#thought about giffing the conversation but it's too much and you can't really break it up

[normalbrothers]

TOMMY: Polly, I want what you want.

[fangisms]

hiii i loved „spring breaks loose”!!🤍 could i request another something for theodore, where the reader is quite bubbly and loves talking and he, the quiet guy he is, just likes to listen? and maybe the reader is worried that she talks too much and it could be annoying to him but he’s just so in love that he’s obsessed with all her rabling😭😭 sorry if thats too specific

darling socialite

A/N: um i love this because if someone let me chat their ear off, i would fall in love. i love a chatter and i love a listener 🩷 gif creds: @perfectlyfuckingcivils

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are talkative as all hell, and Theo has dubbed himself your devoted listener. 1.3k words

Warnings: i be cursing, fluff, mild self-consciousness, two dummies in LOVE, mattheo being a perv (boy moment), kissing…, pansy being a slight bitch (lovingly)

Everyday, you look forward to telling Theo anything and everything. Sometimes, you'll get so excited to tell him something that you'll jot it down on the nearest surface. Most of the time, that surface is your hand. Who can blame you; you can't resist the gory details.

Everyday, Theo looks forward to hearing anything and everything from you. You're his favorite news source, his sweetest messenger, his darling socialite, and he is your devoted subscriber. He's worried one day you'll run out of things to tell him, but according to the ink splotches across your skin, there's a slim chance that'll happen.

"Hi, teddy!" you chirp, and he turns to welcome you into the seat beside him. "You will not believe what I saw in the courtyard on my way here: a willow tit!"

Mattheo chokes on a gulp of juice, sputtering in his seat and looking over at you. "Pardon?"

"Don't be crude, Matty. I'm talking about birds."

"Yeah, I got that, I just never realized you’re playing for the other team—"

"Mattheo!" you holler, glaring at him in utter disbelief, "you complete idiot! Birds, as in real birds. As in those things that fly around and chirp and eat berries!"

"Let me get this straight, we're not talking about some bird's tits? Suddenly, I'm uninterested," he says, earning a pointed glare from Theo.

"Anyway," you say, rolling your eyes and facing Theo, "You hardly see them anymore, they're very rare, but I saw one, and it was the cutest creature I've ever seen on campus! It was so round, I could have died. He must've liked all the rain we got over the weekend. I hope he survives the winter and has lots of little tit babies in the spring!"

Theo could not be more head over heels for you while you babble about round tits and babies. He thinks if he ever opens his mouth to respond, he’ll screw it up in an instant. Thank Merlin, he's naturally quiet and content to listen to you all day. And thank Merlin, you never ask for anything more from him.

If only you knew how much he truly adores you and your ramblings. He holds your company in his highest regard and considers every time you choose him a blessing.

You never think too much of Theo's tight-lippedness. You figure if he was completely sick of it, he'd just get up and walk away. Or maybe that's not like him, and maybe you are a bother.

It doesn't help when Pansy skips up to you in the hall and says, "I'm really impressed you're able to hold Theo's attention as long as you do."

"What are you talking about, P?" you say.

"Well... don't you ever worry he's, like... bored with you? I mean, when was the last time he actually contributed to your 'conversations'. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, you know?" —she shrugs it off like it's not an unforgivable curse to the gut—"If I were you, I'd find a more attentive playmate. You can always talk to me!"

"Thanks, Pansy," you say.

"Just looking out for a friend! See ya!"

You nod and wait by the bottom of the stairs as she hops her way up. You didn't think you were getting your hopes up, necessarily. You thought Theo was just a good listener. And sure, he's not super responsive, but he's just shy. That's not his fault.

…

There's a rapping of knuckles at the door, and Mattheo hurdles his bed and reaches for the knob.

"Why, good evening, dearest birdwatcher"—Theo perks up from where he's rifling through his trunk.

"I could say the same to you, perv," you tease, "Is Theo around? I need—"

"To talk to him? Figures. He's just hiding his softcore stash—"

"Shut up!" Theo hollers, popping up and hurrying to the door, a little flushed to find you looking at him, "he's just joking."

Mattheo chuckles, "No, he's right, Theo would never have so much fun"—he dodges the jab to his side—"Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds to your tits and whatnot. Try not to make too much noise, we have downstairs neighbors." He winks and makes his way down the boys dormitories stairwell.

And suddenly, Theo can't remember the last time he was truly alone with you. No onlookers or eavesdroppers, no Pansy and no Mattheo. Just the two of you. His sweaty palms and your rapid heartbeat.

"I need to ask you something," you finally blurt. He looked so nervous you thought he might throw up over the railing, so you put him out of his misery before he has the chance.

"Yes, yeah, anything," he huffs.

"Well," you say, "I was thinking—just... ruminating, really, because it was suggested that I bore you with my chattiness"—you cross your arms over your chest and look to the floor—"and not that I'm begging for pity or even a response, I just wanted to know how you feel because I realized maybe I don't ask about you enough. You know, like I'm always worried about me, or something, but I do worry about you, too! I just wasn't sure if that's something—if you maybe wanted to talk about it more. Because I can be a good listener! I'd be happy to hear whatever you have to say!"

Theo leans his shoulder against the doorframe, adjusting the bottom of his sweater as it clings to his hips. How could he let you believe you're too much for him. How could he let you believe yourself to be some kind of social burden to him. All because he'd much rather listen to you than contribute his own two cents.

"See! Merlin, even now, I've just talked your ear off while trying to apologize for constantly talking your ear off! And I haven't even apologized, yet! I'm so sorry, Theo, I know it's a problem, and I didn't mean to take advantage of your politeness."

You scuff your sole on the landing with a whine, and he leans to the side to watch you look over the edge. It's so quiet for a moment, he can hear your soft breathing if he focuses on it.

"It's not a problem," Theo says. You look over, lips parted at the smug look on his face. "And if I was the one who suggested otherwise, I couldn't be more apologetic."

It makes you smile. He's just said two very thoughtful things to you. Out loud. To your face. You could crumble.

"No! No, teddy, it wasn't you, it was... doesn't matter. You really don't mind?"

He shakes his head, a little amused, honestly. How could he mind? You’re the greatest thing since dark chocolate, and he’d still give that up. You’d go just as well with his afternoon tea.

“Well, then,” you huff, warmer under his gaze, determined to get this damned apology across.

“Alright,” Theo says. Apology accepted. Apology not even necessary. But still accepted.

“Okay. But next time you catch me rambling, you better just shut me up! Tell me to ‘shush’ or something! It’s a problem, and I give you full permission to—”

He kisses you. He leans down, smug with his fingers under your chin, and he kisses you! Shuts you right up like you’re still some gullible first year completely wooed by his boyish charms! Oh, but he’s kissing you very sweetly. And when your knees go a tad wobbly, he rushes to cradle your elbow.

“Like that?” he says.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, Theodore. You should be completely ashamed of yourself for ever thinkin—”

He kisses you again. More sure and much quicker. Like a reflex. A knee jerk reaction without the kneeing or the jerking. Just his stupidly soft lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “that works… but you can’t just kiss me every time you want to shut me up.”

“No”—he pecks your lips, fingers gentle at your cheek—“I plan on kissing you much more often than that.”

masterlist

[laenordeservedbetter]

For Sam x reader.

Ghostface is back and had followed the Carpenters, the twins, and Amber's older sister, Reader, to New York. No one trusting her because of the fact that her little sister was Ghostface, Reader is in disbelief, and Sam breaks up with her on the spot. Fast forward to the end, where Ghostface is dead, everyone's being treated by paramedics, Reader is seen walking away from the scene alone. Kirby asks where she is, Sam then sees her walking away, holding her broken arm to her body, and runs after her and apologies for not trusting and believing her. (Reader saying it's too late for sam to apologize. She then walks away from her friends, from Sam.)

You're Somebody Else

Words: 1.4k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Freeman!Reader

Synopsis: You were told that the biggest betrayal comes from the people you care about the most, but never did you expect it to hurt so much.

Warnings: scream vi spoilers, violence, spitting, cussing, angst, no happy ending. lmk if I missed any.

A/N: I wrote this at a coffee shop. I'm still here rn, so we'll see how many fics I can post before I go home. (This will probably be the only one)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

You stood before Amber’s Ghostface outfit, reaching out to touch the fabric before you remembered where you were -- who you’re with. The glares given to you by the rest of the group burned at the back of your skull. You can practically sense their judgments. Since the first Ghostface attack in New York, they pointed their fingers at you. You understood, given what you've all been through. Can't be too careful. You didn’t care that you saw the contempt on your own girlfriend’s face. You stayed by her side, understanding where she was coming from.

Being related to a previous Ghostface was something you and Sam had in common. When you are linked to a person with that track record, it sticks with you even if you are different from them. Trust becomes hard to give. And out of everyone, you figured your girlfriend is the one who understood the most about what it’s like. However, it looks like the sentiment isn’t shared.

She approaches you, getting the courage to ask, “Can we talk?”

You can tell what’s about to happen before Sam can utter what she wants to say to you.

Nothing good ever comes out of conversations like these.

“I’m sorry.” Sam stares, her gaze cold, nothing like the Sam you fell in love with. With each deafening step she takes away from you, your heart shatters just a little bit more. You are wounded by the way she’s looking at you. Any wound or injury you might sustain in the next few minutes will not compare to the poison laced in the invisible knife held against your throat by the woman you love. “I can’t take any more chances. I can’t trust you. We’re done.”

You scoff, glancing towards the group in hopes that they would back up your claim. “Sam, you know me. I would never hurt you or Tara or. . . Anika.”

Mindy flinches at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. Her stare hardens. “You have no right to say her name. We know you did it. You killed her.”

“Mindy…” Your voice breaks as your throat feels like it’s closing up. You can’t do anything to convince them, letting the stream of tears flow from your eyes. No one came to your rescue to prove your innocence. None of them trusted you. You felt pathetic, humiliated, embarrassed. Your eyes settle on Sam again. “Really? After everything we’ve been through together, you-”

Sam glowers. “It’s over, Y/n. Please, stay away from us.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your back, the hurt in your tone clear as day. “I don’t know you at all.”

“Maybe we didn’t know each other as well as we thought.”

It was one thing for you to walk away and another knowing that Sam would not be going after you.

-

“It was easy luring you away from the group. Guess we really can’t choose our family, huh?” Ghostface makes a tsk sound, the voice changer turned off.

He takes a step forward, but you stay positioned adjacent to the wall. That voice…

“Ethan?”

Ethan removes his mask, holding the voice changer to his lips, “Didn’t expect that?”

Of course it was him. Little by little, the pieces fall into place. The apartment attack -- that was probably Ethan. He wasn’t with the group. Not even the skeptic Mindy questioned his whereabouts. Your tears haven’t dried yet and you were as sure as hell they weren’t going to stop now. You bring your hands together in a slow clap. “Oh, wow, that’s… Fucking brilliant, actually.” Clutching your stomach, you let out what sounded like a painful cackle. “This is the part where I die.” You say. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Oh no, no, no. See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Ethan smirks, gripping your left arm, applying pressure to where you had been previously injured a couple nights prior. “You are our scapegoat. I must give credit to Mindy for the idea. You have the perfect motive to be Ghostface! It was just gonna be Sam, but… The press would go crazier if it was a Bonnie & Clyde situation. Not that I care about that sorta stuff. It just works.”

You collect the saliva from your mouth, spitting in his eye. “Jokes on you ‘cause we’re not together anymore.”

“But they wouldn’t know that because by the time you get ‘caught’, all of your friends will be dead and you would look like the asshole trying to save yourself if you attempt to say the truth.”

Ethan places his free hand on your shoulder, pulling your arm with more force than necessary to guarantee that it would break. You stand there, biting your lip in order to hide the pain. If I screamed, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway, you said to yourself bitterly. There’s not a single person who’d give me the benefit of the doubt. In fact, they’d make me suffer worse, believing that Ethan did the right thing. Who knows what creative scenarios he came up with already.

-

The paramedics found you slumped down beside a row of chairs after Sam and the rest of the group defeated the three Ghostfaces. They wondered why you weren’t with the others, but with a quick word from Kirby, they left you alone, guiding you outside to treat your broken arm. One of the paramedics - Theo (that’s what you heard Kirby call him) asked if you wanted a ride to the hospital. You declined, insisting that you could get there yourself without anyone’s help.

You spare Sam a glance, observing her interact with Mindy, Chad, and Tara. Core Four. Good for them. Although you were glad that they are are still extant, you can’t stop the rancor that you feel as you stare at the four. You want nothing more than for this day to be over, move to someplace else, maybe change your name. Anywhere is better than here. It’s become clear to you how unwanted you are in New York. A change of scenery might do you good.

Kirby (the only person who hasn’t treated you like scum) situates herself in front of Sam, “Hey, where’s Y/n?”

Sam only notices your absence when Kirby pointed it out. “Shit. I…” She scans the area in search of your familiar eyes, guilt eating at her knowing that she accused you of being a killer. Because of that, you got hurt. She’d never forgive herself for it. “I'll be right back.”

The blonde detective nods in understanding. “I’ll stay with Tara.”

“Thank you.”

You were on your way to the hospital when a hand grasps your injured arm. Recoiling from the touch, you look back to curse the one responsible for hurting your limb only to meet Sam’s pleading gaze. “What do you want, Samantha?”

“Y/n, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for being careless, for not trusting or believing you. If I had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Sam touches your good shoulder this time, expressing her genuine apology.

But no matter how many ‘I’m sorry’s’ she will direct at you, it won’t take away what’s been done. “It’s too late, Sam.”

“What? No. We can try again.” She pleads desperately.

You couldn’t bite back the words the words that are on the tip of your tongue, feeling the last ounce of self control fray away. “Try again? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? You broke up with me because you didn’t trust me. You didn’t even try to understand my side!” The news reporters turned their heads at your outburst. They point their cameras to you, but you don’t make an effort to cut off your ebullition short. “All of you pointed your hands at me because what? I’m the sister of a killer?! If we’re basing our suspicions of all the Ghostface’s relatives, you should’ve been on the top of the list. The only thing I asked was for you to stand by me and you failed. So, no, we can’t try again. We’ll only end up worse than where we left off.” You finish, walking away from everything (not for the first time). “I’ll get my things out of your apartment tonight. After that, you won’t have to see me again.”

Sam stays still while you leave, clutching your arm in the process. That limb will heal, but the words that Sam has spoken won’t. There will remain a constant reminder of how you were betrayed by those you would give everything for.

So much for trust.

[wrrrenff]

Breaking The Ice - Chapter 1

Attack on Titan / Shingeki No Kyojin Levi Ackerman x F! reader Synopsis: You go out with you friends to the ice skating rink. You're not really interested in ice skating but you are interested in the man sat next to you. Warning: Sexual content, P in V sex, Degradation, Spanking, Choking, 18+

Gif credits to the creator!

Skating was never really your thing. You had tried roller skating a few times and could never quite get the hang of it. Your balance has always been terrible anyhow. So when your friends asked if you wanted to come ice skating with them you were tempted to turn it down immediately. Ultimately you did end up accepting the invite since it's been a while since you've seen them and wanted to catch up. You figured you could hang out with them before and after they skate then just sit in the bleachers watching them skate and enjoy the cold air.

The day comes and you dressed really cute. What, just because you're not participating doesn't mean you can't dress up. You wore a short sleeve Peter Pan collared shirt with a black ribbon bow, a black skirt, a black and white checkered cardigan and your green lace up shoes. You thought about dressing warmer but you've always enjoyed the cold so you figured you'd be fine.

About an hour after you finish getting ready, you arrive at the skating rink. Everybody pays the admission fee then you wave to your friends as you head for the bleachers. Not many people are here today. You picked one of the many available seats and watched as your friends took to the ice. Taking out your phone, you focused on getting as many fun action shots and videos as you could. You were too distracted to realize that an older man had taken the seat right next to you.

“Which one is yours?” You jump a little before looking over at the man. He seemed to be in his late 30s, jet black hair, piercing gray eyes, and a very stoic expression. He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I figured if I don’t skate with my kids I should at least be social. Mine are those two by the wall. The taller one is Eren and the short one is Armin.” You look to where he’s pointing. You’re pretty shocked by how old his kids are.  “You look pretty young to have two teens” He smirks. “I get that a lot. My late husband and I adopted them from a pretty rough situation a while back. We both thought we would never have kids but those two busted their way into our lives.” This man had an expression of nostalgia mixed with sorrow. Before the mood could plummet too much you point to your friends. “Those three spinning around each other are mine.” You would’ve thought this man was about to have a heart attack with how shocked he looked. “You said I looked too young to have teens? You look barely twenty and you ha-” 

You burst out laughing. You couldn’t help it. He really thought you gave birth to three twenty-somethings? He crossed his arms and got defensive. “What’s so funny?” You wipe away a tear from your eye and calm down enough to speak. “I’m here with my friends, not my kids.” This poor man was trying very hard to hide his embarrassment. If you weren’t in the actual conversation with him right now you’d say he was pretty convincing. All he could muster was a quiet Oh before I put my hand on his leg to reassure him that it was fine. “I’m flattered you think I look so young!” The embarrassment started to wash away as he became more comfortable with you. “So how come you're up here talking with me instead of skating with your friends?” he questioned. “Skating has never really been my thing. Besides, why skate when all of the handsome men are off the rink.” At that, the man looked at you with a fierce gaze and licked his lips. 

