#you know the gist no worries no pressure let me know anything you need me to. or we chat this out further.

[mastcrmarksman]

@overclocks gets this since we talked, i mentioned/pitched it, so its time.

Coming back to New York was not easy. There's a lot of swallowed down pride paired with surfacing shame when he finally came back. The last few months had been eye opening, experiences he hadn't wanted to talk about. Bitterness and guilt gnaw at him. Upset that no one had come for him, but then when he was in the hospital being sobered up from a motorcycle crash and a trespassing charge in Ohio; he had requested no one be called for him.

Running away wasn't doing him any good, he knows that. Clint's had plenty of pitiful night staring up from whatever smoky flattened matress that's definitely has a dead coakroach in between the sheets, to think about it. He thought about a lot of things and one of things he kept circling back to was the bottle always accompanying his left hand. It's weight common and familiar, the taste he knew on his tongue at the startling relization it was at all hours of the day.

He couldn't keep doing what he had done doing, couldn't keep becoming this. Screw up, after bad call, after not listening, and hurting everyone by proxy of being in his life when he decides he's too angry not to something rash. All of that after screwing up again and a beer buzz to solve the guilt, the shame, the frustations.

Things needed to change, he needed to feel like him again, like Hawkeye, and not seeing his father in the mirror. This sorry state of human was anything other than Clint or Hawkeye. He wanted to come back to him. With some advice from one of the nurses, he had to try something, he'd do anything, and start somewhere.

Clint had, did that. Four sober months in and a new job putting on the gear again, being Hawkeye with the NYC Thunderbolts. Yet that didn't feel right; he still didn't feel right, didn't know who the hell or what the hell. Clint didn't like this place he was at, and well, slipping was the eaisest thing he had done since coming back.

It's not going welll... I... I want to run away. So why don't you? You're good at that. Because I promised myself I wasn't going to do that anymore.

Call someone she says. He had called her, she had helped but they both knew there were other someones who'd know what he's going through. Support system, not support person. He's got to stop trying to go it alone, like he does. Intoxicated, tear filled voice admitting he wants to be an Avenger again; that's who he had been, that's who Hawkeye was. There's someone he could definitely call, or show up to beg for an umpteenth chance; for help, guidance, if it was any of this was worth it.

It takes him two bordering on three weeks to summon up the courage to call. That does not pan out and he's not one for... This doesn't feel like a phone conversation. Hopefully, Tony will forgive him for the ambush. He still has one of the tracking devices that the man puts in suits. Deactivated, but it wouldn't take much to reactivate it and ping it a bunch of times until Tony shows up.

It's a very old one too and Clint's out sitting on a bench, in Owl's Head Park with a coffee and pinging until Iron Man shows up; or Tony on foot and when he does show up. Always could count on the man's suit paranoia.

❝ Wait, wait, wait! ❞ He holds out the device toward Tony, to give it back. It's severed its purpose, now he just needs him to hear him out. ❝ Don't go. Sit. Please. I need your hel- advice. ❞

[fictoculus]

hi! i was wondering if you could do wanderer, tighnari, childe, heizou, and maybe thoma with a reader who suffers from like severe depression? like they have no motivation to do anything and they’re always tired and sad and all of that depression stuff (i put that really mildly but i think you get my gist). and maybe if possible could you include that like, the reader is always helping other people and never helps themself because they don’t think they deserve it?

i’m sorry if this is too heavy a request. no pressure and no worries if you don’t want to do it!

౨ৎ no matter how alone you feel, i am always here...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... wanderer/kuni, tighnari, childe, heizou

A/N... hellooo, thank you so much for this request, i'd be more than happy to write this for you! i'm so sorry but i had to remove thoma from the mix as i couldn't come up with any ideas for himmm. also also i apologise if childe's section is super ooc, i really struggle writing for him, but this is good practice! i did include other mental health related topics that can link to depression as i wanted to try and connect with as many people as possible. this does not mean i expect you to be suffering from those things, and in no way do you have to in order to be suffering from depression. if you are, that's ok too ♡

WARNINGS... self harm (heizou), depression, injury, home-neglect/"depression home" (childe), suicidal thoughts (tighnari), references to derealisation (wanderer/kuni), swearing

✧ wanderer.

♪ wanderer, can be harsh, and has proven to have quite the tough exterior. that doesn't mean he loves you any less. and so, when he found out how you'd really been feeling, and that you'd been having to put up with it alone? he was absolutely heartbroken.

♪ you had forced yourself to get out of bed that morning, feeling almost limp as you stumbled down the stairs. nothing felt real. nothing felt like it mattered.

"morni- are you ok?" tear stains ran down your cheeks, your eyelashes still damp and your eyes bloodshot. the tip of your nose was a soft shade of pink, and the colour of your lips was slightly more vibrant than usual. "have you been crying?"

♪ it would have been one of the only times his shell completely shattered, leaving his interior exposed as he cried; not for you, but with you. the two of you wouldn't have said a word, but instead just sat wrapped around each other, in silence.

♪ with anyone else, he would've been embarrassed. being seen crying was not something many would expect of the wanderer; but it was you. you were hurting, you needed him, and so he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable around you if that's what it takes.

"shhhh, i know, i know... i'm sorry" wanderer, or kuni as you call him, was cradling you in his arms, rocking from side to side and burying his face in your hair. he was trying his best to keep himself together, using your scent to ground himself. "stop- please" tears threatened to spill as you broke apart right in front of him, squirming in his arms, but he refused to let you go. his grip only tightened, pulling your back further into him until you finally stopped thrashing, only to break down into tears. you felt him tremble against your back, his arms shaking slightly as his own tears began to dampen your hair.

♪ he'd known something was off about you, but he had confidence in your strength, you're one of the strongest people he's ever known, after all; but he often fails to realise that everyone can be weak sometimes, and that is one of the beauties of life.

♪ leaving you to handle things alone seemed like the best solution to wanderer; your mind needed the time to rest, to give itself a kickstart and power on like usual... but, oh, how he was wrong.

♪ probably the last thing you needed was to be alone, whether you knew it or not. you needed him; his voice, his gentle touch, his loving kisses, his words - however harsh they may sometimes be.

"it's hard work loving me, isn't it? you... you don't deserve to have to live like this, kuni" "don't say that, it's all work worth doing... you deserve the world, [name], and so much more, more than i could ever give you, got that?" his words carry meaning, so much more than a poem, a song, a kiss. they're unwavering, deeply engraved into the forefront of your mind the moment they slip from his lips. "i'll do this a hundred times if i have to, i don't care. i will still love you all the same, ok? i know i don't say it a lot, but nothing can ever change that, and that's a fact."

♪ he'd hug you until the sun goes down, taking your hand in his own and slowly guiding you to the bedroom once the time to rest arose. physical touch is a love language of his, since he often struggles with his words, and so he cuddled you through the night, instinctively squeezing you just a little tighter than usual.

"i will never leave you, [name]... no matter how alone you feel, i am always here"

✧ tighnari.

♪ tighnari has been out on a trip to aaru village for a few days now - planning to observe how different species of plants grow in different climates - leaving you alone in gandharva ville to watch over collei while he's gone. you do love collei, but sometimes she can be... a bit hard to handle; often getting herself into trouble. it's a lot to deal with, especially with that peculiar numbness which has been dragging you down for weeks now...

♪ unexpectedly, your lover had come home early from his trip; there had been some sort of 'incident' in aaru village which was to remain confidential, even tighnari didn't know the details.

♪ he'd half expected to find you in the kitchen, having lunch with collei, or perhaps reading that book you were obsessed with (which now fails to peak your interest), but instead he finds you curled up in bed, trembling.

"love?" "... nari? y- you're back?" you replied, your voice woven with surprise yet you couldn't bring yourself to show him your face.

