#you can just say you know stuff and then make up the stuff you know and get away with it.

[serial-unaliver]

no more analysis on this topic because surprisingly a redditor managed to sum up my opinion.

like do you know what's said to women online? here you go, here is something a man said to me: "can't blame him, if my daughter looked like you i'd be in jail too".I also on my old blog got very graphic rape threats and fantasies (consequences of arguing with libertarians) (genuinely concerned about the one guy who did this on three separate accounts after getting banned)

but honestly comments like that to me are normal at this point, what makes me more angry is seeing them directed at other women, because i'd feel so much better if it were just me and this wasn't a widespread issue.

I think the only "solution" is in parenting. you could create a venn diagram of men who say stuff like this and men whose mothers will be the mother in law in a r/JUSTNOMIL post. you can't hide your child from all the ills of the world, but you can help them develop cognitive empathy before they encounter it. "boys will be boys" parenting stops being fun and quirky once your son gets rejected by a classmate and acquires a weapon. so yeah, either stop gendering your parenting or raise your daughter the same awful way so at least everyone loses #equalitywin #7thwavefeminism

[hoshifighting]

how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues

WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3

a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it

seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.

jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.

joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”

junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.

hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.

woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.

wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.

minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.

mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”

seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”

seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b

vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.

chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.

[luveline]

If you are still writing for bombshell x Spencer could you write something from early seasons when he had feelings for JJ 👉🏻👈🏻

Hotch told you once that he was tempted to put an automatic lock on the office doors, so that he can lock them when he sees you coming during your working hours. 

He has yet to follow through. You slip in through the doors and take a deep breath. It smells like coffee, printer paper, all the same stuff as your own office, but your office doesn’t have Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, or Spencer Reid. 

“Neither does this one, apparently,” you mumble to yourself, casting your gaze around the room to no avail. The boys aren’t here. 

Emily’s sitting at her desk. She’s new, you’re jealous of her job, but she’s gorgeous. You won’t mind sitting at Spencer’s desk until they get back. “Hello,” you drawl, setting down in Spencer’s chair comfortably. 

Emily’s mildly startled. “Hey?”

Spencer’s desk is an explosion. You debate cleaning up for him. What if you put something in the wrong place? It’ll be more annoying than helpful. “How are things?” you ask, pushing Spencer’s chair back, and kicking a leg over your knee, high heel bobbing. 

“What?” 

You smile at her. Flirting, just a little, but your concern is real. “How are things going, Prentiss? With you?” 

“They’re good. Yeah. I just moved into my new place.” 

Bless her for not knowing what to do with you. She doesn’t have practice like the rest. “A new place? Where to?” 

She relaxes while you talk. Her apartment overlooking Kingman, her cat’s annoyance at the new smells and the long case time away. “Spencer says that cats aren’t capable of holding grudges, but Sergei can.” 

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He knows a fun fact for everything.” 

Emily sits up. You can see the excitement of a secret in her dark eyes. “He’s adorable. His little crush on JJ is so sweet, I’ve tried to give him some advice but he’s totally stuck on her.” You falter. And Emily, profiler in training, she catches it. Her lips part, startled. “You’re not–”

“I had no idea Spencer had a little crush,” you breathe, sitting up with a smile. “For how long? What about JJ, is she interested in him?” You hug your hands together. “You know, I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“Well, I heard they went to a football game together, but I don’t know when. Before I got here, at least.” 

What? “That’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

You tip your head back and the heavens have opened, Derek Morgan’s making his way toward you with a grin and a hand reaching for you. “Sweetheart, where have you been?” he asks. “It’s been weeks, I was starting to miss you.” 

You texted him a few days ago about a property nearby for rent, and you had coffee the day after to hear his advice on the area, so he’s just making stuff up. “Hi, Derek.” 

You get up and let him hug you. You deserve it. You’re beautiful and fun and smart, and you deserve a handsome man rubbing your arm and telling you he missed you. “How much?” you ask warmly. 

“Like a hole in the head.” 

Hotch is behind him. And there, the surprise item of the afternoon, Spencer Cheating Reid. 

“Hi, Hotch,” you say. 

“I heard something about you I’d rather not repeat,” he says. 

“Hotch, the details were wildly exaggerated, and I was less at fault than you might think.”

“I thought it was entirely your fault.” He shakes his head. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, doing things like that.” 

“Why, what did you do?” Spencer asks. 

You falter again. Everyone sees your insecurity: Hotch’s brow furrows deeper than it had been, Morgan pauses, and Spencer, to your panic, holds your eye as the emotion passes. “It’s not worth talking about,” you say, shrugging. 

“Try not to do it again,” Hotch says. “Morgan, with me.” 

“Uh, Hotch?” Emily speaks up. 

“You too, Prentiss.” 

He leads a procession up to his office. Morgan throws you a look like he wants to talk to you, but you’ve plastered unaffectedness over the wound again. Why does the idea of JJ and Spencer going on a date upset you? He’s a sweet guy, she’s a nice girl. Is it because you didn’t know? 

“You really haven’t been here in weeks,” Spencer says. 

“Missed me?” 

He holds the strap of his bag. “Yeah, I did.” 

What use does he have missing you? “I heard something interesting about you, Spencer.” 

“You did?”

He looks shy, pale, and worried. You forget sometimes how he’s not just your favourite dork, he’s a friend. And he doesn’t seem to have very many of them. 

Oh, you think, jealousy, you heartless monster. 

“The rumour mill says you aren’t sleeping enough,” you say gently. 

“I sleep fine.”

You put one kitten heel in front of the other and stay, squinting at him with a teasing suspicion. “That’s not what my informants have been telling me. You look tired, honey. You aren’t sleeping, or Hotch won’t let you?” 

“Both.” 

He does that playful smiley thing that makes you wanna scrunch his hair in your hands, like he knows he’s made a good joke. 

“Your case in Cincinnati sounded tough.” 

“Wait,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Usually. Why?” 

“Are you okay right now?” 

“I’m fine.” You purse your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just– you– I don’t know, you didn’t seem like yourself. I didn’t mean to upset you, asking about that stuff. It’s none of my business, sorry.” 

“How are you feeling about physical touch today?” you ask. 

He seems to regard you with distrust, for a few seconds, like he’s worried you’re messing with him. “I’m okay with it,” he says eventually. 

You step into his space and touch his cheek gently, fingertip tapping into a beauty mark you often remember only when he’s in your reach. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You drop your hand. “Just having a weird day.” 

“Me too.” 

Spencer puts his bag under his desk and mentions a video he found on profiling you might like by one of the old Unit Chief’s, SSA David Rossi. You steal Derek’s chair and sit knee to knee with him to watch it, Spencer’s cheeks turning dark with blush in the screen’s reflection. 

Can JJ make him blush like that? 

—

bombshell fics

[caitlinsnicket]

jinx relationship headcanons

warnings: there's some nfsw but it's almost clinical, the usual dark-ish jinx stuff that always comes with her

a/n: guys don't worry she's alive and well here in my house she's actually taking a nap, we're gonna have dinner later

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She often forgets to take care of herself: makeup stays on her face for days, her hair becomes matted and dirty at the ends, and her hands are dusty with chipped nail polish.