“I’m Levi.” He stuck his hand out at you. You put your hand in his and shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m y/n.” You lock eyes with him for a moment before really checking him out. He’s not very tall but he seems to be built. He looked very rugged. It was really doing something to you. When you met his eyes again you realized he was checking you out as well. It sent shivers down your spine. “Listen, I’m gonna be honest here. I’m attracted to you and I can tell you’re attracted to me. We’ve got nothing but time right now. Why don’t we sneak away for a bit?” The implication of what he wanted wasn’t lost on you. Without hesitation you nodded your head. Levi took your hand and led you outside to the parking lot. You wondered which car was his. You weren’t expecting his car to be a soccer mom van. You started snickering, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound. Levi just looked at you annoyed. “It’s convenient okay.” You calmed down and he helped you into the back seat. 

Normally you’re very good about stranger danger and would never get into the van of someone you met five minutes ago. But right now you really couldn’t care less. You were gonna get dicked down or die trying. As soon as the door closed you were on him, kissing each other with a fiery passion. You both fell onto the seat, you landed on his lap basically straddling him. He grabbed you waist to stabilize you while your hands found purchase in his hair. Sloppy, impatient kisses and roaming hands made you feel like you were soaring. Levi’s hands wandered down to your ass and squeezed. You gasped, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. His exploring tongue has you moaning. You wanted more. Experimentally, you ground your hips down on him causing a filthy moan from the man under you.  You pulled away from him and locked eyes. “Need you. Now.” Levi chuckled. “So impatient, aren’t we?” You didn’t answer. Instead you bucked your hips against him again. His eyes were dilated, eyelids drooping. “On your hands and knees.”

Without a second of hesitation, you did as he commanded. Before you were fully in place, Levi lifted your skirt and pulled down your underwear. “Already so wet.” You couldn’t handle how badly you wanted him. You reached behind you to grab at his bulge but his strong hand stopped you. “So fucking needy. It’s pathetic.” He pins your arms behind your back and undoes his pants with his other hand. Without warning he slams his cock into you, pushing as deep in as possible. You both moaned at the feeling. He felt big, girthy. You only just started but you wanted release and you wanted it quick. You started bouncing on his dick before he pulled you up so that your back was against his chest and you couldn’t move against him as easily. “Such a brat. I’m the one in charge here. You’re just my hole” He smacked your ass before clamming into you with a relentless force. This angle was making it so easy for him to hit you in just the right spot. You were spitting obscenities, overwhelmed by how good he was making you feel. He was whispering words of encouragement in your ear that were stirring your core and bringing you that much closer. “You're taking me so well. Such a good slut for me.” He sped up his thrusts and brought that hand that wasn’t detaining you to choke you. Not enough to hurt but just enough to make your head spin. The pleasure was getting you much. You were getting close and Levi could tell by how tight you were getting. He let go of your arms and reached a had down in front of you and started rubbing circles on your clit. That was all you needed for the coil to snap and you came, gasping for air and spasming. Levi didn’t let up, chasing his own release and sending you into overstimulation. A moment later he was grunting in your ear, hand tightening on your throat as you felt heat filling you up. 

You both collapse onto the seat and just take a minute to collect yourself before you speak. “Fuck, I needed that.” Levi let out a breathless laugh before patting your ass gently and reaching for the paper towels sitting on his center console. Wordlessly he started cleaning you before cleaning himself and discarding the paper towels and pulling your underwear back up. As he puts his pants back on he looks at you with a calm expression. “That was great but we should head back before anyone looks for us.” He stuck out his hand to help you up and out of the van. As much as you didn’t want to go back you conceded. You both walked back to the rink in a comfortable silence. Upon entering you both looked for the people you’d originally arrived here with to find they were all still on the ice. “Here, come with me.” Before you could even realize what was happening, Levi was pulling you towards the cafe and buying you a bottle of water. You were about to protest and suggest that you pay but he spoke first. “Please, after what I just did with you, it’s the least I could do.” You swooned and took a swig from the bottle. As you both walked back to your place in the bleachers you were thinking about you didn’t want this day to end. You looked at Levi who was already staring at you. Your face darkened a bit and you quickly looked away. He smirked and brought your face back to his. “What, I can fuck your brains out and but it’s eye contact that gets you all shy?”  You chuckled nervously. “I was just thinking, I had fun. I’m pretty sure you had fun. What If we did this again.” He scoffed but there was a playful tone to it. “You really are a needy brat, huh? Here.” He hands you his phone that hand a new contact page up and ready. And just the thought of more Levi already had you daydreaming for next time.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

[valentine-writes]

Spot nation is here humbly requesting again u-u One of your recent works breifly touched on The Spot getting protective over an upset reader. Would love to read your take on expanding that concept. :^] Make it as lighthearted or serious as you like! Maybe the reader has to tell him to chill out instead. Like, we love you queen but take it easy. No worries if this isn't smthn you want to do! Loving your writing in general! Take care :>

:(

「 tws + notes: POSSIBLE FLASH WARNING FOR THE GIF BELOW THE CUT?? (jus to be safe!! idk if this is needed or not-), no tws, unedited, super silly moment from me im not in a slash srs mood 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. johnathan ohnn/the spot

author's note: AUWWHJWAB HELLO!!! u are so so polite omg thank u so much ! ^_^ i luv tha enthusiasm i've been seein from spot nation tbh!!! o((>ω< ))o i'd be happy to expand on that hc! im gon make it a little teeny tiny bit more lighthearted becuz i luv myself some silly hcs but here we go!! super duper soz if itz a bit short anon </3

▸ i think i like writing the spot as a silly lil dude who is jus tryin so so hard. but also he did work for Fucked Up Evil and Co. (alchemax is just brimming w/ all sorts of brilliant minds with horrifying ideas in the name of science. kingpin ran this shit and would not have it any other way) like he's not beyond being an absolute menace he just didn't have the means for it at the beginning of the movie. so we're gonna keep it lighthearted and silly but,,,

we're gonna keep this in mind too, yeah?

▸ you're incredibly dear to him. he's become a little more protective than he usually would be (can't have you being taken away from him! not after literally everyone else in life life ditched–) and it's just the littlest bit unhealthy.

he really does mean well! you just find yourself reminding him to dial it down a bit.

▸ especially after he's gotten a hang of using his powers?... he's got the means to keep you from harm. he may still be insecure about his appearance, but those thoughts can be (temporarily) satiated when he knows what he can do.

the power at the multiverse, in the palm of his hand

i mean. you can't expect him to not want to defend you with it.

▸ you remind him, time and time again that he really doesn't need to check up on you that frequently. in spite of this, he can't help peeking into a portal, just to check on you here and there.

"i swear to you, i'll be fine." you tell him, time and time again- and he trusts you, he really does. but it doesn't hurt to be absolutely, positively, 100% certain, right?

▸ on the days you're upset because of a particularly bad day (not specifically conflict with people, just little things or internal issues, etc, etc... the Horrors,,,,) he offers the support he knows that he'd want.

if you're a person who's obvious with their emotions, he's pretty okay with picking up the cues you're not doing fine. will start up a conversation and then awkwardly ask if you're doing okay.

it's a little more tricky if you're subtle. overtime, he learns what to look for- little signs that indicate you're not doing well- and ensures that he's straightforward in asking about how you're feeling.

and sometimes, he able to sense that something is off. there's a tension in the air neither of you want to talk about, a feeling in his bones that he can't quite shake. he dislikes this the most. mainly because it's easy to attribute this feeling to overthinking. he'll check up on how you're feeling anyways. even if it takes a while to muster the courage.

without fail, he feels his heart break a bit when you look up at him with the saddest expression he's seen on your face. your frown is almost painful to see :(

he's got a very formulaic strategy in his mind that he uses to help you deal with bad days

something like this mefinks,,,

[ step a: he starts by asking what's going on with you... ask how you're feeling and all that. if your mood is negative, he'll try to ask why and if you wanna talk about it ]

if you choose to take up the offer, go to step b. if you refuse, go to step c.

[ step b: listen! provide support, be attentive. he'll let you rant, scream about it (ok maybe not too loud though, but,, y'know. if it helps, it helps), cry- anything. if you do cry, go to step d ]

[ step c: distract!! distract, distract, distract. you got a favourite comfort show or movie? he tells you: hey, you haven't watched it in a while (even if you have), why don't we put it on? your favorite video game? he'll play with you! talk about your favorite things or talk about nothing while you grab a snack or drink. he knows avoiding stuff isn't gonna work for long term problems, but he's more than willing to cheer you up ]

[ step d: SILENTPANICSILENTPANIC... internally he's just kinda freaking out because it's hard to see you cry. he's not awful with comfort- just a little stiff, y'know? much better with distractions. but in the event of you crying: he'll rub your back, wrap his arms around you. or give you space (depending on what you need) probably goes "hey, no, no no- it's okay, it's okay-" while attempting to soothe you. gives you time to cry it out while he babbles reassurances under his breath. ]

he really does try his best (´꒳｀。)

▸ if you're beefing with someone and it's making you upset, he'll listen to you complain about them. out here nodding and agreeing with you like he was there to witness. again, he's got your back!!

(this part partially inspired by @//spdrslayr 's posts!!) in interest of cheering you up,,, you two make fun of the person.

if you're someone to openly bitch about someone and aren't afraid of getting a little mean behind someone's back,, he's making fun of them too.

of course, if you're like "noo,, but like,,, that's mean-" he's quick to remind you what they did. like they had the audacity, there's no need to be sorry.

if you're consumed by harrowing guilt anytime you're remotely rude (even behind someone's back) he'll tone the jokes down. just a little. he can be VERY a little out of pocket.

likes watching you try not to lose it, stifling laughter, as you share a moment over mutual hatred for said person

"hey– that wasn't.. that wasn't funny–" you're snicker, doing very little to hide the obvious smile on your face. he loves seeing your face brighten, the frown on it now replaced with a grin you just can't hold back

he's gonna crack jokes about them randomly too in your conversations. he's good at holding a grudge yeah,,, but at least in this case he's funny abt it. it's lowkey starting to sound like he was wronged instead of you.

▸ if someone hurts you? that's a whole other story. (hehe. whole- my bad.)

being inconsiderate, rude, and mean to you is one thing, but bringing physical harm to you?

he can't stand the idea that someone would want to harm you. it doesn't matter what happened in the events leading to it. he knows you didn't deserve it. he knows it. the minute he sees the tears stinging in your eyes,, the bruising on your body– the blood–

someone's going to have to answer for it.

(but im not talking abt him tryin to rock someone's shit becuz that would be 10x longer blehhhh :p)

[eirenical]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook | Lian Hua Lou | 莲花楼 | Episode 13

"Li Xiangyi wasn't always right. I'm older than you. I've heard a lot about him. When he was young, he was very petulant. The downfall of the Sigu Sect was partly his fault." -Li Lianhua on Li Xiangyi, Mysterious Lotus Casebook Episode 19

[Do not repost. Do not remove caption. Thank you!]

Bonus:

You know the drill (or maybe you don't if you're new? *waves*)… all my thoughts and images descriptions behind the cut:

[Above the text are five gifs depicting a mildly heated conversation between Li LIanhua and Fang Duobing from episode 13 of Mysterious Lotus Casebook. Li Lianhua has just revealed that "A-Fei" is Di Feisheng, the leader of the Jinyuan Alliance. Fang Duobing is upset and demands to know what Li Lianhua could have to do with him. Li Lianhua explains that Di Feisheng wants him to save someone, but that Li Lianhua doesn't want to save this person. Fang Duobing goes on to say that Li Lianhua shouldn't save this person, because he must be a bad person if Di Feisheng wants him saved. Li Lianhua agrees that this person is a bad person and that he won't save him, that it's more important to save Fang Duobing now. Bonus gifs show Fang Duobing protesting that he is talented and might have felt a bit funny before but he's fine now... and then promptly passes out. Li Lianhua rushes to his side.]

First of all, the entirely of episode 13 drove me completely feral in so many ways I still can't put it concisely into words. But the core of it sits right here in this exchange. There is so much evidence in the first 12 episodes that Li Lianhua doesn't really care if he lives or dies or, at the very least, that he's resigned himself to dying, but this is the first time we see him say outright that not only doesn't he care if he dies, but that he, in fact, WANTS to die.

"He asked me to promise him to save someone. [...] There are people in this world who can only be saved by me. Unfortunately, I don't want to save them."

After this episode, we know that there is only one person that Di Feisheng wants to save. And that's Li Xiangyi. And here he is admitting out loud that he doesn't want to be saved. That he wants to die. And moments later, he agrees with Fang Duobing that this person Di Feisheng wants saved is a bad person. That he is a bad person. And you can see it in his face that he wholeheartedly believes it. He's said as much before. Every time he talks to Fang Duobing about Li Xiangyi, he paints him in the worst light possible. Everyone else gets the benefit of the doubt in his stories, except himself.

His self esteem is in the toilet, he blames himself for most of the things that went wrong 10 years ago, and he actively wants to die.

And that paints Di Feisheng's desperate need to save his life and Fang Duobing's equally desperate need to save Li Xiangyi's character and legacy in such a poignant light. They both want to save him in their own ways, but Li Lianhua is right: the only person who CAN save him is himself. Because without that will to live, without that willingness to forgive himself, then no matter what either of them does, he isn't going to go along with it.

But the thing that really truly breaks me in all this is that IT STARTS TO WORK.

Just a few episodes after this, Di Feisheng steps in to save his secret identity, all but begging Li Lianhua to let him help, and Li Lianhua AGREES. And in the aftermath, when he's suffering, Di Feisheng steps in to feed him spiritual energy to heal him in whatever small way he can against the poison and Li Lianhua allows that, too. And you can see in so many of these little ways that his attitude is starting to shift, just a little. That maybe he's starting to entertain the idea that he could live. Because Di Feishing has enough will to live for both of them and he's not afraid to keep applying it like a baseball bad against Li Lianhua's suicidal ideation.

And then we have Fang Duobing. The quote below the gifset is from episode 19, and once again we have Li Lianhua tearing down Li XIangyi's character. But Fang Duobing isn't going to stand for that.

FDB: Someone said that to me before, but I've studied him. He should be proud of himself! LLH: There's a fine line between proud and arrogant. "Arrogant" is not a good word. FDB: He was proud because he had faith. Faith is a great word. No one is perfect. Neither was he. There are shadows wherever there is light. Yes. Maybe Li Xiangyi was too proud. But he established the Sigu Sect to make the jianghu a better place where the strong didn't prey on the weak. Look at those guys. They're just a bunch of selfish posers! LLH: If Li Xiangyi knew that someone could understand him so well ten years later, he'd be very glad.

He ALSO has enough faith for both of them. Li Xiangyi would be very glad... and Li Lianhua is very glad. You can see him in that moment, testing his weight against the possibility that maybe, just maybe, even though he wasn't perfect, he wasn't as bad as he believed himself to be. Maybe there was some good in him. Maybe it wasn't all in vain. Maybe he does deserve at least a little forgiveness.

And that push and pull between Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing should, by all rights, be acting like a tug of war to pull Li Lianhua apart. But it doesn't. It's pulling them all forward. Towards healing. Especially Li Lianhua. And he's not there yet. It's still going to take time. But the seeds of it are being planted. And we have so many more episodes still to go and I have no doubt things will go pear-shaped at some point, but to go from this *points up at gifset* to tentative healing in a matter of 6 episodes? That's huge. And I'm so happy he has them both. TT^TT

[radiocity]

honestly, what's your take on the l word? atp i can't tell if it's just shit but i'm too far along to stop. the 5th and 6th seasons seem to be done in a complete different tone too and there's so many problematic aspects just slapped in for unecessary drama. still.. i like the main characters a lot and it is representation at the end of the day. Maybe it would've been cooler if they just did more of a 'slice of life' thing instead of 'drama rama cheating on people is like a slip of the hand thing due to the strong nuclear force'

anyway interested in your take, what do you think are the well- and badly- handled aspects of the show, how do you reflect on the story and character building?

stay cool out there (◕‿◕)♡

MY TAKE ON THE L WORD? getting this ask made me so excited you have no idea how much I love talking about the l word. So excited in fact that I wrote 6165 words about it, sorry, I am so severely unemployed right now. here, I talk about my thoughts, some theory, and then break down some of the intrinsic problems with the show, specifically how it thinks about gender and nonconformity, race, and transgender identities, within the scaffolding of it being a show concerned with women who have relationships with other women, rather than necessarily a truth of lesbianism. i’m citing various linked sources and very loosely using an academic approach, but it’s more like a messy collage of sources than it is a fully fleshed out argument and narrative! if you want the tl;dr, I’d recommend scrolling to the final 3 paragraphs

tbh I haven’t watched it in a while but I really want to rewatch the whole thing and go back to my gif series instead of just making random sets (don’t be put off by my absence its bc I was doing my master’s degree and then I got really sick) and maybe thinking so intensely about tlw these past 3 days will inspire me into it .

