#today is a hard enough day without people's bullshit

[chaoticstabby]

I think what most people fail to understand is the sheer scale of not only the horrors but also the consequences of the dictatorship.

In 17 years of dictatorship, the official human rights reports count at least 40.000 victims of repression in all its forms, almost 3.000 of which were forced disappearances, and of those disappearances, several hundred victims were minors. There are still 1162 people whose fates and whereabouts are completely unknown, fifty years later. There were around 200.000 people who fled into exile, and there's probably countless more whose suffering we just don't know about. There are hundreds of people who were never born because their mothers were purposefuly tortured to the point of abortion. Schools, stadiums, hospitals, houses, all turned into concentration camps and torture centers. The Chilean dictatorship was one of the bloodiest in all of Latin America.

And the same dictatorship was the one who created the structures we live under to this day: they privatized the mining industry, the education system, the healthcare system, they set the precedent for the later privatization of water, they installed the current pension system at literal gunpoint, they completely redid every aspect of daily life in Chile and fifty years later we're still trying to undo the damage.

It's hard to convey how much the dictatorship still affects our life, it's hard to put into words how deep the wounds go, but it's there. It's everywhere. Wherever I look, wherever I turn, whoever I talk to, it's in the little coincidences that made the difference between life and death, and in all the unspoken family histories, it's in the endless wait lists for doctors' appointments, it's in the fucking wealth inequality that makes it so that the 1% of the population is sitting on over 50% (if not more) of the country's wealth and still have the fucking gall to tell us we live in one of the best economies in the world, that we're fucking lucky.

This is our reality, this is what we live with every day, and I wish I didn't have to give an entire dissertation whenever I want to discuss it. We don't deserve to be relegated to "the other 9/11". We deserve a way forward.

Ni perdón ni olvido

[merakiui]

ex-husband floyd thoughts...

in which you're living alone with your daughter. it's been two years since everything, and you're all settled. it took a while to truly feel secure and stable, and you received lots of help from family and friends. surprisingly (or maybe not), floyd's twin brother was one of the first to extend a helping hand. it's mostly thanks to him that you were able to have enough money to pay the first few months of rent at your new apartment. but now you're back on your feet, and things have never been better.

your daughter didn't understand it when you told her she'd be living with you from now on. awkwardly, you tried to explain that papa couldn't come with because he was getting involved with some bad people, and that was dangerous. your daughter didn't understand or believe you. it was difficult. you know how much she adored her papa and how much he adored her. but this is for the best. this is safe.

following the divorce, your daughter started saying strange things. things like "i saw papa today and he made me a yummy lunch!" you tell her this can't be; that was the babysitter, not floyd. besides, the dishes are clean and everything is stocked as it normally is. there's no evidence floyd could have been here. furthermore, he doesn't even have a key and your daughter isn't tall enough to reach the doorknob to let him in. your daughter calls you a liar and storms off most days because you refuse to believe her stories. that's all they are, really. she's just missing her papa.

you told floyd you had no problems letting him see her so long as he cleaned up his act and stopped getting involved with delinquents. seeing as it's been two years and floyd's still running from people, you (as a parent) have a responsibility to keep your daughter safe. and you know it's terrible for her and floyd, but this is the best option you can think of. the safest option.

floyd thinks that's bullshit because he can protect you and his daughter plenty, but then he gets it. you never liked the shadows that accompanied his surname. he understands. but he thinks it's awfully unfair of you to just cut him out of your life when he promised you he'd change and do better and be better. :/

he sees how hard you work, how rough it gets when you haven't been paid yet. he has jade send you money because he knows you don't want to see him, and most of the time you accept it. but sometimes it's sent back, accompanied with a note thanking him for his generosity and that you can manage by yourself. again, floyd knows this is bullshit.

his shrimpy works so hard. :( you deserve a break.

so when you're sleeping every night, he pays your apartment a visit. you've started sleeping on the couch most nights, with the tv still on, your work spread out on the coffee table, your daughter tucked away in her bed... it's hard being a single parent, isn't it? why don't you stop being stubborn and let him back into your life? floyd will take good care of you. he always has, hasn't he?

he carries you to bed and tucks you in, cleans up the room, stacks your books, prepares a meal for you to heat up tomorrow at work, etc. and how do you respond to his kindness? you go and change the locks without saying anything.

so next time floyd thinks he has no choice but to be drastic. so next time floyd will make sure you understand that there is no life worth living if it's not you and him together. as a pair. as a whole. you might be frightened when he wakes you up in the middle of the night to drag you back to his home (to your home) and you might continue to be scared of him when he confines you to the basement, but this is for your own good. think of your daughter! she deserves to grow up with both parents. at the very least, be good for her sake.

floyd tells your daughter that you're in perpetual timeout because you've been bad and she believes him. after all, it was you who refused to let her spend more time with her papa. that's a very bad thing to do!

floyd brings you your meals, carries you to the bath, bathes you, dresses you... you scowl at him the entire time, call him crazy, tell him to get away from your daughter, refuse to eat, fight him every time he tries to undress you for the bath. he smiles, eerily patient, and simply says, "i'm willing to letcha see her once you've cleaned up your act. you can do that, can'tcha?"

[strawbeerossi]

Anger Management

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer broke up months ago over him talking to someone else. Whenever she dies and he’s left to grieve, he likes to take his anger out on you until one day you have enough.

Content/Warnings: Non descriptive break up, mentions of Maeve (I’m a Maeve hater), Spencer is an asshole, Dom!Spencer, office sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Nine: Hate Sex

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer had always known that he was a creature of habit after learning the things he liked and disliked. He strayed from trying most new things, nor did he ever spend his time going out of his way to communicate with new people. He enjoyed his simple yet equally complicated existence. 

He had a stable job, he had a home, plus he had a huge combined family with his work colleagues. Besides you. 

Once upon a time, he loved you. The both of you spent every waking moment together at home and at work, enjoying one another’s presence and taking care of one another. Once he met Maeve, that changed though. He’d began to spend his time talking to the woman who he swore up and down was just his doctor who was helping him with his headache problems. 

The more they talked, the more you realized that had to be a bullshit lie. What kind of doctor makes her patients go to a payphone just to have a consultation or to discuss your issues? She felt like it was suspicious. They had secret conversations, things Spencer wouldn’t dare discuss after the fact. If you were honest, it pissed you off.

That was why there was an explosive fight, one where you were deciding on packing up all your shit in the apartment and you were leaving. You didn’t have to sit around and take it so you weren’t going to.

You’d transferred departments for a while after that, knowing the BAU couldn’t be home with your ex boyfriend still there. You’d moved on to Counterterrorism, which was an alright job. Paid the bills, you just preferred where you knew that you belonged.

Going for months without talking to Spencer and having no interest to, you thought you were recovering pretty well.

Until you got a call from Aaron Hotchner. Spencer was on bereavement leave and they were down an agent, which you’d briefly heard the long story of Maeve being stalked and ultimately shot in front of Spencer. He was practically begging you on the phone to come back, long enough for them to be fully staffed so cases could be solved timely and efficiently.

Which you did. It ended up with you putting in a transfer to come back to the BAU. Things went downhill after that though. Spencer was still going through the stages of grief and most of the issues and hard feelings he felt were taken out on you. He’d make sly and shitty comments regularly, things you did your best to ignore. He was grieving, it didn’t make it okay but you really did try to cut him some slack. The things he said were deep cuts, insulting your intelligence at times just to see if he could elicit a reaction.

That wasn’t the Spencer you knew, the Spencer that you loved. You just assumed that version of him was dead and buried along with Maeve. 

Today wasn’t a day to bother you though. After weeks of suffering from verbal abuse, you were tired of it. You’d woken up in a bad mood as is that morning, dreading what was to come the minute that you walked into the bullpen. A mood that Derek would jokingly say was because you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

With the desk setups, it was no surprise your desk was across from Spencer’s, how lucky could you possibly be? You were looking through the stack of files you desperately needed to sort through when Spencer came in. Joy.

“You know, if you actually made forth an effort to do your job when it needs to be done, you wouldn’t have the pile of work you need to blow through.” He was getting started early, placing his satchel on the underside of his desk while retrieving a book. 

Without missing a beat, you picked up at least four of the files and tossed them carelessly onto his desk. “Then fucking help lighten the load since you are so concerned about it.” You snapped, which caught Spencer by surprise. You’ve been a quiet punching bag since he got back but here you were, snapping at him. That only fueled his fire.

“I’m not concerned about it, I’m giving you advice.” He had his own attitude while picking up the files before throwing them back to your desk. “I think you need to stop being so sensitive. It’s not a good look for you. I’m offering you advice.”

“No. You’re being an asshole and I’m getting tired of you taking every ounce of anger out on me! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You asked, hands slamming on your desk while you were pushing yourself to stand. The commotion had garnered the attention of every other agent in the bullpen, even Aaron and Dave watching from the windows of their office. You knew you’d be embarrassed later but you felt so good right now for standing up for yourself. As you stormed out of the heavy glass doors, everyone turned their attention to Spencer, who was in a stunned silence. “I’ll go talk to her.” He cleared his throat. He felt rage festering inside of him after that little display, however he kept himself grounded as he was heading out of the bullpen in search of you.

He eventually found you in one of the vacant offices, a frown on his face as he was quickly stepping inside and closing the door. “That was ridiculous.” He wasn’t here to apologize, only here to argue even more. “No, it wasn’t. I hope that I humiliated you infront of every agent in that room.” Venom dripped from your tone as you turned to face him, face red from anger. “I’m so sick of your bullshit. You think just because you lost someone that you have a right to make my life a living hell?” You asked, stepping closer to jab your finger into his chest. “Because you don’t. I’m sorry that whatever her name is died, I truly am. I’m tired of giving you a pass because I feel bad for you!” You spat.

That was the final straw for Spencer as he backed you up against the nearest wall of the office. “I knew you would try and bring her up into this!” He scoffed, both of you staring at each other in a tense silence. Within a flash, your hands were tangled in Spencer's hair while he was slamming his mouth into yours, the frustration and anger all melting into the kiss as he had you pinned to the wall behind you. “I’m so fucking sick of your mouth.” You murmured against his lips and made Spencer grunt. “Like I’m not tired of your bullshit.” He murmured, his hands quickly working on the buttons of your pants while working on tugging them down. 

The haste was returned as you were working on his belt before tossing it somewhere in the room while tugging down the pants hugging his waist. The kiss was abruptly cut off as he was flipping you around, your body now facing the wall. It was for the best that you didn’t look at him, moreso because he’d pissed you off so much that you just wanted to use him for your own relief. You deserved this, even if he didn’t. He had a similar sentiment, your panties being pulled to your mid thighs. 

The thick tip of his cock was breaching your sex without warning, mouth falling open while you were letting your forehead rest against the wall, mouth agape as his thick cock was bottoming out. “Oh, my fucking god.” 

There was no time to waste, the large hands resting against your waist while his thick cock was pistoning inside of your tight cunt, a bruising grip keeping you in place. “Fuck. How does it feel to be a useless hole? Lord knows that nobody ever wants your fucking input or opinions.” His words were low, hips roughly snapping into yours as the echo of your skin smacking together filled the empty office. 

“Spencer-” You began before one of his hands was over your mouth, muffling any attempt for you to speak. “Shut up.” He growled. You both had issues together but this encounter really symbolized that. Spencer used to be slow and sweet, hardly ever cursing or telling you some of the filthy things that had been falling from his lips. A moan was muffled against his hand while his eyes fluttered shut.

“Gonna cum. You’re gonna take everything that I give you.” His lips were against the shell of your ear, the words making your mouth fall open. With a few more thrusts, it wasn’t long until his spent was gushing deep inside of you, the feeling causing you to hit your own release shortly after. 

Instead of getting the treatment that you were used to, he was pulling out of you and pulling up his boxers and pants. “Might wanna clean yourself up.” He commented, fluffing out his hair while walking to the closed office door. 

The last thing you heard was the door open and the footsteps out of the room followed by a slam of the door. 

That was one way to get over an argument.

[inbloomwriting]

If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness.  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to. 

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it. 

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches. 

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her. 

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection. 

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?” 

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture. 

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.” 

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?” 

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.” 

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?” 

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought. 

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.” 

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool. 

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.” 

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon. 

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “ 

“ — hang out?” 

“Mh. Hang out.” 

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet. 

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.” 

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes. 

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely. 

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness. 

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life. 

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous. 

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.” 

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship. 

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.” 

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.” 

“Right? I reckon it would.” 

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart. 

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?” 

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.” 

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.” 

“They don’t know you like I know you.” 

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once. 

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.” 

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.” 

“Obviously.” 

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.” 

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.” 

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.” 

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him. 

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.” 

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.” 

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze. 

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.” 

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always. 

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows. 

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?” 

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!” 

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation. 

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put. 

“What are you doing, love?” 

“Dropping you off?” 

“Are you not coming inside then?” 

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.” 

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —” 

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen. 

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going. 

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?” 

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.” 

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew. 

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy. 

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen. 

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable? 

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love. 

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like. 

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.” 

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win. 

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for. 

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing. 

“Superstar, you did it!” 

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?” 

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted. 

“I — “ 

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!” 

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot. 

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night. 

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.” 

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.” 

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “ 

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.” 

“What?” 

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.” 

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers. 

“Jamie Tartt?” 

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved. 

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream. 

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Buzz

Mattheo Riddle x Reader 

A/N: hi! loving your feedback and constructive criticism, so if you feel like sharing your opinion, feel free to do such! love ya 

Summary: How birthday day can go in such a different way than initially planned. 

Warnings: oh yes! language, some mild graphics (make-up lol), bitchy Pansy, and... have I mentioned language??

Word Count (bruh): 5.1k 

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

No one would have convinced Y/N in the morning that what had just transpired was coming around, in such a slapdash rapidity as it had. Even so, with that clear-cut fact smacking her right across the face was it still so damn hard to believe that... that it was true.  

She must be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Even the phenomenon of swines with the wings in the air would have been more feasible than... what was that exactly?  

