fact they were walking, the destination probably seemed to be a desirable one. Who wouldn’t want something cold after walking even just a few minutes in a temperature that wasn’t relatively comfortable? By the time they stepped into the cool, air conditioned place, Keith couldn’t help but fan himself in relief. The heat finally wasn’t killing him.

After picking out their respective flavors of yogurt and taking their seats at the table, the boy couldn’t help but start to get nervous. How exactly was he supposed to bring it up? Avoiding his neighbor’s gaze, he kept his gaze fixed on his tart-flavored yogurt topped with mango slices, blueberries, and strawberries pieces. Mixing the toppings into the yogurt with his spoon, Keith tried to calm himself down. It won’t be that hard. Just say it! It’s an apology regardless! 

❝ You know... that time I asked if you liked someone before? ❞ he hesitantly began. Now that he was here addressing the mistake he made, the boy finally realized how embarrassing it was to even talk about this sort of thing. Lately, he had been mellow about talking of these feelings with Shane and Rachael, but talking about romance and love with Ophelia was a different story entirely. It was probably because he harbored special feelings for her, but who knew it would lead to feeling like he would burn from the inside just by bringing up the topic? ❝ I didn’t mean to make you misunderstand me. ❞

Hold up, if he said any more, wouldn’t it—no this was already a borderline confession! He couldn’t confess now! There was zero chance he could even handle a relationship at his maturity level! Plus with him still struggling to eat properly at times, he didn’t want to burden Ophelia with that more than she already was burdened with because of him.

❝ T-That was just me being bad at communicating my intentions again! So, don’t worry about it! ❞

[sotheywrotestories]

Warm Hands | bucky barnes |

Request: None

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Some cuss words I’m sure

Summary: Bucky can help her, can’t he? (Angst to fluff)

Word count: 3,682 (oof)

***

There was one member of the Avengers that Bucky had yet to meet.

She was slightly closed in on herself, someone who was often found in the corner of the living room, nose stuck in a book.

When Steve dragged Bucky to the compound, she was the one person Steve didn’t acknowledge. She was the one person who didn’t stand to greet Bucky when he first entered the communal living area.

Bucky wanted to talk to her, wanted to get to know her better, but she always seemed so removed from the rest of the Avengers. And, of course, he didn’t want to be someone who just assumed she was just as psychologically damaged as him, though he was sure she wasn’t near as normal as anyone else…no Avenger really was.

***

“All right, listen up, team,” Tony clapped. “We’ve got a mission, five members needed. Cap and I are already enrolled, Frosty is barred.”

“What?” Bucky frowned.

He thought he had been doing all right when it came to missions. Hadn’t messed up so horribly that jeopardized the mission, hadn’t been injured, hadn’t gotten anyone killed, why was he barred from the mission?

“It’s Hydra, Buck. We don’t want you to be put in any kind of danger,” Steve said. “Nothing personal, strictly business.”

Business. Sure.


“So we’ve got Nat, Wanda, and Bruce?” Tony said. “Cool. Suit up, we leave in 20.”

Of course, Bucky knew why they didn’t want him on the mission, but he also didn’t want to be stuck in the compound for so long with people who wanted nothing to do with him. Both Steve and Natasha were leaving, Meaning Bucky was left alone with Sam.

And the really introverted girl, but lord knows she wouldn’t say anything to him.

“But I can’t leave the compound, either,” Bucky called after Steve. “Still not allowed to even go out. I really don’t want to be left alone with Sam.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sam snorted. “Don’t worry, Tin-Man, I’m out of town for the weekend. You’ll get the compound all to yourself.”

Bucky snorted and turned to Steve.

“So, what, you leave me alone with some girl you haven’t even had the decency to introduce me to?”

Steve gave Bucky an odd look. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I introduced you to everyone. Look, I have to go suit up. I’ll see you when we get back, we’re not going to be gone long, you’ll be fine.”

Bucky watched Steve leave with a sour look on his face. Introduced him to everyone? So, what, this girl wasn’t on the team? Does that mean some random person has managed to live in the compound without anyone noticing for this long? That can’t be right. So then she’s not on the team?