I’d be really interested in hearing any thoughts on response to any of this, even though it’s not particularly well written or formulated, so feel free to drop a message/reply/response anywhere if u or anyone else is compelled to. anyway response under the cut ->

so, my opening thoughts on the l word revolve around two things: there is nothing about this show that makes it an inherently lesbian show, and that it functions as a product of its time, not in culture but in Hollywood and show running. the imagined audience of TLW isn’t necessarily the modern ‘sapphic’ audience watching things like First Kill (2022), Do Revenge (2022), or Crush (2022) which are all, generally, pointed towards a younger audience seeking things like validation and romantic projection (from what I understand, and I’ll admit I haven’t watched any of these! But I have read synopsis and seen clips, so I’ll watch soon I promise). I do think this conversation has re-emerged a little in the growing conversations about wanting sexy lesbians having sex, which is a conversation that surrounded Love Lies Bleeding (LLB, 2024) for quite a while, repeating this argument that what lesbians want isn’t romance or tension, but sex, real sex, sex on screen and sex on TV. of course, it’s a little difficult for showrunners to ‘do’ sex or sexual content without it being so brazenly for men – and here I’ll step out and say when, in this context, I discuss women being looked at and ‘male gaze’, it’s more under the original theory of laura mulvey that women are objectified by the camera as men are in control of production, and here I’ll link the article (it’s very short, but I refer largely here to section B) – and to equally appeal to women looking at women but who are, equally not free from patriarchal understandings of the ‘correct’ and ‘incorrect’ ways of being attracted to women. I feel a good example of how we saw this was the big tiktok-wide discussion about sapphic cottage-core as an equally white endeavour, a sort of softcore launching of racist white American ideals of frolicking on a plantation. For showrunners to produce sexual lesbian content now, it needs to contend with who will be doing its marketing for them, i.e. a lot of people on tiktok talking about how LLB is for the ‘lesbian gaze’, whatever that means, or that these things are perhaps attractive to men in general, but are specifically geared to being attractive to lesbians specifically. Actually candace Moore, in a really brilliant article (and if u want access and don’t have it… just let me know) describes, through gaze theory, the notion of the straight viewer as a “tourist” and the “traveller”. Here:

Problematizing a distinction between the tourist, who "gladly or unknowingly accepts Disneyland's versions of the world's wonders," and the traveler, who "seeks and knows how to recognize authenticity," Strain argues that perhaps these archetypes are, if not one and the same, both victims to the notion that there is an "authenticity" available to be misrecognized, or grasped, in the first place. (10) But what of the lesbian viewer? (11) At first glance it would seem that the lesbian viewer falls outside of the already-tenuous tourist and traveler distinction, being a "local" intimately familiar with this culture. However, insofar as lesbian spectators are consuming mediated images of themselves, I argue that not only do straight audiences engage in a form of tourism when viewing the The L Word, but lesbian audiences, even those from Southern California, do too. The distinction between the tourist, the traveler, and, in this case, the local-as-consumer becomes blurred. Locals drawn to the latest "lesbian attraction," lesbians enjoy The L Word's eye candy along with straight "tourists." Like straight "travelers," they seek to identify albeit illusory "authentic" elements of the representation. However, for the queer viewer, the mediated reality of the show will never match up to reality. While the tourist and the traveler of The L Word are at base one and the same, the distinction between them lies not in what they are, but what they think they are; how they conceive of their own intentions, levels of "expertise," relationships to the local culture, and the "gains" that they take away--whether they travel for pleasure or for knowledge. It is through the enticement of lesbian sex (a spectacle of attraction for straight and queer viewers alike) and through the wonderment of either "understanding" the other or "recognizing" oneself (fantasy of authenticity), through both "watching from a remove" and "being there," that The L Word captivates its straight and queer tourists.

Pulling away from the academic angle, I don’t agree with the idea of LLB being for a lesbian gaze, nor do I think that TLW was ‘for’ lesbians more than it was ‘enjoyed’ by lesbians – a show that can hit as many audiences at once is a good thing. dennis cass for the slade in 2004 wrote that the L word “often feels like it’s not about being gay at all” and that a lot of what the show presents is pretty removed from any lesbian experience as we know it, additionally writing on bette and tina’s marriage counselling that they “aren’t merely in couples therapy, they’re seeing one of L.A.’s hottest personal gurus—that you not only forget they’re lesbians, but that they live on Earth.” A pretty accurate read for how removed a lot of TLW is from anything, and, to me, sort of bypasses any notion of ‘representation’ by just how fantastical it is. ginia bellafante also wrote in 2009, after s6 aired, that “’The L Word’ is a Sapphic Playboy fantasia in which women with wrinkles or squishy thighs or an aversion to lingerie appear to have been flagged down on the freeway with urgent instructions to move to Seattle”. basically, yeah

TLW itself is very clearly appealing to its heterosexual audiences at the same time it appeals to lesbians, even through the same mechanisms – the character’s conventional attractiveness, their skinniness, their lack of bras and how you can 9/10 times see their nipples through their shirts, and all the lesbian sex shown in as much detail as they could get away with – and that is the core driving force of the show in a lot of ways. we can’t really have another TLW today for the same reasons that all media from the early 2000s has shifted to give women more complex characters, arcs, appearances, and functions – and that’s a good thing, obviously – which in turn demonstrates the lack of these things the characters in TLW actually had. At its core, it’s sexy and men are the people behind the companies getting it on TV, not necessarily specific men but the shadow of patriarchy and how women exist on the screen. This isn’t to say media creation and output has become a liberal utopia for women’s rights, but rather there has definitely been a shift in how women exist on screen and what roles they were given before – think easy fast and furious, or megan fox in transformers, or even how very popular musicians styled themselves and appeared to the massive; Shakira, Jennifer lopez, Britney spears, etc – which, to me, reflects a way in which TLW capitalises off the straight heteropatriarchy in its desire to show sexy women at all times, always available to be ogled. in a way, this sorta aligns with bellafante’s observation that the show had ‘never aligned itself with the traditionalist ambitions of a large faction of the gay rights movement’ (written in 2009, 6 years before gay marriage was legalised in the us) – the liberator in the l word is sex, and that’s what all the characters are constantly aiming for, nothing else. Similarly, the show gets so obsessed with defining who or what a lesbian is (throughout the whole of s1 as they look for signs of lesbianism in jenny, with jenny at that party, or with dana talking about her ‘gaydar’, and so by doing this it turns lesbianism into a visual brand, something that be hidden in plain sight, appeasing both the hetrosexual viewer and the lesbian seeker - Martina Ladendorf describes a branding of lesbian identities through TLW in a form of “thingification”, and so “the representations of lesbian identities are discursively displaced and the identity position “lesbian” is partially filled with new meanings in the televised text of The L-word.”  Ladendorf offers a far more generous reading than I do – to me, a lot of TLW needs to extrapolate lesbians from their womanhood and vice versa, creating a sort of woman who is a lesbian, rather than, simply, a lesbian

naturally, the l word is inherently a misogynist show , and in a lot of ways I think it’s unavoidable to think about when it comes to discussing schematics or opinions of the show, it’s a show full of, in the words of liz feldman in this interview, ‘beautiful lesbians with just nothing but time on their hands… and just somehow also money’. Obviously, the stereotypes the show puts forwards make it feel pretty cheap at time, and when the show ventures out into attempting to either tackle or just include plotlines about poverty, racism, transphobia, infidelity, (or plotlines it totally avoids, like conversations on butchness, gender non-conformity, or transfemininity), it honestly just gets stranger and stranger, not to mention the very active racism present in the show, via how pam grier’s character was written, handled, and expanded upon when she was by far one of the most skilled and seasoned actors on the show. a lot of issues I and other people have are through this lens, and hence why a lot of the pushback focuses on how little was understood about trans people in mainstream media back then, or how the show was just such a landmark moment that it was purely reflective of the times so it’s just nit-picking to be pointing out all its negative parts, which isn’t a sentiment I agree with at all, and instead I think of the l word as being both progressive and problematic for these reasons. Even as an addition, I feel like TLW is why we just don’t really need more tv shows like the L word… because we have the L word, and it’d be nice if we could have something different

so, when I talk about and recommend the l word I usually put it in these terms: season 1 is a phenomenal piece of storytelling and such a compelling way to create and introduce a show all about lesbianism to a world that is not filled with parallel lesbians, but rather is the only show on air in the world doing that exactly, and, following that, season 4 gets a little art deco and experimental as it pushes its characters through new, meaningful struggle, like tasha working in the military under ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ (fuck the army though), max living his new reality as a trans man (yeah it was dealt with horribly), bette dating jodi and this inviting so much conversation about art, disability, and deafness into the mix, and, in other ways, jenny and tina working together on her show, helena’s… gambling addiction or whatever, kit’s nonsense relationship shane’s nonsensical relationship. Imo these two seasons show the best of what the L word has to offer, which is, in S1, a sensitive introduction that pushes jenny through the wringer as she really becomes herself and takes hold of her destiny, and then in S4, these characters all essentially performing at their apex, in love, making mistakes, trying again, to the best of the l word’s ability to show any of this (relatively speaking, it’s the best TLW ever gets)

with all this in mind, I do think the show thrives in really profound ways at times. The real hook of it is, and always has been, season 1, which is just this ferociously strong exploration in television about such a serious sensitive topic, jenny’s coming out. a lot of criticism sort of facetiously responds to jenny’s character by focusing on her writing quality (which I honestly thought was fine lol!), and will ignore sincerely engaging with her in favour of laughing at how bad her character became as the writer’s lost the plot more and more, but I really do think that jenny in the first two seasons was just phenomenal, and mia kirshner’s fantastic meditative performance just stole the entire show for me. In season 1 as we are introduced to the show and their world through jenny’s process of coming out and ripping her life apart at the seams to live her ideal life (even if it was very explosive with marina and didn’t end well), which I just thought was such captivating writing about that moment of choice, where a character has to decide whether or not they’ll live their easy life or do the difficult thing. one of the scenes I have always come back to is in s1 where jenny has sex with tim and cries afterwards because that moment for her is the one where she realises she just can’t do it anymore, and seeing that in the show was just really otherworldly for me, I loved it and I thought it was amazing, and then later on in season 2 where jenny asks shane to cut her hair for her – a real splitting off from her regular, comfortable life, to ‘become’ a lesbian in heart and soul, was again just another moment where the writing and directing teams could really show some muscle in just how good the show could be, before dropping all presences and going back to whatever drivel they’d been doing. As a more technical note on the show, the inconsistent directors and writing is really hilarious, and sometimes the drop in quality between episodes is… staggering, to say the least

tbh s1 functions well as a drama-comedy mix because those scenes, as well as tina and bette’s fertility journey, is spliced within the rest of the nonsense going on, which I felt crafted this really enjoyable diametric swing throughout . arguably more than anything, jenny’s coming out was the best and most meaningful part of the show, and I really haven’t seen much other lesbian media hold a candle to it (though I could name a few). What they did with jenny as the show went on was disappointing to say the least, but s2 had a lot of heart in it as they attempted to have her coming to terms with her abuse (naturally, having finally discovered herself in s1) and focus more on what makes her happy – her writing. As the show continued to develop and jenny’s character just morphed into this unrecognisable thing, I even still think mia kirshner could perform such a charming take on it that I never really aligned myself to a lot of the jenny hate people joke about

other drama aspects in mind, like bette and tina’s marriage falling apart, bette’s other relationships (bette always seems to be the one facing the ‘serious problems), and even dana’s cancer and subsequent death, I thought were generally handled… ‘well’. Dana’s cancer worked interestingly within this as, while it was kind of bizarre, I think the relationship between alice and dana was a real life force on the show for a  while, and that whole situation meant that alice could go through some real, meaningful growth in her character which she’d been a little starved of to that point. perhaps my thoughts are that when the show focuses on cheating as the only method of things falling apart, that’s when it really starts to fumble, because cheating at that level is such a sitcom-only esque plotline that removes a lot of reality you might be looking for and finding charming in these shows. Equally, I just think cheating can be quite an alienating plotline!

But, to talk about writing alone, my god it gets shit. Various parts of the writing I remember disliking off the top of my head are dana’s season 2 girlfriend which turns into a weird trope of the pretty girls vs the ‘uglier’ one (her then-gf), when the max arc is in full swing (though I’ll be clear as well and say I loved Daniel Sea’s acting within the role, however bad the writing was), papi and the racism that guided the writers in constructing her character, the random plotline of the guy living with shane and jenny in season 2 (though I thought it could have been really interesting, almost a meta comment on men watching lesbians, men watching the l word, men watching lesbians in media).  Helena’s entire character was a little baffling to me, and while I did enjoy her at times and thought she was a hilarious addition to the cast, I just had no clue exactly what she was doing. Parts of the shows ideology itself is equally harmful, like alice and dana shopping for strap-ons (bc alice is bisexual and therefore loves penetrative sex, and dana is a lesbian and therefore doesn’t), or just that the shows ensemble cast reflects the background, and everyone is cis white thin feminine, etc.  until they’re not, like ivan or papi, or Dylan..? (or a character’s non-whiteness function as a sort of ethnic flair to them, say papi and carmen being Latina and that being their exciting ‘exotic’ traits), that floods the show with a very recognisable sort of white Hollywood liberalism, and if we can understand and comprehend that, we get a good working frame for the rest of what’s going on. as alice and tasha were arguing about the military it was, of course, them trying to suggest that alice is this very liberal character who disagrees with the war and tasha’s politics, but not enough to…. Break things off with her. Instead (fashion tumblr user steps in) she even joins in this roleplay and dresses more femininely around her, growing out her hair a little and everything – and alice in general usually had a pretty fluid sense of style, so it was an… interesting choice. And then Jamie shows up for some reason (and is similarly one of the very few reoccurring Asian characters on the show – her, Catherine (one of helena’s stupid love interests) and adele (who is not serious); actually to make a side note on how this show was received, there was even a petition to get the character’s from alice wu’s Saving Face (which is a brilliant movie, and you should watch it) to be on the show and bring more Asian representation, from autumn 2008)

One episode I think is pretty good for reading the ethos of how TLW engages with women who aren’t their ‘ideals’ is shown is, imo, episode 3? 4? of season 1, where lacey is harassing shane for moving on from her. Lacey is one of the very few characters who leans a little more into being gender nonconforming, yes still with the full face of makeup, but with heavy punk-ish eye makeup, short hair, leather jacket, a demanding attitude, (and she’s not fat, but definietely has more weight on her than any of the verrrrry skinny main cast), and all-in-all embodies a kind of paltry attempt at TLW at bringing in someone with more of an edge, perhaps a modern day masc we might imagine – she’s really one of the only women I can think of on the show, let alone women that shane gets with, who isn’t an ultra-feminine character with long hair, tall, skinny, petite frame, etc. devoid of reality, the show really pushes on her as this over-demanding woman who reactedly badly to shane using her and moving on, and of course the show is trying to show us that shane uses people without much care for them, but doing so through lacey lets you sympathise more with shane than it would if they’d brought in a far more feminine woman who could play that damsel in distress role through looks alone. Lacey’s problems are like a pet or a child’s wherein you do what they want (in this case, another 1 night stand) to appease them, and then you get them off your back. The writing itself is very bizarre, but the fact that they used a woman who was just a little left of centre from the standard the show had set of these beautiful women in Hollywood, demonstrates enough

likewise, to go from here and talk about gender non-conformity, one of the strangest lines on the show was always kit in season 3 episode 9 saying “It just saddens me to see so many of our strong butch girls giving up their womanhood to be a man” – why she said that, I don’t know, some sort of meditation on her bizarre relationship with ivan perhaps? But that relationship fell apart because ivan was… not a man… and couldn’t be a man… whereas max is a man and could be a man, so I just don’t know.

Kit: Why can't you be the butchest butch in the world... and keep your body? Max: Because I wanna feel whole.

and he is so punished for that split away from butchness into transness, even by the woman who is notably placed outside of the lesbianism of the show – which is arguably worse than having one of the lesbians come at him for it, as kit is more or less representative of “the rest of the world” in these types of conversations, pushing max away from transition while the lesbians of the show, the ones who, you would imagine, have had some sort of intersection with transness once before (again, notably shane, who, as part of her traumatic backstory, was mistaken for a boy when she was a teenager and was paid by men to give them a handjobs) . instead the show curiously places kit there as some voice of reason, and the rest of the lesbian cast are kind of fast and loose with the whole thing. when they do talk about butchness in s3e3, it’s just bizarre. Pre-transition max pulls shane with him to unpack the car as “us butches”, and carmen giggles and jokingly calls shane a “big butch” even though, again, she’s the closest thing the show gets to reoccurring butchism, and is likely seen and imagined as butch by a lot of the people watching . at dinner later on in the episode, they make a joke about him not being “stone butch”… as if that’s a way of measuring masculinity rather than a sexual identity, before shane interrupts the conversation to say “You know what, what difference does it make whether someone is butch or femme?”. again, she is the butchest one at the table, and very notable not butch, but has gone up so close to the border before, you really wonder… why. Why there is such intense resolution to not make her butch, but really it’s because TLW functions in the absence of the butch – alice eler puts it succinctly: “The L-Word asserts that a “femme” lesbian woman is more desirable than a “butch” lesbian.”