It all started with Y/N descending to the Great Hall, the walls woven with the luminant sunlight of the spring. Entering the room, humid and somewhat irksome (it was Monday, everything is irksome on Mondays, alright?), she instantly noticed a few details: McGonagall's new insipid hairstyle, the plate with her go-to breakfast already stowed in her regular sitting spot, Pansy’s huge grin tacked on her lips, and Blaise missing. The latest part surprised Y/N the most because she knew that Blaise would never skip a breakfast, and these were his usual hours of arriving; maybe he had already eaten?  

Also, what’s the Pansy’s deal with smiling like a madman who overdosed on the crack?  

What in the world...  

“Haiya you!” Pansy scrambled to her feet, without giving Y/N a chance to query. “Guess what! Or no, you are so bullshit at guessing anyways... Slytherin is throwing a party today!”  

The last part of her sentence came out in a feverish murmur, so that the Teachers’ Table wouldn’t overhear their conversation, and only loud enough for Y/N to hear. Still, her excitement was speaking volumes and Y/N wondered quickly whether Pansy really hadn’t dosed on a shot or two before the breakfast. Not that she wasn’t like that on a daily basis.  

“What? It’s literally the beginning of the week.”

“But not every week does someone have a birthday!” As Pansy’s elation gently receded, was then Y/N able to finally to abscond herself at the table and munch on the already-prepared food. Upon seeing Y/N frowning, Pansy let out a shrill shriek which made a few people nearby glance crabwise at the two. “You didn’t forget, did you?”  

“About what?”  

Another shriek followed. “Mattheo’s birthday!”  

An awkward grimace popped on Y/N’s face, brows knitting together. “Well... if you haven’t noticed, we are not precisely on the friendly terms.”  

Pansy made a fish-like O with her mouth, obviously about to say something appeasing, but the grunt next to Y/N interrupted. Promptly, she looked for the owner of the voice and was astonished to learn that the rest of their group was siding just next to her and Pansy, ostensibly listening to their exchange from the starters.  

“Well, well... just look who has finally decided to acknowledge the rest of her friends. Good morning to you too, Y/N.”  

She smirked. “No need to be so bitter, Theo. A few more years of practice and you may replace Snape in his disgruntlement.” A snort issued at the table and Y/N, complacent, grinned cheekily at Theo who only huffed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Theo, you know I love you.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she patted him at the top of his head. “There, there...”  

“So... party you say,” spoke up Draco for the first time. He was chewing on his morning toast, evidently amused by the entire scene, but his eyes had a ghost of a question in them. Y/N already knew that this topic wasn’t going to slip by as easily. “Have you really forgotten about Mattheo?”  

A smear of naked embarrassment splattered on Y/N’s cheeks. A part of her wanted to tell everyone to back off and just let her be, but at the same time, she knew she had blundered. It didn’t matter if they were close with Mattheo or not; they belonged to the same coterie, so it entangled some commitment. Even if that indicated associating with the bombastic entitlement of Mattheo for longer than the ideal time.  

“Mhm... Yeah. You know. How was I supposed to know, really. We barely talk.” While saying so, Y/N made sure to perform the best glower she could pull off. She felt extremely petulant while doing so, but she wanted to fend for herself and not let anyone manoeuvre her into culpability.  

“I told you about that, like two days ago!” Pansy had a distinct air of displeasure, as though personally offended by the occurrence. “I specifically highlighted ‘please, try to remember, it’s important’ and you said ‘fine’!”

“Well, I did not remember. And so, what? Don’t make such a big fuss about that. It’s not like he cares anyways,” Y/N said that with a nose in her breakfast plate, trying to avert the gaze from the rest, especially from Pansy who seemed to be at the brink of incredulity.  

She should have remembered though. She should have.  

Shit, shit, shit...  

Theo grunted again. “It’s not the end of the world, Pansy, we only have to find a way to... make Y/N appear like she’s not an ignorant brat who forgot about her friend's birthday.” A beat. Theo peeked at Y/N goadingly, but she was already shooting daggers at him; that made him smirk. “She can pin her name on the present we got with Blaise.”  

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” said Y/N, making a U-turn and smiling gratefully at her friend. Gosh, she didn’t know what she would have done without this insolent arse. In order to take the limelight off herself, Y/N continued: “Why did you decide to organize the party so last-minute, anyways?”

“We didn’t know till now if we would be able to smuggle the booze,” said Draco through the half-full mouth.  

“And how ar--”  

“Don’t ask,” interjected Pansy with the look that explicitly indicated that Y/N wouldn’t like to know that piece of information. “Blaise is fixing everything.”  

In response, Y/N merely nodded.  

“So here is a deal,” Pansy continued after a beat. She lowered her timbre as if revealing a top-secret gossip to a bunch of nine-year-olds. “When Mattheo comes down, we are going to pretend like we don’t remember about his birthday. He is going to be sulking all day long and stuff-”

“Highly doubt th-”  

“However.” If the looks could kill, Theo would be surely laying prostrate, French-kissing the floor. “At around...” She looked at her wristwatch. “8-ish, Y/N will ask Mattheo if he could help her out, at the same time hauling him to the Common Room. And that’s when all of us will jump out and hold a fucking “Surprise” banner right in front of his pretty face. Clear much?”  

Y/N exhaled, with one nagging thought in her head. Why was she always the one to be arranged in such a setting with Mattheo? Her friends were acutely aware of the enmity between the two, yet they always impelled them to work together, both if it came to the school projects or even the group hangouts when everyone – beside her and Mattheo, obviously – would suddenly mingle out of the gathering last-minute.  

As if sensing the ongoing dissension in Y/N’s head, Pansy critically eyed Y/N and furrowed, precisely addressing her concerns: “Something to add, Y/N?”  

“No, I love the plan,” she replied quickly, after a moment of contemplation. “It’s that I’m not sure about the latest bit. I—I don’t know if he will accede, you know, with helping me out. We aren’t that friendly, so it may seem a tad suspicious that all of the sudden I’m asking him for a favour.”  

No one said anything for a couple of seconds, but everyone seemed to be having the same hardwired thought as they threw each other the same bemused look, chewing the silence away. The tension of the message, so palpable it was, that it made Y/N snap out of the anticipation; she turned to Pansy, catching the waft of her strong double expresso, and then ogled each of her friends with an expectant eye.  

“What?” Her tone seemed brusque, even to herself. “Why are you all acting so... meek? Is there something I don’t know about?” And then, the thought dawned at her: “Has Mattheo said something about me?”  

Another round of chary looks followed, but before anyone was able to lodge a definite answer to the barrage of Y/N’s questions, the voice from behind echoed:  

“Morning, everyone.”  

Y/N whirled so abruptly, it almost cost her a whiplash, but when she saw the way Mattheo suited himself today, it most definitely caused her that whiplash. He was clad in a button-up shirt, the last couple of buttons undone and exposing the cleavage; his hair of the usual dark-brown curl was tumbling in its usual haphazard style and accentuating his prominent cheekbones; most definitely, the vague scar across his face did not make Y/N anyhow randy. Anyhow!

What struck Y/N the most, however, was the halo above his head – sunlight seeping through the Great Hall’s windows and highlighting Mattheo’s figure. The image was so angelic, so lofty, it suddenly caused the dryness in her throat. She thought she must be melting under those caramel-brown eyes like a humongous puddle of sweat and adoration.  

No, she most definitely did not develop a crush on her frenemy, that couldn’t be right.    

Y/N suddenly realized that she might be gawking, so she promptly returned to her previous position, all her aptitude to eat and breathe gone. Sidewise, she also noticed Pansy grinning knowingly at her, and when Y/N gave her an evil eye, she merely shrugged in a manner of “you know what I mean.”  

Mattheo, instead of occupying his usual spot at the table, squeezed in between Y/N and some Slytherin second-year. Y/N had a vague impression that he was awaiting his friends to suddenly burst singing “Happy Birthday” or bestow him with wishes, because his lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was silently scooping the porridge from the ornamental bowl.  

“So, what’s new, Mattheo?” asked Theo which felt so widely inappropriate that Y/N suddenly had an urge to boot him.  

From this proximity, Y/N could perceive the brief flash of hurt across Mattheo’s features, but that was only for milliseconds. He plastered a sham smile on his face, and only tipped off with a short: “Not much.”  

“We were actually talking,” started Pansy, carefully. “That Y/N needed some tutoring in Potions.” This time, Y/N seriously contemplated booting someone. Namely, Pansy. “Maybe you could help her, Mattheo? You are good at Potions, right?”  

Dismissing Pansy’s last question, Mattheo finally eyed Y/N who was maxing out the redness of her face. She gave him a bashful smile. “Really? I thought you were good at Potions.”  

The blankness overcame her. Y/N, clearly at whom the question was directed, tried to contrive a blatant lie but failing more and more as the seconds elapsed. Panic-stricken, she looked at Pansy who was witnessing the entire fall with a pained expression.  

Shit.  

“I-- I have a problem with this n-new topic. Something connected with Pepperup Potion,” she finally spluttered out, after what felt like forever. Once more, she glanced at Pansy who gave her the thumbs-up (that crone!), but she made the point of averting Mattheo’s gaze. “But sure, if you don’t want t--”  

“No problem,” he broke off Y/N’s exhausted ramble. “Around 6-ish then?”  

“Actually,” said Pansy. “Me and Y/N are headed to the Hogsmeade at that time. Girly things, you know. Maybe you can meet up, afterward, like 7-ish?”

“Mhm, yeah, why not. As long as it’s okay with Y/N.” He shortly looked at her but she, mortified, merely responded with a nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then!” Pansy exclaimed a coda with a sort of exuberance which, apparently, nobody else shared. And Y/N couldn’t help but think how interesting her one-to-one with Mattheo is going to be.  

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXXOXO

Precisely two minutes before the appointed time, Y/N was at the foot of the library, taking in deep breaths.  

She didn’t know why she felt so overwrought. She thought she must be overreacting. It’s not like her and Mattheo hadn’t been alone with each other before.  

Rather, the opposite – they had been. Plenty of times.  

The worst part was, or the funniest -- Y/N wasn’t sure in which terms she should regard that case – she constantly kept recollecting the same printed image of Mattheo from the morning. In his unbuttoned shirt, with that tousled hair which really gave him a look of a lead vocalist from the “Weird Sisters.” And the weirdest bit was that Y/N found that immensely attractive.  

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe it was her hormones butting in, her pre-period thirst for what’s been chucked by the universe? And again, why would the universe be afflicting her?  

Deciding that she would probably not find any answers to those unabating thoughts, Y/N thought that there was no longer point of dangling in front of the entrance like some kind of mule. She pushed the door, treaded through a couple of book sections before finally localizing Mattheo with his usual cavalier aura. He was scribbling something rather intently on the piece of parchment in front of him, so much was he absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Y/N strode over to the table.  

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Hey.”  

He ultimately quirked up, and gosh was he so unbelievingly charming. Even after a day of meandering in the same clothes, he still made an impression of impeccable, and when his eyes met Y/N’s irresolute gaze, he smiled at her softly. Something flittered in Y/N’s stomach, and she only hoped that it was that sketchily-looking croissant that she had eaten.  

“Hey,” he spoke in a stoic manner, simultaneously gesturing at the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

And so she did; from that distance she could smell the scent of his cologne – cedarwood mixed with an enticing trace of bourbon. Damn him.  

“Huh, so shall we start?” he asked as Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his face. “Or will you just keep staring?”  

At once, Y/N tore her gaze away from his face, a blush blotching her cheeks; she felt positively mortified, warmth venturing from the chest to the nape of her neck. Well, it will take her some time to recover from that... “Yeah,” she laughed out, breathlessly. “Sorry.”  

He merely shook his head, then plucked the course book from his satchel, and dragged it between the two of them. Without further ado, he commenced explaining the topic to her (“Pepperup Potion is quite a facile topic” Yeah, no shit, Flamel) in his calming voice, tracing his finger over the ingredients and elucidating their cruciality in finalization of the potion.  

And while he was explaining all of that, composed and unbothered as if it were his daily lark, Y/N was on the other side of the spectrum – never had her body undergone something like that: her brain muddled, thoughts garbled, heart doing cartwheels whenever she looked up at Mattheo. She even noticed those little things about him, like the way his fingers smoothly flipped the pages, the way he pursed his lips whenever he was deeply immersed in his thoughts, or even that he had this sweet, little habit of raking his fingers through his hair.  

Y/N, at the same time, absolutely detested herself for having those thoughts – superficial, distractive, unnecessary, delusory, egregious, and...

She was staring again and, from the peripheries of his vision, Mattheo had noted that because he was eyeing her again in the matter of seconds, clearly saying something but Y/N couldn’t string those words together. Only after a couple of seconds did she parse what he had asked.  

“Yes, I’m fine...” she answered, swallowing the pit in her throat. Then, she inspected her watch – 7.47 -- and decided that it was a high time for them to bestir. “I’m just feeling... tired. Maybe we should get going, you know.”  

Mattheo eyed her for a few more jiffs before finally nodding. Y/N had a dim impression that something in terms of acrimony flashed across his face for a split moment, but that was quickly gone, and he was already shoving his belongings into the satchel.  

Once they were out in the corridor, Y/N started: “Thank you for your help, you know. That means a lot.” She thought it a good idea to pass over her gratitude by touching his shoulder but boy was she wrong. The reaction was immediate: Mattheo stiffened under her touch and, like a scalded cat, took a stride backward; his breath hitched and even in a dull lighting as it was, she could discern how his pupils dilated; he raked his hand over his hair like he had done before.  

Y/N froze, halting just as he had. Not sure what else to do, because she hadn’t done anything wrong really, she simply waited how this debacle was going to progress; she could have anticipated many things -- him throwing cusses at her, him laughing the entire situation off, even him casting curses at her. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Mattheo suddenly rushing in a different direction than the Common Room and leaving her lingering in the spot, not able to process rapidity of the shebang.  

Maybe she should have felt contrite at the moment, maybe she should have given up, and simply informed her friends that the plan clearly hadn’t worked out, and that Mattheo was a prick, leaving her hanging like some kind of scum in the middle of the corridor. But she would be lying to herself then and poorly attempting to talk herself into believing that she didn’t care.  