♪ concerned, he sat on the edge of the bed, positioning himself so that he was facing the lump which he assumed was you. you shuffled, the sheets rustling as you tried to get closer to him, finding his presence alone comforting.

"are you ok, darling?" "hm? yeah, yeah i'm- i'm ok, i'm good" "would you look at me? i haven't seen you in so long, i want to see the beautiful face of yours"

♪ smart, that's what he was, smart and cunning. he already knew you were crying the moment he stepped into this house, his sensitive ears picking up your sniffles and broken sobs. he wanted to comfort you, to be there for you, maybe (definetely) even hold you, but how was he meant to if you hide yourself away from him?

♪ reluctantly, you turned to face him, showing him your teary eyes but hiding the rest of your face under the bed covers. he reached out and pulled them away from you, leaning down to kiss your nose softly and giving you a weak smile. a couple tears began to fall down your cheeks, but he kissed them away too, trying his bst to show just how much he loves you

"what's the matter, hun? what's been bothering you?" you take a deep breath; this is it, your chance, your chance to tell him everything, to finally confide in him. "things have been hard you know... having to take care of collei, running errands, just- everything, all while having this aching numbness in my chest..." "numbness? love, what do you mean?" "i don't know... it sounds silly i-" he jumps to interrupt you, to reassure you and show how patient he's willing to be with you. he never wants you to dismiss your feelings; he takes your wellbeing very seriously. "no, no it really doesn't, i'm just trying to wrap my head around everything that's all" "are you sure? we don't have to talk about it if-" "no, darling, i'm sure" "ok, well... it's just been lonely, and it's really hurting... i just wish everything would end"

♪ tighnari felt his heart shatter in that moment; you wanted it to end? the love of his life, the one most precious to him, has gotten to the point where they want to completely give up, and it breaks him.

♪ he slowly lowers himself down on top of you, wrapping his arms around you waist and rolling the two of you over so that you were ontop of him, cradling you in his arms and - unbeknownst to you - silently crying with you.

♪ the two of you just lay there in eachothers arms, refusing to let go of the other, tangled together under the covers. it must have been a couple hours before tighnari broke the silence, deciding that you'd had long enough to reflect and attempt to calm yourself down.

"[name], listen to me... no matter how alone you feel, i am always here, ok? i love you so much, and i'm sorry you've had to go through this alone. i will help you, i'm fighting with you now""you don't have to promise me anything, just... please consider coming to me whenever you're thinking like this, ok?" "i will, thank you, nari... i love you"

✧ childe.

♪ both you and childe have a fairly packed schedule, running around liyue day in day out to keep people happy. your beloved seems almost completely unaffected, getting riled up at pesky customers being the worst of his worries, you - on the other hand - had an entirely different load.

♪ due to the fact that the two of you were so busy, you rarely got to see eachother, maybe brushing by eachother but only being able to share a kiss before one of you got dragged off to more business. so, you always made sure to make time for eachother, clearing out at least two days on your calendar (typically wednesdays and saturdays) to spend together, telling the other all the exciting or nerve-wracking things you had encountered in the week

♪ however, what childe doesn't know is that you'd been off the job for almost a month now, spending your days in your own home, stuck in bed despite the voice deep in the back of your mind willing you to get up...

"honey, you home? you kept me waiting you know..." no response... little did he know, you were cursing under your breath; it's wednesday. you paced your room in panic before stopping in front of the mirror, gripping at your hair when you saw your reflection. you practically slammed yourself forward, hands now on the mirror as you traced your reflection's 'imperfections'. you were completely lost in your own head, too lost, in fact, to notice you were the only thing keeping the mirror from crashing down, the already loose screws falling to the floor as soon as you applied pressure. "fuck!!" you yelled, the glass shattering all over your floor, luckily not digging into your skin, but you didn't come out completely unscathed, a couple scratches ;iterring your hands and legs. "love? [name]?! open the door! are you ok?!" he shouts, pounding on your front door, the entirety of liyue must have been able to hear him. "don't come in!! please, just wait, i'll be right there! i'm ok! just please-"

♪ without waiting another moment and completely dismissing your pleas - due to pure concern - he unlocks your door with the key you gave him, walking into your apartment but finding it almost unrecognisable. it was a mess; clothes strewn across the floor, garbage piling up on the kitchen table and beside your bedroom door.

"[name]? hun, what's going on?" you could hear the concern weighing his voice down, it becoming lower and scratchier as he approaches your bedroom. "ah- i told you not to come in!"

♪ he pushes your door open, only to freeze in the doorway when he caught sight of you, greasy hair tangled into a nest-like structure, dark circles making your eyes pop.

"holy shit!! what in teyvat happened? are- are you ok!?" his eyes are wide, hands shaking as he approaches you slowly, holding your shoulders as he scanned you up and down. "archons, what happened... love, is there something going on? is someone hurting you? has someone done something? talk to me! please i just-"

♪ the whole situation was more than just overwhelming; being stood in a ring of shattered glass, exhausted, embarassed, the whole package.

♪ naturally, you began to tear up, lowering yourself down until your were squatting, holding your head in you hands and sobbing, all while childe stood and watched; he didn't know what to do.

♪ he'd never seen you like this before, so vulnerable, so afraid, so hurt; and it hurt him too. carefully, he swept away the glass with his foot, creating a path for you to 'escape' safely and into his arms, which you did; slamming yourself into him and burying your face in his chest.

"i- i'm sorry, i'm so sorry i forgot and- and my place is a mess and i'm- i'm a mess and, archons- childe... childe, i'm falling apart" "shhhh, you're ok, i'm here now, ok? just breath for me, love" "it- it's just so hard, y'know? alone... i'm so alone, i- i can't do this alone, fuck i'm sorry, i just- it feels like i'm losing control of myself; i can't even think straight anymore and i feel so dazed all the time and... i'm lonely, e- even though i'm surrounded by so many people, i'm so lonely"

♪ he let's you talk, not daring to interrupt you, just listening to you, holding you close and stroking your arm in an attempt to reassure you. only when you stop talking does he pull away, peppering your face in loving kisses before planting an especially sweet one on your lips.

"honey, stop, i'm all gross and-" "i don't care"

♪ and he shows you that he doesn't, kissing you again and again; your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your lips, everywhere. he has so much love for you, and he just keeps on giving. he doesn't care if you don't think you deserve it, if you don't think he should have to 'deal with you'; he gives it to you regardless, and that's something you can't help but love about him.

"no matter how alone you feel, i am always here, understand? i love you, [name], and i care about you, more than anything; more than my job, the fatui, mora, the list goes on. nothing is more important to me than you, and i'm not ashamed to say it. i am the one who doesn't deserve you, i'm blessed to even know you, nevermind have the privilige of loving you. so accept it, please, take my love, my heart, my everything; all my being is here for you." "archons, i love you, childe" "i love you, [name]"

(big ass dramatic speech for our drama queen) (rest assured, he meant every word)

✧ heizou.

♪ the man is a detective, so he quite quickly caught on, but was hesitant to mention it, bringing it up jokingly only for you to completely dismiss it. heizou could tell by the look in your eyes alone that something was seriously wrong; the old sparkle being replaced by a dull void. nevertheless, he would still get lost in your eyes, but feel as if he were falling down a bottomless pit; it was like he could feel what you were feeling, see what you were seeing, and it hurt.

♪ he'd be returning home from a long day of detective work, uncovering clues and deciphering codes to find missing persons, his eyelids dropping as he locked the front door behind him

"honey, i'm home!" he calls out, knowing well how cheesy the phrase was, and using that to his advantage, wanting the first thing he sees after a long day on the job to be your smile. "love?" after hearing no response - not even the shuffling of your slippers against the wooden floorboards - he grew concerned, eyebrows furrowing as he began to wonder: "where could they be?"