In tlw, butch and femme are always roles played rather than realities lived, so it defaults to femininity being ‘standard’  - and this is where, imo, a lot of reaction to max’s transition hinges on. If the show can’t allow any character to firmly be ‘butch’, so when a character takes on butchness as a passage to realising his truth, that he is a trans man, it pulls out all the ugly thoughts and feelings held by certain lesbians about trans men who were, previously, identifying as lesbians/butch lesbians. Here, it really creates a perfect storm for TLW to uphold dangerous ideology (how they showed max’s transition was horrible), and justifying their cis lesbian audience’s response (they got angry that the only character who transgressed gender went ‘too far’ with it, essentially, living his truth in a way they didn’t like). I imagine, if TLW had functioning butch characters on the show, this all might’ve played out differently, but if TLW let go of its standard of femininity, then it… isn’t sexy, becoming too lesbian and too trans and alienates its non-lesbian audience, getting too deeply invested in its lesbianism than it is with its glamour. An interview with Ilene chiaken that gets thrown around a lot is here: on max, “She’s our first real butch on the show — a fabulously attractive butch, but nonetheless a real butch,” Chaiken said. “And we deal with the issue of gender. We wanted to tell that story, a big story in the gay community and, in the last couple years, a huge story in the lesbian community.” it’s an interesting statement for sure– gender transgression has always been a part of lesbianism (read any book ever), and with the advent of the internet and online communities – afterellen being founded in 2002 – more conversations could be had by lesbians from all walks of life, from any economic background or lived reality of race, ability, anything.  jack halberstam writes interestingly in Transgender Butch about butch/ftm borders that,

The distinction that some butches need to make between lesbianism and butchness hinges on a distinction between sexual and gender identities. Lesbian, obviously, refers to sexual preference and to some version of the “woman-loving woman.” Butch, on the other hand, bears a complex relation of disidentification with femininity and femaleness and, in terms of sexual orientation, could refer to “woman-loving butch” or “butch-loving butch.

butchness, and max’s ex-butchness, is never truly interacted or responded to in the show – ivan states he doesn’t mind being referred to as a he, shane half-heartedly defends butchism by asking her friends to stop talking about it, and max finds himself as a man through a meaningful identification with butchism and ‘disidentification’ with femininity to then finding a reidentification with not just masculinity, but manhood, which lends way to him truly discovering himself. Curiously, in response to this, this reidentification is one step too far, and suddenly its actually ok to be butch on the l word. The rest of the cast seems to ask him over and over again, why by a man? Why not be butch? But in the world of TLW, to be butch and to be trans are both radical acts of nonconformity, to disidentify is to no longer be the thing that sells, so you very fundamentally cannot do any of it – lisa the male lesbian in s1 is played for laughs as a transmisogynist  punchline, and carmen giggling at the idea of shane being butch (and thus disidentifying) demonstrates that this is equally hilarious.

from this angle, i feel that TLW functions primarily as a show about women attracted to women, not lesbians attracted to lesbians (lesbian as gender, as identifier, as being). Immovable womanhood is the centre of everything, constructing familiarity, and to stray is to exit safe perimeters that TLW establishes within unradical, conformist, cisgendered white femininity. candace Moore, again, writes that TLW “positions lesbianism as a sensibility, not a sexuality. This is particularly important because as a sensibility, lesbianism can potentially be co-opted by straight viewers.”

of course, it would be remiss to fail in mentioning that much of this discussion about tlw’s association to butchness is very much within whiteness as well – we can argue that tasha is a stud even if she never says the word herself, her specific attraction being to “girly girls” and her riding a motorbike, always with a more masculine wardrobe, and being in the……. Army………. Really aligns her with this sentiment. I do think she’s a stud, but this being off the back of the show’s depiction of max sits so strangely, and we can’t ignore that her blackness is so instinctually connected to how they wrote her – in a world where no one else can be a butch, why then is the only dark skinned black lesbian more masculine leaning than the rest of them? yes, racism, and all tied in to her nationalism and dedication to the army. It’s certainly an interesting choice for the writers to make and, while she is one of my favourites in the whole show, I definitely have a lot of pause with why she was written and created the way she was, and what she offers the show politically – she holds space as a particularly vulnerable body, a dark skin black stud lesbian, but maintains the status quo of the country and of American imperialism. What’s the message? Even the most unavailable of lesbians can still be patriots??? the individual's physical unfuckable body is still acessible through american aligience?

As later seasons continued to get worse, parts I did really enjoy were tasha’s entire character, molly’s entire character, seeing tina ‘get her life back’ as it were and return to painting, jodi’s entire character, all the music featured, and bette and tina getting back together was really well written and laurel holloman and Jennifer beals are just two very strong actors steering that ship, and random moments throughout I really enjoyed (specifically bette’s professional life gave a lot of breathing room for the show to have other funny little characters, like her office assistants etc) that I’m struggling to remember here rn tbh but generally even as the show was getting bad, the more ridiculous things got the more fun I was having, but the later seasons ‘drama’ was a little painful. If it had started as a drama and then shifted into something more palatable, I think it would’ve been great, but really anything that wasn’t season 6 would have been fine.. just such an unforgiving and cruel way to end the show, and I thought adding jenny to the mix of toxic sad relationships after leaving her straight life and coming to terms with her abuse was such a mean-spirited and cruel way to end it IDK! And this is why the l word FAILS as a sitcom, bc at least usually (to my knowledge) the  idea is that at the end… they’re kinda happy and stepping into another new life with some stability and lifelong friends!!! But instead TLW said fuck you and I hate you

anyway yeah closing thoughts… if you watch TLW without even thinking about representation I think it’s an easy watch, bc what I was watching it for is psycho lesbians who don’t act normally and that’s what I got. All caricatures of themselves or whatever they’re performing in the shadows of, and, in a way – and maybe this is a little weird to say – but I think the lesbians in the show are, to me, like watching a species of lesbian that I myself am not. Which is a shame because, if I recall correctly, a lot of those musical performances in the show were about exposing the world to lesbian music that broke the norm and went against the stereotype of music people associated with lesbians at the time, showing them on the cutting edge of new sound, which somehow did not cross into the actual meat of the show at all. And I haven’t spoken at all about it here, but a lot of those musical features are my favourite parts of the show and made some of those scenes just electric, magical parts of storytelling on tv

to address the “you”/I in what “I think”, and this one actually is TMI, when I first watched the L word, it was when I had really just finished coming to terms with my own lesbianism back in late 2021, early 2022 (I was gay and trans before this, but hiding from myself and my sexuality and my gender in complex ways, living a sort of double life online and offline – this was more an unforgiving reckoning with who I was vs what the life I was leading looked like). i was finally letting myself think about it holistically, reflecting on conversion therapy and how I navigated my desires and my identity. I wrote a lot of melodramatic diary entries and was trying to figure out how to handle a 3 year long semi-formed, confusing, and impressively undefined ‘situation’ship I was in with a guy while I was living alone during a gap year. all I really did in this time was go to the gym, go on walks, go to therapy, and think… a lot. by the time I started watching TLW I had come to terms with my lesbianism (and its inextricable relationship to my gender), but watching jenny go through something I had basically been in the thick of myself (just without all the sex and the cheating and the sex and the sex and the sex), and was, at that point, yet to experience the real horror of, meant a lot to me, and, just from some reading online, I’ve understood too how the early seasons of TLW really helped a lot of other lesbians come out to themselves or start thinking about where they might sit in relation to lesbianism. again, TLW fails time and time again at any sort of political radicalism, but when you’re so, so painfully alone and you don’t really have anyone to talk to about these desires, or even have the strength to talk about these things out loud, I do think somehow the unabashed desire flung around the screen of TLW does one thing, and that is to declare that lesbianism doesn’t have to be in your head, and that even good change can be really difficult when it’s something like this, and that, to me, was the best thing TLW added to the conversation about lesbian TV and reflects, for a lot of lesbians who find themselves trying to navigate repression and abuse, the experience that we’re still moving through: taking hold of our lives with our own hands

beyond that, beyond being a story about transformation – which I do think really permeates the first season (dana coming out to the world and to her parents; shane learning how to love or whatever the fuck genuinely; tina and bette trying and failing and trying to live the life they’d always dreamt of; marina navigating her own bad relationship through a sort of uncaring outwards desire;  bette ‘choosing’ the wrong path from her married life and cheating; kit re-entering the world of professional music and working hard to get into that music video thing situation – I think s1 is just such a rare gem of tv, that had so many flaws in it and so much was mishandled, but it came to it all with a lot of heart. But still that same angle is what alienates it from reality and sets it up as this fantasy land of woman-who-engage-in-lesbianism and abstractifies lesbian reality to make way for lesbian (or straight) fantasies of standard hegemony with a little zest. As it goes on however, it falls so hard to the more difficult aspects already clear at its start, and dramatizes their sexual escapades and relationships endlessly in a way that gives, says, and does nothing. jill dolan describes it well, albeit more positively than I have here: “part of the fun has become to simply go with it, to enjoy its excesses of character and plot and to tolerate its rather sweetly absurd attempts at relevance and authenticity.” and you really can ‘go with it’ for a while, but to put it shortly, TLW is not a show worth following to the end of the earth

[666writingcafe]

Time to Gossip

A Text Conversation Between Asmo and MC

Asmo: UGH, UNBELIEVABLE!

MC: You're not upset at me, are you?

Asmo: No...it's Satan. He's EVIL! Absolutely EVIL! He's a fucking monster!

MC: What happened?

Asmo: He just dumped a whole bunch of work on me! What's he even thinking?!

MC: Homework, or housework?

Asmo: Satan's been helping me study for my Devildom history exam, and I missed yesterday's session.

Asmo: I mean, I get it. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to run off shopping with Mammon when he invited me, but still! I was planning on wrapping up my shopping early! I didn't mean to skip, but picking out clothes takes so much time, you know? Before I knew it, the hours had flown by!

Asmo: You're on my side here, right? Don't you think Satan's being just awful?!

MC: I think he just wants to make sure you pass your exam. Of course, I don't know the exact amount of work he gave you. If it's a mountain of paperwork, then yeah, it's a bit much, but if it's only a few packets, then I honestly don't see the harm.

Asmo: I can't believe it! You're siding with HIM?! I didn't do anything wrong! I mean, my only crime is being a little too beautiful!

MC: *gif of someone face-palming*

Asmo: That's why Satan's picking on me for such a tiny mistake, you know? He's jealous!

MC: You keep telling yourself that, Asmo. *eye roll emoji*

MC: Besides, complaining isn't going to make your schoolwork go away.

Asmo: You're right.

Asmo: I guess I'd better get to it. As much as I don't want to.

Five Minutes Later

Asmo: Why did you ask me if I was upset at you?

MC: You really are desperate to not study, aren't you?

Asmo: I was trying to, honest!

MC: Sure.

MC: If I answer your question, will you go back to work?

Asmo: *nodding crow emoji*

MC: I thought that Solomon had told you that we got a bit distracted during our last tutoring session and that you were jealous that you couldn't be there.

Asmo: What do you mean, you 'got a bit distracted'?

MC: *side eye emoji*

Asmo: *questioning sticker*

MC: *two kiss mark emojis*

Asmo: Seriously?

MC: *sweat droplets emoji*

Asmo: About time.

MC: *questioning sticker*

Asmo: He's been eyeing you for weeks, MC. His lust flares up whenever you guys are in the same room.

MC: Ah.

Asmo: It was kinda sad, actually, because he was also telling himself that he couldn't have you and that he would have to be content with the current state of your relationship.

Asmo: I take it that he got hit with or consumed something that counteracted those feelings?

MC: A love curse.

Asmo: That'd do it for sure.

A Couple Hours Later

Asmo: I want to take a break.

MC: As long as you've actually been studying, I don't see why not.

Asmo: I have. I just finished my third packet.

MC: Congratulations.

Asmo: Let's do something together. You must be worn out too, right?

MC: I am getting tired, yes.

Asmo: Then that settles it. We're having a spa session in my room.

Asmo: I mean, we could spend heaps of time cramming until exam day, but that won't help us if we end up utterly exhausted on the actual day, will it?

MC: True.

MC: Give me a few minutes. I'm almost done with my study guide.

Asmo: And then you'll come over?

MC: *thumbs up emoji*

Asmo: *sticker of crow happily flapping its wings*

Asmo: I have it all planned out.

Asmo: We'll get in the bath together, and then afterwards I'll give you a massage, and then after THAT, we'll snuggle!

MC: Snuggle, or "snuggle"?

Asmo: Whatever you want. I want tonight to be all about you. You've been working much harder than I have, after all.

MC: Then I'm afraid it's going to have to be strictly SFW. I don't know if I have it in me to do much more than that.

Asmo: I understand.

Asmo: If you DO change your mind, I'd just focus on you. You wouldn't have to do anything for me if you didn't want to.

[humblepoet26]

Re: Random Mutual What do you think about age gaps (ie 25/35) ? I met someone new on here -- a new mutual -- and -there are definite sparks- although she's significantly younger than me, my battleship has been sank, girl! She reminds me of 2 friends that were both very important to me in different ways, and I'm stunned by the combo. I'm doing my best to be wholesome and focus on being her friend, but there's definitely some underlying tension (and she's totally teasing me, by her own admission) -- 👉👈😭 (really, 🤤). It's mutual attraction - we're talking a lot, and will continue talking for a long time -- the AU/US time-zone gap (15 hours) is tough. We've exchanged voice notes and YIKES her voice is alluring to me... ...Argh!! Grace, I X'd out of a Tumblr tab and there was a .GIF of someone getting fingered, Grace Pls Why You do This?! 😆 I've explained how I feel to her, but I also feel like she's determined to break my will to keep things fairly SFW-ish (and I definitely want her). So yeah, I'm FLOORED, but at the same time trying to be safe, mature, respectful and overall, decent. Thoughts?

Hi lovely, oooh someone asking for my advice? This is so sweet (I literally had a dream last night about someone asking for my opinion (weird coincidence? lol) but it was in a crowded place and everyone was staring at me and i hate being the centre of attention so I ran away but I will not run away from helping you 😋). I'm a lil confused though cause you go between asking my personal opinion/preference about age gaps but in which the way you've explained the situation, wouldn't it be your preference in age gap? To then referencing her like you may already have some of your answers? but I'll do my best. (Apologies in advance if this doesn't make a spick of sense and or it being all over the place though 😅)

Personally I'm not very fussed by age gaps (to a degree) but as long as it consensual and mutual. if I find a person who clicks with my soul, their age isn't the priority feeling. But it's also a personal preference to some I suppose, some prefer to be in a certain bracket which is totally respectable too.

By the seems of it, if she's playing cheeky with you, you've established a safe spacefor her to be comfortable to do so already that's so good start and if you both already have a mutual attraction with the way y'all talk, she mustn't seem to mind the age gap either? So your ship is not sank lovely, just weathered. But do they not know your true age though? If not, that should be the next step in the connection and communication, is being truthful with her, let off your chest all the things you think she would be worried about and you'll know more of how it'll pan out by how she reacts and handles that information.

But also congrats for meeting a mutual and hitting it off so well, tumblr doesn't regret being your unintentional matchmaking service 😜. sounds by the combo she is important to you, but remember she is not the other people she reminds you of either though and her qualities and feelings will differ to what you had from them, she is a whole new person with a new outlook. you can't hold the expectations of what they provided, from her, let her be herself and she'll show you who she is.

You said you've explained how you feel, yes? But do you know how she feels? maybe ask her what she feels and what her intentions are maybe? So you both have more of an idea and understanding where you're both at and where to balance eachothers feelings/intentions/expectations from. Have a deeper conversation together, be honest with eachother. But you also don't need to label anything too fast either, if you just want platonic flirting and friendship, don't ever let anyone make you feel ashamed for that.

If she's teasing you with your consent and you like it, tell her. I think she might enjoy knowing how much you enjoy her being like that and knowing what it makes you feel, it may improve the bond of the dynamic you're playing with.

Timezones are a hella bummer but if you've made it work so far, there's hope for it to keep improving. But remember you both have different lives in different countries and things/timings will effect that so respect eachothers boundaries. The time they choose to share with us is a gift. But hey don't even get me started on voices, you're talking to someone who melts at certain voices/accents/languages/tones in general, so I feel ya on that one 🫠 all i can say is good luck not dying everytime they speak 🤷‍♀️😘

There's also how long have you been talking to her? Cause you said she's a new mutual, is she consistent with respecting you and being a true friend outside of the fun you play around with? Does she make you feel safe to be yourself and provide a comfortable space to talk to/share yourself with?

You say you're struggling with the will to keep it mostly sfw-ish but you want her? Ask yourself are you wanting to break the line between sfw and nsfw? What will that look like if you do? If so is it something you'll still enjoy? Or would you rather keep it how it is? I don't think there's a time limit on how you treat this situation, you can play it out as slowly or as fast as you desire but I suppose it's on your terms of what you're comfortable to share or how much you're willing to be/give yourself with/around them. Do they make you feel comfortable? Do they respect your boundaries? Are they open with you? Do they care for you as a person? Do you trust them? This should all come before letting them fuck around with you. Or would you rather stay what you have and cherish the bond to maybe grow into something later? To keep learning them for now? If you are both being open, respectful and honest with eachother you shouldn't worry what anyone thinks except eachother and just do what feels right.

I hope this helped in some/any form? & if it didn't, then I apologise 😅 but all the best to figuring it all out together and have fun, life's too short to not take on opportunities (or people) you want to enjoy.