Yet she did, that’s why Y/N suddenly felt like the blood was curdling within her. Without administering that the words were spewing out of her mouth, she was already shouting after him:

“What’s your problem?” Mattheo stopped in his track, not turning around nor snorting at her, but simply standing still. He was waiting for her to continue. “Every time we are supposed to hang out with each other, every time I try to initiate the conversation with you, every time I smile and you ignore me, every time... I try so hard to be nice to you, try to act... civil, at least in front of our friends. But you always bring me down.” She didn’t even fathom how she had come up to him, but here she was – standing in front of Mattheo Riddle and cannoning the grudges that she had been keeping for years at him. It felt so... emancipating. “Even that one time when I cooked the brownies for Christmas, especially for you, and later you gave them away to Blaise. You know how humiliated I felt? That I spent time doing something for you, and you... so carelessly dismissed that? And, and... by the way, how much of the psychopath do you have to be as not to like brownies, on Merlin’s Beard!”  

Her voice sounded so reedy in her ears, but she knew that she was just poorly trying to outshout the quiver in her voice or the prickling tears in her eyes. When a tear tumbled down her cheek, not wanting to unveil any accompanying emotions, she angrily wiped it away with a sleeve. Her gaze travelled downwards because she felt more waterworks coming about.  

“I realize that you might hate me bu-”

“I don’t,” interjected Mattheo. For the first time, he shifted in his spot and when Y/N scrutinized his countenance, his lines had a note of desperation in them, earnestness that clearly stressed the truthfulness of his words. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Mattheo, I-”

“I don’t hate you,” he retaliated, sounding stern. And angry, in a way? Y/N must have misheard.    

“Listen, Mattheo, I appreciate you trying to patch things up, but there’s no poin-”

But her sentence spiralled into the distant corners of the corridor, and Y/N piped down as Mattheo took a step closer, curtailing the distance between the two. Y/N cast her face downwards under Mattheo’s intense stare, but his hand travelled to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His thumb swiped over her cheek where the tear stain was, and it seemed like he was contemplating her dejection with a sour expression. For a moment, Y/N could swear that the air in her lungs disappeared altogether, and she just kept waiting for his next move, her eyes turned into the deer-in-the-headlights expression.  

With the intent look, he bent over her, Y/N’s nostrils catching the scent of his cologne yet again, and he was leaning over to her ear. One of his hands moved over to her arm, clutching it lightly as if she was the most exquisite dainty porcelain set, and his mouth was just centimetres away from her earlobe. Y/N’s body went entirely rigid.  

“I. Don’t. Hate. You,” he spelled out every syllable of his sentence, gravely, gutturally, slowly.  

Something clicked in Y/N. No longer was she standing there spellbound, but maybe because of his intoxicating scent, maybe because of the intensity with which he had uttered his words, she was tugging him by his collar with both of her hands. She normally, a brief thought crossed her mind, wouldn’t have enough nerve to do something like that, but she kissed him -- her desperate, parched mouth travelled onto his.  

For a moment, she asked herself if maybe she might be out of her mind for doing that or if Mattheo felt the same way she had this morning, or if he had ever considered her as more then... well, whatever they were. She soon found out the answer, however, because his lips momentarily detached themselves from her skin, and he was scanning her face with dilated pupils.  

Instantly, Y/N pulled away and put her hands on the level with her head in the defensive mode like a child who had been caught red-handed while sneaking out the chocolate bars. The air was sucked out of her.  

“I’m so, so sor-”  

“It’s not the way I envisaged that...” His voice sounded positively berserk, feral even. Her hands pending mid-air, Mattheo drew them back to their previous place. In the middle of that maelstrom, Mattheo capitalized Y/N’s confusion by placing his hands on her lower back, flipped her so that now her body was positioned against the wall, moulded against him.  

“And how have you envisaged that, exactly?” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated, observing as a smirk curved on Mattheo’s lips.  

“Let me show you how...”  

His lips smashed against hers, and Y/N was happy to note that her feelings were requited after all. At first it started off gentle, but that quickly morphed into this voracious battle for dominance. They were devouring into each other's taste (Mattheo’s peppermint toothpaste), and he slid his tongue over her bottom lip, silently soliciting her for deepening the kiss.

She permitted, of course she did, parting her lips ever so widely, deliberating that if she ever were to die, that’s probably the only way she would have accepted the Grim Reaper in her warm, hospitable embrace. Much to her surprise, Mattheo took her by both of her wrists, pinned them above her head while his other hand was caressing the skin underneath her shirt.  

His kisses were so fierce and zealous, Y/N couldn’t help it but feel the sudden yearning to be as close to him as possible; she draped one of her legs around his lower waist, aligning his body with hers as if they were the unity. It felt like they belonged together the whole life, just like yin and yang, and it was so ludicrous that they hadn’t realized that before.  

His tongue flicked over her lips a couple more times, making the want pool around her abdomen, before he finally dipped lower and lower, reaching her neck and planting the sloppy kisses on it. It was as if though he couldn’t get enough of her taste, so ardent in his actions he was, and when he finally discovered the weak spot on her neck, he started sucking on it ever so roughly. Not quite able to quell it, she let out a small moan which apparently must have worked marvels on Mattheo because Y/N could suddenly sense the bulge of erection ramming against her thigh.  

She was torn. From one side, she wanted to do this so badly, the knot in her lower parts specifically betrayed that, but she knew that it would be so wrong and thorny if they elevated that to another level.  

Yet, it was so hard to focus with Mattheo’s lips leeched to her neck, signaturing her skin in the most conspicuous way.  

“Don’t... you think... that we sho...uld talk this over... first?” Y/N rasped out with an evident difficulty.  

“What’s there to talk about?” he muttered in between the kisses, his hand still circling on Y/N’s belly and dangerously nearing to her bra. “I’ve wanted this since forever. And clearly, so did you.”  

Y/N released an amused, hoarse chuckle but that silenced her only for a few seconds before she finally deciphered his words. Particularly, the one resonated in her mind: forever. A paroxysm of joy sprung up in her.  

“So, you felt like that for a long time?”  

Mattheo, apparently cognizing that Y/N wasn’t going to relinquish the topic easily, halted. He withdrew both of his hands, instead placing them on each side of the wall where Y/N was residing. His chest was still moving rapidly, hair rumpled, and pupils almost entirely replacing the irises of his eyes. As Y/N examined him briefly, she thought she must be out of her mind for ceasing their make-out in the first place.  

Too late for reversion, anyways.  

After a few inhales, he finally started: “Well, haven’t you noticed? This entire time, that I-” With a small gloss of hesitation, he looked her in the eyes, assiduously. “I have been crazy about you. For so long. I don’t even remember how it feels to be sane, because whenever I’m around you I just... want to grab you and kiss you senseless.”  

Y/N balked. Things got another notch inexplicable, and Y/N wasn’t sure anymore if she was dreaming and perhaps was stuck in a different universe where cats were the heads of the Ministry, Pansy was Gryffindor, and Mattheo was besotted with her. That would be more possible, from all Y/N could think of.  

“Really?” A blush suffused her cheeks. “I thought you hated me! All those signs – always avoiding me, never talking to me... This didn’t necessarily appear to me as... what you just said.”  

“Listen.” His palm covered hers and he squeezed it lightly a couple of times. “All of that was just a game. I didn’t want to weird you out nor did I know if you reciprocated my feelings. That’s why I tried to... avoid you, if you will.” He stopped for a moment, just staring Y/N, enchanted, as if there was nothing else in the world, both of them captured in slow-motion where nothing else around them mattered. The silence between them was only raptured by their quick breathing and the hammering in their chests. “In truth, the way you... move and talk, it’s all driving me mad. Fuck! I want to be with you, be able to kiss you whenever I desire, want to touch you and be there for you whenever you feel down... Y/N, I want to do so many things with you, and you don’t even know that. But how could you, right?”  

As if pained, he closed his eyes with a microscopic grimace and he licked his lips, as if reminiscing the tastes of her on his skin. With guilt flaring up, Y/N cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked over it again and again. He seemed to be enjoying that as he leaned into her touch, his frayed nerves somewhat tranquilized.  

“You know, I like you too,” Y/N said, and before Mattheo was able to protest as he opened his mouth with the clear intention of doing so, Y/N proceeded: “I really do! It was just that... I was trying to tell myself otherwise because I wasn’t sure of how you would react. And when you waltzed into the Great Hall today, looking like that, I realized that... I’ve been lying to myself. And- and are you mad?”  

He furrowed. “Mad? What for?”  

“For screaming at you earlier.” Y/N pursed her lips.  

Gently smiling, he smooched her lips shortly, and Y/N fleetingly missed the heat of his body on hers. “No, I was a dick.” Another smooch. “Although, I would specifically like to highlight that I didn’t give these cookies away to Blaise. He stole them.”  

With poorly faked disapprobation, she shook her head but soon enough, a grin adorned her features. “That shithead.”  

Mattheo chuckled and he was about to kiss Y/N again when...  

“There you two are, I was looking all over for you two and--” Pansy prowled from around the corner, clearly with annoyance painted on her face but when she discerned the view right in front of her, with Y/N positioned against Mattheo, she smirked. “Well, well... Y/N, I told you to sneak him into the Common Room, not to woo him.” Y/N palm-faced herself but Pansy, not taking on the social hints, continued: “But have it your way, I guess...”

“Pansy, I think we would like to be left alone for now and if you could-”  

“No,” Pansy interposed, folding her arms together. “It’s your birthday party, Mattheo! It was supposed to be a surprise, but someone...” She leered at Y/N with a pointed look. “...clearly can’t control themselves and restrain her animalistic instincts, irrespective of the plan that her other friends set up.”

“In her defence--”  

“And I’m not going to be a shitty friend who forgets about her best friend’s birthday! So, collect yourself a little and schedule bumping uglies on a different time.” With that, the pitter-patter of her stilettos faded away, while both Mattheo and Y/N stood stunned in their spot.  

“That’s not how I planned it,” Y/N explained quickly. “Especially the “bumping uglies” part.”  

Mattheo chuckled with hilarity sparkling in his eyes. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry about your birthday, we were supposed to act like we have forgo-”  

“Doesn’t matter.” Mattheo smiled finally at her, covering her mouth with his. “It’s still the best birthday I have ever had.”  

[animelovelover123]

Hey there! You don't have to answer, but what do you think (insert DMC charas of your choice) would do for Valentines Day? Love your work btw. Always makes my day when you post 🥰 Have a great evening

Devil May Cry Boys Valentine

Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader

Author Note: Thanks for the suggestion! I woke up late today (was up and down all night because of period pain) and when I saw this and started imagining scenarios it made me feel better. Hope you like it, happy Valentine’s Day/Singles Awareness Day!

Dante

This mans straight up forgot, like always. He is always forgetting dates and holidays, especially if he is out on a mission in some remote place so doesn’t have the typical festive decorations that litter stores to tip him off that some event is approaching. Even when he is at home though, sometimes he holes up in his house just eating delivery food and relaxing so the world outside and the passage of time goes on without him.

He scrambles to prepare something, anything.

What can he set up in less than a day? What do people do for Valentine’s Day? He is not used to having a partner.

Fancy restaurants? Can he get into any of those? No, they have all been booked months in advance.

Okay, candlelit dinner at home. Should he order something? No, that’s not special enough. So he should cook. He can cook, right? It can’t be that hard.

It was… it was hard.

Well while that disaster is on the way, what else can he do?

Flowers? Flowers sound nice. Again though, most florists are sold out of the traditional roses, but at least he can make his own with his demon abilities (see Lucifer from DMC4). How many does he make though? One? Six? A dozen? Well now Dante has enough roses to fill a hot tub but that’s fine, he can just sprinkle the petals around. What does he do with the stems? Uh… just throw them in the closet for now.

What else?

He should dress up! He still has a suit, right? Does it fit him still? He hasn’t worn it in years.

In the end, you have dinner with Dante who tries to act cool, despite the fact that he is in a suit that is two sizes too small, his food is a mushy mess (a good-tasting mush might I add but still), he nearly set the place on fire with the old candles he used, and you both have little nicks all over your hands from cleaning up the rose stems that came cascading out of the closet when you tried to hang up your coat.

He swears up and down that he will do better next year. Yes, it was a disaster, but by god he tried.

Reboot Dante

Dante is not into Valentine’s Day and how commercialized it is. Every ad, shop, and website proclaims that if you don’t buy your partner <insert product name here> then your relationship will fail. What bullshit.

But you know what is kind of fun? The day after.

Pounds and pounds of chocolate and sweets on sale for cheap.

Popular hangout spots mostly barren as everyone just went.

Bars and restaurants with half-used bottles of wine and champagne that are usually multiple tens of dollars a glass now being sold at a fraction of the price because it was quickly going stale.

Valentine-themed lingerie and sex toys practically being given away at stores.

So hold off on the celebration baby. Save that cash you would have spent.

The next day you and Dante will go on a shopping spree, buying more chocolate than you two could eat.

And as you two indulge in said chocolate, you can bounce from one place to the next, enjoying bougie alcohol at empty restaurants and practically having places like amusement parks, arcades, and waterparks all to yourselves.

And when you two get home, well you now have a drawer full of new lingerie and sex paraphernalia that Dante is dying to try. Which one does he want to try today? Oh no baby, you don’t get it. Dante wants to try them all.

Vergil

Vergil is the kind of man who did not see a point in doing anything special for Valentine’s Day. He gave you love and affection all year round, why would doing something specifically on this one day mean more than any other?

But if you show even the slightest sliver of disappointment at this, he will do something. Nothing basic though. If he was going to go out of his way for this then he was going to be extra about it.

So on the day he picks you up from work, school, or just your home, in a limo.

He takes you to a dress and suit rental shop filled with gowns and suits of all styles and colours. He also made sure to find a rental place that also offered accessories so jewellery, headdresses, and shoes were also available.

He will not exert his will over your choice, but he does want to be present for you trying things on and he will suggest some things. He claims that he simply wants to make sure you are presentable, but he secretly is having a lot of fun seeing you in different styles, patterns, and colours. He takes mental notes of what kind of things you look good in so he can get them for you later.

Once you pick out whatever you like he takes you to a dance hall where a ball is being held. Men, women, and everyone in between are dressed to the nines and dance around the room to live music. The way the lights shine, the glitter of jewels sparkle, and the fabric of all the dresses swish around creating a dream-like atmosphere.