So you like to take care of her—helping her wash her hair (it really is a two-person job these days), gently washing her face, and making sure she's thoroughly clean before letting her go to bed or even hug you.

And in these moments, when she smells cleaner than she has in years and her hair feels so light she could fly, there are no voices, no buzzing, no sound. There’s just peace and this sense that she could actually have things like these—normal moments and casual actions with you. Most importantly, that she deserves them.

She's sitting in a loose white shirt, eyes closed, humming a song that's been stuck in her head for days. You're behind her, humming along as you brush her long locks. When you're done, you inch closer, placing your hands on her shoulders and start kissing her: first the top of her head, then her forehead when she leans to look at you, followed by her nose. Finally, you pepper kisses across her whole face before pulling back to grab something else for her hair.

She turns to look at you, her eyes dreamy and shiny, her heart beating fast. There’s a small smile on her face.

After that, you both cling to each other on her enormous bed. She switches positions every few moments—from laying her head on your chest, to being the small spoon, to the big spoon, to just fully lying on top of you and burying her face in your neck. She's unusually quiet in those moments, as if she's recharging.

Sometimes, she might talk about her feelings—the ones she doesn’t understand yet and the ones she knows are bad—and she’s thankful you don’t judge her.

Other times, she might just want to jump your bones, thinking it’s an equivalent “thank you” for taking care of her. It takes her a while to understand that she doesn’t have to pay you back for your affection.

There are also moments when you help build her back up: putting makeup on her face again or braiding her hair, carefully working through knots to avoid pulling too hard.

The biggest problem is her staring. You've tried talking her out of it so many times, but while you paint her face or fix her hair, she just stares at you, unblinking.

Sometimes, she starts frowning, taking all of you in. Occasionally, she'll pull back unintentionally, her chest too full of feelings she doesn’t yet understand.

You ask if she's okay, and she responds with a snarky comment, building up her walls again. But eventually, she relaxes into your touch, letting you continue.

It’s actually really hard for her to relax most of the time.

For example, she never fully lets go when the two of you are intimate. Sometimes, while you're eating her out, you catch her staring at you, laser-focused, as if waiting for you to hurt her. “Sorry, toots. Got lost again. But that feels good, so keep going,” she’ll say, laying back against the pillows as if nothing happened.

You used to get really worried and stop altogether, but those dissociative episodes have become fewer and fewer as she gets healthier.

Dancing is something you do almost daily, though it’s not really dancing at this point—it’s just rocking heads, jumping around, and holding each other while spinning.

On rare occasions, you’ll slow dance. She’ll put her feet on top of yours, and the two of you will barely move in circles in the middle of the bedroom. In those moments, she’s as happy as she can be, just existing with you.

You also love annoying her by whispering bad jokes in her ear until she stops whatever tinkering she’s doing because she’s too busy laughing.

Then, she’ll tickle you until you’re crying, cussing you out for saying all that nonsense to her.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18

Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.

“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.

Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.

He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.

Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.

“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”

It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.

“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”

“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.

“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.

“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.

It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.

But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.

“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.

Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.

It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.

Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.

Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.

“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.

Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.

He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”

***

Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.

He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.

Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.

“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”

Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.

“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.

Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.

“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.

“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.

“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”

Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”

Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.

“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”

A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”

“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.

“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”

Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”

Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”

And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.

Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.

“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”

“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”

“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”

“Coming from you?”

“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters.

Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”

Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.

Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.

Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.

“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”

Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”

At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.

For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”

As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”

“I know.”

Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.

“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”

***

Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.

It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.

He’s never buying popcorn again.

But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.

It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.

He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.

But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.

He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.

It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”

Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.

By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.

“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.

Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”

The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.

“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.

It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.

He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.

“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”

Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.

“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.

Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”

Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.

Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”

“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.

   Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐

   First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”

“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.

And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.

It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist. 

Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.

Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”

“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.

Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.

“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.

“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.

“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.

He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.

“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.

“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.

Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”

“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.

“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.

When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.

“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.

“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.

PART 20

[sheloveschai]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ no longer a jinx

alternate universe! powder x fem! reader

nothing but pure unadulterated fluff slight arcane act III spoilers

act III of arcane made me sick to my stomach arcane writers when i catch you..

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . .₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

music bumped loudly against the walls of the building. dancing bodies- lovers, friends, and strangers alike- intertwined with one another as laughter and cheers filled the air. a song, though in another language, communicates its truth of two lovers. despite the hardships of the lives they were given and toxicity within themselves, they cannot be separated.

a lover herself, you, roam the dance floor- a drink clasped tightly between clammy hands as you search for something throughout the crowd- for someone. beginning to gnaw at your lower lip as you pause amongst the partygoers; you stretch your neck to try to get a look over the zaunites.

it is nothing more than a sea of your fellow people adorned in their best suits and dresses- a continuous wave of colors, bright smiles, and shared joy. when balloons suddenly erupt from the open work ceiling above with the push of a lever, cheers boom from the crowd as the people are rained on by an array of colored confetti.

though, no shade of the floating pieces of paper quite compared to the vivid, glistening, baby blue eyes of a girl finally making her approach through the crowd.

it’s as though time itself had somehow slowed down and the existence of others fade out as she came closer. the metallic workings of her boots reflects the colors of the fallen confetti now laid to waste on the floor; her cream colored dress that is trimmed with the most delicate, intricate pattern of lace intertwines between her knobby knees as she walks- it contradicts the worn, but well-loved black leather of her cropped jacket.

but her eyes, adorned with the colorful workings of carefully placed, glittering eyeshadow, practically gleamed in jubilation as she comes to a stop in front of your skittish form.

“thought i’d never find you, space girl” the zaunite, powder, teases. she takes a quick glance at the cup between your hands before swiping it out of your grasp. ignoring your protested ‘hey!’ she downs the rest of what was in the cup and sets it on the counter behind you as her face grimaces.

you practically watch in disbelief as she straightens back out in front of you- wiping the back of her hand on her mouth. “eugh! i do not know how you can drink that stuff” she says, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as if to rid it of the flavor.

you let out a huff of laughter and shake your head. “sorry that not all of us want our drinks to just be maraschino cherries” you taunt, as your eyes roam her outfit- a giddy smile gracing your face at a familiar article of clothing. “don’t i know that dress from somewhere?”

the blue-haired girl smiles almost sickeningly sweet as she twists her torso causing the dress to flow gracefully side-to-side. “i may have had to take a detour through your closet” she says with a tilt to her voice, not a true feeling of guilt found anywhere in her body. “can i make it up to you with a dance?”

you’re given no time to respond as she pulls your fiddling hands apart and drags you out to the middle of the dance floor. music still thumps throughout the building and powder takes a few steps back, leaving an empty space between the two of you.

she takes initiative and lets the music control her body. she spins and floats around the floor- twirling like the confetti pieces around her. you watch in awe as she closes her eyes and feels the beat, and almost hypnotized by her movements, you let your body be dragged alongside her.

giggles bubble out of the both your chests as powder grabs one of your hands and twirls herself around with it- her hair bounding around her face. you twist and spin around one another with smiles so big it feels as though your faces may split. she snatches you by the waist and a hand, and spins you around with her- her eyes softening as she watches intently as your head fall back with a laugh.

her dress brushes between your calves as she twirls once more before pushing her back to your chest; both of your hands intertwined with hers as she pulls them to rest above her fast beating heart; gentle thumbs brushing over your knuckles. your laughter begins to dissipate as a wave of surrealness overswepts you two- allowing you to float amongst the riptide surrounding.

powder rests the back of her head on your shoulder and tilts her gaze to look longingly at your face. the look of love as vander like to say. ‘it’s the same way your mother looked at your old man’ he would explain after catching her staring at you doing even the most minut of tasks.