And ahah the gif 🤭 well oops, can't blame me, it was the late hours of tumblr and I'm not responsible for the feelings my reposting gives if you follow me 😜 I get a lil unhinged around here sometimes 🤷‍♀️

[puckpocketed]

how do you stay enthusiastic when your basically talking to yourself on here about some teams??

TAKE MY FIN !!! the master plan really was to infiltrate popular hockeyblr tags and then once i got followers/mutuals, to inflict upon them untold amounts of propaganda about my obscure special little guys...! the idea is to drag fandoms around them into wretched existence one shitpost and gif at a time. anyway (with soooo much rizz) is it working is it working is it working ? <3 biting every single person who has ever liked my posts about my players from the juniors/AHL and relatively dead liveblogs ...!

as always because i take some asks too seriously, we are breaking character under the cut <3

this all boils down to the unfortunate fact that someone has to be first lol

and to wit, I don't know if I'm ever talking to myself on here. i think we rarely are, even if it seems like we're alone. is that what you're concerned about? I'm trying to interpret your ask, but of course we can't exactly have a conversation (unless you hop off anon!!). anyway!! often I'll make posts about a new special little guy I've picked up off the ground and it turns out 1-2 other people really love that special little guy as well, and then i get to make a new friend !! I have unearthed some incredible things from old blogs! I imagine someone searching for their guy could stumble on my stuff and find a little connection and kinship knowing someone else loved that guy first, because that's how I feel when I'm the one finding people's posts about my guys. someone has to be first! and someone has to be second. and so on.

most recently, beloved Sharks prospect Luca Cagnoni has let me meet a really cool person (whose gifs and edits are immaculate btw.. meg if u see this i am a big fan as you already know !!!) they are perhaps the only other person on this platform who has gifed him besides me, and that's our common point of interest!! but again, someone had to be first. and then i was second <3

idk. if no one ever posted about their special guys because they thought no one else cared, no fandoms would ever exist. enthusiasm is infectious. I love to listen to my friends talk about their special interests so much. I love to hear propaganda about other people's special little guys. that's half the reason I pick up new guys!!! so deep deeeeeep down, I am hoping just a little bit that my enthusiasm for my guys catches, and someone reading my posts about my guys wanders by and thinks "whats all this??" and is compelled to join in on the fun :3 sometimes i'm the second or third person, sometimes i'm the first. i don't mind either way <3

as for the answer to your actual question... I'm enthusiastic because I'm just posting on my blog, which is the place where I can talk about my interests. that's what tumblr is all about, no?? <3 I stay enthusiastic because it's fun to yell into the void, I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't feel that way!! i get a kind of emotional catharsis venting my affections and thoughts about, say, Brandt Clarke (current mind cow, offensive defenceman who is banished to the AHL... all due respect to that league, I think his development is being hampered by staying there, he does not belong there so PLEASE LET HIM BE ON THE KINGS ROSTER FULL TIME NEXT SEASON @ ROB BLAKE AND UNNAMED HEAD COACH <3) even if like 2 other people on here know who tf he is!! even if 0 people know who tf he is!! also (voice of an only-child who has had to make their own fun) aside from my secret hope that I'm making effective propaganda, i figure that the way i feel about my teams and players exists independent of how others feel about them. why does it matter if im mostly talking to myself?

You ask me how i stay enthusiastic talking to myself, and I'm hearing "isn't it lonely?" and what I'm saying is i wouldn't be posting about anything so enthusiastically in the first place if I didn't love it enough to rant at a wall <3 and truly the answer is get obsessed. get deeply immersed. learn the deep cuts and the lore. develop parasocial beef with your team's GM for not calling up your special guy. rail at the systemic barriers (height discrimination) that keep your guys from being taken at the draft. narrativepost about them. make art and gifs and edits and poetry web weaves. write rpf stories if you are so inclined! enjoy a team or a player for exactly what they are, and do it with sincerity. no irony. no holding back. and because hockeyblr is a big and beautiful place, someone out there probably agrees with you and you'll find each other by way of yelling loud enough!!! if not now, then one day soon. do it because someone has to be first and it might as well be you <3

[breedaboyd]

Haiii!! Soooo happy youre writing for cap!! I was thinking 148 with Cap Hatfield and ftm or amab reader?

(Gif by me!)

Prompt: "I'm not jealous! It's just...you're mine."

Pairing: Cap Hatfield × M!OC!Reader.

Word Count: 805.

CW: Jealousy.

A/N: I'm hoping I got the right prompt! I get the feeling that Cap is probably kinda self-conscious because of his appearance so, when he has a partner, he gets overly protective and jealous.

The ride back from the bar is unusually quiet, the sound of hooves against the dirt road the only constant. Cap rides beside you, his usually talkative demeanour replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. You glance at him, his jaw set and his gaze fixed ahead, and a subtle frown creases your brow. His mood is out of character, and while you can't put your finger on the cause, a faint unease settles in the pit of your stomach.

As you guide your horses along the familiar path, your mind replays the events of the evening. You remember the girls at the bar who had been chatting with you, their laughter filling the air. It'd been harmless conversation, just friendly exchanges, but now you wonder if Cap has misunderstood the situation. Could Cap be thinking that those girls were flirting with you? Glancing sideways at him once more, you notice the tight set of his jaw, the way his grip on the reins seems almost white-knuckled. The silence between you is heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of your horses' hooves. The thought of Cap being jealous is both surprising and intriguing. It's a side of him that you haven't seen before, a vulnerability that he's rarely shown. The ride continues in silence, each passing moment stretching the tension between you.

Finally, as the cabin comes into view, you guide your horse to a stop. Cap follows suit, the animals snorting softly as they come to a halt. You dismount, your feet landing heavily on the ground, and Cap does the same. You both head inside without a word.

As you both settle in the cabin, the crackling fire casting dancing shadows across the room, you can't ignore the distance that's grown between you. Leaning against the wall, you finally break the silence.

"Cap, what's going on?" He starts, as if your voice has pulled him from a reverie, and his gaze meets yours with a mixture of surprise and guilt.

"Nothin'. Just... Just nothin'." He replies, looking down at his hands. Your eyes narrow slightly, a mixture of concern and frustration welling within you.

"It's not nothin', Cap. Somethin's been botherin' you since we left the bar." You say and Cap's jaw clenches.

"It's... It's stupid, really." He mumbles and you step closer to him, your gaze intent on his as you search for the truth in his eyes.

"Cap, we've come too far to let things go unsaid. Talk to me." He hesitates for a moment, his shoulders tense.

"I saw those girls at the bar. I saw how they were talkin' to you and... And I was just..." He says softly. The admission hangs in the air, a raw vulnerability that's exposed in the firelight. You take a step closer to him, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

"Jealous?" You say, your voice steady. "Cap, you've got nothin' to be jealous about." He scoffs, his expression a mixture of frustration and self-doubt.

"Easy for you to say. You're... Well, you're amazing. And th-those girls, they were all over you." He says, voice shaking. You close the remaining distance between you, your fingers gently tilting his chin up so that his gaze meets yours.

"Cap, listen to me. There's nothin' to be jealous about." You say softly and his eyes widen slightly, as if your words have taken him by surprise.

"I'm not jealous!" He protests, his voice rising slightly as if he's trying to convince himself as much as you. "It's just...you're mine." The words hang in the air, a mixture of possessiveness and insecurity that's carved a path through his thoughts. But you're not about to let him retreat further into his own head.

"That's right." You say, your voice low and filled with conviction. "I'm not anyone else's. I'm yours." With those words, you close the gap between you, your fingers tangling in his hair as your lips meet in a fierce kiss. It's a kiss that's meant to break through the barriers he's built, to remind him of what you have together. His resistance falters, and his lips respond to yours with a hunger that matches your own. Your hands wander, tracing the lines of his body with a possessiveness that mirrors his own. You pull away, but only slightly, your lips lingering near his ear as you whisper. "You're the one I want, Cap. The only man I could ever want." He shudders at your words, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

"I-I just..." He stammers, his voice softer now. "I can't help it. I don't wanna lose you." You brush your lips against his jawline, a gentle kiss that's both a promise and a reassurance.

"You won't lose me, Cap. I'm right here and I'm not goin' anywhere."

[mononijikayu]

Hi Kayu~ Just read Bu Wang and first off can I just say, I love the Inuyasha gif 👀 Ive watched Inuyasha like five times so I appreciate the love the anime is given from random corners of the internet

With this newest chapter, I actually never thought of the disagreements of where Hiromi's body was gonna go. In previous chapters, like Night Flower, it was heavily insinuated that the Gojo's had taken back Hiromi's body and put her to rest in the family's tomb, but the fact that her bloody body was incased in ice for DECADES in some crypt in Hida is NUTS. Also RIP the youngest.

I thought the spirit dragon scene was actually really well written, but when I tell you that man introduced himself as kenjaku I GROANED. This MF has got his HANDS IN EVERYTHING

I'm curious on how Hirmoni is gonna show up in the modern day, because everything of the main story is staying the game, so Kenny Boy is in Geto, and as far as we know his technique is to body swap. I swear if Kenny goes in Hirmoni's body and Sukuna literally doesn't give af that it's Kenny and proceeds to live his life with her, bro that'll be actually insane. Love is truly a curse huh?

Look forward to the finale!!! (hope your exams went well too!)- ✈️

hello nonnie!!!

inuyasha is one of my favorite stories of all time!!! im glad that you adore it as much as i do~ i feel like hiromi is inspired a lot by kikyo, but i suppose, in a way more serious because of the burden of powers vested on her by the gods. but i think they'd get along if they met!!! <3

i always wanted that aspect of the story be a mystery. because i mention it once, it has to continue as a plot point. and finally, bu wang answered the question. it was really a sad thing, because i keep imagining what i could do as the aftermath, but having her body be robbed from her kin after years and years with nothing to mourn - that conversation needed to be had. and them stealing it back was really the only way for them to have some sense of closure.

though, hiromi's body was cleaned everyday by uraume. they are the only person sukuna trusts with that if sukuna isnt around to do it. when i was plotting it, i kept imagining how it would go with that. i had that idea with a friend who also beta reads for me and it went from there.

hiromi was in that ice coffin, but people could see her. she never really aged from the time of her death to the moment she was cremated and interred in the family tombs. in that fifty years, sukuna was making sure she was continually cleaned, changed into different fashionable kimonos and etc. she was placed in the middle of his assembly hall as though she was in a throne and when it was time to rest, sukuna would have her coffin be moved to his quarters.

this went on for fifty years, because sukuna was obssessed with having her by his side. and for some time, it made his concubines jealous because he never really returned their affections nor wanted to be around them when he could be around this corpse of the person he actually really truly loved.

i based that off on two stories - the myth of ines de castro and the death of poppaea sabina. ines was the mistress of the king of portugal and poppaea sabina was wife of emperor nero.

according to the myth, he had ines's dead body brought out to the throne room and seated her throne, in all the finery of a queen and made everyone pay homage to her dead corpse. with poppaea sabina, emperor nero was so distraught about her dying that he had her body embalmed to preserve her body and raised her to divinity, to be worshipped.

hiromi ending up as a wandering soul, i really loved writing that. i feel like it fitted that after breaking her soul - it healed itself to give her another chance. but its sad because she can't remember anything and now she's stuck with this kenjaku guy who promised to tell her everything about her, when we know he wont.

i'm in the middle of production for the last chapter of the series right now, but i have to tell you its going to be interesting. because a lot of her return has repercussions, which i cant reveal yet. but im pretty sure i can confirm that kenjaku never body swapped with hiromi - because her body stopped existing when it was burned. so anything he did with her was done as her being a soul.

sukuna cares deeply about hiromi and i think, if he were aware that kenjaku was harboring hiromi's soul - sukuna would kill him. or at the most, make a deal with him to take hiromi's soul back. i dont think he would ever be alright with anyone doing anything to try and use hiromi for gain. he'd rather burn the world than see that happen. as you said, love is truly a curse sukuna bears and he loves and hates it.

thank you for your earnest support as always!!! new chapter should be posted today!!! im honored to have you enjoy it all with me, nonnie!!!

thank you also for wishing me well on my exams - it finished well, but prayers still accepted on passing everything <3

[nervousgardenerkid]

Hi hi hi,

We love Steve but we also love toxic King Steve 🤰

Would you please write some heart wrenching angst about him making a bet in high school on reader with his friends. They’ve been in a ‘perfect’ relationship for years now he’s ready to propose and everything. Then BOOM on their anniversary they bump into previous friend and he lets the secret out. Hell breaks loose maybe reader packs a bag and leaves but please can you end it happy my heart can’t take Steve being sad for too long 🫶

THANK YOU SO MUCH, I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!!!!

Truth or Dare?

a/n: oh anon,,,i LOVE the way ur thinking. if there's one thing about me it's that i love to write a good fight scene...the angst,,,the tears,,,UGH it keeps me alive. this doesn't have a specific time setting but i'm gonna say it's somewhere around season 2 till season 3 maybe,,,idk no monsters are mentioned it's just angst😭 i hope you like this anon thank you for the idea! credit to the gif owner <3

Steve and his friends laughed when he saw Tommy coming back with his hand on his now red cheek. You see, Tommy was dared to tell a girl a dirty pickup line and it earned him a hard smack to the face.

“Dude! I had no idea she was gonna slap you like that!” Steve laughed out.

“Whatever, she was a bitch anyways.”

The group all laughed and threw bits and pieces of their food at him while he tried to calm them down.

“Okay, Harrington, truth or dare?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Pft, easy. Hit me with a dare.”

Tommy let out a hum and his eyes scanned the cafeteria carefully picking his next target. He felt a smirk on his face when his eyes landed on you taking notes from your math textbook.

“I dare you to ask her out.”

“Done.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Tommy said while pointing at Steve. “You have to date her for a month.”

Steve felt his heart drop. He knew he was a dick, but he wouldn't want to string someone along like that.

“Tommy, that's a little-”

“What's wrong king Steve? Scared you might break her wittle heart?” He said with a fake pout.

Yes.

“No, I'm not scared of that. As a matter of fact, I’ll date her for three months.”

Steve didn't bother listening to what the group had to say as he made his way over to you. There was a tiny voice in his head pleading, begging him to stop. To just leave you alone, cause you really are a nice girl who doesn't deserve any of this. Steve has had a conversation with you before and you've touched his heart with how genuine you are. He plops down in the seat in front of you and taps in your textbook gently.

You look up at him and smile, taking off the headphones to your walkman and pressing pause.

“Hi, Steve!”

“Hey, there pretty girl, what are you doing?”

You blushed at the nickname and pushed your notes towards him.

“Just studying, I have a math exam tomorrow so I'm cramming as much as I can.”

Steve hummed and looked over your notes trying his best to avoid eye contact with you.

“So I’m guessing you're studying tonight too?”

You nodded your head and flipped the pencil that was in your hand.

“Why what's up?”

“I wanted to take you on a date.”

You accidentally flung the pencil at him, apologizing multiple times while you scrambled to grab it.

“Like um, like a study date?”

“I was hoping we could go without the books? Just us two.”

You blushed and started biting your lip as you thought about it. Steve wanted to stop and come clean right there. He's never seen you this excited over anything before, and it breaks his heart knowing it's all a bet.

“Sure, I can put off studying tonight and hang out.”

Steve smiled at you. “Great! I'll pick you up at…seven?”

“Perfect! I'll see you then.”

Steve smiled and got up to leave, but not before he gave you a soft kiss on your cheek. He walked back to the lunch table with his chest slightly pumped out as his friends looked at him, their faces asking how it went.

“Sorry I can't hang out tonight boys, I have a date.”

-

The two-month mark hit before Steve realized that he doesn't want to end the relationship in three months. These past two months have been the best for Steve and he's never been so happy. He began to treat this like it was a real relationship, Tommy and his friends still poke fun at him. They tell him that he can call it off now and Tommy will even pay him cause he's starting to blow them off to spend time with you. Steve just laughs and shakes his head telling him that he's really dedicated to this bet.

Before you know it, months turn into years and Steve drops his shitty friends and loses his king Steve title to Billy. Now, usually, this would've upset Steve but now he has you. He doesn't have to worry about his friends slipping up and saying you're just a bet. He doesn't have to hear the mean and inappropriate things they say about you, and now he can spend all his time with you.

There was a little period where you guys split up. It was six months into the relationship and the guilt started eating Steve away. It never occurred to him that Tommy could ruin the relationship in a split second, they didn't have the most mutual fallout that friends usually had. Steve started feeling like everything was a lie, he felt like loving you was a lie, it was his favorite lie, but a lie nonetheless. He was the one to call it off, it lasted for a month but it was the worst month in Steve's entire life. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, and he missed about a week's worth of school. It wasn't until you knocked on his front door, a stack of school work in your arms that he finally felt complete.

Apologies began spilling from his mouth and tears were falling down his cheeks. You forgave him of course. You always forgive Steve for what he's done. He didn't feel the need to bring up the bet at all once you guys got back together. He figured that since he's the one who broke things and got back together with you, you guys had a clean slate. Sure, you still had the same anniversary date but that's not what mattered! What mattered is that you and Steve were officially back together and nothing could ruin that.

Today was your second anniversary with Steve and you were both so excited. Everything was going perfectly between you two and you felt like nothing could ruin it. You were taking a walk around town after you two had an amazing dinner at Enzo’s. You stopped in your tracks telling Steve you had to use the restroom real quick. You kiss him on his cheek and walk into the nearest store you could find. Steve looks around and sees an old couple holding hands and walking into the movie theatre, he smiles as he starts to think of his future with you.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you Harrington?”