Vergil will lead you in multiple dances. If you seem nervous or mess up the steps, he does not criticize you. He brushes it off as there is no need to worry. Yes, this was an elegant ball, but that should not restrict you. He did not bring you here to try to force you to act fancy.

He brought you here to make you happy, and that’s all he cares about. Not just today, but every day.

Reboot Vergil

This man is always working and unfortunately does not spend a lot of one-on-one time with you. He makes exceptions for special events though, such as your birthday, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day.

He will spend time with you for these events. Note, though, that the likelihood of Vergil actually spending the specific day with you is low. His social life must work around his work, he warned you of this before you started dating. So your Valintine’s Day celebration will happen in about a month's vicinity of February 14th.

When the time comes though, Vergil spares no expense. Literally, this man is loaded and he will use this opportunity to shower you with luxury and attention to make up for all the time he spends working.

We are talking about a multi-day vacation to anywhere in the world you want to go to do whatever you want. And you know exactly where you are going because you are the one that planned it all. Again, Vergil is a very busy man.

This isn't to say he will not have a few surprises in store for you.

Despite what it may seem, when you are talking at him while he is typing away on his computer he is listening. He has a specific file on his computer that lists all of the things you are interested in and said you wanted and will secretly add to it while you talk.

The surprises he gets you for Valentine’s Day will be extravagant, not a simple book or game you have been interested in. He just buys those for you whenever they come up, if you don’t take the initiative and get it yourself with his card. So be ready for things like private concerts from your favourite singer and/or group, getting to play the beta version of an unreleased game you have been waiting years for, or getting to play a minor role in an episode or two of your favourite TV show.

The time you two had together would be relatively brief, as only a few days were scheduled and he reminded you that he would have to return to work as soon as possible.

It was almost two weeks later when he could finally pull himself away from you.

Nero

A traditional lover from a traditional city and religion.

Even if Nero was not really into the rules and restrictions of The Order of the Sword, some of his beliefs did line up with theirs.

For example, Nero wasn’t interested in getting you something sexy for Valentine’s Day as he felt it was a bit sleazy and he worried that it would give off the impression that he was only interested in sex. However, if you are the one to gift him with a special something something in the bedroom then he will be all for it.

No, Nero wanted to keep things clean and simple.

Flowers, chocolates, and a card filled with some personal and deep feelings that you better not tell anyone about because he would die of embarrassment if it got out.

He’ll take you out on a date, but not to a restaurant or anything. Instead, he planned a picnic for you two. He made all the food himself, with minimal help from Kyrie. Mainly she just acted as a recipe book and made sure everything he made was safe to eat. Nero was a decent cook, but he did not want to risk making you sick. It may not look immaculate (he doesn’t have a normal right arm, give him a break) but it tasted great.

On the day he will take you out of town, somewhere nice and natural. A peaceful place with a beautiful view and no one around for miles that can get in the way of you two being together.

V

This will be the first Valentine’s Day V ever celebrates, period. He knows of the day, of course, and many of the traditions that accompany it. But he has never gotten to experience them.

It was also a bit troublesome as many of the typical Valentine’s Day activities, such as fancy dinners, either at home or going out, giving flowers and reciting poetry were things V did for you regularly.

So if days with him are already filled with elegance and refined shows of affection, how would he make this day special? Well, he will do the opposite.

V invites you to make homemade chocolates with him. With his lack of experience, it is a messy task and the finished product is far from immaculate, but that did not matter to him.

He could clean later and his familiars could eat any mistakes created. (They were demons, they could eat chocolate despite their animal forms.)

What mattered was experiencing something new with you. To spend the day working together, laughing at the mess-ups and sharing the prideful joy of success.

And he also quickly discovered the appeal of licking chocolate off each other.

[ladykailitha]

The Eddie Munson Guide for Dating an Oblivious Jock Part 3

Sorry this is taking me longer than normal, I’ve had major cramps the last three days that have knocked me for a six.

Part 1 Part 2

*

Step Five: Flirting

“Shouldn’t you be doing that the whole time?” Max asked.

Eddie shook his head. “Not really. With the low self-esteem they’ll only get flustered and angry. And that’s the last thing you want. It’s why flirting with Steve in the Upside Down didn’t work. He was only confused and upset.”

Max nodded. “So how do you flirt?”

Flirting is an art that can be hard to learn because was works on one person might not work on the next. Pet names are a good place to start, compliments are always a win, but with that you have to be careful not to compliment something they’re insecure on.

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

“Say they think they’ve put on weight,” Eddie explained. “And you compliment their figure, depending on the person, their mood or who they’re around they might take offense to it.”

“So complimenting their looks is a no-no?” she asked.

Eddie shook his head. “Stick to things they can choose,” he said. “Like a new shirt that looks good on them, if they’ve gotten a new hair cut. Their shoes.”

She nodded. “I can work with that.”

Eddie walked into Family Video and stopped short. Steve was wearing a tight grey Henley and his hair was shorter on the sides then he usually kept it.

“Looking fine today, pretty boy,” Eddie said flouncing up to the counter where Steve was putting together member card applications for Keith to review later.

Steve blushed, running his hands nervously through his hair. “You think it looks okay?”

Eddie reached over and tugged a lock so that draped in front of Steve’s face dramatically. “You are totally rocking it.”

He straightened up. “Me and Will went to the barber yesterday because he wanted to try something new and well...”

Eddie softened. “And you didn’t want him to feel nervous about it so you got your hair cut, too.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a good dude, Stevie,” Eddie said, wrapping his finger around the loose lock of hair.

Steve blush deepened and reached his ears. “You’ve never called me ‘Stevie’ before.”

“You like it?” Eddie asked, leaning further into his space.

Steve nodded. “It sounds sweet coming from you.”

“Holy hell!” Max exclaimed. “He’s totally had the hots for you.”

Eddie smiled at the memory. “Yeah, but he didn’t know it at the time. He had just realized he liked boys, too. It was still too new for him.”

“Must have been scary, too,” Max agreed.

In addition to compliments and pet names, once you’ve figured out what they like add a little touch to your flirting. Nothing overt. Don’t be grabbing his ass right off the bat. Save that for when you’ve finally bagged your jock and are dating them.

They were watching Thirteen Ghosts at Eddie’s and were sitting next to each other on the sofa.

“The special effects are a little goofy on this one,” Steve said. “It makes it hard to be scary.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, leaning into his space. “But the story is good and you can see why it might have scared audiences at the time.”

Steve chuckled. “I guess.”

Eddie patted his knee. “I’m going to grab another beer, you want one?”

Steve smiled at him. “Sure.”

Eddie used his knee to stand up and he could feel Steve’s eyes follow him. He came back with two bottles and popped both their caps with his rings on his left hand.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Handy that.”

Eddie grinned. “Says the man who’s strong enough to pop the caps without any aid.” He handed the bottle to him.

Steve blushed and took a sip. “Brawn over brain I guess.”

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “Hey, now. I thought we were past that bullshit talk of you not being smart.”

Steve ducked his head. “I know, I know. Interest not intelligence. But some times it’s hard when people still in high school are light years ahead of you.”

Eddie paused the movie and grabbed Steve’s hand. “Hey, sweetheart.” Steve looked up. “I get it. You’re talking to Mr Three-Time Super Senior here. But no one dogs on my intelligence.”

Steve frowned. “I never thought of that. I guess it is weird that it’s only me.”

“It’s why I’ve been training them out of it,” he said seriously. “It’s not fair that literally no one else gets that kind of treatment. Not even Argyle and Jon get called dumb.”

“Huh,” Steve said. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to start calling them out on it, too.”

“You do that, babe,” Eddie said.

Steve’s smile was incandescent. “Thanks, Eds. You’re the best.”

“Only for you, Stevie.” Eddie murmured. “Only for you.”

“That was a lot of touching,” Max said. “Does it have to be that much?”

Eddie shook his head. “Just do feels natural. I like touching Steve arm when we greet each other and then giving it a squeeze. It signals I’m happy to see him without everyone else cottoning on to the fact I’m flirting.”

Max nodded. “What about hugs?” she asked.

“That’s the next step,” he said. “You’ve got to start small and build up to those kind of touches. Because the light touches are flirting. The bigger ones? That’s signaling intent.”

Step Six: Touch

Now that you’ve been flirting with your jock and initiating touches, they should be comfortable with the idea of touching and receiving your touch. So start to go a little bigger. Lingering touches, pressing on their lower back when you both walk to the door. Holding on to their hips as you squeeze past them in the kitchen. And of course the ultimate touch hugs.

“Wouldn’t the ultimate touch be sex?” Max asked.

Eddie blinked. “Says the girl that thought cuddling was gross.”

She blushed. “I mean, it’s all gross right now, but we are going to get to that point sometime in the future, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Everyone goes into sex at their own speed. Some never have sex or even want to. It’s whatever works for you.” She frowned, frustrated. “Look, sex is great. But trust me when I say rushing into it is a bad plan. Also doing it outside a committed relationship is fine, lots of people enjoy that. But sex with a partner is...for me anyway, better. You get time to explore your likes with theirs and meeting in the middle. But like I said it varies from person to person.”

Max sighed. It wasn’t the cut and dried answer she was looking for, but then again, nothing in life ever was.

“So hugging?”

“Yeah, hugging.”

Eddie showed up early for D&D like he always did, but instead of grabbing Steve’s arm like he had before, he hugged him. He expected it to be a quick thing, you know. Since he had surprised him and all.

It wasn’t.

The second Eddie went in for the hug, Steve’s arms were wrapped around him and pulling him in tight. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Steve took a step back, mumbling an apology.

Eddie gripped Steve’s arms and leaned back so he could try and see his expression. It was closed off and guarded.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You okay?”

Steve nodded. “I guess I needed a hug more than I thought.”

Eddie frowned at that. Steve was always giving hugs to Robin and the kids. Hell even the other adults got Stevie hugs, Jonathan, Argyle, and Nancy.

Oh.

Oh.

“You know you can hug me anytime you need it, don’t you, Stevie?” he murmured running his hands up and down Steve’s arm.

Steve looked up at him with such awe and wonder, that it made Eddie’s heart ache.

Steve surprised him a second time by immediately launching himself into Eddie’s arms for another hug.

Eddie let his hands wander. One cupped the back of Steve’s head, while the other slid down to the small of his back. He buried his head into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I can cancel D&D if you’re not up to hosting. Or even move it elsewhere.”

Steve let out a whine at the latter suggestion. “No, no. I want you here.”

“What the fuck?” Max practically roared. “Was he okay?”

“It came as a shock to me, too,” Eddie admitted. “I talked to him about it later and he told me that he wasn’t if he was allowed to hug me because of me being gay.”

“That makes no sense,” she said firmly.

“He didn’t know what the line was,” Eddie explained. “Because with girls you only hugged them if you were dating or really good friends. Argyle is a natural hugger and initiated the first hug so he knew that okay. Nancy and Jonathan were already at that level of affection.”

“But he didn’t know how to initiate it with you?” Max asked, a slow understanding dawning on her face.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Once I hugged him, it was like a levy breaking. He amped up the affection to eleven.”

“Okay,” Eddie said. “I’ll be here.”

Once everything was set up and everyone had arrived, Eddie called them over. “Steve isn’t feeling good today, so we are going to be respectful little shits and try and keep the noise down to a dull roar, is that understood?”

Everyone nodded.

“Good.” He turned to Steve. “If you need anything let me know, otherwise you just rest, okay?”

And without asking if they were in combat they all took turns checking in on Steve, most of them found him asleep, passed out on the sofa. But when Mike peeked in, Steve was sitting up, but he his arms wrapped around his knees and staring off into space.

He immediately ran for Eddie. Eddie stood up and quietly walked to the front room. He knelt on the floor in front of Steve and began rubbing his calves. After a moment, Steve came out of his trance.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Oh, are you guys done?” Steve asked, moving back so that he could place his feet on either side of Eddie.

“Just taking a break,” Eddie said with a shake of his head.

“Oh,” he said again. “Do you guys need anything? Snacks, drinks, lunch? I could make sandwiches.”

“We’re good, Stevie,” Eddie asked, his hands now on Steve’s knees. “I’m a little worried about you, though.”

Steve ducked his head. “It’s nice having people here. It’s nice having you here.”

“We could move our monster fest night over here if you’d prefer that?” Eddie asked.

Steve shook his head vigorously. “I like going over to your place. It’s homey.”

“Homey, huh?” Eddie teased gently.

“Warm, comforting...safe.”

Eddie surged up and grabbed Steve, pulling him into a hug. “Then you’re always welcome.”

Steve sighed into his embrace. “Sorry I’m so needy today.”

Eddie leaned back and cupped his cheek. “I want you to need me, Stevie. So if you get like this. Call, come over, send out of the cavalry to find me. I don’t care, just let me in.”

Steve nodded. “I promise.”

Eddie stood up. “I’ve got to get back. Why don’t you join us? Not in the campaign, just pull up a chair and watch.”

Steve’s face grew the most beautiful and heartfelt smile it cracked something in Eddie’s chest wide open.

He knew that he would never love someone as much he loved Steve. And with any luck (and with every indication) Steve felt the same.

“You know, all I’m hearing with this one is holy hell Steve needs all the hugs in the world,” Max cursed.

Eddie laughed. “Something like that. I think we forget, even you and I whose families and home life have been shit, that’s Steve’s was, too. An abusive and toxic father and a distant and neglectful mother. Even if he never hit Steve, emotional abuse is still abuse.”  

“I think I’m going to tell the rest of the party to start initiating hugs with Steve more often,” she said. “I think we forgot somewhere along the line that he’s been through the same hell we’ve been through only a way more active a participant.”

Eddie laughed. “I think he’d like that. A lot.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @this-is-mycrisis @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @artiststarme @steddie-there @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @thebrazilianatheist @rozzieroos @whalesharksart @mightbeasleep @theotalksalot @avacrebs @sassysleeplord @exhibit-no-restraint

[whosjunglejim4322]

Incarnadine - E.M

Warnings ® angst, fluff, SMUT, you suck him off<3 Established relationship, mentions of injury, scars, Eddie has nightmares and is still recovering from the Upside Down, lots of reassurance and praise, he's needy but he will never admit it, this story involves wounded Eddie, you show him how beautiful he really is, no matter what <3 good boy! Eddie

Today marks five months exactly. Chatter still moves around town like an echo of an old friend. People are still nervous when they're in crowded spaces, even more nervous when they're alone in their homes, big and ostentatious or small and quaint. They still talk about him like he's a monster, like he's not a victim.