♪ someone coming after you must be his most dreaded nightmare; a thought that haunts him late at night, though thankfully the sight of you sleeping soundly next to him always seems to calm him, but this time you aren't there... you aren't there beside him to comfort him, to show him you're safe, to prove to him you aren't hurt. the poor man is stood in the entryway of your shared home, eyes wide and scanning the coat hooks for any missing coats, or the shoe rack for any easy-access pairs you may have grabbed if you were faced with the need to run.

♪ merely thinking about a criminal exploiting heizou's soft spot for you as revenge for proving them guilty sent chills down his spine, the thought of you being hurt scaring you more than anything ever could, even more than some of his worst cases.

"calm down, heizou, they're probably fine" he reassures himself, trying to keep calm and prevent himself from thinking (or acting) irrationally. finally stepping into the front room, heizou's eyes switch from doorway to doorway, trying to decide where you're most likely to be. watching tv in the living room? nope. cooking dinner in the kitchen? not there either. showering in the bathroom? still no. watering the plants in the back garden? this late at night? no way! sleeping in the bedroom? not quite...

♪ peeking through the crack in the bedroom door, he sees you sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and unmoving. his first thought is to burst through the door and hug you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in relief... that is until his eyes recognise the red trickling down your thighs...

♪ you wanted to feel something, anything. an escape from this numbness was all you wanted, all you needed, yet it would slip from your grasp as soon as the pain subsided. it was unloving, unforgiving, cruel; leaving you alone once more, staring a hole into the blank spot of yours and heizou's bedroom wall.

"you thought i wouldn't notice, love? i am a detective, y'know..."

♪ yes, admittedly it wasn't the best choice of words, but in all honesty, he wasn't quite sure how to react. he pushed the door open, poking his head through first with a weak smile before opening it further and sliding through the gap. no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could see his eyes welling up with tears, his bottom lip wavering as he looked you in the eyes.

"can... would it be ok if i come closer?" his gentle voice calls out, you can hear the sadness in your voice, and it hit your heart with a 'twang'. you nod meekly, reaching out your hand to grab a cloth and covering your leg, but he grabs your wrist to stop you "please, let me see?" "'zou... you don't need to help me" "[name], i want to help you, i'm choosing to do this... so please"

♪ at first you're doubtful, confused as to why anyone would want to give you this kind of help, especially heizou. not because you view him negatively, but because you could tell he was exhausted; being a detective is hard work, and has proven to be very draining.

♪ deep down you didn't think you deserved it. despite always being happy and willing to help others, nobody ever seems to want to return the favour, and so your frozen in shock - not pain - when he begins cleaning your wounds.

"do you maybe wanna talk about it?" he asks, looking up at you with kind eyes, showing you how genuine he was. whatever was bothering you, he wanted to know, he wanted to help, because you deserve his help. "... m- maybe later?" as much as you hate to dissapoint him, you can't bring yourself to even think about how you'd explain all this to heizou; not wanting to scare him or become 'one of his clients', though you know he would never treat you that way. "of course, whenever you need, love... you know i love you, right? and... and that no matter how alone you feel, i am always here" "i love you..."

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

☆ a little message i wanted to share... ( feel free to skip)

"i know some random person from the internet saying this may not help, but i want you to know that you are loved, you are cared for, whether you know it or not. there are billions of people on this planet, not one of us are the same, and so no one will ever really know how you're feeling, but that's ok. this is something you are going through and something you will get yourself out of. yes, it will take time, and it'll be hard, but i believe in you. nobody knows you better than yourself. if you think doing something, anything, will make you feel worse, don't do it. you know your boundaries better than anyone, no matter what other people say. take your time. of course, it's good to help others, but sometimes you'd be helping other people more if you took a second to take care of yourself. you do deserve it. please stay safe and take care of yourself. ily ♡"

© FICTOCULUS 2023; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[morganaspendragonss]

a worry that i can't place

happy holidays vera (@lutavero)!!! here is your secret santa gift, i hope you like it! i chose to focus on the superhero and fluff with established relationship prompts. sending you so much love and all the best for now and the new year! 💚💚💚

also please send me your ao3 if you have one i forgot to ask sorryyyyy

ao3 | 1.4k | au based in canon, canon-typical injury, remember that time buck got struck by lightning in 911?

title from ease my mind by ben platt

“TK! TK! Firefighter Strand, do you copy?”

“I haven’t got a pulse!”

“Do better!”

*

Carlos had grown used, over the years, to the bruises and scratches that appeared on TK’s skin every now and then. He was used to the blowing in and out, the late nights and early mornings, the unpredictability of their lives. It was all part and parcel of being married to an international superhero.

Or, officially, ex-international superhero. As far as everyone else was concerned, The Flash had gone offline years ago and conspiracy theories were left swirling in his wake; some claimed he’d died, others that he was in witness protection, others still that he was being hunted and so had to keep a low profile. 

Carlos knew the truth: that TK had been suffering in New York under the constant pressure of being the city’s salvation. There’s a longer story there, too, one that he’s not quite managed to draw out in its entirety, but he’s aware of the heartbreaking gist.

(“My dad found me,” TK told him one night, about a year into their relationship. “Drink and drugs don’t touch me anymore, they haven’t since… Anyway, they didn’t work so I went looking for trouble.

“I found it.”)

He can read well enough between the lines of nuclear breakup and everything’s just grey to figure out what TK meant.

But, TK had confessed, as much as he had wanted to get away from the spotlight, he was never going to be able to give it up entirely. He still had to do something with this power he’d been given.

So Carlos knows a second truth: that The Flash isn’t really gone. 

He worries, of course he does. It’s impossible not to when your boyfriend-fiancé-husband is off doing god-knows-what – and that’s only when he’s at work. But Carlos grows used to it, stops freaking out at the minor injuries TK sometimes sustains and starts being ready with whatever TK might need, even if it is just a warm bed to climb into and a husband to hold.

But there’s something – it got lost between Iris and the wedding and his father and work and and and, but Carlos remembers – that keeps bothering him, that’s made his fear increase of late. 

He’s anxious enough anyway, given what TK’s been through just at work, but…

“Babe?” 

TK rouses from his position on his lap, blinking sleepily up at Carlos. He’d got off shift a couple of hours prior and they’d not long had dinner; TK tends to go out like a light pretty quickly after being fed. Carlos feels bad for disturbing him now, but he has to know.

“What did you mean, three comas?”

TK’s brow scrunches up adorably in confusion. “Huh?”

“When Iris was here,” he clarifies. “You said you’d been in three comas, but only two since you came to Austin. I know about those two, but you’ve never told me about the third. Or…first, I guess.”

“Oh.” TK pats at Carlos’s arm to be let up, and once he’s sitting, he throws Carlos a wry grin. “I thought I’d gotten away with that one. Nice recall, Detective.”

“Still not a detective,” Carlos corrects mildly, but – not the point. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, TK. I guess… I worry about you when you’re out there. On the job you have people to back you up and you still got hurt enough to end up in a coma. Twice. You don’t have that the other times. I just want to know that you’re safe.”

TK smiles and leans in to kiss his cheeks. “You’re sweet,” he says. “And you already know I save the most dangerous stuff for work. But if you’re asking if the first coma was anything to do with The Flash…” He trails off and waits. Carlos nods, biting his lip. “Then yes.”

A trembling sigh leaves Carlos, but he doesn’t have time to ask further before TK speaks again.

“And no.”

Carlos sends TK a look his husband smiles, though it’s not quite as bright as usual. There’s something sad in it, something that speaks to a thousand memories, and he turns his gaze to his hand. Carlos follows it, and has to swallow a surprised sound when he spots a thin line of electricity crackle between TK’s fingers. 

He knows exactly how TK carries that electricity with him everyday, felt it the first time they’d touched in the honky tonk. He thought he’d been imagining it at the time, but… Well.