Steve whips his head around and sees Tommy making his way toward him. He gives his old friend a tight-lipped smile and crosses his arms against his chest.

“In the flesh.”

Tommy laughs and stands in front of him. “How have you been, man? It's been a while.”

Steve makes small talk with Tommy, but he can't help but notice that he has this gut feeling that something terribly wrong is going to happen. He feels your hands wrap around his upper arm and he sees the look of shock on Tommy’s face when he realizes it's you.

“You're still with y/n?”

You roll your eyes. “Nice to see you too Tommy.”

Tommy smirks and looks at Steve.

“Does she know?”

You look between the two of them with a confused facial expression.

“Know what?”

“Shut up Tommy.”

“I mean what, how long have you guys even been together? You were supposed to stop at three months, Steve.”

Your heart fell to your stomach and your hands dropped from Steve’s arms. No, there's no way Tommy meant what he was saying. This has to be some kind of sick joke, right? Your eyes drift to Steve and you can see every emotion on his face clear as day.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Tommy chuckles but covers it with a cough. “Guess the cats out of the bag.”

You're not one to turn to violence, if anything you're the last person to throw the first punch, but you've never felt so hurt, so betrayed in your entire life. Before you know it your hand is connected to Tommy’s cheek and a loud smack is heard, people stop and stare at the scene before then mumbling things under their breath. Hot tears are streaming down your face and you snatch your hand away when you feel Steve grab for you.

“Don't!” you shout at him. “Don't touch me. We're done.”

You don't even give Steve a second to explain himself cause you're already walking away from him trying to put as much distance between yourself as possible. You usually love Steve and his stubbornness, but right now you wish he'd stop chasing you.

“Y/n! Wait I can explain-”

“Explain what Steve?! How our relationship started off as a bet? Seems like there's nothing to explain there!”

You feel Steve grab your arm and you try to fight him off but you're just too sad to do anything.

“That's not true-”

“Do you even love me, Steve? Or was that some kind of sick game too?”

Steve’s heart broke when he finally got a good look at you. You had tears streaming down your face and fire behind your eyes.

“Of course I love you-”

“Bullshit!” You shouted while urging your arm away.

Steve flinched at the all too familiar word and shook his head trying to fight back tears.

“It's not. It's not-”

“Yes, it is Steve! This whole relationship is bullshit! I've been living a lie for years by thinking you loved me!”

“I do love you! You think I’d stay with you for that long if I didn't?!”

Both of you were shouting at this point and people were starting to stop and stare. Anger fueled both of you and you both didn't care what was being said to the other person.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

“I should've never taken the god damn bet, it would've saved me a lot of trouble.” he didn't mean that, not one bit.

You let out a bitter laugh and shook your head. “Nancy was right, you're bullshit. I never want to see you again.”

“Fine by me.”

-

It's been three weeks since you and Steve had your big fight and to say you were both miserable was a massive understatement. Robin and Nancy would drop by to check in on you and bring you some food. They tried their best to cheer you up but weren't successful.

“So is this like a divorced parent situation?”

Nancy smacked her arm and smiled at you. “Don't listen to her.”

“I'm asking the real questions here!”

You dipped your sad, soggy fry into ketchup and ate it.

“If you're asking me if I'm making you choose sides I'm not.”

Robin smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

You let out a giggle and rolled your eyes making robin gasp and coo at you.

“There she is!!” she exclaimed while wrapping her arms around you in a hug. Nancy melted at the sight and joined in on the hug. Tears began to form as you hugged them both tighter.

“Thank you guys, for everything.”

“Y/n you don't have to thank us,” Nancy said while pulling away and fixing your hair. “We'll always be here for you.”

Robin’s watch beeped and let out a sigh. “Except, for now, we have Steve duty, Nance.

You looked down at your now cold food and cleared your throat. “Is he okay?”

Nancy and robin looked at each other before looking back at you. “You can come with us and find out.”

-

Your heart was pounding as you sat in the backseat of Nancy’s car, you don't know what came over you or what made you want to see Steve. Nancy parked the car and Robin was quick to jump out.

“Nance? Aren't you coming too?” You asked before stepping out of the car.

Nancy shook her head. “Feels a bit awkward helping my ex through a breakup ya know?”

You smiled understanding what she meant and thanked her for the ride. You follow Robin to his front door and you start to feel sick to your stomach. Your hands were getting clammy and if you didn't lean against the other door you're pretty sure you would've fallen by now from how weak your knees felt.

“Crap, I left something in Nance’s car. Stay here real quick I already knocked and everything.” Robin said while running towards the car.

You were too lost in your head to register what she said. You looked up at her and noticed she got back into the car and buckled up. Realization begins to set in and you stand up straight looking at your best friends with wide eyes.

“YOU GOT THIS KID!” Robin shouted.

“I’M SORRY Y/N SHE MADE ME!” Nancy shouted while speeding off.

Bitches, but I love them. You thought to yourself. Time seemed to stop the minute Steve opened his front door.

“Robin, I told you I'm- oh.”

Oh? Oh?? What does he mean by that?!

There was only one thing that was running through Steve’s mind when he saw it was you at the door. You're wearing his yellow sweater.

“I uh, I just wanted to check on you…I guess,” you mumbled while looking down at your feet.

“You still have my sweater?”

Your eyes met his and it took every fiber in your body to not wipe away the stray tears that were stained on his face. You shrugged your shoulders.

“Smells like you.”

He gave you a sad smile. “I use your shirt as a pillowcase.”

“Can I come in?”

Steve didn't waste any time stepping aside and letting you into his family home. You sat on his couch and looked at him, your heart jumping when you saw he was smiling at you.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Harrington I’m still furious with you.”

Steve nodded his head. “Understandably so, but you can't be mad at me for being happy that the girl I love is still wearing my sweater.”

You quickly look down trying to hide the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks. You cleared your throat and fumbled with your fingers.

“I came here to talk. At least I think I did.”

Steve makes his way to the couch, he points to the spot next to you silently asking if he could have a seat there. You nod your head and refuse to make eye contact with him fearing you'll cry on the spot.

“Was everything Tommy said true?”

He nodded his head.

“I need you to be honest with me Steve, were you ever going to tell me?”

Steve sat and thought for a moment. He never really thought about telling you, sure there were moments he wanted to but he could never bring himself to do it.

“I don't know.”

“Is that you broke up with me? Cause of the bet?”

“No! God no, I mean technically yes but it wasn't because the bet was up.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Look, I'm going, to be honest with you. I never wanted to ask you out, not like that at least, and I know it's not a good excuse but being the king of Hawkins high I had so much pressure on me. My mom and dad never really cared for me, so I found comfort in assholes like Tommy and Carol but even they didn't care about me.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I never should've asked you out like that,” he whispered. “you didn't deserve that, no one does but especially you y/n. I broke up with you that day because it was getting too much for me. I was tired of living a lie, but god y/n please don't think that for a second I didn't love you. I love you with all my heart and no bet is going to change that.”

Both of you were crying now. You were quick to pull Steve into a hug and cry into his shoulder. You hated this. You absolutely hated Tommy for making Steve take that stupid bet, you hated his parents for not paying enough attention to him, and you hated that Steve surrounded himself with fake friends just so he could feel an ounce of love and affection. Steve was mumbling how sorry he was over and over again. He understands if this is the one time you can't forgive him, but he's praying to whatever greater power is out there that you do.

You pull away from him and wipe his tears away with gentle hands. He leans into your touch trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“I'm sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn't have called you bullshit.”

“You had every right to.”

“Doesn't mean I should have.”

Steve’s hands reach up to your face and he gently strokes your cheek.

“I'm so sorry for hurting you.”

You take a deep sigh and lose your eyes trying to figure out what to say next. You still love Steve, and you know you always will but how were you supposed to just openly trust him again? Especially after something like that.

“I think,” you started. “I think we should start over. Brand new clean slate, you know take it slow.”

Steve swears he would've fallen to his knees if he wasn't sitting on the couch with you.

“Really? You mean that?”

“I do, but I’m serious about taking it slow Steve.”

Steve smiles and brings you in for a tight hug. You feel his tears hit the top of your head and you can almost feel his heart beating through his chest.

“I'll go as slow as you want. I don't care, I just want to be with you.”

You let out a giggle and Steve swooned at the sound of it. He swears he's never heard something more beautiful than your giggle.

“This is your last chance, Harrington. Don't mess it up.”

His hold on you tightens, almost as if he's scared you'll disappear any second.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he said while kissing you on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, Steve finally felt like he could breathe. The weight of the world was off his shoulders and it was all thanks to you.

“Robin is going to be so happy about this,” you said with a chuckle.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh god, she told you about the divorce arrangement didn't she?”

[bradshawfanclub]

With You

Made this account because I thought I lost my original, so hop over to @bradshaw-fanclub to read the rest of my works

Pretty much part II of "Thinking of You"

Summary: Reader finally sees Bradley after weeks apart.

Warnings: smutty smut, minors DNI!!, Bradley’s dirty mouth, oral (male receiving), fingering, probably got a seat reserved in hell for this one, minimal editing, gif has no purpose other than to remind you how beautiful he is

You're sitting at Bradley's graduation banquet, he's in the chair next to you at a large, circular dinner table. His hand is on your thigh and he’s running his thumb back and forth across the fabric of your black dress - a stark contrast to his Navy Whites.

There's other graduates and their dates at the table with you and although Bradley had introduced you to them, you can't remember any of their names to save your life, too distracted by how good your boyfriend looks.

He's laughing along to something one of the graduates is saying. There's a slight flush to his face, he's got a few drinks in his system and he's riding the high of graduating the Top Gun program. He looks happy, buzzing with an energy that you haven't seen in a while.

It's been 13 weeks since you saw him last. You had stayed home while he went away for training and, while he tried to call you every day, it was a busy 13 weeks. You're happy to be here for him, to support him, but all you can think about is how long it's been since you've been with the man next to you.

You try to follow along with the conversation, but his hand seems to be burning where it lays on your thigh, a constant reminder that he's so close to where you really want him.

Your need for him isn't a surprise, you'd texted him plenty while he was gone about how much you missed him, needed him and occasionally had time to relieve yourself over the phone; the sound of his voice all that you needed, husky and raw as he guided you through your actions.

But now you're sitting right next to the man who has been on your mind for weeks in less than PG ways and you can't touch him - at least not in the way you want.

He's telling a story, his eyes flicking to you. He catches you staring, the corner of his lips quirking up and he holds your gaze. His story trails off, just for a split second - and the way he's looking at you, it's like he knows what you're thinking.

He lifts his glass of water to his lips, taking a slow sip. He shoots you a knowing wink before clearing his throat and turning back to the group.

And, dammit. You had thought that maybe -

"Well ladies, gentlemen. I think it's time y/n and I call it a night," he says to the table and hold on a minute. Bingo!

He stands, hand held out to you and you take it eagerly. He helps you to your feet, lips ghosting a kiss against your cheek and a chorus of teasing rooster crows breaks out at the table. Rooster rolls his eyes, flipping the table off discreetly before he wraps his arm around your waist. He waves his final goodbye, leading you out of the banquet hall and to his blue Ford truck.

You're pretty sure you're shaking with excitement because finally. You're going to be alone with Rooster after thirteen long weeks.

He opens the passenger side door for you and you move to slip in, but you stop. You turn to face him, hands deftly sliding up around his neck to pull his lips to yours. He lets out a surprised moan, his hands coming to your hips, body pressing yours against the truck, and the corner of the doorway pressing into your back almost hurts, but the feeling of his lips hot and wanting against yours distracts you.

His tongue swipes hotly against your bottom lip and you let him in, his dominating yours. He's balling up the fabric of your dress in his hands, absentmindedly pulling the fabric up and if you weren't on the naval air station, you'd let him take you right then and there.

"Rooster," you gasp, the separation of your lips allowing him to trail hot kisses down your neck. He settles over your pulse point, teeth grazing the skin before his lips sooth over the sting. One of his hands has slid to your thigh, lifting your leg up against his hip and oh-

He starts a slow grind, the crips fabric of his Navy Whites against the flimsy material of your panties is so good.

"Not here," you whine out, voice breathy and high pitched but you can't control it - not when the hard, hot grind of his cock against your sex is so delicious.

"Take me home, Bradley," you all but beg and that gets him going.

And, yes technically home is the wrong term, you're shacked up in a hotel room - but 'take me to the hotel' didn't have the same sexiness to it.

"Fuck yeah," he breaths out, raspy with need. He lifts you into the truck, reaching across you to buckle you in, even though you could totally do it yourself, and you take the opportunity to bite a kiss into his neck. He shudders, body going tense where he's practically stretched out across you and he grunts out a quiet fuck.

But just as fast, he kicks back into gear and hurriedly shuts you door, jogging his way to the driver side. He climbs in, turning the key and high-tailing it out of there.

The press of his cock against the white of his uniform is mesmerizing, long and thick and hard. You're not even ashamed to say that it's mouth-watering and your brain floods with thoughts of getting your lips around him, to feel the hot weight of him on your tongue.

"Don't look at me like that," he says, voice thick with the promise of sex, "I swear I'll pull this fucking truck over if you keep looking at me like that."

And it really isn't such a bad idea.

"I've missed you, Roos," you say, all needy and wantonly and his jaw ticks, knuckles going white where he grips the steering wheel, like it's taking everything in him not to pull over.

And suddenly you want to see just how much it takes.

You start with a teasing touch, your fingertips trailing lightly up his thigh and his eyes flicker down to the contact.

"Y/n." Bradley warns and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your eager smile.

You trace the outline of his cock, touch feather light before you give in and press the flat of your palm against him, just the way he likes. The friction punches a breath out of Bradley, the muscles in his thighs going tense.

This side of Bradley, the side where he's practically vibrating as he tries to control himself is so hot - and you intend to push your limits.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and Bradley shoots you a warning glare, as if telling you that you know the rules. Bradley's a good driver, observant and quick thinking even if he tends to go at least 10 over the speed limit; but he'll go to his grave telling you that you can't trust other people on the road. You're both stubborn; you about a lot of things, Bradly about your safety. You've sat in a Walmart parking lot for almost a half hour, the truck running idly as you both stared at each other. Bradley had refused to even back out of the parking spot until you put your seatbelt on, and you were feeling a little bratty and wanted to challenge him - you had finally conceded and buckled in.

Not tonight, though. He can give you his angry, broody eyes all he wants - you're winning tonight.

You slide across the cab bench, body pressing right up against his, your palm grinding a steady rhythm against his cock. Maybe it’s the friction or maybe he just thinks better of starting that argument, because he throws his right arm over the seats, making room for you.

That's all the permission you need. You press your face into his neck, kissing and biting at the skin as you work on undoing his belt and the button of his uniform pants.

His breath is coming out uneven and ragged, but he still manages to sound smug when he says, "so fucking needy, hm? Just couldn't wait until we got home?"

You shake your head against his neck, whispering thoughts about how much you need him, how much you missed him and he groans out a curse.

You pull back so you can see what you're doing as you try to work his uniform pants down his legs, just enough so you can get to the main event.

You stroke him in your hand, well aware that he's stealing glances at you from where his gaze is trained on the road ahead as you stare down at his cock in awe. You've told him time and time before that he's got a pretty cock, thick and long and just fucking pretty to look at. He'll deny it, thinks it's weird that you'd choose pretty of all adjectives; but that doesn't stop his dick from jumping when he catches you staring, when he sees how much you love it.

The cab of his truck is big, there's no center console for you to fight for space, so it's easy for you to slip to the floor - not between his legs but close enough to him that it'll be easy to wrap your lips around him.

He must look down at you, because next thing you know he's muttering a string of curses and groaning out an oh, fuck me.

You lick a slow stripe up the length of him, enjoying the jump in his thighs before slipping the tip between your parted lips. You circle the sensitive head with your tongue, wetting the skin so you can bob lower down onto the length of him, hand working in tandem with your mouth.

The hand that was thrown over the seats has settle in your hair, his hold on you keeping your pace nice and slow. You look up at him from beneath your lashes; his face is flushed red, jaw slack, mouth hung open slightly. His eyes are jumping from the road to you, the sight of your lips stretch around his cock too good for him to miss after being gone for so long.

"You're so fucking good for me," he rasps out, chest expanding with every ragged inhale. There's sweat beading up in his hairline, muscles tense and shaking and he looks so fucking good.

"Look so pretty with your lips around my cock," he continues and you hum around him, his hips jerking up at the feeling.

You take him as far as you can, the fat tip of him nudging the back of your throat and that must be all that it takes. You can feel the truck come to a fast stop, feel the bumps of the wheels as he pulls off the road. He puts the truck into park, thighs spreading wide as he gets comfortable and slowly starts fucking up into your mouth.

You moan around the width of him, letting him take over. There's tears sticking to your lashes as he nudges the back of your throat over and over, your nails digging into his thighs and he mutters filthy things about how pretty you look, how pretty your lips look when they're fucked raw.

He pulls your head back, hand still tangled in your hair as he guides you up to his lips; he kisses you hard and deep, teeth plumping your bottom lip further, tongue teasing yours. He gets you into his lap, your dress bunched up around your hips, his hands on your ass, squeezing and pulling, grinding your panty clad sex over his cock.