“you know; you’re starting to freak me out with the starin-”

“i love you” she interrupts, her gaze unwavering. “i just- i just thought i should remind you” she explains impassively watching as you finally look at her. a gentle grin spreads across your face; the kind where the apples of your cheeks push up against your lower lids and the points of your canines just barely peaking through- powder’s favorite kind of smile on you.

“i know” you whisper, almost scared to break the quiet moment. “how could i ever forget?”

“and so you better not” she quickly retorts before she pulls away from you, but rather than fully leaving your embrace, she turns around to face you and laces her arms behind your head.

your arms immediately loop around her waist and your bodies are once more pressed against one another. heartbeats becoming one, bodies merging into one another; this is undoubtedly the feeling of fate. of two souls who were meant to find one another. and powder, she too must’ve felt the same with the way she was looking at you. as if you were the one who so gratefully hung the stars and moon themselves. as if you were the one who traveled through the galaxy just to get to her.

you didn’t need any other confirmation of this when she has so sweetly brought a hand up to cradle the side of your face, thumb dragging over a smear of glitter under your eye.

your fingertips drag up her spine over the dress until they disappear under her jacket. it’s a slow intimate move and that’s all she needs before she’s pulling you in, and pressing your parted lips to hers.

an exhale of pleasure, or be it relief, escapes your nose as the two of you practically melt into one another’s embrace- breathing in each others air.

it’s a constant push and pull- tide against the shore as your lips dance across one another. not a battle of dominance of who can overpower the other, but a confession; a whisper of affection between two lovers.

a thank you to the universe for bringing them together- at least in this timeline.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . .₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

i’ve never written before and if that’s obvious do not tell me or i will cry 😋

[sturn777]

fb!chris meeting dealer!reader for the first time . | ( female!reader ) wc 0.7k ( library ) + ( request )

꒰ა " you got me high, you got me high, and i ain't coming down . " ໒꒱

the bass thumps so loud you can feel it in your chest, rattling your ribcage like a warning. the frat house reeks of stale beer, weed, and cheap cologne, the air thick with sweat and bad decisions. you weave through the crowd, the thin material of your top brushing against sticky red solo cups and the occasional wandering hand. you don’t stop, don’t even look back, just give them a sharp elbow or a glare over your shoulder. they get the message — you’re here on business, not pleasure.

chris notices you the second you walk in.

he’s leaned up against the kitchen counter, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, looking like sin in a backwards cap and a hoodie. he’s laughing at something nate said, the sound low and careless, like he owns the world and everything in it. and maybe he does. at least, this world—the frat house, the party, the girls who keep brushing against him, pretending it’s an accident.

but then his eyes land on you, and the smirk slips just a little.

you don’t notice him at first. or maybe you do, but you don’t care. you’re too busy scanning the room, looking for your buyer, the weight of the little baggies in your pocket pressing against your thigh. it’s not until you hear his voice, lazy and dripping with confidence, that you turn around.

"yo, yeah— you. y'gonna sell me sum stuff or nah?"

he’s closer now, standing right in front of you, and you have to tilt your chin up slightly to meet his gaze. his usually icy blue eyes are dark, hooded, like he’s already bored with whatever game he’s about to start.

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “depends. you got cash, or are you just here to waste my time?”

his smirk returns, sharper now, like he wasn’t expecting you to bite back. most girls don’t. “damn. y’got some bite, huh?” he steps closer, crowding into your space, testing the waters. you don’t move, don’t flinch, just hold his gaze with a steady calm that throws him off. “i don’t bite unless i’m paid extra.”

he huffs a laugh, low and rough, taking a slow sip of his beer while his eyes rake over you. “yeah, a'ight. let’s see what you got.”

you don’t break eye contact as you pull a small baggie out of your jacket pocket, holding it up between two manicured fingers. the overhead light catches on the powder, making it shimmer like something expensive.

he leans in, close enough that you can smell the beer and weed on his breath, the faint trace of something minty. “this the good shit, or you tryna scam me?” you tilt your head, a challenge sparking in your eyes. “best around. can y'handle it?”

his jaw tightens, just for a second, before the smirk’s back in full force. “y'cold, ain't ya?" he mutters, shaking his head like he’s impressed. you shrug, slipping the baggie back into your pocket.

for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. then he steps back, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “how much?”

you name your price, and he doesn’t even blink, just tosses a couple of bills onto the counter like it’s nothing. you hand over the baggie, your fingers brushing for half a second before you pull away. “pleasure doin’ business,” you say, already turning to leave.

but his voice stops you, cutting through the haze of music and voices like a blade. “what’s your name?” he calls out. you glance over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “why? planning on writing me a love letter?”

he laughs, the sound warmer than it should be, and for a second, you almost believe it’s real. “nah. just wanna know who i’m gonna be thinkin’ 'bout later.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you walk away. but you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers, following you through the crowd like a promise.

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[tuttle-did-it]

I thought they did a great nuanced ending for Glass Onion that a lot of people miss.

Miles Bron couldn’t be stopped legally. Blanc even warns that he is not Batman— his actions are limited the scope of the law, and that’s it.

So when they reach a point where Bron destroys the physical evidence and cannot legally be held accountable, Blanc steps away. Helen knows she cannot beat him legally— her sister tried this, Anne not only did she lose, but it Andi actually cost her her life. Asa Black woman, she knows, like Blanc (queer), that people will do and say anything to stay on the good side of a rich white person whom they think can help them. To ‘hold onto that golden titty,’ as Helen says.

So Blanc steps away. He has taken the law as far as it can go.

And this gives room for Helen work on Bron’s destruction— yes, she has fun blowing up his stuff, but she does what Blanc could not do: ruins Bron’s reputation.

‘Your fuel of the future just barbecued the world's most famous painting, you dumbass! Congratulations on the public launch of Klear, and the end of Miles Bron. You're ruined. And you did get your wish - to forever be remembered in the same breath as the Mona Lisa.’

It’s a really subtle but realistic moment— people like Bron (or Musk or 45 or any of the awful horrible white rich men out there) never see justice legally. They just don’t. We’re all know it.

The only way to take them down is for the public to turn against them. To make their names so radioactive that no one will go near them.