“Do you remember when I told you who I am?”

Carlos nods. “Sure.”

(Just a couple months into their relationship, it was one of their worst fights to date. It almost broke them; probably would have if TK hadn’t shown up on his doorstep hours later, vibrating with nerves until he seemed blurred around the edges – which, Carlos realised later, he was.

TK sat him down, remaining standing himself, and told him this: that, fresh out of rehab, he’d been struck by lightning; that it had given him superhuman powers; that he was the fastest man alive, the man the whole world knew as The Flash.

That his ex-boyfriend had never known the truth, that it had been one of the reasons they fell apart so spectacularly, that he didn’t want the same thing to happen to them but he would understand – really, he would – if Carlos wanted to walk away.

Staying had been one of the easiest decisions Carlos had ever made, second only to being with TK in the first place.)

“I didn’t… I’ve never told you how I became…this. I didn’t mean to hide it from you – honestly, I don’t remember most of it – but I guess I just thought it didn’t really matter. It happened and I just have to live with it.”

TK looks at him and Carlos nods encouragingly.

“Okay then.”

*

TK had never seen a storm like it. Some billionaire’s science experiment had gone wrong and now the city was having to clean up their mess on top of all the usual calls, and apparently their mess included torrential weather.

So now TK was climbing up the ladder of the truck to an apartment on the eleventh floor where an electrical surge had electrocuted one of the inhabitants. TK loved his job, but at the moment he would rather be anywhere else than out in the freezing cold. It didn’t help that his immune system was still shot and probably would be for the foreseeable.

He reached the top of the ladder and lifted his gloved hand to wipe rainwater out of his eye, useless though the action was. The sky continued thundering above him, lightning flashing every now and then, and the very air felt charged. TK went to grab his radio, managed to press the button and opened his mouth, then–

Nothing.

*

“It wasn’t a normal bolt of lightning,” TK continues. “If it had been, none of this would have happened. I was in cardiac arrest for a long time, then I fell into a coma for eight months. My heart stopped multiple times, I was having seizures, there were…things going on inside me that the doctors couldn’t explain.

“I was a mystery to them. My dad told me after I woke up that one of them had wanted to do a scientific study on me; he shut that one down pretty quick. Nothing the doctors did worked and my parents were getting desperate. So when the guy who built that reactor showed up and told them he could save me, it was kind of a no brainer.

“I don’t know what they did to me, but I eventually woke up and I stayed at his lab for a while, long enough to recover and figure out how to use these powers. They tried to stop me from leaving but I couldn’t… I hated that place. After that…well, you pretty much know the rest.”

TK falls silent and Carlos doesn’t know what to say. The story hasn’t changed anything, has neither alleviated his fears nor worsened them, but at least he knows now, he supposes.

(at least he has one more thing to add to his nightmares)

He doesn’t say anything in the end. He simply draws TK closer, and swears to protect him as best he can.

[umbrx]

Hi! I love the way you role play Doflamingo and it inspired me to want to write as well. I just turned 18 and this would be my first role play blog. Any advice for a newbie?

Oi, oi, oi! Welcome to the rpc! I do hope you have a good time.

Basic things for the start: do have a rules page (otherwise people aren't likely to follow you back) where you'll state general rules, your age, triggers if you have any, anything important to note to your fellow rp partners, etc. You can go around blogs to get the general gist of it, but don't feel pressured to write extensive and long rules unless you want to. Short and concise is as good as long and detailed. Secondly, an about page about your character. You get more leeway with this if you're roleplaying a canon character, but it's a must if you have an original character. Thirdly, not a necessity but trust me makes life much easier, is a tagging system. It will help you filter out things you want or don't want on your dash, as much as help with looking up things and headcanons on your own blog.

Everything else, icons, headers, aesthetic as people refer to it, carrd, is not mandatory and is personal preference and desire. If you want to make all these things, by all means go for it, if you don't want to spend hours on it and just enjoy writing, avoiding all of this is more than fine. In that case, make your rules and about page as posts on your blog and link them to a pinned post on your page. You're all set.

Now, darling, here comes the part many won't actually tell you about but I will, just so you're prepared. If you take anything from this post, take the things below.

Do keep in mind that you're dealing with people, not fictional characters. What I mean by that is not the fact they have lives apart from tumblr (goes without saying), but the fact social interactions here are the same as in real life, but with the veil of anonymity and distance between you and others. In real life, you can sort of tell what someone may think of you through their body language, interactions with others, etc. Online, that's much harder to estimate. You will have people pretending to be on good terms with you while talking behind your back with their clique. The more influential they are, the more likely they will turn others away from you. They will project their own insecurities on you (without telling you, of course) and will see you as a threat to their status in the rpc. Highschool drama behaviour but make it adult version, I'm not joking. I wish I were.

Granted, there are people who don't fall into that category. Those people are kind, genuine and will remain friends with you for years to come. Some of them you'll meet in person, some of them will be continents away but you'll hear with them daily, some of them will get to know the real you and you'll get to know them too. I hope you have as many of these encounters as possible.

Goes without saying, but treat others the way you want to be treated. However, do know when to draw the line once your trust has been betrayed. You're worth more than suffering someone's betrayals over and over again. Forgive them like Doffy does (block their ass don't use bullets). Additionally, don't let others and especially tumblr to determine YOUR self worth. I've seen this way too many times over three years I've had this blog, but people (much like with any social media) get focused on number of likes, notes and comments on their posts. If they have more, they're instantly worth more, and if they have less, then something must be wrong. Some people even post about the lower activity on their posts as if it's a big deal. Point being, don't seek validation through something as small as notes on a website. That's the most insulting thing you can do to yourself. Do your thing, write your posts and headcanons unapologetically, without worrying if there are notes or not. You make posts for yourself, not others.

This may all seem harsh and as if you need to guard your heart and not let anyone in. Keep a safe distance, so to speak. You can do that, for sure. However, I'm not trying to make you distrustful and paranoid of everyone here, just to be able to evaluate situations before they escalate (because you will find yourself in one of many mentioned scenarios. You just will, this is tumblr) or to properly evaluate people you're in contact with. Social media is messy, you will get a fruit basket in which you'll have good and rotten fruit alike. You just need to sort them out and throw away the ones which are bad for your mindset, ergo the need to not be naive.

Also, remember that you're easily manipulated. Age has nothing to do with that, people are easy to manipulate. Just like that someone might influence people to not write with you, or get to write with people they want because they've noticed you're friends with someone they like, the same can happen to you. You might be someone they'll try to keep away from those they paint as problematic. You might be someone they'll want by their side. You might be someone they don't want to share with others.

Keep a cool head on your shoulders, think critically, remember that screenshots they share with you are carefully chosen bits of conversations that can be interpreted the way they want, remember there are two sides of the story. I'm not telling you to go and play detective to find out the truth, that would be a waste of your time. My advice, stay out of it. Don't put one over the other, don't pick sides. It's not your mess to clean.

Final last piece of advice, don't trust blindly. I'm not saying to not trust others, just to not do it blindly. There's a difference. Trust is built over time and everything you read is not bulletproof. Good people will invest in the relationships with you and build that trust (source: trust me).

To demonstrate my point: your question. You hold me in high enough esteem to ask for my opinion and advice. You don't know what type of person I am, you don't know my motivation for answering it either. I may be doing it out of kindness of my heart and wish to make sure you don't suffer from tumblr trauma like many people before you, maybe I actually want to spread paranoia online and enjoy the misery, maybe I just want to feed my ego because I know some of my mutuals will read this, leave likes and comments and maybe agree with me. Maybe it's none of the above and the reason is a mystery.

Truly, darling, who knows? Only I do.