The material slips, just slightly and you get a tease of his bare cock against your wetness, the hot press of him against where you need him most. He reaches around behind you, fingers moving your panties to the side as he runs the tips across your wet folds.

"S'wet for me," he grunts out, pressing deeper into your heat, but continues his teasing glide up and down your sex.

"Bradley," you beg, hips chasing the dizzying tease of his fingers.

"I got you, baby," he rasps, "M'gonna take care of you."

He dips his middle and ring finger into you, curls them against your fluttering walls and you cry out, hips pressing down against his fingers to get him deeper.

"Look at you," he says, all raw and smug, "look how needy you are, fucking yourself down onto my hand."

And you don't care, because that's exactly what you're doing. You're fucking your hips back into the teasing thrust of his fingers, needing more and more and more.

He pulls his fingers away, the glide of them across the skin of your ass leaves a trail of your wetness and he lifts your hips so he can position himself at your entrance.

He pauses, running the tip along your sex as he grunts out, "I don't have any condoms, baby."

And you don't care, at least not tonight.

You’re kissing him again, whispering please and need you against his lips between kisses.

And truthfully he’s a man of only so many morals; can’t stop himself from guiding your sex down onto the bare length of him, can’t stop himself from telling you how much he loves your sweet pussy, how wet and hot you are for him.

He’s thrusting up into you, your hips chasing the sweet grind as you move in tandem. Your dress sticks to your skin, the air in the truck hot and damp with the smell of sex.

“Missed your pussy, baby,” he grunts out, sweat trailing down his cheek, his jaw, the long planes of his neck, “thought about it every night.”

He grabs handfuls of your ass, guiding your hips up and down his dick as he thrusts up into, his lips and teeth biting a trail along the line of your collar bone.

And it’s perfect, so perfect; the long, thick drag of his cock in your tight heat, his lips whispering filthy things against the shell of your ear.

You must zone out, body focuses on the pleasure, because next thing you know Bradley draws his hand back, smacking your ass before he growls out, “I said tell me how good it feels, tell me you love having my cock buried in your sweet little pussy.”

“Bradley,” you’re breathless, eyes squeezing tight because you’re so close.

His hands still your hips and your eyes fly open, protests already spilling past your lips.

He’s watching you; eyes dangerous, fingers flexing against your hips where he’s holding you so tight, like he’s trying to keep from pulling you into a grind.

“Tell me,” he rasps, grinding up into you with each word, like it’s a reminder of how good it feels.

“So good,” you cry out, “Bradley, it’s so fucking good, I missed you- please, Bradley-“

Words are pouring from your mouth, you’re not even sure if you’re actually saying them - drunk on the pleasure coursing through you, desperate to come.

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he breaths, “I’ve got you, gonna make you come all over my dick, baby.”

And then he’s moving again. He sinks down into the seat, really getting his feet set under him before he’s fucking up into you like he needs it to live. You collapse against him, back arching just the slightest to give him a better angle, face pressed to his shoulder as you cry out yes and please and Bradley.

Your climax blinds you, body going taut as you fall apart on top of him, eye rolling back into your head, legs shaking, walls fluttering tightly around him, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

“That’s it,” he’s grunting into your ear, “that’s it baby, come all over my cock.”

He follows behind, mumbles “gonna come in that pretty little pussy, baby,” into your ear before he’s cut off with a groan. He grinds up into you in short thrusts as he comes, dick buried deep in your sex, eyebrows pulled tight together, fingers digging bruises into your hips, lower lip caught tight between his teeth.

You’re panting against each other, clothes damp and sticky with sweat. He doesn’t pull you off of him, both of you basking in the post sex high.

He’s rubbing circles into your lower back, lips pressing kisses onto the crown of your head.

“I missed you,” he says, probably for the hundredth time since he picked you up from the airport that morning and you inhale, refreshing your brain on the scent of him.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, sitting back to look at his face, leaning in to press a kiss high on his cheek bone, “I’m so so proud of you, Roos.”

He’s grinning a cute little boyish grin, looking up at you from your spot in his lap like he’s never seen anything more beautiful; eyes full of soft admiration like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life a minute ago.

He kisses your lips softly before he taps your ass, helping you off his lap and onto the cab bench before tucking himself away. You straighten out your dress, buckling yourself in and he leans over to kiss you; once, twice, a third time, like he can’t get enough of your raw, pouty lips.

His thumb brushes your lower lip and he’s staring at it like he’s thinking the same thing.

“I’m gonna get you home and I’m gonna fuck you on every possible surface,” he decides and a hot flush races up your neck.

Because, yeah, you have a lot of catching up to do.

[skiller0dani]

Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

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You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

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So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

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The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

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Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

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Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

[waynes-multiverse]

Gaaa, Zep, my lobster! Sorry for breaking you with this, but I promise it's not as bad as it looks 😘

Secondly, I loved those Jane the Virgin gifs. I haven't watched that show in ages and seeing them made me wanna do a rewatch 😂🫶

I love that he kept her little friendship bracelet. I love tidbits like this that bring it all back to the beginning of the story

Me too! I always try to reference back to earlier chapters, either bringing back conversations or items. There's usually always a reason when I plant something like a friendship bracelet in a story.

LMFAO. I'm weeeak. The moment you think he's cultured himself a little, Ben brings it all back with this gem. 🤣

Hahaha I know, right? Ben's favorite books: Catch-22 and 50 Shades 😂 But of course, he loved the latter and started planing his very own sex room. I could not resist writing that part 🤣

Oh my GOD I love this tease! 🤣🤣 I've also taken the route of never "giving" him a last name.

I actually ended up giving him one! In the next flashback scene he calls her "Mrs. Hunt." But who knows if they made it up for the forms or if it was his actual last name once 😅🤷‍♀️ But yeah, him not having a last name was driving me mad. Definitely a Fez type of situation lol

It made me wonder how long they've been keeping that genocidal prick in there, and how did they get him in there in the first place?

My headcanon is that they tricked him into that r einforced super cell and several unnamed & unimportant guards died locking him up in there 🙈

And I'm so happy you picked up on the moster parallel! 🤓

I also like how you broke it all up with flashbacks that simultaneously pulled at my heartstrings while the "reality" gave me even more anxiety lolll. Again, very cinematic, and I love that approach.

Glad you loved that one! I do always see these stories like a movie in my head, so that's probably why lmao

Sometimes I do cringe at doing flashbacks, though, because it reminds me of that Rick & Morty episode 🤣

LMFAO. As a Latina, I died laughing internally. "And I know that you know that" was icing on the cake for this exchange, and Ben being a knowing asshole about it just to wind her up is priceless.

Again, my headcanon is that Ben just gets super turned on making her mad and provokes her on purpose lol 😂

Okay. I'm really hoping (despite all your warnings to the contrary) that you're not gonna break my heart on this one.

It's really not as bad as it looks like. It's not the happiest "hand-in-hand, riding into the sunset" ending, but everyone kinda gets what they deserve if that makes sense 😉

Thank you so much for that comment, friend! Can't wait to read your thoughts on the grand finale 😘🤍

Rehab – Chapter 8

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some fun moments, fluff, smut, angst (aka the holy trinity)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Can't believe we're here! One more chapter and an epilogue, and then we're done! Thank you so much for all your support. I really appreciate it 🤍🥹 Now, hold on tight! 😉

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 7 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 8: sid & nancy

“Y/N, we’re gonna be late, my love! City Hall just had one slot left,” Ben calls out to the bathroom door.

Nervously, he paces the hotel room. He checks his watch once more before plopping down on the king-sized mattress, blowing some air out between his lips. At least the CIA picked a nice hotel when they flew them out to DC.

The agency even granted the couple one more night of freedom before Ben was supposed to uphold his end of the bargain. The former supe then had an idea to do something special. Something he’s never done before in his life – quite the achievement, considering he’s over a century old.

Ben supposes there’s a first time for everything.

“In a minute!” Y/N yells her reply, her voice carrying a little annoyance. He might’ve hurried her more than once already.

“You know, I put on a fucking suit just for you,” Ben says as if it would make her be ready any faster and earn him some brownie points on top of it.

“Yeah, well, I put on a fucking dress just for you,” Y/N replies with a raised brow behind him as she walks out. She smiles shyly at him.

Ben’s never seen her flustered before, but he has to admit the pink cheeks suit her well. Just like him, Y/N had a hard shell when he first met her, impenetrable for most but not him. Y/N gave him her heart, and he gave his right back to her, hoping neither of them drops it.

In the past, he used to torch the butterflies in his stomach and rip off their wings, calling it a precaution. Now, he wants them to stay for an eternity and multiply, calling it a miracle.

“What d’you think? Is this good enough to get married in?” Y/N insecurely looks down on herself and spins, her short, white satin dress twirling with her. It’s the best she could find on short notice.

Ben’s lips twitch to a smile. “You look fucking beautiful, my love.”

Y/N beams like pure sunshine on a warm summer’s day, her cheeks flushing even deeper red. “I love when you say that. ‘My love.’ Sounds so old-school. Like James Stewart saying it to Donna Reed.”

“Hey, I love that movie,” Ben interjects, grinning.

“Me too! Glad we found something in common before we get married,” Y/N jokes as she slips into her cream-white high heels, the ivory glow of the moonlight through the big balcony window letting her shine even brighter.

“Finally! I was worried there for a second,” Ben says, laughing. Truthfully, though, he’s never been surer of anything in his life. “What about you? Any doubts about marrying me?”

“Oh, tons, but I’ll do it anyways,” Y/N quips. “As my generation likes to say – you only live once.”

“Yeah, and sometimes for a really long time,” Ben adds with a huff and saunters over to her as she checks herself in the full-length mirror and straightens out the fabric of her dress.

He wraps his arms around her hips from behind and pulls her flush against him, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek and one on her lips.

“There’s one thing missing,” he notes then and pulls something out of his suit pocket. She spins in his embrace, resting her palms on his biceps. “It’s not that old, but not that new either. It’s not borrowed, and it’s definitely not blue.”

Y/N laughs loudly, shaking her head. “You’re such a dork. What is it?”

Ben then opens his palm and reveals the green friendship bracelet lying in it. “May I?” he asks. Y/N nods as tears brim in her eyes, and Ben slips it back onto her wrist where it belongs.

“My friendship bracelet… You kept it. This is better than any ring,” Y/N says happily, her fingers tracing the worn emerald threads.

Ben chuckles and rubs his bearded jaw. “Guess I got lucky there. Always thought you ladies wanted fucking diamonds.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to one on our first anniversary,” Y/N retorts lightheartedly.

“Oh? Is that so, huh?” Ben laughs. “You mind if it’s stolen?”

Y/N shakes her head playfully and claims his plump lips, holding onto the lapels of his suit jacket. When their lips lose connection, however, wrinkles of worry spread on her brow.

“You okay? You know I was just joking about you having doubts, but if you do–”

Y/N quickly shakes away his fear. “No, no, it’s not that. I’m just worried, you know? About tomorrow… That plan is insane. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Ben.”

Ben nods and scratches his beard. “I know, my love. But we’ve talked about this. It’s the only way out. It’ll be fine, alright?” he tries to soothe her concerns and rubs her upper arms. “I wish you wouldn’t insist on coming with me, though. If something goes wrong…”

“Then I’ll be right there with you, Sid,” Y/N maintains. She’d never let him go on his own. “I know you don’t know that, but that’s what it truly means to be a team. You rise together, and you fall together. ‘Sides, they do say insanity is contagious.”

Thoughtfully, Ben bobs his head, his brow scrunching above his freckled nose. “Catch-22!” He snaps his fingers as if a lightbulb went on in his mind before a proud grin forms on his lips. “That quote is from Catch-22.”

Perplexed, Y/N furrows her brow. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“I’ve read books,” he boasts full of pride and beams a smile. Her mouth parts in surprise. “When I was locked up, they didn’t let me have a TV, but I was allowed books from the library. So I asked which ones you’ve read, and they brought me some.”

“Huh. And here I thought I was marrying an illiterate idiot,” Y/N sasses teasingly, giggling.

“Ouch! Hey! I always could fucking read, okay? I just chose not to,” he defends.

“Uh-huh, so sexy…” Y/N snorts in amusement. “So? What books did you read?”

“Well, I liked the war ones,” Ben remarks, making Y/N chuckle.

“Figures.”

Ben ponders for a moment before he lists off, “I’ve read Hemingway. A Farewell to Arms, For Whom the Bell Tolls. Uhm… Faulkner! The Sound and the Fury. The red line thingy… Ooh, that woman‘s choice!”

Y/N’s brow raises. “Sophie’s Choice?”

“Yeah, that one,” Ben confirms simply.

“Really? You read that book? You?” Y/N tries not to sound offensive. She really does.

Ben frowns, shrugging. “That’s what I just fucking said. Are you deaf?” Then, he grins smugly. “Also read that 50 Shades book. Hey, you think we can have a sex room in our house?”

Y/N’s face drops, sighing. She smacks her lips. “Loving you is like riding a rollercoaster.”

“Thank you.” Ben blushes, taking it as a compliment, causing his bride-to-be to giggle. He reaches out his hand for Y/N to take. “Now, let’s get married, my love, so we can get this forever thing started.”

Y/N nods and places her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “One last thing, though, before we go.”

The former supe cocks an impatient brow, close to rolling back his green eyes. He scoffs. “What now, woman? They’re gonna give our slot away, you know…”

Y/N’s lips shape into a broad and mischievous grin. “Ben? What’s your last name?”

In response, Ben only snorts a loud laugh and shakes his head, kissing her cheek.

Y/N’s heart pounds a million beats per second. An impossible number, sure, but it certainly feels like it as she stands in the small, gray, and bleak control room in some undisclosed government facility. Grace Mallory, Stan Edgar, and a handful of nameless guards are gathered in front of a one-way mirror, staring at an even more depressing cell that holds the most dangerous man on the planet.

Don’t tell Ben she said that.

The facility is one of those places that’s not supposed to exist, serving as the perfect hiding spot for America’s most feared superhero.

A monster in red, white, and blue.

In nerve-racking circles, Y/N twists the golden band on her ring finger that’s sat there since last night. It’s new and unblemished, not a dent or scratch in sight, and yet, it feels like she’s been wearing it a lifetime.

She lets go of the lip she’s chewed to a bleeding degree and softly smiles at the memory when Ben slipped it on her finger. A slow and careful movement as if he could break her or scare her away. She wishes they could’ve had more time together, explored life and each other. But Ben assured her, even promised her, that they had all the time in the world.

“A century, my love,” he’d said.

But Y/N’s stomach churns in warning, her thundering heartbeat ringing in her ears now. She doesn’t trust the two high-profile puppet masters next to her. It all seems too easy, too good to be true.

But what choice do they have? They’d be crazy to agree to this deal and sane to decline it, leaving them with nothing either way. A Catch-22.

There’s no way out. Y/N doesn’t have her powers anymore, and neither does Ben. She never thought she would wish them back. It seems like asking for a curse from God. But right now, all she wants to do is melt the flesh off Mallory’s and Edgar’s bones, grab her lover’s hand, and make a run for it.

Destination: sunset.

Would that really be so bad? After all, bad people deserve what’s coming to them. Is karma a thing of the past like Soldier Boy? Ben already paid his price twice over.

But have they?

Laughing, the two run down the stone steps of City Hall. Ben then catches her and twirls her into his arms, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N’s giggles interrupt his intentions as his palms wander from her hips to her butt.

“So? What do you wanna do now, Mrs. Hunt?” Ben asks, smirking mischievously as he wiggles his eyebrows. “Back to the fucking hotel to consummate the marriage?”

With pursed lips, Y/N muses for a second and then shakes her head. “Not yet, husband. I want a… steak. Bloody. It’s only right to buy a lady dinner beforehand.”

Ben nods in agreement. “Some protein before I tire you out. Good thinking.”

“Right, ‘cause I’m the one who tires out so easily,” Y/N sasses, her tongue playfully darting out between her pink lips.

“Watch it,” Ben warns her with a hint of a grin. “Or I’ll spank that tight little ass of yours.”

But she only laughs louder at that. “Can’t fucking wait.”

“I’m fucking ready. Let’s get this shit over with,” Ben announces as he enters the control room, dressed from head to toe in his old suit.

Y/N’s heart stops in her chest, her breathing halting with it. She’s never seen him before like this, only remembering Soldier Boy from pictures in her childhood. She almost doesn’t recognize him. He looks nothing like the guy she’s fallen in love with.

He resembles just another monster.

Ben adjusts his bulletproof vest underneath his green suit, feeling strangely out of place. The vest, however, isn’t supposed to keep bullets away but is specifically designed to fend off superpowers. It’s untested, though. Not that it would matter. There’s still a perfectly fine head and four limbs to laser off.

“Good.” Stan Edgar nods, satisfied. “Now, let’s go over it one more ti–”

“Nah, no need. I don’t need a fucking briefing.” Ben scoffs in repulsion. “I know what to fucking do, alright? I can handle that pathetic pussy.”

The arrogant smirk he flashes both Mallory and Edgar, however, is nothing more than a lie. He tries his hardest to think and act like Soldier Boy, but that’s just it – it’s all an act. That guy is long gone and buried so deep he can’t possibly be revived. Now, Ben’s just trying to survive with what he has left and hopes the facade doesn’t crumble.