Maybe she’s just an assistant who helps out around the compound and maybe that’s why she’s so detached because she doesn’t feel like she belongs. Either way, Bucky wasn’t looking forward to sharing the compound with someone he didn’t know.

***

The first day after the team left, Bucky didn’t see the mystery girl at all. She stayed in her room (wherever that was, he ever paid enough attention to her to know where she lived, but wherever it was, Bucky was glad it wasn’t around him.)

He spent the day snooping around other corners of the compound he just hadn’t seen before, it was a lot bigger than he thought it was. He came across at least two dance studios (it might have been the same one twice, he wasn’t sure) as well as one gigantic library.

This was his favorite room immediately. He spent at least six hours catching up on pop culture and current events before he realized how dark it was getting outside.

“FRIDAY?” Bucky called to the ceiling.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” the Irish voice responded.

“Can you help me find my way back to this room tomorrow?” Bucky asked nervously. He never liked asking FRIDAY for help, but he truly did need it.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes, I will bookmark the (Y/N) (L/N) library for future reference. Would you like me to send a map to your room?”

“Yes, please.” A pause. “And…who is (Y/N) (L/N)?”

Bucky was still getting caught up on the big events and people of this time. How proud would Steve be when he came back and Bucky knew who (Y/N) (L/N) was?

“I’ll give you some readings on (Y/N) (L/N), sir.”

***

Bucky only received two books from FRIDAY, who had bookmarked only one section in each book, where it only slightly mentioned (Y/N).

“Is there anything online about this person?” Bucky thought out loud.

“There are over 1,000 articles online about (Y/N) (L/N),” FRIDAY responded. “All articles related to this person or topic are restricted to public access.”

“Restricted?” Bucky frowned. “What do you mean, restricted?”

“There is no way for you to access these files. Tony appears to have restricted all access to anyone below clearance level 7.”

Go figures, Tony was ht only person in the compound who was level 7 clearance.

“So no one can know? Not even Steve?”

“No, sir. Everyone is restricted. Would you like to request access?”

“Yes, please.”

***

When Bucky woke up the next day, FRIDAY told him his request for access had been denied. He wasn’t surprised if it was restricted, there was probably a reason, no matter how badly he wanted to know.,

He trudged his way to the kitchen, full intent on making a bowl of cereal for breakfast. As he was walking by the living room, however, as he was walking by the common room, he spotted the mystery girl.

As an act of kindness, he thought, I should make breakfast for the two of us. We only have two more days left, anyway.

He pulled flour and oil and eggs, heat up a pan, and made pancakes. Enough for the whole team.

Bucky set the table with five different kinds of syrups and a stick of butter.

“Hey,” he called into the common room, seeing her head turn ever so slightly. “I made breakfast if you…want to come to eat.”

The girl’s head swiveled before looking back at him. She slowly rose and made her way over to the table, sitting down one seat away from the place he had set her.

Okay, he thought. Maybe that’s just her spot.

He reached over and carefully slid the plate in front of her.

“There are chocolate chips and blueberries and strawberries, I didn’t know what you might want to eat,” Bucky sent her a small smile.

“Me?” She quietly asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Who else?”

They stared at each other for a moment and then Bucky shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I know Steve didn’t introduce us. I’m Bucky,” he stuck his hand out.

“Bucky…,” she whispered, reaching for his hand.

Her hand was cold, cold enough for Bucky to jolt a bit.

“Sorry, cold hands.”

“Me too,” Bucky lifted up his left hand and grinned.

***

Once was breakfast was cleared (after some very funny conversation) Bucky made his way back to the library for the rest of the day.

When Bucky went to bed that night, he realized he didn’t know her name.

***

It was Sunday. Which meant Bucky had every intention of sleeping long into the day. No team-building breakfast, no running, no reading, just sleep.

His phone clearly had other ideas. It buzzed over and over no matter how many times Bucky ignored it in hopes of drifting back off into dreamland. By the fifth time the phone went off, Bucky caved and picked up the phone.

“What,” Bucky growled.

“Good morning to you too, Barnes,” Sam nearly chuckled on the other line. “I’m picking up bagels. What do you want?”