[itzfine]

chattttttt I can't make this up so last night I said what I said right and I was debating on texting him and then guess what he fucking texts me! It was so eerie like bro you think about me too???!! This also happened I think 2 other times where I was thinking about him/to text him and then I see a text from him like hellooo what a coincidence. Anywho it wasn't really a text more like he sent a vid but still it was like bro I was just thinking bout you and I did say that lol anywho I ended up not confessing because it doesn't make sense and I also realized something very important! Which is I find him really attractive and like qualities about him but overall I still don't know him super well. Like he doesn't know me super well. And I def need to get to know him more before I express a romantic interest. Also I'm prioritizing our project too and I honestly really want to do that together with him and I also feel like it'd be a great opportunity to also get to know him that way and form a better understanding of who he is and with time I'll either feel the same and end up developing real romantic feelings and not idealizing him or actually realize he's great but I don't actually like him with that romantic interest! Anywho that's where I'm at with that. When it comes to situations like these timing really matters and each individual situation is different. I don't want to rush into anything with him. However all that being said I'm actually nervous about our project. It's been a couple of days since we last spoke about it and there's no new updates on his end which is def fine! I don't want to add pressure to him but I'm just worried because I'm started to overthink and feel like maybe it could be a possibility he doesn't want to work on this with me anymore. Or feels like I'm not the person to do this with because of my lack of skills and ah honestly that makes me really sad. And again he hasn't said anything. This is just my anxieties talking to me in my head. I do have a plan and I do need to step up my game, show more interest in this project and be honest. Which I def have. I mean from the start I mentioned how I was still new and a beginner to film and animation and script writing which he knows. But despite that he has stayed in touch with me and we've talked about our idea. I developed it, we formed an outline together, actually multiple outlines, have been in contact since then, have a brainstorming doc where we share our ideas back and forth, and now we have a start to our script, which we've talked about. And I made a suggestion to make a change to the last draft he sent! So maybe I'm overthinking the fact he doesn't want to do anything altogether with me and suddenly just changed his mind, and like listen if he did it'd be fine. I mean I'd be bummed and disappointed but at least if he was direct and honest about that with me now then I'd be like well alright, it is what it is. And I'd move on. Anyways again overthinking this shit... I guess I just hope we do get to do this. Like I said I have a plan and I'm gonna do that and also study on my own and get a gist of what I feel I need to know. Anyways wish me luck chat! I think we got this. Hopefully it all goes well. Also I'm definitely communicating with him and being honest and also reminded him last night to please reach out to me about whatever regarding the project. I let him know I want to help and be involved in this and I need to know if he needs something from me, because I don't want him to feel pressure about having to do it all on his own. Which is why I def want to step up my skills and knowledge because I want to help him and also for myself. I mean it benefits me too! To get more hands on and develop my skills so then I can apply this to future projects! So ya win win! But yeah I do really want to do this together with him and I hope it all works out!!

[90363462]

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Brace Yourself: There Are Potential Cons of Using a Vibrator

What could possibly go wrong with your favorite sex toy?

Shellie R. Warren

Sep. 02, 2021 02:25PM EST

Recently, I watched a YouTube video that was so ridiculous (to me, anyway) that I'm not gonna even link y'all to it. The gist was it featured a woman who was going on and on about us not needing men anymore because we've got technology. When another woman refuted her point by bringing up the fact that it takes both men and women to keep humanity going, I thought about a woman in my own world who is currently so fed up with guys that she's now named her vibrator, claiming that is the only "man" she needs. Chile.

True confession here — I have never used a vibrator before. Even when I used to be a big-time masturbator, there was no electronic device that helped me along my merry way. Still, it's not like I don't get that there aren't some pluses when it comes to those who choose to have one — or seven or 10 of them. I mean, anything that can give you an orgasm can help to relieve stress. With a vibrator, you don't have to worry about getting an STI/STD (unless you're sharing it with them) or pregnant from one. And if you struggle with climaxing during intercourse, a vibrator can help you to figure out why and/or it can deliver to you what you can't seem to (at least currently get) any other way. Check. Check. And check.

Still, if you read enough of my content, you already know that I'm all about balance and also making sure that you are clear on the motives behind why you do what you do. So, if you happen to be like the woman that I know who thinks that vibrators don't have a potential "downside" like just about everything else in life, I just want to take out a couple of minutes to offer you some things to think about.

It Could Lead to Clitoral Discomfort

According to one study that I checked out, around 53 percent of women admitted to using a vibrator (personally, I think it's significantly higher than that). Many of them said that they used theirs at least four times a month with 71 percent of them saying that they didn't experience any side effects. Glad to hear it. Still, something to keep in mind is, if you're using your vibrator constantly, it could lead to some level of clitoral discomfort over time. How in the world can that happen? If you're continually giving your clitoris direct stimulation, the discomfort could come from the vibration stimuli that never really lets up.

Is there a "hack" for this? One of the main things to keep in mind is that you should use lube with your vibrator (that will significantly decrease the chances of any minor "rub burns" from happening) and that you try and avoid always applying direct pressure to your clitoris with your vibrator as much as possible.

It Could Give/Spread an Infection

If you're the only one who is using your vibrator, how in the world can it give you or spread an infection throughout your body? Well, bodily fluids are just that and if you're using your vibrator without thoroughly cleaning it after each and every use, that could cause bad bacteria to "double up" and give you some sort of infection. Or, say that you like to penetrate your vagina and your anus. Remember how we were instructed to wipe from front to back while growing up? If you're not applying this similar take on the sexual tip, you could give or spread an infection throughout your system that way too.

This is why it's so important to use a vibrator that's made of nonporous materials such as silicone or glass; that you use a washcloth, an antibacterial soap, and warm water to clean your vibrator, and that you store it in a box or pouch, so that dust and debris doesn't get onto it.

It Could Cost You a Couple of “Orgasm Phases”

You've probably heard that there are several phases/stages to having an orgasm before. Well, while some sex and wellness experts believe that there are eight of them (climax, resolution, restoration, turn-on, peaking, excitement, plateau and stillness) most say that there are only four — desire, arousal/plateau, orgasm and resolution. Desire is what happens when you're in the process of getting excited about getting turned on. Arousal/plateau is your body's response to sexual stimulation that helps to bring you to an orgasmic state (such as foreplay, oral sex and intercourse). Orgasm is your climax. Resolution is what happens when your orgasm is completed, you start to come down from your "high" and satisfaction (and oftentimes fatigue) transpire.

Well, here's the thing about a vibrator. Once you get a handle on how to make it work for you, oftentimes you jump right to the orgasm while basically bypassing desire and arousal. While you might be reading this and thinking "OK…and?", the point here is you deserve to experience all stages including being turned on and the true pleasure that comes from foreplay, oral sex, etc. Besides, there are things that happen during those phases that oftentimes don't get talked about, nearly enough. This brings me to the next point.

It Could Cause You to Miss Out on Hits of Nitric Oxide and Oxytocin

A colorless gas and essential molecule that your body needs is nitric oxide. A natural hormone and chemical messenger that's in your system is oxytocin. Nitric oxide is essential because it can improve your blood pressure, decrease muscle soreness, strengthen your heart, help to manage type 2 diabetes and keep your blood vessels nice and healthy. Oxytocin gets discussed quite a bit over this way because, not only does it help partners to bond during sex, it also reduces stress, promotes physical healing, cultivates emotion-related memories, increases sexual arousal and encourages sound sleep.

Thing is, when you constantly opt for a vibrator over a human being, it could cause you to skip right over the arousal phase which is how both of these things are substantially triggered. So, you could be missing out on some of the chemical and hormonal benefits that sex with an actual person is able to provide you that sex with a vibrator does not.