[letorip]

aline

“et j'ai crié, crié "aline!" pour qu'elle revienne, et j'ai pleuré, pleuré, oh j'avais trop de peine”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: sometimes you’d talk about dying to wednesday, though it was something an addams couldn’t ever really fear. that was, until the person being lost was you.

warnings: erm you die lol, major character death, wednesday being sad, mentions of blood, self sacrifice, maybe a little contrived way to die but too bad

word count: 1.6k

A/N: i promise im okay but this was truly an interesting plot line to follow, and i couldn’t bear not writing it down. if it made you sad, don’t worry, because i have more fluffy stuff on the way. it was something short i had considered doing for a long time, so even if this flops i'm completely happy with how it came out.

===+++===

===+++===

"Wednesday?" you asked, eyes on the wooden ceiling of her room. From the way her head rests against the warm plane of your chest, she can feel the smooth skin move as you say her name, heart right under her ear. It nearly lulls her to sleep, had it not been a question.

"Yes?" she purrs, lazily propping herself up on her arm. There are heavy weights on her eyelids, but the line of your mouth tells her something is troubling you. You’re too saturnine, much too glum for what you and Wednesday just did, and her eyes soften imperceptibly, her thumb going to your side to quietly stroke itself back and forth there. “What’s plaguing you?”

You can’t help but shudder at the contact of her hand and the goosebumps the pads of her fingers leave in their wake. “Are you... do you...," you attempt, the question falling flat on your tongue. She furrows her eyebrows at your hesitation.

"Say your thoughts,” she says, forehead creased in concern. It's almost funny, how caring and soft she is, now that she's given up on trying to seem aloof and apathetic towards you, her skin warm against your own.

The Addams Curse to love someone with every fibre of their being had taken hold of Wednesday entirely, and she looked at you sometimes like you held her beating heart in your hands, or at least like she'd cut it out for you, if you were to need it. She raises a hand, gently brushing a few hairs from your forehead.

“Are you afraid of dying?”

Her eyebrows furrow even further, scanning your face for any indicators of harm. “Where is this coming from? Has something been done to you?”

But you shrug, finally looking down to look her in the eyes with softness. “I was just wondering… are you?”

She narrows her eyes. “You know I’m an Addams. Death is a friend, not a foe. Fear of that serves no purpose. Only cowardice from facing a fight. Only to make you weak.”

Your eyes flit away. “Hm.” There’s no hiding of disagreement in your tone, and it has an embarrassing amount of power over her, how she itches to know what goes on in that head of yours.

“What?”

“I think… I think my fear is what makes me strong. I’m afraid of losing those I care about. And so I fight with every bit of sweat, blood, and tears that I have. Your loss is my deepest fear, Wednesday. My deepest.”

She stared at you momentarily, then looked out the window to the stars. “How is one to fear death when it is far from the end? Death may take me from your sight, but it cannot take me from your heart. There I live, vibrant and whole. Forever.”

===+++===

You’d never even realised how much blood the human body could actually hold, until you were standing there in the centre of the quad with an arrow straight right below your heart, its steel tip poking from your back. Your own blood coated your hands where you cupped it, dribbling down the splintered wood and splattering in droplets to the cobblestone in thick, dark red splotches.

The blood— your blood— is coming out even more now, and you turn to look at Wednesday, where you had shoved her out of harm’s way. Her eyes are wide in horror, like she's seeing something straight from a nightmare of hers, and you take a clammy step towards her, frigid and burning at the same time.

“Wens—” you stammer, and suddenly your knees are giving out. She rushes forward, trying to catch you in her arms, but you're too heavy, deadweight that tugs on her. You fall onto them, your knees, clutching at the newly opened maw of your chest with a gasp, and before you know it you’re falling forward towards the floor.

Wednesday follows you down, catching you before you can land, and she holds you tight, turning you over onto your back as the arrow sticks straight up from the heart she cherishes so much. The wood is already splintering, nearly falling apart, and her hand goes to your wound as if trying to put your blood back into your body.

It’s uncomfortable, with the metal tip of Xavier’s arrow sticking from the back of your chest and lightly prodding at her front, but she squeezes you tightly against herself, hands frantically travelling the length of your torso and raking over your arms, anywhere she can reach. But there’s nothing she can do. It’s a thought she refuses to confront, but Wednesday specialised in dealing with dead things; she was unfamiliar with how to keep things alive, no matter how much she needed you to stay that way.

Crackstone is cackling from his belly, a toothy sneer spreading itself out onto his leathery face as he looks at the damage he’s done, stomping towards you. “Hey!” Bianca yells from the opposite door, and the pilgrim whips around, as Xavier takes another shot at him. It lands in the pilgrim’s arm but he pulls it out like a twig, snapping it and tossing it to the ground, before he makes his way towards Bianca.

Your white shirt is completely soaking itself in your blood, droplets running down Wednesday’s fingers where she tries to hold the wound and apply pressure. But there was no saving a skewered heart.

"No, no, no," she coos, voice barely above a whisper and tears already pricking at the corners of her eyes. You're crying out in pain as the arrow shifts within you, fingers scrabbling at Wednesday's arms where they hold at you. Your fingernails sink into her skin, and she winces but doesn't pull away.

"Wens," you say again, infinitely weaker than before. "Wednesday…” It’s like your mouth won’t move coherently with your brain, like words mean trudging through ice and slush to come out, even the red-hot ones you need to say. “H—Hurts,” you spit out, and with it comes a small stream of blood from your mouth as you cough and air becomes less and less available.

She nods in a rush, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “I’m aware, I know,” she’s completely crying now. “We will get you care, cara mia, just hol— just hold on for a little while.” But you’re shaking your head.

“Don’t have— I don’t have—” you’re coughing up more blood, and she wipes it from your chin with a shaky hand. There’s just too much of it, everywhere. You had once gifted her some as a token of your devotion and it was a prized possession of hers, but now there was so much and she would have given it back in a heartbeat if it gave you any more of those.

She can vaguely hear Bianca and Xavier yelling on the other side of the quad, and various fires rage on in their chaotic yet vibrant corners, tickling against her skin in large crackles, burning in the reflection of your eyes that stare up at the sky. Your head is leaning against her shoulder, and she raises her hand, stroking through your soft hair as you heave in her arms.

“You must live, I promise you,” Wednesday insists fiercely, “I promise you, if you die right now, I will kill you.” But its tears that streak down her face, her jaw clenching and dark eyeliner running down her cheeks. She’s squeezing you right against herself, feeling the pain of the sharp arrow poke at her own skin.

“Vibrant and wh—whole?” you said with a smile, feeling your voice begin to slow down and with it, the beating of your heart. The blood has pooled in a sick puddle around your body.

She’s shaking her head. “Cara mia, we don’t need to do this, we will get you to a doctor. You will be—”

“—Wednesday,” you interrupt. Your voice has reached an eerie calm that sends a shiver down her spine, and it snaps her from any sort of hope. “Vibrant… and whole?”

She looks down at you for a moment, tracing the features of your nose, the planes of your cheeks, the colours of your eyes and the wryness of your smile. Wednesday swallows. “Forever. You know that. You must always know that.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh. It hurts, she can hear you wheeze right after you done it, but you sit in silence for a moment, and she can feel you get slower and slower, and your shirt gets redder and redder. The tears are uncontrollable, now, as she sits there with you. Her friends are losing in the corner, but she's losing something unthinkable, and she's so damn scared the entire time it's happening.