It's excruciating. And maybe you're selfish for saying that, but knowing what you know, it's hard to hear anything negative come out of any snooty or high strung suburban residents mouth's.

The only saving grace is being able to be with him. Everyday, give or take. But this week he will be under your care entirely. After what happened to Chrissy Cunningham, and what happened after, which is regarded as 'the incident', the town of Hawkins did nothing to cover Eddie's medical bills. Despite the fact that he and your friends became faces of a bullshit cover story - to save everyone else's asses.

Wayne has been doing doubles for the past four months and twenty nine days, but his boss has given him an out of town gig that pays twice as much, and goddamn it he will make everything right again. That's his words, not yours. Wayne has taken it hard, understandably so.

You had to explain to him, and your boyfriend alike, that you love Eddie. Dearly, without judgement, with an open heart and mind. Eddie isn't a pass off, and you making sure he's alright is second nature, not obligatory in any definition of the word.

Eddie hates this feeling, admittedly. Like he's a burden, like he's got to be watched after and like everyone has to redirect their lives for him of all people. You'd kill him if he ever said that out loud. The only thing that makes it even remotely worth it, is that you're the one here by his side every day. And not just at the hospital anymore, but here, in his home.

Now, you're gonna be a permanent resident for the foreseeable future and he can't hide his excitement despite the physical pain he's in.

"Eddie, Eds, baby -" Your scolding falls on deaf ears and turns into a full blown giggle before you're able to establish any actual authority. The brunette is too worried about kissing your face like an overly excited golden retriever, elated that you're finally here. "you're not healed."

You keep your eyes from staring at the mauve and plum colored scar that decorates the side of his neck.

He groans petulantly, nipping your earlobe. His chest and back and sides are still on fire after all this time. It doesn't really go away, it just simmers down like someone has stopped on the flames. He's gotten used to it, but not enough to push it. Not enough to forego your advice and pounce you like he normally would.

"l probably won't ever be healed, what harms' a little lovin'?" He toys with the strands of your hair that are unruly, smiling down at you like he hasn't been through the literal pits of hell and back. It'll never not amaze you, his resilience. He doesn't even notice it in the creases of his smile lines or the shake of his hands.

"We have plenty of time for lovin', Munson. Just not right away. I haven't even gotten a good look at your pretty face."

His blush burns across his nose, cheeks, and brow bone. You reach up to cup his jaw, to stroke his skin. He leans into the touch like he hasn't felt your warmth in eons, sighing through his nostrils. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and opens them when you lean in to kiss his chin.

"I really...I'm glad you're here. You don't have to -"

You flick his nose.

"Shut up, I love you, dummy. Don't you know that I practically begged Wayne to let me tend to sweet little Eddie? Hmm?" You've grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair, swinging it above his head like puppy dog ears. He chortles, scrunching his face.

"and by the way, you're right. I don't have to do anything. I want to." His cheeks are squishy and moldable between your palms, lips pouty and too kissable to bear.

He believes you. He believes it in the way you peck his mouth over and over again, little strings of your shared saliva in the middle. He believes it in the way you allow him to wrap his arms around your middle and pull you close to his still healing body. In the way you trust him enough to let him grab your hands and place them on his waist.

You tense, and then relax when he pulls away with sparkles in his eyes.

"Just didn't want anyone else to be here playin' doctor with me, did ya sweetheart?"

The nights always start the same. Eddie gets up halfway between the movie that's on, wincing and giving you an apologetic smile. Cold showers help when they burn, which seems to happen mostly at night. You're still new this, to the interdimensional eldritch horror situation - but you know enough about it through Dustin Henderson's graphic retellings to know that it is having some residual effects.

As far as when they will go away, if they go away, everyone is still in the dark about it. No one has had such awful injuries from being in the Upside Down, and survived.

Doctor Owens is only sure about a few things. It won't spread. And it won't kill him. However, the pain will stay as long as the scars do.

Eddie is still apprehensive about letting you see them. The one on his neck is the only one that's visible. Instead of waltzing out of the bathroom with just a towel around his lithe hips, he returns fully dressed, wet hair drenching the tops of his broad shoulders. It's like this for almost an entire week.

And you're not angry, you're not hurt. You're just worried. Worried about the tossing and turning in his sleep, the fearful whimpers that sometimes escape him during the midnight hours. He sometimes even clings to you so hard in his half consciousness, that you wake up with fingerprint shaped bruises.

Tonight is no different.

His hair is still damp against his pillow case, he wriggles and writhes and mutters words you can't quite interpret. Your back is facing his, warm and solid. You feel him twitch and whine, and it tears you from the half conscious state you're in.

You roll over, carefully placing your arm around the expanse of his hip, resting your nose against the nape of his neck. This usually calms him down, sometimes he even sleeps through the whole night if you hold him like this.

"Burns..." His voice is small, almost silent. Your body reacts instantly, removing itself from his proximity so you can sit up and give him a once over. He rolls over onto his back, and a tear slips from the corner of his half opened eyes.

Your heart cracks in half, and all of your love for him spills into your body, lighting you up like a bonfire.

"What can I do? Please, tell me what to do." The lump in your throat is obtuse. He reaches out, grabbing at your arm like he's offended you left him. He blinks a few times, licks his lips, and you know he's awake now.

"Ice pack - there's an ice pack in the freezer." He sounds reluctant, like the idea of you doing anything for him when he's like this, hurts. It should be the other way around. He thinks to himself. He's in too much pain to put up a fight about it.

You bound out of bed, around his long legs and over the clutter on his floor until you're booking it towards the dark kitchen. Slinging open the freezer, you search for a quick minute until you see the blue ouch sitting atop a miscellaneous selection of frozen meat and vegetables.

A Hershey's bar in the door calls for your attention, but you save that thought for a later time.

"Got it," you breathe out, returning to the quiet room. Eddie is sitting up, panting, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His bottom lip quivers and you feel like you're breaking in half. You sit across from him, moving his hair out from in front of his face. "baby, let me see."

He stalls for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He has to prepare himself for the worst, for you being so terrified of how he looks now that you may run. He isn't the same, his body isn't the same as the one you touched before. He takes a deep breath.

"I gotta...gotta get this off." He gestures to his shirt, arms stiff from the searing pain coursing through his nerves. You move slowly, gently. You grasp the hem of his shirt, Black Sabbath, and carefully lift the material past his abdomen. A strained whine leaves his lips when it's almost over his head, when he has to lift his hands in the air so you can pull it off.

The moonlight is beautiful. A pale iridescent light that serves as a reminder, I'm here you're safe, I'm bathing lovers in my essence. It's the only thing that illuminates his body, the still healing skin. They're pink and purple and form ridges and valleys across his belly, sides, chest. It takes your breath away, the thought of those things doing this to him. You gasp when a tear cascades down your bottom lip.

Wiping it away fervently, you realize you've been staring. Eddie is so still you have to look up at him just to make sure he's still here.

Big brown eyes stare back at you, glossy. He looks crestfallen, like hes waiting for the worst. Waiting for you to scream, look disgusted, call him a monster. His bottom lip is wobbling again, and you are careful to avoid the injuries when you reach over and smash your lips into his.

It takes him a moment to realize that you're kissing him. Not just kissing him, you're fucking consuming him. Now he's the one breathless, clenching fist-fulls of his bed sheets while you hold his fevering face in your soft palms. Your noses are scrunched together, neither of you can breathe, and you hold it for just a moment longer so that you can taste his tongue before you're pulling away.

"Holy fuck." He pants. For some odd reason, the pain has lessened.

"Lay back, tell me which one hurts the most okay?" You say it like you his pupils aren't blown out, like his breathing isn't eerily steady. You say it like he isn't blush and kiss bitten. He listens, leaning back. How the fuck have you made him speechless?

You crawl beside him, sitting on your heels and pretend not to be disheveled. His hand has found purchase on your hip, rubbing circles against the skin that's exposed from your shirt rising up.

"The one in the middle...s'the worst." He watches you with intensity, every move, every breath. You hover over the healed wound with the blue ice pack. His belly tenses.

You're light with your hands. So gentle, all he feels is relief instead of discomfort or pain. The doctors had been rough, probably had something to do with their own biases. But you. You're a fucking angel, your touch is heavenly and all consuming. He's melting into the mattress, sighing in relief as the coolness graces his skin.

You feel your heart piecing back together, looking over to see his eyes half lidded, his tears dry. He keeps a steady pace with his thumb against your hip.

"Better? Worse? Talk to me." Your voice isn't scolding. It isn't judgmental. It's curious. He smiles like he's drunk, staring up at you. He's never looked more beautiful.

"Better, much better." There's a mischievous lilt in his tone. You quirk your eyebrow, giggling.

"What is it, Munson? You look like the cat who got the cream. Or however that goes," you trace the blue veins that branch outwards at the corner of his inner elbow. "it's cute, but I feel like I should be worried."

"I thought you'd think I was horrendous. A real freak show." He tries to sound like he's half joking, widens his eyes comically and snarls his lip sardonically - but you cock your head, confused.

Eddie thought you wouldn't love him anymore.

"Are you fucking insane?" It's the harshest you've sounded all night, and he can't help but to chuckle. It hurts his ribs, but the giggles bellow from him like smoke.

"Eddie, you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I don't say that to blow sunshine up your ass, I say it because I mean it," you stroke his face, and he seems bewildered. "you're so pretty it hurts. You always will be, to me. How could I? Why would I-?"

You sound like you're on the verge of tears again, and his bones feel heavy, stomach churning. He sits up, disregarding the burn, and places his warm palms against the sides of your neck. You look at him like he's just said something inhumane.

"Baby, hey," he presses his forehead to yours. "I love you, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, his curls tickle your face. "You don't have to be sorry Eddie, of course not. Just...I love you so fucking much."

He wants to cry again, but he doesn't. He mouths the side of your cheeks. Your eyelids. The tip of your nose. "I love you too sweetheart," he pecks your mouth. "more...more than I'll ever really be able to say." And again. And again.

You probably shouldn't be as slick between your legs as you are right now. But you can't bring yourself to feel guilty about it. Not when he's kissing you like this, the way he knows you like, in a way that you haven't felt for three entire months because of the state his body has been in.

His hair billows through your fingers, and you absentmindedly pull him closer to your mouth by the roots. He groans in your mouth, a sound that reverberates through your throat, downwards behind your ribs. It flurries through your body like a memory that's so close you can taste it; feel it.

You pull back hastily, wired from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. He looks so goddamn pretty, so messy and raw. You stroke his plump bottom lip with your thumb. He resists the urge to suck it into his mouth. He doesn't know if you're ready for that type of thing yet.

"I wanna suck you off, Eddie."

Well fuck.

He looks as incredulous as you expect, eyes practically bugging out of his head. His cheeks puff outwards when he lets a breath out.

"Really? You're serious?" He knows the answer. You're looking at him like he's the reason for your starvation.

"I want to...I want to make you feel good Eds," his cock was already growing, now it's practically bursting at the seams. You grab his big hands, bringing rough knuckles to the surface of your lips. "wanna make you cum. Will you let me? Do you want that?"

He feels a little dizzy. He honestly didn't know when you two would ever be able to do anything like this again. Hell, he couldn't fathom you liking his appearance anymore, let alone asking to suck his dick with the lilt of a beg in your voice.

"Jesus Christ, yeah baby 'course I want it. Y-you're sure you want this- ohh, ohh sweetheart."

You've already brought your palm to his pants, stroking the twitching appendage underneath. He's so touch deprived he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for throwing his head back, gripping at the sheets once again for dear life.

You don't want to wait. You're set a fire on the inside, between your legs aches to be filled but you're too focused on making him feel good to really want anything done about it. Him. That's what matters right now. The desperate groan that escapes him, the vein bulging at his jugular.

"Lay back baby." You kiss his throat, and he does as you ask.

You're careful when you kiss his chest. You move around the scars, teetering around the perimeters. He's stuck between wanting to close his eyes, and wanting to watch every move you make. You're careful, delicate like he's the most important thing in the world.

As you kiss the trail of hair underneath his belly button, across alabaster hip-bones, you pull his bottoms off all the while.

From your position, it nudges against your chin when it's out of the confines of his pajamas, dribbling with precum, sticky all the way down the shaft. You coo, kissing the tops of his thighs. Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. He's never felt this vulnerable, this fucking horny. His balls are about to burst.

"Eddie...you're so hard. Baby, mm, my boy." You grip the very base, starting your mouths ascent from there. He whimpers into the cool air of his bedroom, holding on by a very thin veil of consciousness. Your elbows rest between his thighs, belly atop his mattress. You close your eyes and hum when you get to the swollen, ruby tip.

"Oh god - please," he doesn't know what he's begging for. For your mouth, your being, your soul. His fingers grasp your face as your tongue gathers the pre arousal that's made such a mess of him. You have to hold his shaft steady so that the twitching doesn't move him away from your lips. "feels so fucking good, you've no idea."

The praise is getting to your head. You feel wetness leaking from your hole, dripping into your underwear. You pull his cock forward slightly, angling it so that you can take him in your mouth.

His whole body clenches when you slide it in.

He's moaning obscenities into the wind, writhing like he's too overwhelmed to think. He is. It's been so long. Too long, since he felt you like this. Since he felt your mouth. You're feeling the same sentiment as you begin to stroke what you can't fit, from the thatch of brunette hair to the glossy head. The salty aftertaste of his pre-cum keeps you satiated.

It's intoxicating, being able to make him feel like this. Feeling him fill your mouth and throat up like this. Just knowing the sounds he's making are not only for you but because of you - that's enough to have you on the verge of an indescribably neediness yourself.

"Taste' so good Eds, missed this."

It's barely coherent, but he knows your voice too well - knows your sweet talk too well. The most excruciating part is that you mean it, you say it with so much truth he feels it in every part of his body.

You suck him off like you've missed it as much as he has. Because you have. You're not shy, not ashamed. The sounds are lewd and sticky and wet, it's driving him fucking mad. He reaches down to grasp one of.your hands that are around his cock, replacing it with the intertwinement of his fingers.