It Could Negatively Affect Your Communication with Your Partner

One of the challenges that I have with some of the clients that I work with is when they are mad at their husband, they decide to "take it out on their vibrator". Since all they seem to be concerned with is spiting their man (by not giving him any) and getting the stress out from being pissed, they can end up, oftentimes without even noticing it, becoming addicted to this approach. This prevents them from fully talking things through with their partner, so that a healthy sexual (and emotional) connection can resume. Another challenge is when a newly-married woman has been so used to relying on her vibrator (and/or faking orgasms with her partner) gets married and realizes the responsibility that comes with marital sex (meaning, it's not just something that you should do randomly; it needs to be seen as a staple in the union), she doesn't really know how to effectively communicate with her partner what she needs in order to be (or remain) sexually fulfilled.

Yep. That's another challenge that comes to totally relying on a vibrator for sexual satisfaction — it can have you internalizing your needs while taking on the mindset, "Screw him. Where's my vibrator at?" and when you're in a serious long-term relationship…yeah, that's not good.

Patterns are patterns and vibrators can put you into one like anything else. That said, if all you're really concerned with is getting off and nothing else, once you do have sex with a human being, you could find yourself so caught up in immediate gratification that you don't know how to enjoy everything that leads up to climaxing or even all of the pleasure that can come after it (check out "Sure, Your Foreplay Game Is On Point. Now What About The 'Afterplay'?"). It can have you so self-consumed and even selfish that you end up being impatient with and perhaps unrealistic about what it means to engage another individual.

As you can see, everything has a flip side to its coin. A vibrator has pros and potential cons, if you're not careful. So, before you push play on Whitney Houston's "All the Man That I Need" as you get your vibrator out of its box, reflect on what I just said. A vibrator can be a source of pleasure yet it shouldn't be treated like a replacement for sex with an actual person. Because let's be real — there isn't one.

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[redredcherrywine]

As a mother, the stress of adulthood is tripled when you have little lives depending on you too, I have four kids, (my youngest is 17 and my eldest is 23 so u can kinda get the gist of how old I am lol) I was 18 when I had my first born and boyy, let me tell you- it is hard, now you’re not responsible for just yourself, you’re responsible for a kid too and as a teen mother I was demeaned horribly, people don’t treat me like a person, they treat me like a mom, just an addition to my kids and I have absolutely no free time on top of working, taking my kids to school, doing chores, taking my eldest two kids to their TAFE courses, my schedule has to be meticulous so I can make sure everything happens when it should and I miss out on a lot of things to make sure my kids don’t miss out on anything.

It’s especially hard when they’re young and aren’t capable of helping but since growing up, my seventeen year old has helped so much in the house with the dishes when she sees them dirty and I’m at work, she makes dinner when I have a Night Shift and come home tired, she’s a true blessing just like her siblings.

I worry a lot about money with them, it’s hard to get enough groceries when prices keep going up and I’m not my own priority, my kids are- that’s something you never understand until you’re a mother, the stress of it. You can raise your younger siblings and feel that stress sure (I practically raised all six of my siblings with my brother) but you never understand a parents stress until you are one. It’s completely different and it’s so overwhelming and more often than not: frustrating.

There had been so many times with kids screaming and crying and my two hours worth of sleep that I swore I regretted bringing a baby home, but that’s stress talking, coming home from busy work to a still dirty house with toddlers screaming and needing to be changed, bathed, fed and then I have to make dinner for myself and my husband at the time, and then after dinner I have to wash the dishes, vacuum the house, pick up that days play toys and put the kids to bed too; you get the gist of the workload and as a parent it’s stuff you have to do, you can’t slack on it, there’s obligation and that obligation there is also pressure. I cant properly describe it because again, it’s something you wont ever know until you’re a parent for the first time but that kind of stress on top of daily adult life? It’s one of the worst kinds. I can’t count of both hands the amount of nights I went hungry so my kids got to eat, the showers I never had time for so my hair was matted and greasy, the fact I slept so little I would pass out in the living room trying to breastfeed, everything I owned was filthy or broken because kids don’t understand sentimental value when they’re that young, etc

Cherish your teenage years and don’t always look on the bad side of things, don’t doom yourself with Chronic Loner Syndrome and spend all your time locked inside on a laptop, you’re only going to fuck yourself over doing that and you’re gonna be miserable if all you can see is the misery you’re feeling! @astertaster has a great point on her other reblog. If you only see the bad, you’re only gonna feel the bad- and if you don’t look after yourself, you’re not gonna feel good. Shower, eat a decent meal, make friends, don’t waste your teenage years complaining about what it could have been! You have to MAKE it that because it gets worse in adulthood before it gets better

You think you’re burnt out in your teenage years but then you hit twenty, you want to move away from a toxic household and rent alone is a grand at the end of the month if not more so you’re working 24/7 at a job where nobody cares how you are as long as your work performance is good, then you come home to parents who know you have money from your shift and will do nothing but demand you put it towards their house because you can’t ‘live with them and not throw in’ but they’re the reason you can’t leave because they won’t let you save up the money to fucking get out of here, you don’t get time for friends, passions or hobbies because your shifts are five plus hours alone and now you’re just begging to go back to school and to a time where you didn’t have to pay rent or work or worry about any of these things

[chocodollxren]

hello! can i order a number 15 honey lemon tea drabble with kalim, for the teahouse event?

also congrats on your milestone o(≧▽≦)o

-> 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙨 ,, 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙪𝙥 ,, 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩” ! ꒱·˚ ,, #O5.28.22🍵 ˖˚˳⊹ 'ּ໋݊◵

prompt 15: “before it’s too late, can we get married?” + Kalim Al-Asim

no tws, gn!reader, established relationship, time set a bit after the original plot.

“huh?!” you yelled on the phone as your parent tried to reason with you. your boyfriend, who also knew the gist of the conversation after you put it on speaker, tried to calm you down. “i’m not marrying someone i don’t know because of your dumb promise! tell your friend to find a different partner for their kid i’ve never met! i’m already taken.” you yelled, ready to throw the phone.

Kalim was definitely unhappy to hear your parent trying to tell you to at least meet up once, and how they’d planned your marriage since young. your parent was insisting on getting the two of you engaged after their friend returned from overseas traveling, and that you would make a great couple. you weren’t even given an opportunity to say who you were dating, nor that you were happy. your parent simply insisted that you had to meet them, they had engagement rings and all.

“no! and that’s final. ask me one more time and i’m never returning!” you yelled, hanging up and throwing your phone across the room, hearing it crack against the window. you could not listen to anyone who supported that idea right now. that may of been cute when you were a child but you’re not two. you had someone you loved.

your boyfriend looked awkwardly between you and the phone before quickly throwing his arms around you. “you aren’t going to leave me, right?” he asked as he finally broke down into tears. you two had been dating for over a year but your family always blew it off when you brought him up. he’d figured he did something wrong, as he once tried to say hello on the phone but your parent cut him off and said their goodbye. frustrated, you sigh and decide not to let them eat at you. “no, Kalim.” you embraced him back, running your fingers threw his hair.

“they’re being crazy thinking that making us engaged will convince me to meet with them. you’re the only one i love.” you said, cuddling into him as you both tried to think over the explosive conversation. they were being ridiculous, but it’s not like you could actually avoid them forever, you’d thought. but the second you return, you’d know as long as there was no ring on your finger, they would pressure you until you obliged regardless of you and Kalim being together.

you sat in silence as Kalim said he would do anything to help you. you really couldn’t help but smile at how amazing of a lover he was, and how understanding he could be. he didn’t blame you nor get mad at you, but rather chose to worry for you. “there’s not much we can do at the moment, other than hope they stop.”

he didn’t really like this answer, choosing to spend the night with you in case anything happened or you needed him. the next day, he told you he’d be back as soon as he figured something out, making you raise your brow. he gave you a kiss and ran to find Jamil, his hope. “Jamil!” he yelled, almost jumping on the poor boy as he groaned, not ready to deal with Kalim that early in the morning.