"The stars look beautiful tonight," you whisper so only she can hear it, your voice cracking at the end. In seconds, you're gone. She can feel the life, the glorious life, evaporate from you, your head lulling back against her and your weight becoming a hundred times heavier, but she doesn't move, squeezing you against her.

She's unsure how long she stays like that, but when she can no longer take it, she shifts, laying you down on the ground. You look peaceful, looking up at the stars, and it takes an effort to close your eyes that Wednesday had never felt with the dead before. She gently closes them, shutting the door on the eyes that used to captivate her very heart. It's almost like she could convince herself that you're only resting for a moment, and she leans over you, placing a meaningful kiss upon your forehead, just like she would when she snuck out after a night of sleeping over, and there were no prying eyes there to watch.

"Vibrant and whole," she whispers like a promise, turning back to the fight with a piece of the sword in her shaking fists. "For you, cara mia."

===+++===

well that was sad... anyways more happy stuff coming next time

[hannieehaee]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYgDcHDA/

Hellooo,I was wondering what do you think SVTs response would be to this question from their S/O😅

Like who in your opinion would say that boobs are perfectly fine and who would dare to ask why they are small😂

reacting to why your boobs are small(?)

content: boobs, established relationship, teasing, banter, etc.

wc: 554

a/n: i had no idea how to title this reaction lol but here's the tiktok in case anyone wants context (but im pretty sure its deleted now 😭)

masterlist

seungcheol -

confused and lowkey annoyed bc one side of him just doesnt get what you're saying and the other doesn't understand how your size could possibly be used as some sort of critique when he's spent countless nights enjoying them. also maybe a little bothered by the implication that someone may have asked about your boobs.

jeonghan -

you can never catch him off guard. he'd start by shrugging just to get a reaction out of you and proceed to compliment them bc being real .. he's a huge fan of your boobs.

joshua -

immediately clocks it as a tiktok thing and pretends he doesnt know what you mean just to bug you. will say something like 'yeah, they're pretty small, did you never notice before?' only to get smacked at by you. will laugh and apologize, telling you that ofc he doesn't care about the size! he's a man, he just likes your boobs!!

jun -

as the biggest connoisseur of your boobs, he's very well aware of their size and shape. any question as to their size would be met with a curious tilt of his head and maybe even a side eye.

soonyoung -

incredibly confused. would need a step to step explanation as to what you mean like what do you mean?? theyre perfectly sized. would even inadvertently lift up his hands and make a cupping motion to show you how perfectly sized they are only to be stopped by u bc ur in public!!

wonwoo -

a little afraid he might give you the wrong answer so he stays quiet as he thinks about it. ends up deciding on a 'theyre pretty,' to express his opinion on the matter.

jihoon -

also super confused. thinks this is some sort of bf test so he kinda doesnt wanna entertain it bc thats kind of silly ... but he also really likes ur boobs and missed no chance to compliment them (even though he gets red as fuck when he does).

seokmin -

pouts and almost whines at you bc what do you mean??? small??? theyre perfectly sized for him!! he'd react like this to any sort of criticism you had of yourself but your boobs were just a personal subject for him like who and why and when and what do you mean??

mingyu -

he'd literally show you with his own two hands how theyre the perfect handful and roll his eyes at any implication they're not perfectly sized. he takes this kind of stuff very seriously!!

minghao -

rolls his eyes lightheartedly bc he thinks you're being silly. but still, he entertains you and even goes on a long rant about your body being perfect bc its yours.

seungkwan -

huffs, knowing its some sort of trick question, whining at you to stop trying to catch him off guard for tiktok. it'll just turn into a whining competition between the two of you lol.

vernon -

doesn't really understand the question but just assumes its a girl thing and responds accordingly. tells you he has no complaints and is actually quite a big fan of them as they are.

chan -

very confused. literally disregards the question because he just doesnt understand. wont catch on to the joke, but his eyes will keep trailing between you and your boobs bc what do you mean why are they small? they're small? why?

[catsukkii]

hi!!! im new on here and ive been binge reading all of ur stuff 😭 im not sure if this is where you send reqs but if it is in begging for an older brother’s best friend trope w katsuki 🙏 i absolutely adore this trope and i js imagine katsuki pretending to be so annoying w picking you up or ‘babysitting you’ for his friend bur he secretly rlly likes it. thank u sm! <3

OMG HELLLOOO!! THANK YOU FOR BINGE READING MY STUFF!! this is where u send requests and I’m totally inlove with this idea you just opened my eyes. 2 POSTS IN 1 DAYYY?? I’m spoiling all 50 of my followers 🙏

Off-limits, Right? — katsuki bakugo

IN WHICH…katsuki was your older brothers bestfriend, you hated him, he hated you, I mean why else would he constantly tease you? so yeah, you guys hated eachother. right…?

Pairing; Katsuki bakugo x Afab!reader

Content contains; fem!reader, SUGGESTIVE! mdni, swearing, corny scenarios, katsuki uses ‘princess’ in a mocking way, reader is 19, katsuki is 21, and brother is 22, swearing.

Word count; smth over 1k

A/N; this was a wonderful request I’m sorry I couldn’t do it justice !! 😩 I hope ur happy with the result nonetheless!! <3

he was insufferable, he just couldn’t leave you alone. everytime he comes over to hang out with your brother, you avoid him and stay in your room at pretty much all costs; yet he always finds a way to still get under your nerves.

the stupid calls behind the door as they make their way to your brothers room,

“aww princess, you don’t miss me?” he yells behind the door, you can hear the cocky bastards smirk. you groan and just ignore him as he laughs with your brother. stupid boys.

it doesn’t stop there though, if you ever decide to come out of your room you better prayyyy hes not down there because he’s teasing you to absolutely no end.

“oh the beast has awoken I see?” he smirks and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. you roll your eyes and continue to open your fridge and get a drink.

“would you just shut up for once katsuki?” you bite back and he lets out an airy mocking laugh, putting his hands up in fake defense.

“easy there, just playin around sleeping beauty.” that stupid smirk never leaving his lips, you groan and grab your drink before descending up the stairs back to your room.

and you see, it would be a lot easier to avoid katsuki if him and your brother weren’t constantly in eachothers back pocket. It was frustrating, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone!

and then the worst possible thing happened.

“yoo, y/n.” your brothers voice speaks, tapping you on the shoulder, you tilt your head to look over your shoulder and hum a response. “okay don’t kill me but..memomanddadaregoingtoabarandkatsukihastobabysityou.” you stare at him blankly.

“okay what the actual fuck did you just say to me.” he takes in a deep breath and repeats himself slower. “me mom and dad are going to a bar and katsuki has to babysit you.” he has an anxious scrunch plastered on his face, prepared for you to blow up.

“what the HELL?” you slam the book you were reading closed, the sound echoed through the house. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter! I’m 19!” he sighs and attempts to calm you down.

“I know, i know, I agree! I tried to tell mom and dad that but I guess they just didn’t trust you…” you scoff at this and slouch in your seat with another loud groan rumbling past your lips.