Bucky’s quick glance told him it was only eleven in the morning.

“You’re coming back today?” Bucky groaned.

“Oh, I’m so excited to see you too!” Sam cheered. “What do you want.”

“Just whatever,” Bucky mumbled into his pillow. “I don’t have a favorite. Whatever you feel like bringing me.”

“Get your ass out of bed, Barnes.” Bucky could hear the eye roll. “I’ll be at the compound in an hour. We should probably get food and cleanliness ready from the team when they come back tomorrow.”

“They can feed themselves,” Bucky growled before hanging up.

In true human fashion, however, Bucky found it impossible to sleep after being awoken by Sam. Might as well get up and do some cleaning.

He started with laundry and bundled up all the laundry from the past two weeks to be cleaned. It wasn’t much, since Bucky rotated through two pairs of jeans and a pair of sweats, the occasional pair of shorts, it was mainly just henleys. It would make more sense to wash the load with more clothes.

It just so happened that mystery girl as sitting in the common room again as Bucky was walking to the laundry room.

“Good morning!” He greeted, hoisting the basket onto his hip. “Do you have any clothes that need to be washed?”

“Morning, Bucky,” she smiled, making his stomach feel as though it was full of butterflies. “No, I don’t.”

“Did you already do your laundry?” Bucky tilted his head.

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Sam spoke from the doorway, bag of bagels in his hand.

“Oh, just-“ Bucky pointed to the couch to see that the girl had left. “…she was just right there….”

“Barnes!” Sam mockingly put a hand on his chest. “Did you have a hook up this weekend?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “So good to have you back, Birdbrain.”

Sam rolled his eyes but plopped the bagels onto the table. “Let’s eat, then we can wash all of our clothes together.”

Bucky set the basket by the table leg and pulled a plain bagel out of the bag.

“How was your trip?” He asked as he put cream cheese on the bagel.

“Good, just visited some old veteran friends of mine. What’d you do with your time alone?” Sam put his own cream cheese on the outside of a bagel.

Heathen.

“I just walked around the compound. I read a lot,” Bucky shrugged, fighting into the mass-produced bread.

“What’d you read?”

“Just whatever I could. The (Y/N) (L/N) library is huge, I could spend forever in there.”

When two moments passed and Sam hadn’t pressed anymore into Bucky’s weekend, Bucky looked up.

Sam’s gaze was stuck staring at his bagel, frozen in his hands.

“She really loved reading, ya know,” Sam said quietly. “When she…Tony dedicated a whole library to her. Not many people use it, but I think she’d be glad someone was.”

Sam finally looked up and Bucky was taken aback to see tears in his eyes.

“Who was she?” Bucky asked in a hushed tone. “I can’t find anything about her. It’s all restricted.”

“She,” Sam said, looking past Bucky and out the window. “Was the Avengers’ biggest regret.”

***

Sam was uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the day, cleaning in silence alongside Bucky. The silence was only broken when Tony’s voice rang through eh compound.

“We’re back early. Come say hello.”

Buck and Sam made their ways to the common room, where Bucky immediately Embraced Steve.

“All good?” He asked quietly.

“All good, Buck. Everything was in order.”

Bucky nodded in satisfaction and turned to give his greetings to everyone else. Sam started a chicken dish in the kitchen while everyone else cleaned up.

When everyone was seated, Bucky brought it up again.

“Who’s (Y/N) (L/N)?” He asked, cutting into a quick recap of the mission.

Tony and Steve stared at him while Nat and Wanda shared a look. Bruce got a faraway look and Steve refused to meet his eye.

“I think it’s fair I know. I want to know what you know.”

A beat.

“She was on the team,” Steve finally said. “She was one of the best assets we had and she slipped through our fingers.”

“She died?” Bucky asked bluntly.

“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, not being as smug as he usually was. “She was a double agent.”

“Then why dedicate a library to her?” Bucky narrowed his eyes.

Tony shrugged again and Sam put his head in his hands.

“Because she was a good person,” Natasha said in a hushed tone. “And even if she was working for the enemy the whole time, that would never change.”