“wh,” Jamil tried to speak but Kalim had begun to ask for help. “what do i do?” he explained the situation regarding your parent, the planned engagement, and how they probably hated him. Jamil couldn’t deny he felt smug knowing not everyone liked him, but you were the only one who kept him away for a long period of time. “if they won’t give in, why not get married?”

although he pointed out the obvious, the lightbulb went off in Kalim’s head. the two of you were young, but you were the one he wanted to spend his life with. he was sure you’d also agree, even if this was a little rushed. he would do his best to give you whatever you wanted, and stop your family from pressuring you if they weren’t going to listen. “i’m going to ask my father for his blessing!” Kalim yelled and ran off, presumably to make a phone call. Jamil wanted to facepalm as he didn’t even ask you yet, but decided to just let things play out.

after a few days, you were worried if Kalim left you but decided to trust in him. a few hours after reading to distract yourself, you hear the door burst open so hard you would assume the hinges went flying. out of breath, Kalim was dressed in the finest attire he had, his magic carpet beside him. “please,” he wheezed, out of breath. “please, take a carpet ride with me.” you were obviously confused and concerned, but he took your hand and led you out, helping you onto the carpet. the two of you flew in the sky for a few minutes until you heard fireworks in a distance, all in your favorite color. finally, one by one they popped, will you marry me?” your eyes widened as he took your hand, staring at you as he opened a small box from his pocket.

“before it’s too late, can we get married?” he asked. you freeze and your mouth goes agape, hand over your mouth. you knew Kalim took things extreme but you didn’t expect this outcome. the longer you took, the more you saw doubt creep onto his face before you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss and extending your hand out. “Kalim…” you muttered as happy tears strolled down your face. your parent wouldn’t stop until you had a ring on your finger, and he decided to do exactly that, you were truly lucky to have a partner that would go that far for you.

slipping a ring on your finger, he kissed you again. “my parents have given us their blessing, so even if your’s don’t, they would be happy to be your parents!” he said cheerfully, your face fully flustered and tear struck due to the kindness of your soon to be husband. you couldn’t believe how your parent’s pressure ended up giving you the best future you could imagine.

✎ ˎˊ- "chocodollxren" [choco - doll - rhen] ˖˚˳⊹ 'ּ໋݊◵ dn repost.

thank you!! <33 hope you enjoy your order. this makes 7/32+ orders done! ended up rewriting the entire thing because didn’t like the entire draft so that’s a big thumbs up moment aha that’s why this was uploaded so late

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

fuck I still haven't done the rewrite of the Mutant Town AU that I specifically came off hiatus to write, like the Plant Witch Sam and Pharaoh Tucker posts were written to prep this au and I just got wildly distracted so uhhhh

yeah the concept is in the link but the gist is that the people and town becoming mutated by constant ectoplasmic contamination, we all know and love this concept right but I'm gonna expand on it

this is a direct result of the portal being opened, but they aren't getting infected from the portal, the issue is that creating a permanent opening into the ghost zone has weakened the veil between their worlds and Amity Park and the Ghost Zone sort of slip in and out of each other constantly

and because ectoplasm responds strongly to emotions (poltergeists being made from atmospheric emotions for example) it all tends to converge very heavily at the school full of hormonal teenagers

so Casper High becomes its own god damn cryptid, the teachers get so jaded about opening the door to a classroom and finding just a whole ass ghost zone on the other side that they just put a sign on the door telling kids to go to a different room, lockers swap contents with other lockers so kids have started putting their names on the inside so they know who's stuff they've just found

this also means the kids get super affected, like super affected, literally, they all get ghost powers, some are just physical mutations, some are just super abilities, or a general increase in natural ability, like a member of the track team getting super speed

it takes a while for Danny and co. to figure this out, Sam and Tucker should have been warning signs as they've spent the most time around ghosts and the ghost zone, but that's why the Witch Sam and Pharaoh Tucker posts are important

they have powers, but they thought they came exclusively from outside sources, they had no idea that their abilities were also strengthened and influenced by being highly contaminated by ectoplasm, which is why when one day Mikey sneezes and green acid shoots out of his nose and melts his desk, everyone is a little bit startled

the teachers have long since started using ghost detectors after the time Paulina spent a whole week overshadowed by Kitty, so Mikey gets a check over and other than the usual atmospheric reading Lancer gets nothing especially strong from him

there have been concerns about the gradually increasing ectoplasmic content in the air messing with ghost detector results, the devices have to be recalibrated constantly, so Lancer asks the one and only son of the local ghost hunters in the room if he has some other way to check

Danny's parents make him keep a few protective items in his schoolbag, so he tries some gear on him to see if anything comes flying out, but nothing does, Danny isn't too surprised seeing as he couldn't sense a ghost in the room anyway, but it definitely makes things a little concerning

even if it were a repeat of the Spectra incident and he wasn't being overshadowed, the Fenton's tech would have still gotten rid of whatever was causing this if it were an external influence

Mikey is sent home for the day and his parents are told to keep an eye on him

and then the next week, Star drops a pen off her desk and a strand of her hair whips out to grab it, she's also checked for ghost influence and sent home

a few weeks after that it happens again, a kid on the basketball team makes a leap to the net and stays in the air, they have to call in the cheerleaders to climb on top of each other to reach him and pull him down

Danny has been trying to figure out what's happening from the first moment with Mikey, and his parents have also been getting calls from worried parents who want to know if they can fix whatever's happening to their kids

over the next couple of months, every kid in the school has some kind of ability or mutation, Dash heals whoever he touches, which he discovers after punching Nathan in the face and curing his acne, Paulina turns invisible, which freaks her out at first until she realises it's great for eavesdropping, Wes can conjure fire (because I desperately needed him to have a polarising ability to Danny), Kwan becomes empathic and can feel and influence people's emotions

Valerie also had an early mutation that she didn't know about, when Technus gave her a new suit, her body pretty much just absorbed it as a part of her, Technus had not intended this to happen, and was pretty peeved about it, Valerie found out that she had stolen control over the suit when Technus had a big rant about it during a fight, and she put the pieces together once other kids started developing abilities

this whole thing causes a ton of chaos as kids are struggling to control what they can do, so Danny has to step in and help them out, he often has to run off to change into Phantom in order to protect everyone from an ability that's gone haywire, he ends up pretty much running ghost power training courses after school to help them control themselves

he's also gotten stuck in situations where he's had to step in and help someone without having the time to change forms, meaning he has to make up a cover story about having developed his own powers way before everyone else since he's been living on top of a portal for years, he only tells people about his ice powers

Jazz has always had a tendency to be able to reign in her emotions and keep a cool head, (the only ones who can really push her buttons are Danny and sometimes her parents, at school around other kids who look up to her she's often very in control) meaning she doesn't draw ectoplasm to herself all that much, and though Danny uses the excuse of having lived on top of a ghost portal to explain why he's already so familiar with using his power, it's actually not even remotely true, because the Fentons use specialised air purifiers to keep the atmospheric ectoplasm at a manageable level, the Fenton house ironically has the least atmospheric contamination compared to the rest of the town, that's how Maddie and Jack have had limited mutation to themselves (though they aren't wholly free, they've mostly just gotten physically stronger and tougher)

so even though Jazz develops her power a little earlier than everyone else's, it's not that far ahead, and she actually doesn't even realise she already has one until half the school has developed theirs

Jazz has the power to slow time in a little bubble around herself, she'd been using it without realising while studying, having gotten through hours of work in half that time, she always thought it was just her losing track of time or she was just getting faster at reading, she also spends a lot of time counselling other students and trying to help them sort out their problems, and they'd often comment that they felt like they'd been talking for so much longer than they had, again she just chalked it up to losing track of time

a lot of students had wondered why Danny developed a power early and Jazz hadn't, until someone walked in on Jazz helping a girl through a panic attack in the bathroom, and found them both talking extremely fast, a lot of her friends realised in hindsight that she'd been doing that unwittingly for quite a while, nobody had noticed because she always talked to people privately, so nobody outside her little time bubble had seen it happen