“so they decide to have fucking katsuki babysit me? you know how much I hate him.” you glare up at him and he sighs for you.

“yeah I know..look it’s only for one night! I’m sure you’ll survive right?” you scoff at him and slam yourself up from the couch and reach your room, spending the rest of your time there before katsuki shows up.

‘ding dong’ you hear the doorbell and immediately plant your face in your pillow, mentally preparing for the night you’re about to have. you can hear him buttering up your parents, talking about how their ‘precious daughter’ is in wonderful hands. what a fucking joke. the minute everybody left, he sighs before yelling up the stairs.

“you gonna sit up in your room the whole time?” you can hear the cockiness dripping in his tone even through a whole staircase and your door. you sigh, bouncing off your bed and opening your door walking down the stairs with the least pleasant expression on your face.

“ah there’s the princess, wipe that look off your face. I’m not any happier about this.” you scoff and continue your walking down the stairs, reaching him at the bottom and glaring into his eyes. “yeah right.” you remark sarcastically and push past his shoulder and walk back to your spot on the couch. he sighs to himself and grouchily walks over to sit next to you, creating a respective distance.

“the tv remotes right here,” you toss it at him and he catches with no problems, gosh fucking loser has to be good at everything. “put whatever you want on, I don’t care.” you dismiss him and open your book again, deciding that’s the best way to drown him out.

“oh so the princess isn’t always cold hearted?” he bit his lip partially with a slight smirk, you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze back onto your book and stutter out a ‘yeah whatever..’ he put on some creepy ass movie, you weren’t even watching it but the noises and jumpscares were kind of getting to you, you put the book down for one second and then got invested into the movie, katsuki took notice of this but decided to not say anything to scare you off just yet.

a certain jumpscare got to you, and you flinched with a high pitched ‘eek!’ he only laughed at you and looked at you with a faux mocking pout.

“aww princess you scared?” his pout turned into a smirk, and he licked his lips slightly. “s-shut up katsuki.” you roll your eyes and attempt to play it off before he just has to open his mouth again.

“cmon you want me to hold you so the monsters won’t get you?” he opens his arms and laughs when you immediately protest. “ew, katsuki! quit!” he nonetheless throws your ‘stupid’ book across the room and before you even have time to think he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and planting you on his lap.

“katsuki— eugh— let me go!” you whine trying to wiggle out of his grasp, he sighs before speaking, “keep movin like that on me and you’re definitely not going.” you gasp at his comment and hit him on the arm.

“gross katsuki!” he just laughs and you eventually accept your fate on his lap, trying to avoid the fact you’re on your older brothers bestfriends lap. You continue on with the movie, eventually relaxing into katsukis hold when another jumpscare causes you to jump in his hold, he mocks you with a laugh and suddenly his mouth is very close to your ear, you can feel his hot breath trickling down your neck and it causes you to stiffen. “you scared, princess?” he whispers deeply into your ear, you try to shake off the flustered feeling and shake your head no.

“are you sure? maybe this will help take your mind off things.” and before you can even think to protest, your being spinned around on his lap, face to face with him. your legs were straddling either side of his now and he rests his hand on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.

“katsuki— mm!” you were cut off to him pressing a kiss to your lips, even though your mind was telling you ‘no, no, back away!’ your body seemed to have a different idea, leaning into his touch and kissing right back causing his signature smirk to envelop his face, smiling into the kiss.

it turned into a heated makeout session, your hands resting on his neck, one of his hands rubbing down your back and the other behind your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. the only thing that could be heard was the movie you had both long forgotten about and the smacks of your lips colliding.

“you don’t know—“ he breathes out before planting another kiss to you, “—how long I’ve wanted this.” you continue your assault to his lips and only pull away for a short response back. “yeah?” he hums an agreement into the kiss, at this point you’re practically grinding on eachother, your brows furrowing and mouth parting slightly, and suddenly it all hits you.

you pull away abruptly, his lips chasing yours before a look of confusion wipes over his face. “we shouldn’t be doing this.” you speak and nervously tuck your hair behind your ears. “well it’s a little late for that princess…” you groan and bury your head in your hands, what were you thinking?

“I mean we don’t really have to stop now—“ you shush him quickly, he rolls his eyes but listens nonetheless, as if on que you can here the doorknob jiggle, you spring off his lap and back onto your designated place on the couch, katsuki grabs a pillow to cover his crotch which you gave him a disgusted look for, as if you werent practically leaking through your panties right now.

they walk through the door, everybody greeting their hellos before your mother speaks up at the sight, “aw look at you two! finally getting along I see?” you grumble at her words but katsuki speaks up with a sly grin, “you could say that.” she gushes over this fact, katsuki was always her favorite friend of your brothers. only you and him knew the true meaning behind his words, eventually everybody gets ready to part their goodbyes, and you’re about to ascend up the stairs again before katsuki calls your name.

you spin around to face him, and stride over he unexpectedly hugs you, which your mother ‘awe’s’ at, little did she know he just whispered ‘call me.’ in your ear, leaving you a flustered mess, you say your quick goodbye and rush up to your room.

what we’re you gonna do.

a/n; if this does well I’ll do part 2 but prolly not

[exhausted-archivist]

This is the banter about his going rates that I referenced in another post, and I see the comments and tags. I cannot tell you how much this isn’t him being a nepo baby or the “how much could it cost” meme.

Shoving the rest under the cut because I get the joke here but I need to yell about this man.

tldr: This isn’t dialogue about Lucanis being out of touch, and not knowing what money is worth. He knows, he’s a union man. This dialogue is about Lucanis learning about Harding’s values and priorities. He was worried he was low balling Harding. The tone in this dialogue throws him because what Harding says could easily be taken as “six thousand is only this much and I deserve more compensation.” Hence why he offered to negotiate with her and also why he clarified that the comparison was good.

Now for me yelling about this man:

Lucanis is a union man. Lucanis thinks everyone should be paid fairly, equally, and the market rate. He tells Neve to unionize with the other detectives to make sure she is being compensated fairly (to make sure they all are tbh) and that no one is underpricing themselves. If they are, they’re a scab.

He tells Bellara the Veil Jumpers are providing a service and risking their lives - they should be fairly and properly compensated. They should not only unionize but charge for their services.

Now there is something to say about capitalism and such, but Lucanis is vouching for this stuff because at the end of the day money is important in Thedas. With money you can buy the supplies you need. With money you can make more impactful change, bribe people with lesser morals, provide for people who need it. Cover funerary costs, compensate the families of those who died who maybe the person working for/with you was the only money earner. With money, you can choose to help on jobs that don’t pay at all because you have the comfort of knowing you have other work to cover things.

Lucanis isn’t asking Harding if that’s good because he doesn’t understand the value of what he’s offering. He’s asking Harding if it’s good to understand what her value of it is. Money is after all just a social contract of a universally agreed to system to value the more abstract concepts of value (and even then it fails at times). For all he knows she could have been presenting those examples to show he is lowballing her.

This man is offering to negotiate with her, but her words and tone throw him so he’s not sure if she is happy with the offer or offended.