“Wait,” Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “So she was playing you, but you still honor her? If she was-“

“Damnit, Bucky,” Steve nearly cried, putting his head in his hands. “In the end, she played for us. No matter what she was doing behind our backs fro the enemy, she gave her life for us.”

Oh.

“Listen,” Tony said, his voice deep and gravelly. “She was the best goddamn member of this team. And we mourn her every day. That’s the end of the story.”

***

Bucky was sitting alone in his room reading when he heard a knock. Assuming he was Steve he put his book down.

“Come in,” he called, sitting up straighter and preparing himself for a reprimanding.

“Hey,” a soft voice called, the misery girl carefully opening his door. “Can I come in?”

“Oh.” Bucky’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, sure, of course. How can I help you?”

Bucky sat on his bed and watched as she delicately placed herself on his window seat.

“I uh…feel like I should explain myself.”

Bucky waited for her to continue.

“I’m not used to people seeing me, you see,” she said, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “People typically…pass by. I exist in a separate plane of this dimension…I guess all your time in the cryo made you different.”

“Who are you?” Bucky finally asked. “Am I the only one who can see you?”

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know about everyone in the whole world. But you’re the only person I’ve met that can see me.”

Miserable.

“I’m (Y/N),” she looked at him. “I heard you talking about me at dinner…I’m sorry I never told you but….”

“You were afraid I would judge you.”

“Guilty,” (Y/N) raised her hands. “And you treated me so kindly…I remember the last interactions I had with everyone were so…cold.”

Bucky saw her tearing up.

“I played them all,” she spoke honestly, her eyes staring into his soul. “I didn’t work with either side, I was impartial and when it came to it, I made the final decision to do what I thought was right.”

Bucky recognized the look in her eyes. She wanted validation that she wasn’t a bad person, that she didn’t do something so terrible that could never be forgiven.

“I understand, doll.”

A silent understanding passed through the two of them and Bucky felt a weight lift off his chest.

“Here,” she pulled a notebook from behind her back. “This will tell you what you want to know.”

***

Bucky read the whole book in two hours, (Y/N) left shortly after giving it to him and disappeared to who knows where.

Now, Bucky was pounding on Steve’s door at who knows what time, the book clutched tightly in his left hand, his ears straining to hear Steve on the other side.

“What,” Steve groaned, flinging the door open and rubbing his face.

“I know what happened to (Y/N),” Bucky heaved, shoving the book into Steve’s chest. “I don’t think she’s dead and I think we can get her back.”

Bucky and Steve ran through the halls to Tony’s room, banging on his door much alike to the way Bucky had with Steve.

“Tony get up right now this is serious.”

“If someone isn’t dying,” Tony said with a monotonous voice. “I will be kicking you off my property forever.”

“It’s (Y/N),” Steve held the book up.

“Who?” Sam called from down the hallway, having been awoken by the sounds of running feet.

“(Y/N)?” Tony asked, taking the book back.

“Read the last page,” Bucky suggested.

There was a short silence before Tony looked at the two men.

“Where did you get this.”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Bucky put his hands up. “But she gave it to me. I can see her, well, sometimes, sometimes I don’t know where she is. At first, I just thought she was an agent or something, but we had breakfast together-“

“Barnes!” Sam barked. “She gave it to you. So what do we do now?”

“We call Dr. Strange.”

***

By the time Stephen had showed up, everyone else had been woken up for what might be the revival of a dear teammate.

Everyone gathered in the living room, squishing onto couches and counters alike.

“This is…all theoretical,” Strange sighed, casting a glance at the very hopeful looking team. “There’s no way she can prove what she claims.”

“Explain it again, please,” Wanda said.

“Her journal insinuates that whatever she was hit with was supposedly an infinity stone,” Bruce explained.

“A what?” Natasha cut in. “What’s an infinity stone?”

“We’re not sure, but,” Tony hopped off the counter he was sitting on. “The way (Y/N) explains it, in true (Y/N) fashion ‘it’s a soul keeper, dumbasses.’”

“And she’s stuck in there?” Sam asked.

“No,” Bucky cut in. “Not quite. She’s stuck I a ‘different plane’ she said.”