You take him further, till the head of his cock touches your uvula, and you gag. Eddie groans like he's in pain, but you know he isn't. He's thrusting up into your mouth, chasing all of your warmth, all of your spit even though most of it has leaked from your mouth and coated his balls and inner thighs.

"Ohhhh shit, m'gonna cum baby I can feel it," he looks down, fucked completely out by this point. You're a fucking goddess, messy hair and a wet mouth and fluttering lashes. "don't stop, p-please."

You wouldn't dream of it, not when he's so close. Not when you can feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching, convulsing. Not when he sounds so pretty, so unbelievably yours.

You moan around him, elated by the fact that you're able to please him like this, and Eddie is a goner.

"Cu-cumming!" He's barely able to breathe it out.

He shoved his face into the pillow beside him, biting down on the fabric. The sound that rips through him is animalistic, and you have to use a good bit of your strength to keep his thighs parted as he spurts his seed into your mouth, down your throat.

You don't let up until you've swallowed every drop, every remnant of his arousal. His chest is rising and falling with such a rapid pace, you're almost worried you've hurt him.

But then he's looking down at you, with your mouth releasing from his semi softening cock. He's got glossy eyes again, blotches of red on his neck and chest and face. His hair is sticking to him like saran wrap and this big, dopey smile is etched across his face. His tongue darts out to lick the perspiration from his upper lip.

He doesn't have to ask for you to start moving towards him. When you're in close enough proximity, where he can actually manage to move a limb, he's grabbing your face and pressing your lips to his like a man starved.

Your giggle echoes his own.

"When I'm mobile again," he suckles your tongue, tasting himself.

"I'm showing you no mercy, sweetheart"

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Everything I Never Told You

(Part one)

Series masterlist

Jake Sully x f! Na'vi reader. No Y/N used.

Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Idk why, I just felt angsty today. Jake being sad. You not remembering who you were.

Summary: after the first war with the Sky People, Jake loses you. When they return, they bring you back in a Na'vi body, and Jake runs into you.

Jake Sully was dreaming again. Dreaming about you.

In these dreams, the war with the Sky People had passed, and you were still here. Still alive.

In these dreams, they'd transferred you to your Na'vi body, and you and him were happy in Pandora.

In these dreams, he held you close, kissed you, whispered into your ear, “I love you.”

In these dreams, you hadn't been killed in the war. In these dreams, he'd been quick enough to save you before any harm came to you. In these dreams, he'd been enough.

But eventually, he had to wake up.

And when he did, he had the crushing realization that it had been only a dream. You were dead, long gone, too far from his reach.

He'd get up in the morning, hating himself for never having told you that he loved you.

------

When Jake Sully had first come to Pandora and integrated into the Avatar program, he'd gotten the hope of returning home and getting his legs back.

That promise hadn't been enough to prevent him from growing roots in the new planet once he experienced what life could be like here.

He'd fallen in love with the Na'vi, with nature, with the new life. And he'd fallen in love with you.

You were a scientist, according to your various titles obtained after years of studying and working. But, to Jake, you were a train wreck, a tornado, a catastrophe that stepped between him and his mission to Colonel Quadritch. You upended his world, changed the way he saw everything. You changed him, forced him to be better.

At first, he'd hated you for calling him out on sharing Na'vi information with the militia. He'd hated you for moving him out of headquarters to the portable lab. He hated you for being so kind and honest, for not overlooking his bullshit, for correcting him and taking your time to teach him about the Na'vi. He hated that he couldn't stay angry at you. It confused him, tore him in half. He'd be unable to sleep in his bunk, thinking of you.

And then, one day, he got to the realization that he didn't hate you. That the nagging, insistent ache within him wasn't anger, but attraction. He liked you. What he'd thought were claws of rage within his throat any time he tried talking to you were actually butterflies. His eyes tracing your movements everywhere wasn't proof of hate, but of admiration.

He'd been conflicted about his discovery for a while, but he'd eventually come to accept it.

And the more he did, the more he thought you felt the same. You'd smile at him more than normal. Whenever he was able to hold a fluent conversation in Na'vi with you, you'd congratulate him and your eyes would shine with pride. When he helped you with anything—big or small—in the lab without you asking, you'd stutter a little as you rushed out a thanks, and you'd blush on occasion.

You two got to being close. Real close. You'd talk about everything. About Jake's experience within the Omaticaya clan, about life back home, about how you'd gotten to Pandora, about how neither of you ever wanted to go back to earth.

Things were going well. Really well. For Jake, for the Na'vi, for you—but then the war came.

The Sky People and their fire, and their bullets, and their explosives, and their destructive nature. And they'd torn the world into pieces.

You'd fought. You'd fought hard and long, with everything in you, to protect the world you now called home. You were protecting it from your own species, you knew, but you'd had the startling realization that you were not like them. You could See, they could not. And that automatically made them the enemy.

Jake found your body not long after the war finished. Once he'd gotten back in the link, he'd rushed through the forest, calling for you, worried, terrified, needing to see you.

The words were on his lips. I love you. He was so ready to say it to you, so ready to find you alive and feel relief wash over him.

He found your body instead. Bloody, bruised, lifeless. It broke him. He threw himself on the floor beside you, cradled your body in his arms, cried and sobbed and screamed. Why, why, why was this happening? Why to you? The kindest person he'd ever known. If anyone deserved to live, it was you.

“Eywa, please,” he sobbed, body shaking as it curled over yours. “If you need to take a life, take mine. Not hers. Please.”

But the Great Mother didn't listen. She'd made her choice. You were with her now, and nothing he said would change that.

Somewhere deep inside him, he understood why Eywa would wish to keep you. Why anyone would wish to keep you to themselves. But it hurt bad. So bad.

He hasn't smiled since that day.

------

He buried your body in the traditional Omaticaya funeral. Na'vi all around him wept for you. You'd been well-loved amongst them, having worked with Grace at the school and having always been kind with everyone.

Afterwards, he'd sat beside your tomb, crying, sobbing for hours. He'd fallen asleep there like he would come to do one too many times. In the future, he'd visit you daily and talk to you, hoping you could hear him, hoping you could see him. But that day, he felt empty, like nothing could ever make him better, like nothing could ever make him happy.

-----

The morning that it happens, Jake wakes up dreaming of you again. He sighs as his chest crushes on itself at the memory of your mangled body in his arms.

He knows he should get up and get to work. He has to patrol again today. With the Sky People’s return, he's in charge of leading the warriors and ensuring to keep the humans away from the clan as they hide deep in the Hallelujah Mountains. But he doesn't want to. He wants a break. Most days, he pushes through the pain and continues with his duty, but today, he can't seem to find the strength.

He hops on his ikran and flies to where you lay, under the ground. As he reaches the spot and approaches your tomb, he realizes that more and more flowers decorate the earth every day. Trees grow around you, little creatures nest in the ground beside you. Even in death, he realizes, you attract life and wonders and peace.

He crouches before you, eyes stinging with tears, ears folded back.

“I miss ya,” he says, like he has so many other times. “So much. I keep thinking if-if I had been there, with you, then maybe—” his voice cracks— “maybe you'd still be here. With me.” A tear runs down his cheek, warm on his skin. He lets it fall to the floor. “I remember when you told me that this was the only place you felt happy. I felt that way, too. I thought it was this planet, this new life, but I've come to realize...it was you. You were the thing that was missing. Without you, there is no happiness. Anywhere.” He sighs, sniffling gently. “I wish I could have you here with me. I would never let you go. Never forget to tell you that I love you.” He takes a deep breath. “I gotta go. I love you. I always will. You know that.”

He remains there for a few seconds, watching the life that's grown around you, before he stands. He turns around, still crying, ready to leave, when something rustles in the bushes not far from where he is.

His ikran snaps to attention, clicking its beak in alarm. Jake's ears perk up. He can't hear anything, can't see anything, can't smell anything.

But he can feel it. Somewhere inside him, his instinct tells him he's not alone. There's someone else out there.

He crouches to the ground, quietly approaching the place the sound came from, unsheathing the knife from his chest and holding it tight in his hands.

Another rustle. A branch snaps and someone curses.

The voice is so familiar, it roots him to the spot. Mid-crouch, knife in hand, heart racing, Jake remains where he is, watching.

The figure approaches. A Na'vi, clad in army uniform, hair down, leaves stuck to her hair. Her face is hidden behind the curtain of dark locks.

She has a machete in one hand, which she could use to cut the wild foliage away, but she doesn't. Instead, she carefully moves between trees and branches and flowers, almost floating past them.

Her hair gets caught on a tree and she hisses, cursing. Turning around to pull her hair free, her face is revealed to Jake and—

His heart drops, his stomach jumps, alarm and excitement and hope rush through him.

It's you.

You, standing there, untying your hair from the tree, ears folded back.

You, cursing and hissing and furrowing your eyebrows as you concentrate.

You, breathing, moving, existing, alive.

For a moment, Jake fears he's dreaming. He decides he's asleep still, in his tent, in the Hallelujah Mountains. Then, he decides he's hallucinating, seeing things that aren't there, gone crazy from grief.

You manage to free your hair and you huff, victorious. As you're turning around to continue walking, Jake takes a step toward you, as if to stop you from disappearing from his dream, and the leaves crunch beneath his feet.

Your head snaps towards him, eyes locking on his, and you fold your ears back, baring your teeth.

Jake breathes out your name softly, gently, full of awe and hope and relief.

Could this be real? Is he lucky enough that you've somehow defied death? Has Eywa decided to end his pain and given you back?

“Who are you?” you snap, machete tight in your grip. “How do you know my name?”

“It-it's me,” Jake says, approaching you. “It's me. Jake. Sully.”

Your eyes scan him and fall to his knife. He can see the way your gaze lingers on his weapon.

He sheathes the knife and holds his hands up in surrender. “It's me,” he repeats.

Your eyes catch on his hands, on the fact that he has five fingers and not four, and your gaze flickers to his.

“Jake Sully,” you say, voice filled with recognition.

He exhales sharply, relieved. “Yes,” he replies. “Yes, it's me.”

Something clouds your eyes over, turning them dark and hostile, and you spit, “So you're the traitor.”

His ears fold back, surprised, confused, and he shakes his head. “I-no—”

“It's you, isn't it?” you cut him off. “Toruk Macto. The one who sent us away the first time. The traitor.”

“No,” Jake insists, unable to comprehend what's happening, why you're behaving this way, why you don't recognize him. He says your name again and you snap.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl. “You have no right to use my name. You don't know me.”

But I do, he thinks to himself. I do know you. So well. So much. I even love you.

But he doesn't say that. Instead, he says, “What...? What happened to you? What did they do to you?”

You sneer, canines showing. “What they did to me?” you echo, growling. “They did nothing. They brought me back to life. They saved me. After you killed me.”

Jake's body freezes as confusion shocks through him. “No,” he stutters, shaking his head. “I tried to save you. You were gone by the time I found you. I—They're lying to you!”

The radio on your collar crackles to life. A gruff voice on the other side calls your name. Without removing your eyes from Jake, you press the button and reply, “I copy.”

Jake is breathing heavily. The rule is that all demon Na'vi—the humans in Na'vi bodies—should be killed. On the spot. No exceptions.

He knows he's supposed to kill you. Especially since you're not...you. He realizes you can't remember, that you don't know anything about what happened except for what they've told you. And they've done nothing but lie, from the looks of it.

He unsheathes his knife again, your eyes follow the movement. The man on the radio says, “Report as to your position. Have you found anything?”

Now, he decides. Before you can respond and tell them you've found Toruk Macto.

But to lose you again. To have you alive only to kill you...How could he? He can't find the strength, the stoicism, the hardened heart to do it.

He can't.

Before you answer through the radio, he runs, turning away from you and racing back to his ikran.

You exclaim, running after him. He can hear your footsteps follow his.

He reaches his ikran and mounts, flying into the sky before you can reach him. As he flies off, he glances down and finds you, standing there, your eyes on him.

By the time he reaches the Hallelujah Mountains, he's not completely sure he didn't hallucinate the entire encounter.

------

That night, he can't sleep. So he sneaks to the Tree of Souls, hoping to find something, anything, that tells him he hasn't gone completely insane.

As he makes tsaheylu with one of the branches, he realizes he's not sure what, exactly, he's looking for.

Quietly, he prays, “Eywa, please, give me an answer. I just need to know. Is it truly her? Have I imagined everything? I need an answer.”

He can hear the ancestors' voices, their whispers, their laughter. He hears Grace, laughing, talking about taking samples, and suddenly—

A voice, soft but stern, speaks directly into his ear.

She is alive, my child. Returned home. Her heart remains strong, her spirit kind. She only needs to be led in the right direction.

As suddenly as it appeared, the voice fades away. Eywa, Jake thinks to himself. The Great Mother speaking directly to him. Speaking of you.

You're alive. You're back. It really is you.

“Thank you,” Jake tells Eywa, joyful tears slipping from his eyes. “Thank you.”

For the first time in years, Jake finds it in himself to smile a true, happy smile.

@kamcrazy123

[tiajk]

Platonic strawhat interactions? Here’s some ideas

You and Robin go shopping, You find a cool trinket, but you don’t have enough money

Sanji brings you a snack. A bird flies overhead and -plop- right on the food

Luffy was playing tag with you, Usopp, and Chopper. He uses his gum gum rocket to try and catch up and flies too far

Usopp is holding a game show. The contestants are you, Nami, Zoro and Sanji

Have fun!