“Fine, as you wish,” Edgar replies dryly, probably hoping that his arrogance gets him killed. It’s one less problem to solve for Vought.

The former CEO then glances and nods at a guard, who quickly brings over a silver tray with a syringe, which holds a yellow liquid inside. Y/N recognizes it as the cure they once gave her, too.

“What happens if it doesn’t work?” Y/N voices her concern. She knows it’s not a full cure-all. Some supes need more than one jab. Ben, however, only has one shot.

“It’ll work. Don’t worry,” Mallory assures her with a cold look. “It’s a higher and more potent dose. Our scientists have tested it on his blood beforehand. We can’t risk it failing.”

Somehow, Y/N believes her. She knows Homelander would burn the entire world down if he ever escaped. The CIA might be ruthless, but they aren’t downright crazy.

“Great.” Ben shrugs coolly and takes the syringe, inspecting it closely. “So I’ll jam this little fucking thingy into his throat, and that princess in there turns back into a fucking pumpkin?”

“Not how I would have phrased it, but yes,” Edgar replies, his obvious annoyance only overshadowed by his arrogance and poshness.

“Alright,” Ben says and rubs his palms together after carefully storing the syringe in his back pocket. He saunters to Y/N and rests his hands on her hips before throwing a glare over his shoulder to his audience. “Mind giving me a fucking minute alone with my wife?”

Y/N finishes her last bite and lets it deliciously melt on her tongue. She leans back in her chair with a full belly. “God, this was so good…”

“Agreed.” Ben chuckles and takes a sip from his top-shelf whiskey, his plate completely cleaned off as well. “Although, that’s not the last time you’ll say this tonight, my love.”

“Oh yeah? You up for the challenge, old man?” Y/N smirks slyly.

Ben laughs wholeheartedly. “Always. You’re gonna wish you got me more drunk. I’m gonna make you mine in every possible way.”

“I’m already yours,” Y/N replies sweetly, smiling.

Ben grabs a hold of her hand on the table, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of it. “Yeah, you are. Lucky fucking me.” Tenderly, he pecks her knuckles. “So, where do you wanna go for our honeymoon?”

“Wow, okay, we’re doing that, huh?”

“Oh, we’re doing the full program, baby.” Ben grins broadly.

“Alright, fine,” Y/N accepts and muses, “How about Japan? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Nuh-uh, over my dead body.” Ben shakes his head and takes another sip of liquor, scoffing. “They’re all Commies and Nazis over there.”

Amused by his reply, Y/N rolls her eyes slightly. Honestly, she hasn’t expected anything less from him. “You do know those two ideologies are mutually exclusive, right?”

“No, they ain’t. Trust me on that one,” Ben mutters.

“Okay, fine.” Y/N sighs and suggests, “What about Mexico? It’s closer.”

“No, thanks. I don’t speak Mexican,” Ben huffs and nurses his whiskey.

“It’s Spanish. And I know that you know that,” Y/N says. At this point, she knows he’s only messing with her, the little smirk on his plump lips confirming her suspicions.

“You know America is a beautiful country.”

“Alright, gramps, where do you wanna go, huh?” Y/N asks curiously. “Vegas?”

Ben twitches his shoulders. “Not the worst idea. Or, you know, Mount Rushmore.”

Y/N frowns deeply and is quite frankly baffled by the strange request. “The one in South Dakota? If you think looking at the faces of four old white men is gonna get me in the mood to fuck you, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Really? I thought you were into kinky shit like that,” Ben teases, chuckling devilishly. “But I was a boy when they started sculpting it. Always wanted to go. Never got the chance…” He lets out a little sigh full of sadness and missed opportunities and shoots her an expectant look.

“Okay, you manipulative asshole, now you’re making me feel sad for you. Fine, we can go,” Y/N relents and sees Ben smirk widely. “But after our honeymoon. I wanna go somewhere nice first. How about Hawaii?”

“Now, we’re talking!” Ben grins appreciatively, Y/N’s hope of a nice vacation rising. “I can show you around Pearl Harbor.”

Y/N exhaustively throws her head back and runs a palm over her face. “Dear Lord! What did I get into here? It’s like vacationing with Clark Griswold…”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Y/N shakes her head, a few giggles escaping her upon her husband’s confused look. She supposes he must’ve missed out on those movies. “Ben, I just wanna sip fruity cocktails from coconuts, get a massage, and fuck your brains out in a nice hotel suite, alright? Maybe even the beach…”

Pursing his lips, Ben nods. “Yeah, alright. I can get behind that.” Then, a cheeky smirk forms on his sinful lips. “And I’ll get behind you, doll. How’s that?”

With her face resting in his large and safe palms, Ben kisses her deeply, wishing he could stay like this for another lifetime. He wipes the tears that roll down her cheeks away with his thumbs and places one last peck on her forehead.

While it feels like a goodbye, he hopes it’s a hello instead.

Her gaze roams his body from head to toe as if she’s trying to capture him forever. Her hands rest on his chest, fingers carefully tracing the emerald star pattern on his suit. Her brow flutters and wrinkles as she’s trying to make sense of it all.

He lifts her chin and meets her watery and red eyes. “It’ll be fine, okay? It’s still me underneath,” he assures her quietly and clasps her hand, placing it on his beating heart. “This all belongs to you, my love.”

Y/N nods and buries her face in his chest, her tears staining his suit. She wraps her arms around his frame, so tight it becomes a lock.

“I love you,” she says and sniffles.

“I love you, too,” Ben replies and kisses her crown. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Stan Edgar then strolls back into the control room, a clear of his throat drawing the couple’s attention to him. “Ready, Ben?”

Ben exhales a small sigh and gives her one last kiss before turning to Edgar. His demeanor changes, brow creased and green eyes darkened.

“I was born fucking ready,” he replies in feigned arrogance. “And it’s Soldier Boy, you ass-licking beta cuck.”

Ben takes a deep, long breath before his red-gloved hand curls around the doorknob to Homelander’s cell. He flashes one last look at his wife and swallows thickly. Then, he focuses back on his mission and nods at a guard, giving him the command to open the door.

Soldier Boy is ready, but Y/N isn’t.

“Let’s hope his acting improved since the 80s,” Edgar jokes, chuckling with Mallory.

Y/N flashes them a glare, grinding her jaw. She feels the bile rise in her throat. “I have to fucking pee,” she excuses and vanishes out of the control room. No one pays attention to her, except for the guard that lets her out.

Y/N knows they don’t fucking care. She’s not important. Never has been.

“Whoa, whoa! Whatcha doing there?” Ben chides with an arched brow and snatches the keycard from her hands.

“Uhm, I’m trying to open the door,” Y/N replies and frowns as the pair stands in the hallway of their hotel.

“Not on my fucking watch you are,” Ben says with a chuckle, but before she can open her mouth in confusion, he lifts her off her feet and has her in his arms – bridal style. “It’s tradition.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/N laughs in understanding and wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m honestly surprised you know that,” she quips as he opens the door and carries her into the room.

“I told you – full fucking program, baby.” Ben smirks and ceremoniously plops her down on the mattress, listening to her giggles.

The bed dips on either side of hers as he cages her in with two strong arms. His full body weight presses down on her, his cock heavy and thick rutting against her cunt through thin fabric that doesn’t hide much. He chases her lips and rips the straps of her dress.

“Ben!” Y/N scolds his roughness through his tender kisses.

“Oh, don’t you worry. You’re not gonna wear white anymore after I’m fucking done with you,” Ben growls with a deep chuckle and devours her neck, sucking her skin between his sharp teeth. He plans to mark every inch of his wife tonight, make her his in every possible way.

His fingers open the zipper in the back, pulling the satin material down till she’s left in ivory lace. He eyes her for a moment and takes a mental image as she lies spread out before him. Her body, her heart, her soul – it’s all fucking his.

Her tits heave with each labored breath as he kisses a pathway down to her cunt. His hot breath tickles her clit before his teeth grab hold of the waistband and tear it down over her knees. He uses his hand for the rest of the way, his face already diving back into her pussy before the lingerie hits the floor.

His beard burns and scratches her sensitive nerve endings as his digits thrust violently into her tight channel. She tries to count them but can’t tell if it’s three or four as they stretch her cunt open. She can tell, however, when his spit-wet pinky slips inside her puckered hole.

Her moans grow louder, little cheers for him. His fingers then curl and hit the spot in the back. His tongue flicks her clit till she white-knuckles the satin bedsheets. She drips like a faucet, but that only spurs him on, sucking and fucking her harder.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut as her toes curl, the coil inside her belly threatening to snap.

And then, he stops.

“You fucking asshole,” Y/N screams in frustration and hears him laugh loudly like the devil personified.

She manages to hit his chest once before he swings her around. She falls face first into the soft mattress, a breathless sigh leaving her lips. He slaps her asscheek hard, his handprint burning into her skin like a permanent tattoo, while her arousal trickles onto the sheets underneath.

“Didn’t think I’d let you come without my cock inside of you,” he says. He lifts her ass higher and spreads her knees wider, his dickhead nudging at her entrance. He swipes two fingers through her wet slit and licks them clean. “Geez, you’re fucking soaked. Got a little excited there, did ya?”

“Yes,” she pants needily. “Please fuck me, baby.”

He chuckles and caresses the globes of her ass with all the patience in the world. “Christ on a cross, I knew you love being a whore for me, but this is some new fucking level, baby girl.”

“Ben, please,” she begs needily, her cunt aching to be filled as the emptiness drives her mad.

“Alright, you know what they say – happy wife, happy life.” Ben chuckles and pushes inside, filling her to the brim.

Her walls stretch around his thick cock, burning with pleasure at the sensation. She’s fully stuffed, no more room to fill her as his balls slap against her flesh. And then, he fucks her, hard and wild, rough and fast, thrusts in and out until they both collapse on the bed with coarse screams of their names.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Ben asks, his skin glistening with sweat as he lies next to her, running a hand through his damp hair.

Y/N checks her watch. “Forty-six minutes. New record,” she replies with a wide grin that’s even visible in the darkness of the room.

“Good.” He nods and smiles, satisfied. “I’d like to go out with a fucking bang.”

Her face falls at his words, her heart aches. “Ben…”

“It’s okay,” he says and fights to uphold his smile. He takes her hand, interlacing their fingers, and pecks her knuckles. “I’ve had a long life. I’m ready to die.”

“Don’t say that,” she pleads, the tears stinging her eyes as she chokes on her words. It gets harder and harder to breathe. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagrees softly and stares at the ceiling above. He swallows. “I’ve thought a lot about this, you know? I always thought I needed fucking superpowers to be a hero… to be happy, but I don’t. All the fame, the glory, and the money… I have none of it. And yet, this last year was the best fucking one of my life.” He gifts her a smile that’s only meant for her. “If I do this, I’ll save the world. You and I both know he’s gonna destroy it if no one stops him.”

“That someone doesn’t have to be you, though,” Y/N counters. She feels desperate, trying to get through to him, but no matter what she tries, she can see the determination shimmering in his green eyes. It won’t leave.

“It does. It’s my fucking chance to make it right… To do something good,” Ben says quietly. “Make people proud.”

“Ben–”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he interjects. He then turns his head and finds her eyes. “Please, Y/N? I just wanna be here with you.”

Y/N sighs, every bone in her body fighting the urge to say more – to stop him. Reluctantly, she nods. “Okay, I’m here.”

She climbs atop his body, her thighs straddling him tightly. She leans down, kisses him so deeply and passionately he feels her love for him seep into his goddamn bone marrow.

Her hunger is insatiable as she pales herself on his cock and rocks her hips. Her movements are so slow and deliberate, they could be mistaken for a spell to stop time. She sure as hell tries to fight the morning light.

Every kiss, every touch, every prayer of his name is a love poem written solely for him.

Ben’s heart thunders like a rock concert in his chest as he sets his first careful step inside the eagle’s nest. If he died from a coronary right now, wouldn’t that be ironic?

Like Papa Eagle, he stays in the shadows for a moment and watches his brood, assessing the situation. The fact that he’s not a pile of dust on the ground yet is a good sign.

Ben knows his son is aware he’s here. He has noticed the pussy’s ears perk up with interest as he walked in. His stomach twists at the thought that the pathetic mess in front of him is his own cursed blood. Calling him anything but an abomination seems out of place.

This is why humans shouldn’t play fucking God.

“What d’you want?” Homelander prompts. His back is turned as he faces the wall, acting like Ben isn't even worth a glance. His tone, however, gives his true feelings away. It's hurt mixed with rejection. He wants the attention and is waiting for some groveling.

Jesus fuck, even his voice sounds whiny. Ben strains himself to keep his eyes from rolling.

“I've worked out a deal with the CIA. I’m here to help,” Ben says and takes a brave step forward, trying his hardest not to let a single muscle tremble.

Being courageous is something entirely different when you don’t have superpowers. Alas, he pretends they’re still there.

Homelander scoffs, chuckling.

“And apologize,” Ben adds with all the sincerity he can muster. He certainly has learned a ton over this past year and is willing to put it all to the test right now.

Rule #1: An apology goes a long way.

“I’m sorry, son. I shouldn’t have let that fucking Butcher drive a wedge between us,” Ben continues.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Homelander agrees and finally faces him, pouting like a fucking toddler.

Rule #2: If you want to shift blame and guilt-trip someone, admit your flaws.

“I was blinded by my rage. After what the fucking Commies did to me… I hate to admit my weakness, but I guess I was an easy target for these cunts,” Ben explains and takes another step closer.

“Butcher and his friends can be quite manipulative,” Homelander says, nodding in thought.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, son. But I still hope you find it in your heart to forgive me,” Ben pleads.

Homelander looks up at him, tears welling in his eyes. “I had no idea what they did to you in Russia. I would’ve been there for you. I could’ve helped you. But you had to trust fucking Butcher instead of me…”

Rule #3: Empathy is a useful tool for emotional manipulation.

Ben swallows harshly and forces tears to his eyes. “I know, son. I know… I guess you’ve always been stronger than me. I finally see it now. You’re everything I wish I could be…" He takes a deep breath, tries to loosen the tightness in his jaw. "Let’s put the past behind us. Start fresh. Be a family. What d’you say, slugger?”

For a brief moment, Ben thinks he might've gone too far and embellished too much. After all, the guy in front of him is not some naive, dull-witted damsel he's trying to rail.

But Homelander locks gazes with him, his lip quivering. “Daddy?”

Ben smiles warmly and takes one last step forward. He knows he has won. He rests his palm on Homelander's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise I’ll make it right. No more mistakes. I’m so fucking proud of you, son.”

“It’s so good to finally hear you say it,” Homelander cries happily. “Of course, I’ll forgive you.”

Ben leans closer and keeps eye contact with his target. His arms then wrap around the man in blue and pull him in for a hug, patting his back. Stealthily, Ben’s free hand dives into his back pocket and pulls out the syringe. He works fast, too fast for Homelander to make sense of the metaphorical knife in his back as the needle pricks his skin.

The cure works quickly, but not quick enough. Homelander’s powers are on the fritz and go ballistic. Ben’s arm wraps around the guy’s neck, however, and puts him in a strong chokehold. He ducks behind his son, using him as a shield as laser beams shoot chaotically through the room.

Not even a minute later, it all thankfully stops. Scarlet laser beams flicker off like the dead bulb of a lamp.

Homelander manages to free himself from Ben’s grasp and scowls, anger seeping from every pore. He tries to get his laser eyes to work, squeezes and squints with all his remaining power, but they won’t power on. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“Like I said, fixing my mistakes,” Ben reiterates slyly and smirks.

Homelander huffs furiously and swings his fist at Ben’s face, but Ben ducks out of the way, letting his hand hit the concrete wall. It didn’t even leave a dent or a crack.

“Ow! That hurts!” Homelander whines and clasps his surely broken hand.

“Yeah, no shit, you fucking wimp.” Ben scoffs, shaking his head in amusement.

As Homelander charges angrily at him, Ben manages to hold him at bay, caging his arms around him. But the guy‘s still stronger than expected, and it’s a struggle.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells with a grunt to the door and the one-way mirrored window.

Y/N exhales the breath she’s been holding in for the past few minutes as she stares with parted lips at the scene in front of her. He did it.

He fucking did it. And he’s still alive. It feels like a goddamn miracle.

Ben sends her a small smile through the window. She knows he can’t see her, but she also knows it was meant for her. Her heart pounds a parade in her ribcage.

Happily, her glance drifts to Mallory and Edgar. Ben upheld his deal. They got what they wanted.

Stan Edgar watches quietly as Homelander fights against Ben’s arms, trying to hold him in place. The former CEO remains stoic until an eerie smile twitches on his lips.

Y/N’s hands ball into fists by her side, nails digging into her palm so harshly it’s a surprise she doesn’t bleed. Something is wrong. Something is off. She feels the trembling anxiety and pure rage rise in her chest.

Edgar then turns to a guard, his smile more prominent and morphing to smug as he formulates his order. “Kill them both.”

Y/N screams. Two gunshots echo through the facility.

Rule #4: Beware of double crosses.

Epilogue: twin flames – March 30

Oooh boy... 👀 Welp, let me hear your screams, swoons, and conspiracy theories. I'll see you back tomorrow for the bitter end 😘

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