Lucanis isn’t a nepo baby who thinks 10 dollars for a banana isn’t a lot. Illiaro is the nepo baby. Lucanis was born into wealth but he knows the value of it and works hard to not only earn it but also maintain it. This man has standards, he wants the best because he can afford it so he will not accept anything less than his expensive, luxury Orlesian peaches.

Lucanis doesn’t value goats or a barn the same way Harding does. For her there is personal attachment and sentimentality (see where money fails to properly put a value on something). He knows their monetary worth of those things but he would not be pleased or excited to be paid in a herd of goats (unless perhaps if they were Ayesleigh gulabi goat). But Harding does value those things. Those things have more meaning to her than their value in gold, that’s home. That’s stability. That’s purpose and security. Giving books to the whole village? That’s enriching lives, that teaching people to read. That is uplifting people.

If you asked Lucanis to list off what 6k gold could get him? You’d see his values are different, it would be coffee, luxury food ingredients, wyvern memorabilia, daggers.

Anyways, this isn’t my blorbo but he’s the blorbo of friends I have and man is up there with Cullen, Davrin, and others. Just rotating in my brain space because people I care about like him.

Also this makes me wonder how much the Inquisition was paying Harding and if Lucanis is going to provide her with one of his lawyers like he did for Neve and Bellara.

I've seen Lucanis' family villa so I knew he was rich, but this banter made me realize that he's a rich boy who has no idea what money is worth lmao.

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[dubina-dawkins]

FORD MUSTANG '66 BACK SEAT

~2k words (i got carried away :p)

pairing: teen! dean winchester x teen!virgin! reader

> your uncle got you a perfect 18th birthday gift - white ford mustang '66, and dean is in awe. not only because of the car, but because of the birthday girl too

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! f! masturbation mentioned, loss of virginity, fingering, p in v, unprotected (done by professionals don't try at home), softdom! dean, afab! reader, really fluffy and gentle, lots of kisses i mean how do they still breath, may be kind of continuation (but not a direct one but after some time yk) of my previous work with teen! dean and teen! reader, reader is hunter btw but this is mentioned less, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

"Are you kidding...he gave you that baby girl? Damn it, your uncle has taste!" Dean laughs, approaching the vintage car from the bumper, palms wide on the cold metal. He stares out the windshield, then walks around the car in a circle before turning back to you, one arm around your shoulders.

Your birthday was literally, like, a week ago? But since your uncle was busy, he didn't get you a present until yesterday. And today Dean was here on your call. Secretly from dad, of course. Sam's at school somewhere, so there's no need to keep an eye on the kid, so, uh...

"Uh-huh. A useful gift for hunters, huh? Especially since uncle let me hunt alone or with you now... Cool stuff. And even though I'm a bit of a machine builder 'cause I'm always helping him, I think I'm gonna need some help, you know..." You start, turning so that your fingers slip into his messy hair, and Dean laughs.

"If you want me to drive this hottie until you get your driver's license-"

"Bingo!"

Dean laughs, his hands finding a place on your ribs as he pulls you into a tender kiss. The touch of his lips on yours was always too gentle, and it was infuriating sometimes. Knowing Dean, he could have done so much more. Just cared, I guess?

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Knowing Dean freakin' Winchester, it was easy to see that he loved you very much. Well, loved you as much as he could. Sometimes it was a fight, but not a big one - hell, you're only 18, what the hell is there to fight about?

Especially since you now had official permission for alone time - soon you'd be hunting together, which meant lots of adventure, blood, sweat, and lives saved. Sometimes that last point was purely functional, and yet. Just you and him.

You couldn't call yourself an innocent Christian girl. You hated the church, God and angels with all your soul after all you had seen and gone through. They're in, they're out, it doesn't make much difference. So sinning didn't seem like a bad idea. Especially when you're just getting back from a walk with Dean in the night, when he's running away from home in his father's car - let's just say he wasn't promised his own car until he was 21 - and the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, ribs, waist and hips still hangs in space...

Then your fingers traveled south, stroking first the lower abdomen, then the labia, then the wet passage, and finally up to the clit.... you could've sworn your panties hadn't been dry after any encounter with your boyfriend. Dean's wink or a glance at your neck, your waist, and you'd be drowning. God, why's he so pretty all the time?

"Okay, now..." Dean pulls back and walks around the car to open the door and land in the driver's seat. His eyes glisten, and you can tell he's enjoying this immensely. Somewhere along the lines of his favorite movies and listening to Led Zeppelin.

His strong palms grip the steering wheel, and he leans back to keep it at arm's length. And Dean laughs again, stroking the leather of the steering wheel with his thumbs. "Pretty one, that's for sure..."

You land in the backseat, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. Without even hearing his question, you smile and fold your hands in your lap.

"I can't get used to the fact that it's all, like, mine. And I'm kind of scared to sit in the front. I guess it'll pass with time." You don't have time to finish the sentence when he gets out of the car, and a few moments later he's standing in front of the open backseat door.

"Then I should join you," he laughs, jumping to you, putting his hand on your lower back. You shriek and laugh, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is long, sensual, and at some point Dean's hands move down to your thighs, spreading them wide, and he pushes you back against the seats, towering over you. When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at him wide-eyed, doubt flickering across his face instead of a smirk.

"Uh...I hope you've-...you've already had someone, right...?" he gently takes you by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you only blush.

"Well...no?"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and frowns, stroking your thighs with his thumbs, the same tenderness he used to stroke the steering wheel of your Mustang. Yeah, well, considering you were a hunter too, you didn't have much of a chance for a relationship...

"Ah, so...I get to be first? Woah..." he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him even more, but it scared him too. However, he smiles and bends towards you, not allowing you to give an answer, his lips pressed against yours again. He places one hand on your chin, gently, two fingers opening your mouth for his tongue as his other hand creeps down to your stomach, stroking it.

"God, you're so- aah, fuck..." Dean sinks down between your legs, unzipping the fly of your jeans and pulling them down your legs. When his teeth snag the elastic of your panties, you whimper, putting your hand on his head, and he laughs. "Shh, not yet."

He looks at your glistening, wet folds, and God, it means everything. Dean licks his fingers - though it wasn't necessary at all, you were fucking soaked - and gently presses his thumb against your clit. When that elicits a soft moan of his name from you, he chuckles.

"Are you okay, baby?" He whispers, kissing your stomach, and gently pulls up your t-shirt. He kisses your collarbones while his free hand works on the clasp of your bra.

But God, you're too good to respond with anything but a whimper. You take off your shirt, and he pulls off your bra, and for a moment he just stops, staring at you. A low growl escapes Dean's lips. "You're so beautiful for me, baby..."

He brings his hand back to your pussy, gently stroking the space next to your passage, and your already tight walls tighten around nothing. He whimpers at the mere sight, pressing his lips to your nipples. Every sensation is new, every touch sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. You put your arms around his neck, one hand creeping up to his disheveled hair, the other reaching down to his back.

Dean throws off his leather jacket and flannel, leaving only a T-shirt, and the cold material of his amulet burns your skin as he leans in again to leave kisses on your skin. "It might hurt now. Tell me if you need me to stop..." But you both know that neither you nor he wants to stop it.