Warnings; a POC reader in mind, with curly hair, Bi sanji because i genuinely believe its not cannon it's the truth, chaotic strawhats as usual, reader is interested in marine biology, and is hinted at having water powers (basically water bending), reader singled to have a lot of siblings, Gn!, reader, everyone just loving reader, Other pirates having a crush on reader

A/N; the game show one really spoke to me for some reason and your always so good with request ily, Guess who's working on her one piece script

Words count; 1070 masterlist

You have no idea how Usopp somehow convinced you and nami to join his little game show. That's a lie you know exactly how he did. Bribing nami with money that he didn't have. Sanji sees nami joining automatically willing to be the next contestant. Zoro joined because Usopp claimed that Zoro was too much of a chicken, scared that sanji would win. The rivalry automatically makes his blood boil. He got you to join by promising he would grow a water plant with you in his garden that you had particularly been wanting to learn more about. Your interest peaked. Now you stand in front of Usopp with poorly built little wooden stands Sanjis’s was made out of cardboard waiting for Usopp to finally get what he wanted. “Welcome my very good friends on this ship, the going sunny owned by the strawhat pirates and welcome our very own contestants Nami, {Na}-”. “Usopp, will you hurry up? I don't have all day for this” Zoro's voice from beside you speaks out. Ussop turns to him slightly offended from not being able to finish his little (cute) ramble. “Well i was almost done but since you rush me so damn much will start cant even have fun without you running your dumb mouth.” mumbling the last part he pulls out some flashcards out of his pocket. “The basic rules of this game are it's basically we're gonna see who knows each other best. It will go by category nami’s first, , then zoro, sanji, then {name}.” You all nod your heads at him, the game seemed simple enough. Usopp goes to your podium first “{Name} how are you today?” you smile “I’m doing great Usopp.” he returns the gesture to you “that's great to hear! Your question about nami is what are her favorite hobbies to do in the meantime when she's not scamming people.” Nami knocks Usopp on the head from her podium “YOU DUMBASS THAT'S NOT ALL I DO Y'KNOW” “HEYYY NO HITTING THE HOST” “USOPP LEAVE NAMI-SAN ALONE YOU HEAR ME”. you turn to zoro to see if he sees all the bullshit that's happening right now. He looks your way as well having a silent communication to at least try to stop the fighting. Before you could do anything the rest of the crew showed up. “What's happening we’ve been looking for you guys for the past 30 minutes” Luffy says while picking his nose. “I’m hosting a game show for the four of them!” Usopp explains excitedly while looking at you. Nodding at the others “yea were just about to get started you should watch!” The others agree they grab a few chairs or opting to sit on the deck floor and are curious to see what type of game show this is. “Alright now that we’ve all settled down we can finally begin. Clearing his throat “now {name} you may answer the question”. You thought hard nami was one of your best friends so it was easy but you had to pick one she licked the most then it was easy. Usopp had noticed you took a few moments “whenever you're ready tell me”. “I have my answer, it's shopping and she also loves to sunbathe”. Usopp looks at his flashcard “you are…Correct!!! Namis hobbies consist of sunbathing and shopping, one of her favorite things”. You smiled to yourself the game was slowly starting to get more fun now that you realize it.

The process had gone on forever every single time you had gotten the answer correct. Knowing your crew very well. Surprisingly the rest of the crew stayed. Robin was reading a book with chopper in her lap but her attention was still towards the game. Franky had been working on little fidgets while sitting there but he was interested nonetheless. Luffy had been lying in a star position. Brook and Jimbei had been engaging in small conversation but they still saw their crewmates go on with their daily shangains. Ussop had asked you a question about what is Zoro's favorite sword. Saying the Wado Ichimonji because his dear best friend gave it to him as a promise that they would both fulfill their dreams. When asked what Sanji's favorite food is answer spicy seafood pasta knowing that he wished he could have cooked it more often. It was your turn for the question to be asked about you. “Alright name your our last contestant and then the winner will win 40 thousand berries.” you look at nami to see the gleam in her eyes when money is mentioned. Usopp goes to Nami asking her the question he had prepared “How many people have a crush on {name}?” Nami scoffs while crossing her arms. Blood rushes to your face being grateful that they can't see it. “That's easy, Law,Kid, and not to mention Marco from whitebeard pirates. ” Usopp nods his head with confirmation and a thumbs up “YOUR CORRECT”. Usopp walks past you with a smile then stops at zoro. “Zoro what is {name} favorite thing to do with the strawhats crew” Zoro seems like he doesn't know but answers with confidence “They love hugging everyone giving people affection throughout the day”. Usopp doesn’t want Zoro to get the points but he does with a sigh of defeat “you are correct”. Ussop moved to sanji that was practically beaming like he was when he got asked nami’s question “Sanji your question about {name} is how many siblings do they have?” Sanji smirks and takes the cigarette out his mouth “Easy they have 4 being the middle child having two older ones and 2 younger” “your correct too” Luffy gets up from his pose from before “Is the game over who wins??” Usopp rolls his eyes “you have no patience y’know that luffy?” “BUT THE WINNER IS {NAME} GET ALL THE QUESTIONS CORRECT YOU GET 40 THOUSAND BERRY that i don’t have right now” Nami jumps from her podium strangling usopp “YOU LIAR YOUR DAMN LUCKY I DIDN’T WIN BECAUSE IF I DID” you go pull her off him just making sure that he doesn't die usopp i don't want the money just the water plant your promised to help me grow okay” usopp tried to catch his breath from almost being strangled to death “yup anything you want {name}” he said horsley maybe you should do more game shows from now on.

[chaseatlanticslut]

The time is now

So I know a lot of y’all have prob been in the manifestation and/or shifting community for a hot minute, most of us a year or more. (Trust me, I’ve been in the shifting community for 3 years and the Law of Assumption community for 2 years, 3 if you count the horrible yet canon event of Law of Attraction 💀). So it’s been a while and I know how you feel. Don’t worry, you’re not alone. But at one point or another, you need to get out of the victim mindset and own up to why you haven’t manifested your desires, entered the void state, or shifted after a year or more of having a plethora of knowledge at your disposal. I’m applying this to myself as well, so don’t think I’m attacking anyone or being hypocritical. But in all seriousness, when is the last time you really tried? Be honest. And I don’t mean when’s the last time you said affirmations here and there for a few days and didn’t persist or live in the end for a substantial amount of time. Or that time you “thought” about shifting right before you rolled over and went to sleep without setting so much as an intention. But here’s the thing, I’m not telling you to try harder or do more, not in the slightest, because shifting and manifesting and entering the void state is supposed to be simple and easy if you accept that fact and let it. No, the advice and wake up call I’m trying to give is, put in a little more effort, have an INTENTION, and stop being lazy. Like seriously. Aren’t you TIRED???? Aren’t you done living this bullshit life and circumstances and not having your manifestations you dreamed so hard for? Aren’t you tired of not shifting and living in your dream desired reality doing whatever the hell you want?? Aren’t you tired of not waking up in the void state and waking up to the same lifestyle? Aren’t you sick of it? Then do something about it. We are almost done with 2023. 2024 is right around the corner. No way we’re letting YET ANOTHER year pass us by without accomplishing what we’ve been trying to do, and what we came here to do. Enough is enough. You are manifesting your dream life, you are shifting, and you are waking up in the void state or all of the above if you’re like me. I don’t care what you have to do. I’m so tired of y’all not living your dream lives like in what universe do you think that’s okay or acceptable bc it’s not. I know for some of you it’s been so long you don’t see the point and it’s hard to stay disciplined or motivated. So in the comments section anyone that needs to be kicked in gear daily until you get your shit needs to comment and I want all of you to hold yourselves accountable. Someone commented they want to shift to their Hogwarts DR? Okay, remind them every single day to shift and not stop until they do, and let that serve as a reminder to you as well. Ofc if you need to take breaks you always should do that, but if you’re in the right frame of mind to keep going and not stop, do it. The time is now. No more procrastinating. No more “I’ll wake up in the void tomorrow” no bitch DO IT TODAY. Goddamn it. This is your LIFE we’re talking about not a game and you think it’s okay to postpone your desires for another minute??! Hell no. Get off your ass and do what you need to do. Hold yourself accountable to the best of your abilities. Stop complaining about it bc all that time you used to complain could’ve been used to affirm or focus on your shifting or void state self concept, whatever steps it may be to lead you closer to your end goal. I know you’re tired and drained fucking trust me I know how hard the journey has been, but maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard if we had just buckled down from the start and done what we needed to do and figured out what worked best for us and stopped listening to people that are close minded with limiting ass beliefs. So from this point on, starting IMMEDIATELY, you are not going to waste another day. Haven’t tried to shift in over a year and a half like me? (I took a “shifting break” in May 2022💀), or however long it’s been?

Idc, looks like tonight’s your night and every single night after until you fucking shift. Haven’t tried to enter or wake up in the void state for a hot minute? (I stopped in July bc it was low key ruining my mental health the way I was obsessing over it). Oh, cool, looks like you and I are attempting tonight no ifs ands or buts. NONE. Consider this a challenge. It’s called “Get your desires before 2024” if you’re manifesting, “Tap in the void state before 2024” if you’re trying to enter the void state and manifest your dream life that way, or “Reality shift before 2024” if you’re shifting. It’s early November and if we really persist the entire time this is more than achievable. So, the only rules for this is to either in the comments section of this post or in your own separate post you’re going to document your journey from here on out and update once you’ve finally done it. Every single day (unless ofc like I said you need a break or life happens and you for whatever reason can’t, I get it shit happens lol). I’ll even be doing it with you, so stay tuned for that. No more over consuming info you already fucking know. Use all your free time you possible can or just utilize night time wisely if you only do shit before bed. We’re done. We’re getting our shit. And if you don’t participate I will personally come over and beat your ass bc YOU DESERVE TO LIVE YOUR DREAM LIFE not daydream about it, not sit around wising and hoping for it but actually fucking living it. And idc what I have to do to get the message across. So with that being said, do the “challenge” or however you want to view it and I love you and you got this. 💕

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Do you have any advice for talking to people who aren't well-informed about what is going on in Gaza? One of my really close friends for over 10 years now has really conservative parents and she just :// she just kind of believes a lot of the conservative stuff they say and she hears others around her say. After the attacks of Oct. 7th, I think I remember her saying that the Bible says we should always stand with Israel which is just so :((

I want to inform her but I'm unsure of how to, and if it would even work. I'm scared of her response because I really love her and we've been so close for so long but I don't feel comfortable with her being so uninformed and I'm scared of her response. Do you have any advice and even pray for me to be given wisdom on how to handle this with care and love? Thank you ^^

Hey there! Thank you for your courage in even wanting to start a hard conversation with a friend about this vital topic. I'm going to offer some ideas, but ultimately you know this friend better than I could, so if something I say doesn't seem like it'll work with your situation, adapt or discard it.

I also invite others to add on ideas or encouragement. If you know of resources that are helpful for talking about Palestine with folks who are steeped in pro-Israel propaganda, please share!

___

Before delving into this topic with her, start by asking yourself what you're hoping she'll unlearn and relearn. What's a reasonable goal to move her towards?

Chances are, she's not going to move from unquestioning support of Israel to "Decolonize Palestine" in a day!

Moving her towards a simple agreement that at least some of the things Israel does cannot be supported is a good first step, and even that may take time and patience.

Prepare yourself to be happy about even the smallest baby steps in opening her perspective. "Ceasefire now!" may be the bare minimum in what is ultimately needed for true justice for Palestine, but it is an important step. If you can make progress towards her agreeing with a simple ceasefire, that's worth celebrating.

You'll also want to think in advance about where you're hoping her changed perspective will take her. Do you see her on the front lines of protests and marches? Or will you be satisfied if she makes some changes in where she spends her money (boycotting Starbucks, McDonalds, etc.), doesn't shut down pro-Palestine comments, etc.?

Again, being realistic and celebrating even small changes is helpful to keep from frustrating yourself or her!

So...how do you start a conversation that leads to that?

Wait for a time when you both are fairly relaxed, and have enough time that conversation won't be rushed.

Prepare yourself to hear some resistance and possibly even some really crappy things regurgitated when you first broach the subject. Do your best to remain calm, and not to jump straight into correcting every little thing she says — I know how hard that can be, but if you have hope that she'll be open to changing perspective, you want to establish yourself as a space where she feels safe enough to unpack the bullshit without being shut down at every turn.

For instance, in the scenario where she said "the Bible says we should always stand with Israel," responding immediately with "no it doesn't!!" would shut down conversation.

Instead, you might start with open-ended questions the two of you can explore together: "I wonder what the Bible means when it talks about Israel. Would the biblical authors recognize today's Israel as being the Israel they were talking about? / Is the Israel of today the same as the Israel of the Bible?" "What does it mean to you to 'stand with Israel'?" "Does that have to require sending them extreme military weapons?"

As you ask questions together, focus on finding common ground with her:

Does your friend agree that innocent people should be kept as safe as possible in military conflicts?

Does she agree that people of different faiths and cultures should be able to coexist?

I appreciate this post's advice on utilizing instead of challenging someone's deeply held values to guide them out from their rightwing radicalized views.

If your friend seems unwilling to talk about this...

It's okay to table the conversation if things start to get heated or she's shutting down. Let he know this topic is deeply meaningful to you and that's why you want to talk about it with her, as a friend who means a lot to you as well.

If there have been times in the past where she's realized what her family says about a topic has been anywhere from somewhat misinformed to utter bullshit, you might be able to remind her of that past time.

Do your best to make it clear that you are not judging her for what she currently believes — we can't help what we're raised in! You're just hopeful that, like in those past situations with other topics, the two of you can talk things out.

Did realizing that she didn't have all the information on a topic help in the past? Maybe remind her of that too, and invite her to team up together in finding the missing information on this topic as well — which leads me to...

Come with resources.

For exploring those open-ending questions I brought up before, it'll help for you to be pretty well informed in advance both about current events and recent history, and about how Christian theology's been used to advance Israel's agenda.

...Or, if you think your friend would prefer to learn along the way with you, it'll be good for you to at least know of resources the two of you can look at together!

You don't have to have all the answers; you can tell her, "I don't know enough either yet. I'd love to learn together with you." Framing it as something mutual, rather than you lecturing her or assigning her homework or judging her current ignorance, might cultivate that space for mutual growth that will benefit you both!

So here are some resources I recommend:

For questions about theology, including disconnecting biblical Israel from modern Israel, I highly recommend Decolonizing Palestine: The Land, the People, the Bible (2023) by Christian Palestinian theologian Mitri Raheb. If you don't have time for a whole book, I summarized the thing in an article that takes about 30 minutes to read. .

Another, less academic / more storytelling-formatted book that pulls in perspectives from Jews and Muslims, Palestinians and non-Palestinians, queer folk and more, that I find super valuable in summing up a lot of the fraught history and unpacking propaganda around Israel that so many of us have been taught to take as given, is A Land with a People: Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism. .