“Right, because you can see her,” Strange nodded. “This is all very hypothetical and never been actually proven-“

“Does it matter?” Steve shouted, slamming his hand on the table. “This is our chance to get her back? To apologize and to hear her side of the story and you want to let hypotheticals get in the way?”

Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder but the tempers all around the room were rising.

“I can try,” Strange amended. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

“Go on then,” Natasha nodded, pushing the couch against the wall. “Try.”

Strange rolled his eyes but made movements for everyone to back up anyway. His hands whirled in circles, opening a portal, the ring unlike any other he had conjured before. It grew, giving the room an orangish hue, a spitting image of their common room and the other side. Voice, footsteps, and then-

Nothing. There was no one. The portal held for three minutes and then faded.

“As I said,” Stephen shrugged. “It was all hypothetical.” And he opened his own portal and walked away.

***

Bucky lay awake and stared at the wall.

“Do they miss me?” He heard (Y/N)’s voice.

He turned over in his bed and saw her leaning against his headboard. He pulled himself up and sat next to her, both of them staring at his closed door.

“Yes.”

Silence.

“I didn’t expect you to try and bring me back.”

The air grew thick.

“You deserve your redemption, doll,” Bucky sighed, putting his metal hand over her abnormally cold one. “Even though you already have it.”

“Do they forgive me?” She asked, turning to him. “Honestly, do they?”

Bucky stared into her (E/C) eyes, watching her battle herself. “Of course they do.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I want to see them.”

Oh.

“Yeah, of course. I think Steve is still up.”

If Bucky was the only one who could see her, he was sure she avoided them. He didn’t think he could bear to watch everyone carry one without seeing him.

Steve was huddled in the window seat and Bucky lead (Y/N) to him.

“Steve,” she said quietly.

“Steve,” Bucky reiterated.

“Buck,” Steve curtly replied.

“(Y/N)’s here,” Bucky said.

Steve turned to look at Bucky but didn’t see anyone else in the room. (Y/N) grabbed Bucky’s hand, squeezed it, then moved to the side of Steve.

“Tell him I’m on his left.”

“She’s on your left.”

Steve’s face split into a beaming smile, his head turning slightly to his left, trying to see what Bucky could see.

“Hi, (Y/N).”

“Hi, Steve.”

“She says ‘Hi, Steve.’”

***

Bucky took her around the compound and held conversations for her. It helped both of them grow and Bucky found himself getting very close to the team.

“Bucky, is (Y/N) here?” Tony poked his head into Bucky’s room.

“No,” Bucky placed his book down. “She went for a walk. Would you like me to call her?”

“No,” Tony stepped into the room. “I just wanted to say thank you. Even if we can’t have her back…it’s good to know someone is looking out for her.”

Bucky smiled.

A sad smile.

“If I could get her back, I would in a heartbeat, Tony.”

“I know, Frosty. I appreciate it.”

***

“I have an idea,” (Y/N) whispered as she lay next to Bucky one night.

“Oh?” He turned to her. “And that is?”

“I want to try one more time. I love you, Bucky-“

-his heart skipped a beat-

“-you’re really my only friend-“

-ouch-

“-but I miss them so much.”

Bucky nodded. He understood.

“You want to try again?” He presumed.

“Just once. Please?”

How could he say no?

***

“I’m only going to do this one more time,” Stephen rolled his eyes.

“(Y/N) wasn’t here last time,” Bucky said. “But she’s here now, it will be different.”

And it would be, Bucky knew it would be.

Everyone stood with bated breath as the portal opened.

The toes of a sock peeked through. Then an ankle, a shin, a knee. (Y/N)’s head leaning through and she heaved the rest of her body into the common room.

“Holy shit,” Strange said, the portal behind her closing.

The team stared at her for a long moment before there were cries and (Y/N) was being passed around the room in hugs and temple kisses. Tears were being shed left and right, Bucky couldn’t remember seeing Natasha so emotional.

“Bucky,” (Y/N) finally got to him. “Hi.”

They smiled at each other.

“Hi,” he said, pushing a hair behind her ear.

“It’s nice to meet you,” (Y/N) joking stuck out her hand for him to shake.

“You as well, doll.”

Her hand was warm.

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