Dean rises to capture your lips again in a kiss, and his middle finger slides into your channel, and you let out a loud sob at the sensation. His fingers are different, feel completely unfamiliar. And it's too exciting, especially when he gently pushes his finger deeper, and your core squelches so lewdly that you blush.

"De...feels so good," you whimper, hugging his shoulders, your hands in fists clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. "I'm trying, love," he laughs against your lips, his finger stroking your walls in a circular motion, and you grind against his hand - at which point Dean presses his hand to your stomach and begins to move his own finger inside, discreetly adding his ring finger as well.

You arch your back, and he kisses your cheek. "So good, you're so good, baby. So good at taking me like a good girl," your walls clench around his fingers at his praise, and Dean groans at the sensation - the bump on his jeans getting noticeably harder as he muffles both his and your moans with a kiss.

You feel bratty, pulling your hands to his belt, and Dean growls against your lips. "Can you handle this? I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart," he pulls his own jeans down, tossing them off his legs somewhere on the back of the driver's seat, followed by his T-shirt. Your fingers stroll phantomly over his waist and hip bones as he slides his fingers out of you with a squelch of your walls, and you whimper unhappily.

"Please, Dean-"

"Shh, shh, shh..." He strokes your cheek, bending down to kiss your swollen lips again, and his free hand guides your palms to the waistband of his boxers, and you obediently pull that down, letting him away from the kiss. Your eyes widen as you stare at his erection, and Dean chuckles shyly.

"Whoa..." you lick your lips, and purely out of interest, you touch your fingers to the tip. His shaft throbbed, and Dean let out a high-pitched whimper as his precum began to glisten under your finger.

"Baby, let's not make any more comments," he picks up your hand, intertwining your fingers, and gently positions himself between your thighs. Dean can't resist the opportunity to rub me against your swollen clit, and you synchronously make almost identical sounds - something between a high-pitched moan and a sob.

"...Are you sure?"

"Dean, shut up and get to work."

He laughs, leaning down to your face again. "That's my girl."

And he pushes into you in one, slow thrust, inch by inch, swallowing your moans of pain and pleasure in another kiss. God, a little more, and your lips would have turned blue.

He pulls away from your lips, arching his back, and catches your hands in his, intertwining your fingers again. Dean hisses, squeezing your hands. "So fucking tight...just for me, huh...?"

He doesn't just fill you up - his hardness overwhelms you, and you feel complete for the first time in your life. Your fingers grip his hands as if your whole life depends on it. "F-fuck, it's so huge-"

"Believe it or not, you're the first person to tell me that," he leans to you again, kissing your cheek as his hips move and he begins his slow pace. His thrusts may be measured but they're precise, each time his tip taps harder on that most sensitive point inside you, and it seems there are more stars in front of your eyes than there are in the night sky.

"You're doing well, baby...So tight, so wet, so pliable, just, just for me..." He whispers into your ear as his thrusts become less controlled, more needy. Your walls quiver and his length throb more and more inside-you're both close, and that knowledge drives you insane.

"D- yaaah, Dean, I'm close-" He doesn't answer anything, just presses his lips against you again and roughly penetrates your mouth with his tongue, his palms gripping your waist hard enough to bruise it, but one hand does drop down between your bodies to caress your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And this is it, you cry out his name, your walls tighten around his cock, and he hisses, with a loud pop of your bodies releasing his length from your heat.

But you don't let him out that easily.

"My turn," you grin weakly, your hand taking his erection in your fist, giving it a few quick strokes, and he fucks your fist like he's in heat, nuzzling his face against your neck, making a moan so pathetic it's even cute.

"I love you so much...Baby, baby, sweetheart, fuck-" He whispers frantically, and with one final thrust, shots of his seed crash into your palm, your side, and the leather of the seats. Dean wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, pulling you close, his face finding its place in your hair as he exhales hoarsely. "So fucking much..." he says, breathing heavily, his voice muffled by your locks.

There were tissues in the glove compartment, right?

a/n: still love my baby. still a tooth rotting fluff. your honor I'm sorry!! was working on reqs but i just thought of this idea and couldn't get it out of my head so that's it.......

[zorbik-guligan]

Not really sure what incongruous means so I'll look it up after but it does feel like as i get older life gets more complex theres more things i understand now that sure i knew about them before but not in great detail but it feels like I've become so fucking complex as a person that if i tried to explain what i actually think and feel it would just overwhelm a person so i try and section myself off into pieces and just use different parts of me with different situations or people and it may just be because ive spent most of my time these past 2 almost 3 years now alone with nothing to do but think and figure myself out that when im asked what i think about something slightly personal its kinda hard to say it just got lost in my head somewhere and that whatever i think will change at a moments notice like i can bring up memories of lots of things and remember nostalgic times but i spent so long thinking about why i feel a certain way or what makes me feel a certain way in order to try and get a better hold of myself that ive kinda forgotten alot of my past like so many memories that i made are just gone because remembering them made me feel a way i dont want to feel like i remember realizing the beginning of 6th grade that i had completely forgotten 5th grade and the reason why was because that time i had was so nice yet not at the same time my brain just frogot because it didn't want a reminder of how good yet not something can be like great teachers who for the first time ever actually seemed to care as far as i could tell class mates who were generally friendly and occasionally checked on me if i seemed off yet i felt so alone cause nobody there really seemed like a real friend like the friends i had before who even when we were in deep trouble wouldn't rat me out and would stick with me who genuinely cared and missed me if i was sick getting older and not having anyone to socialize with for really formative years off my life has made understand those really old dudes who are nice and always up to make friends but just seem extra lonely for some reason despite knowing so many people i guess technically being that alone did hurt me but i kinda learned that im just not alone ever when im outside theres always some squirrels birds or plants nearby that make it more lively its why ive grown so fond of certain forested spots they are always lively and it feels like hanging out with all my friends its also why i enjoy making things like with metal or wood stone or even writing and painting those things feel alive in a way same with music and having time to think so much has made me reflect and realize that no day is the same and even when something changes something else stays the same or gos back to how it was in a weird cycle like growing but remembering where you were growing older for me anyways is like gaining more skills and more knowledge not just on the stuff around me but on myself too obviously people change sometimes pretty quickly too but getting older makes you learn more about yourself which duh that how life works but still it feels weird to be aware of it at 17 when it feels like i should still be trying to figure out my favorite youtuber or something not contemplate who i am as a person and what makes me feel the way i do but its a good kind of weird and theres always more to learn and find so i still have plenty of room to learn more about myself still not being able to really fully let a person know you kinda sucks but to be fair that is a rather special thing its also nice being able to put into words why i feel a certain way so that i can actually explain myself instead of just going quiet cause i dont know myself that well still kinda funny to know your own problems but not be able to jusy fix them when you know its a very deep problem even when it seems surface level and damn i got kinda personal there woops also just noticed that im shaking so might be overwhelmed remembering 5th grade which is probably why i frogot it or at least thought i did

anybody else feel that being human is like being a long-time syndicated cartoon character watching the world get more complex while your own design stays the same until youre incongruous with the reality around you??