Then there's keeping up with news using media outlets that don't sugarcoat Israel's violence. My personal favorite to listen to daily is Democracy Now!, which you can read/watch online or listen to as a podcast. A whole hour of news every day may be more than your friend can keep up with, however, so... .

...a briefer news option is @ So.informed on Instagram. Their posts sum up the big sweeping picture of what's going on, and help put it in context with accessible language. If your friend has Instagram, this could be a great source for her to start getting another perspective on what's going on. .

Similarly, @ letstalkpalestine is another Instagram account that explores history and current events in a succinct, accessible way.

One last thought: be ready to offer comfort.

It's hard to realize you've been misinformed about something important — especially when it's people close to you who've taught you what you thought was right. It takes a ton of courage and humility to realize where you need to change.

Your friend might become emotional about all this; that might look like grief, or rage, or even dissociating, feeling numb. Be ready to offer comfort, to remind her that what she thought was not her fault — that we're all steeped in things we have to work to unlearn, and you're proud of her for being open to learning.

And again I'll mention that if things start getting intense, it's okay to take a break! You don't want either of you burning out halfway through. You can take this process one small step per day, or even per week.

This struggle for liberation and justice is a long one — it's been decades unfolding, and it'll take a long while more. It's urgent, yes, but at the same time, rushing your friend won't aid the effort. Patience is much more likely to bear fruit that lasts.

___

I hope this helps somewhat! I'll be holding you and your friend in my prayers.

May the Spirit of Justice guide your words and actions; may She guard you from frustration; may she open your friend to hearing you out and entering into conversation with you. <3

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Peace | Harvest Moon Collab Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.5k ✧ notes ➼ A little post-war oneshot of you and Levi attending a Fall Festival while adjusting to normal life for @postwarlevi's Harvest Moon Collab Event! ✧ content/warnings: canonverse, post-war, gn!reader, some spoilers for the manga

Adjusting to a normal life after a lifetime of war and tragedy was a challenge. Similar to how nothing could truly prepare you for war, nothing could have prepared you for suddenly being thrown into the expectation of living a "normal" life while your survival instincts were still stuck in a place where you had to be on guard 24/7.

It was a few months after the events surrounding the Rumbling. Things were slowly getting rebuilt, and both you and Levi found yourselves trying to adjust. The two of you settled down in an apartment close to the downtown area of a moderately-sized village. It was peaceful enough while still providing you access to services you'd need, given his bad knee and the lasting effects of the war on your mental health.

Adjusting was getting easier, but the fact that you didn't have to be prepared to fight a horde of Titans at a moment's notice was still hard to adjust to. Most days were okay, with just a minimal amount of discomfort for the both of you that you could easily adapt to.

Today was not one of those days.

You were shaken up and had barely gotten any sleep. Your nightmares were bad, and you could tell that Levi was struggling to get himself to get up to regularly expose himself to walking as his bad knee slowly began to heal.

He had to live with a limp due to his knee, but could walk in small increments, which was encouraged as some form of physical therapy—but he was required to actually get up and move around. Given the fact that you didn't know anyone in town and that there was still some stigma and gossip regarding the Eldians that resided on Paradis Island, going outside was not necessarily the most rewarding thing to do to pass the time.

Thus, when you heard from the locals that there was going to be a Fall Festival and saw that the weather was nice, you figured it was a good time to drag Levi out of the house in the hopes that everyone would be too busy enjoying the food and events without shooting you those wary glances.

Plus you needed the fresh air.

"How's your leg?" you asked as you pushed Levi's wheelchair forward while walking next to him, matching your pacing with his.

He scoffed at the fact that you even asked that question.

"Feels like shit," he grumbled, which resulted in a small amused smile forming on your face at his standard harsh commentary.

You had brought his wheelchair in case the pain started kicking in, but he seemed to be doing okay today. He was just walking on it for short periods of time to give it time to heal while also letting him adjust, although he hated having to depend on you to bring his wheelchair in case it got too painful for him.

"Thought you said there weren't going to be a shitton of people."

"There's not!" you exclaimed, although you knew he was right. The plaza wasn't necessarily packed per se, but it was definitely crowded enough for the both of you to feel uncomfortable wading through the crowd.

"Bullshit."

"You're so dramatic," you said with a sigh as you rolled your eyes before they fell on a stand that was set up for the festival.

You nudged Levi and motioned your head towards it.

"Come look at these pumpkins with me."

In addition to the music and art stands, there was a small area of the festival dedicated to some of the local farmers. There was a stand of freshly picked apples, all neatly sorted by color, right next to the pumpkin stand that had sizes of the squash ranging from around the size of a baseball, up to being even bigger than the tote bag you were currently carrying around.

"How many fucking pies are you planning on making?" Levi asked, slightly bewildered at the amount of apples and pumpkins that you were buying. You had mentioned something about making pastries, but neither of you were that into sweets.

"As many as I need to keep busy, I guess," you commented with a shrug.

Levi didn't respond with a sarcastic retort like he usually would. He knew what you were referring to—baking helps keep your mind busy. He understood it, and even tried to help out sometimes, although you would consistently complain about how he was usually too much of a pain in the ass over how to do things, which just resulted in you kicking him out of the kitchen on most days.

Your eyes flashed up as you saw a group of kids run by you and towards the plaza. They had come from a Halloween face painting stand, so their faces were covered in various shades that were supposed to resemble some well-known Halloween-esque character that you couldn't recognize. They were running over towards a live band that was playing, joining some of the other locals in dancing to the music.

As much as you felt like an outsider sometimes, the liveliness of some of the locals still brought a smile to your face. It was a glimpse into what human nature was when you weren't burdened with the weight of war.

You saw that Levi's pace was slowing down a bit and changed your direction so that you slowly headed towards a bench that seemed to be a bit further out from the crowd.

You could barely hear the music from here, but you were still able to watch the camaraderie. It was nice to experience even a little sense of peace after the horror that was the Rumbling.

You watched as the sun began to dip below the horizon, which prompted the street lights around you to flicker on. Even the music began to calm after a while as people began to trickle out of the plaza and vendors began to pack up for the day.

"You think it gets easier?" you eventually asked.

Levi glanced over towards you, watching you as you fixed your gaze on the setting sun.

"Depends on what you're referring to."

He saw your eyes flicker down, with a hint of dejection showing up in your expression.

"Adjusting to...normal life," you eventually whispered.

Levi directed his gaze back towards the sunset, his lips slightly parting as he began to formulate an answer to your question, although he wasn't quite sure what that answer was supposed to be. He didn't know if adjusting would get easier. You both still had your nightmares and were ready to jump back into survival mode at a moment's notice. It felt agonizing.

After a few seconds, you looked over at him, watching as the breeze drifted through his raven locks, making them subtly rise and fall over his forehead. Your eyes drifted down towards his damaged eye, noting the scars that ran down his right cheek. You were tempted to reach out and run your fingers over his scars. They added to him in a way that was hard for him to see himself, but you were able to see. You were always able to see his worth as more than a soldier. To you, he was just Levi.

"I like to think that it will," he eventually said, "for their sake, if nothing else."

Your eyes flickered down as you brought up your memories of the people that had died for this peace that you were currently living in—the ones that didn't make it to the end: Erwin, Miche, Hange, and even Levi's original squad.

You hoped that you'd be able to find that peace they had died for.

You rested your head on his shoulder, scooting closer so that your hips were touching.

It was going to be hard to adapt to that peace after a life of nothing but fighting. You knew it was going to be hard, but you also knew that what Levi said wasn't just blind optimism. He's known grief for nearly his entire life, experiencing firsthand how easy it is for that grief to swallow you, and how to drag yourself out of it as you learned to make room for it.

At least you had Levi next to you on this journey. Even after all that loss, at least you still had him.

Levi wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer and planting a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You looked down towards his hand that was now resting on your shoulder and noted his two missing fingers. The war had left the both of you scarred—for him, it was his eye, hand, and fingers; for you, it was a particularly nasty gash on your shoulder that you sometimes still felt the phantom pain of.

It was going to be a hard journey and there was no changing that—but at least it will be a journey that you'd be able to take together.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @deepzombieyouth @evas-leslas join my taglist! as always, please let me know if you want to get taken off! :)

[cerislabnotes]

Research Note 15- Disbelief

Day 1: It's conference week. General share with the world what you're doing kind of conference. And I'm used to conferences that are managed with security and secrecy. (Aka, everyone bullshits their way through them, without any real meat of what they're doing being shared.) So, this has been a very hard adjustment for me.

There are labs and non-profits of all types of disciplines! I do technical stuff; I don't know how to talk to these people. (Can you tell I'm intimidated?) Oh well, the setup went well. We brought the beam head to show progress in the general proton therapy field. I've stayed at the table, and a few people have come up to talk, but I've barely seen the genetics team since we set up. They are out roaming the floor, talking to anyone and everyone who has anything remotely helpful with our research. It's quite odd to me, but I guess how these things go.

Day 2: One of the girls from the genetics team was picking up scientific papers from everyone and dropped them at the table to go to lunch. "Keep these safe, lots of good stuff here to take back." On the top was 'Discussion of Bonding Energy in reference to Current Human Removal Therapies' by P. Leh'Ber. Sounds scientific enough, right? Except, open the cover, and you get the rest of the story: 'Discussion of Bonding Energy in reference to Current Human Removal Therapies: Use of Alchemy for tearing and stitching DNA.' Whoa, whoa, whoa, that's magic. That's not even science fiction; that's absolute fantasy. What kind of crock is this? And why would someone with a PHD even pay attention to this?

Day 3: So that girl turned out to be the lead of the alternatives team. Essentially, it is a small group that looks for fringe connections to our work. Stuff that may enhance it, or cause conflict. When I asked about the pamphlet, she suggested I follow her to the group where the paper was made. The research team that published it works in "The Fantasy of Science." They didn't explain much I could understand, just that "we are doing the same work as you, just with the power of the universe" and "with the right need and sight, it becomes very clear how it works." "So, magic?" They all just shrugged. "Excuse me, I need to stop wasting company time." and moved on to another attendee who was excited to talk with them. Is magic really even being discussed here? The rest of the day was of no note.

Day 4: Conference ended today. But, one of the doctors from the alchemy group came by. "Ceri, was it? I just wanted you to know, 30 years ago, what you're doing with molecules and particles was fantasy and magic." "I understand, but at least it's still based in science." With a big smile, he said: "Ceri, I believe Thor said it best, "Magic is just science you don't understand yet." I paused, and stared into the void as that statement echoed in my head. About 10 seconds passed before I smiled back at the doctor. "Fair point. Good luck with your work; hopefully, we both can work some magic." I'll stick with the magic I understand. Tomorrow, back to the lab.

-Ceri

[Ideas of alchemy and magic came from @brothrbear]

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Sweet Amber, I wana request "hushed sex while staying in the guest room of another’s home" for AOU Steve and reader when they were at Clint's farm, because he wants a life and family with his girl.

And thankyou for seeing my previous ask, I'm the same AOU anon BTW.. I can't tell how much I love this man.

I hope this is some of the feels you were looking for. I'm super tired tonight and having a hard time wording what I want to say. But thank you so much Babes for sending me this request. All the love right back and imagine Steve just loving you so damn much.

Send me an Ask from this list of Prompts

This is an 18+ Only Blog.

Everything felt so much MORE.

The squeak of the bed, Steve's soft huffs against your neck where he buried his face for a moment, the feeling bombarding both of you overwhelming in this second. Your thighs squeezed around his waist, encouraging him to continue while your fingers grazed up and down his muscled back, making an invisible painting speaking of your love along his spine and over his shoulder blades.

The tension of the past few days, all of your worlds being disrupted by Tony and Bruce's error was bleeding out of you both for now. You both tried to be quiet in your needs for each other, hushed tones whispered to each other about how good it felt passed between press of lips. The house was full, brimming with people and this might not be the right place or time, but there were no real rules between you two anymore.

Right now it was about feeling, anything, something. As long as it gave you both hope to keep going. The world threw so much as all of you, you had to take it where you could get it to prepare for the next disaster. "Oh god, Steve." You muttered, arching under him when his hips pushed back in, his cock thick against your slick walls, squeezing him just right that his movements stuttered in several quick thrusts before he pulled back again.

You were ready for him to push back into you, wanted it, your body arched in an invitation for him to fill you in the way you only ever wanted him to. "I know Doll, it's just so good." He lifted away to catch your lips, drawing out the moan built up in your throat to keep quiet, gasping against you at how you made him feel.

"You gonna fill me with your babies Steve?" You moved away from his mouth, moving along his jawline as his mouth went slick, his eyes screwed close in concentration to keep from cumming yet.

"Dance with me late at night after our kids are in bed?" You continued, painting the dream you knew he has had since you two fell for each other. "In our home full of love and life?"

You could feel him, he was so close and you didn't even care that you weren't. Today this was about Steve, being able to take care of him in a way he never had with anyone, to give him tenderness and passion among the anger and heartbreak surrounding them right now.

Steve pushed up enough to roll the two of you in the small bed, making it creak ominously beneath the two of you while you straddled him, pushing your hands against his strong chest to ride him slowly, let him savor watching you, your golden-haired super soldier seemed to finally let go of all the bullshit, being here with just you.

His hands glided onto your hips, fingers possessively pressing into the soft curves of you while helping you move, unhurried, you just let yourself sink onto him over and over, your sighs and moans all soft just for him. "You know I love you right?" He asked out of nowhere, his hips arching under you to press himself back into the deepest part of you. "I don't think I would have been able to do this without you Y/N."

You let yourself fall forward, your chest pressing against his and your hands cupping his face, tracing the angles of his features that you were so intimate with, your eyes softening with love in return. "It's always going to be you and me, Steve, no matter what happens."

Your forehead leaned against his, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close while you felt him cum, his spend warm as it spread through you and you melted in against him, sated and content to just enjoy the moment right now, not what had already happened, or what was possibly going to come. "I love you too Steve, we were always meant to be here I think." You let your head lift to look at him. "Even here and now, in Clint's house, trying our damndest to be quiet." You broke into a grin and his matched, finally some of the shine returning in his eyes.

"I don't know how quiet we were Doll, but we certainly tried."