Sam and Tucker come clean about their abilities too, but they also don't give the full rundown, still keeping some things close to the chest to avoid standing out from everyone else

then there's the teachers

adults typically have a better time regulating emotions than teenagers, meaning much like Jazz they aren't drawing as much ectoplasm toward themselves, but this doesn't exempt them from developing something after a while, especially with the heightened stress of managing a school full of volatile super kids

Mr Lancer discovers that he can create shields, after an incident where he jumps in front of some students to protect them from another power gone awry

Tetslaff ends up with a sonic ability, able to project her voice like a megaphone (yes this is a Coach Boomer from Sky High reference don't @ me), Principal Ishiyama develops a physical mutation, growing to twice her size, she likes that she can tower over the students while delivering speeches, but she doesn't like having to stoop through doors all the time, she has the one to her office resized, along with her chair and desk

so as you can imagine, the town ends up erupting into chaos, a lot of kids very much misuse their abilities, Danny does his best as Phantom to teach people to be responsible, but sometimes he has to resort to literally kicking their asses to get them to straighten up

but for the most part, a ton of kids were already looking up to him, and are generally pretty happy to follow his example, especially the more popular kids, it's generally considered not very cool to get your ass kicked by Phantom, so weirdly enough a lot of kids get peer pressured into not causing any real damage or injury with their powers

this doesn't mean they don't absolutely misuse them, they're just more subtle about it

until a ghost shows up, a lot of the kids are more than happy to let loose to protect themselves and their friends, and Phantom for the most part is happy to let them, with some supervision of course, he still has to make sure nobody gets too hurt (including the ghosts)

the entire debacle makes Danny's life simultaneously a whole lot easier AND so much more fucking stressful

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.  

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart. 

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.  

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would. 

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up.  The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become? 

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.  

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that. 

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room. 

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way. 

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!  

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend* 

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron. 

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck. 

Lying Is Forbidden 

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.) 

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q:  Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month? 

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues. 

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family. 

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude. 

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge. 

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure. 

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing. 

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him.  This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on. 

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her.  He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you.  Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for. 

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him. 

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return. 

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed. 

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up. 

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood. 

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him. 

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation. 

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack. 

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them.  I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.  

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price. 

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him. 

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants. 

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

[16woodsequ]

Can I have some more Steve headcannons please?

Okay! *rubs hands together* Today is a kind of ‘meh’ day for me, so Imma hype myself up with some headcanons ^^

Previous headcanon post, and second one.

TW: discussion of PTSD and panic attacks, and just general angst

Alright *checks notes* first headcanon:

Steve knew about the bugs that SHIELD had in his apartment before Fury told him.

I really like this headcanon, and I put it everywhere. But basically, I think that Steve is smart and observant enough to have found the bugs that SHIELD put into his apartment. 

So why would he leave them there? That feeds into another headcanon that I sort of mentioned before, that Steve likes to underestimated. Obviously, SHIELD thought that he either wouldn’t suspect them to bug his home, or he wouldn’t be tech-savvy enough to find the devices. I think Steve wanted to keep it that way. If he removed the bugs, then SHIELD would know he found them, and would react accordingly.

I think Steve would decide it was better to know where the bugs are, rather than remove them and risk having SHIELD put more in that he can’t find. Also, if SHIELD thinks that he doesn’t suspect anything, then they will think whatever they get from his apartment is genuine.

Usually in my mind, SHIELD only implants audio bugs, instead of visual, and they leave his bathroom without bugs.

This is important cuz, for extra angst, now we get to imagine Steve trying to manage his PTSD in an apartment that he knows is bugged. 

As you might know with my ‘SHIELD’s A+ Parenting’ headcanon, I fully think Hydra was willing to let Steve struggle with his PTSD, and I doubt they would have done anything if/when they learned about it... but Steve doesn’t know that. So now we have Steve trying to cover for his PTSD in his own home, and the only respite his has is maybe the bathroom.

With audio feeds only at least, he only has to worry about not making a lot of noise during his flashbacks/nightmares etc, but that is still a lot of pressure. (And don’t imagine Steve curled up and panicking on the floor of his bathroom, cuz that’ll just make you sad).

More SHIELD A+ Parenting/ Hydra is terrible

Going along with Hydra-being-inside-SHIELD-didn’t-help-Steve’s-PTSD: If SHIELD gave Steve some kind of counsellor or psychologist after he woke up from the ice, then I headcanon it was a Hydra agent.

That is terrible for several reasons. For one, Steve’s first experience with modern psychology would be with someone - unbeknownst to him - who did not actually want the best for his wellbeing.

Second, and going along with that, if his Hydra-therapist were to be less helpful than would be ideal, Steve wouldn’t know the difference really, and the people at SHIELD would not suspect that there was a problem. They would think he was getting psychological help, when in reality, he was getting anything but.

This would explain why SHIELD dropped the ball so hard with Steve.

Third, after SHIELD, I imagine Steve would be reluctant to get actual help. At some point he is going to have to learn what actual therapy is like. And, maybe, when Natasha puts all of SHIELD’s records onto the internet, he finally learns the his original psychologist was Hydra. That would be extremely violating, and I imagine it would take him a long time afterwards to trust going to a therapist at all— even with encouragement from Sam.  

Final headcanon for the day, and going along with the terrible Hydra psychologist: Hydra and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Cabin

This one gets my blood boiling because it is actually canon that SHIELD (/Hydra), sent Steve to “The Retreat” at some point after he woke up from the ice. (This is mentioned in Agents of SHIELD, not in the movies.)

What is The Retreat you asks? Here is the wiki on it, here is the gist:

This safe house retreat is a log cabin that is lined with the same vibranium alloy that is used in "The Cage" on the Bus. The S.H.I.E.L.D. battering ram took a long time to penetrate the door, even though it took very short for them to penetrate the highly armored SUV of Nick Fury. The kitchen was fully equipped with a fridge, sink, and microwave. The living room has a few couches, however, they are very uncomfortable. There is a computer in one corner. A laser fence also lines the perimeter of the property, keeping everything inside contained. Security cameras show everything that happens along the area.

 So. A cabin in the middle of nowhere, with security cameras everywhere, and a laser fence around the perimeter.

In other words. A very fancy cell.

*unidentifiable sounds of rage*

Okay. *breathes*. So. We don’t know when, or how long Steve stayed at the cabin (Coulson said ‘after he was defrosted’ and ‘a few weeks’), but, as you can imagine, I have headcanons about those.

Usually I headcanon that Steve is at the cabin for about two weeks, and that SHIELD/Hydra sold it to him as ‘a quiet place were he can catch up on what he missed’. Meaning that they left him there with all the files of the history he missed and told him he could leave once he was finished going through them.

I imagine his (hydra) therapist told him that in order to pass his psych exam for SHIELD, he would need to go to The Retreat. Which is wonderfully manipulative, because it would force Steve to go through all those (probably traumatic) files all by himself if he wants to a) leave the cabin, and b) work for SHIELD (and you can bet that his hydra-therapist made it seem unlikely that he would be able to manage working anywhere else in the 21st century.)

Now, headcanons as to when he did this. I have two separate versions that live side-by-side in my head:

One: SHIELD did this to him before the Battle of New York. 

This is just sad because it would mean that Steve spent two+ weeks isolated and alone, reading up on everything he missed, but not really being able to learn about and experience the world he woke up in, before suddenly having to fight aliens and meet his dead-friend’s son (who is 15 years older than him) shortly after finally getting out. 

If you want a reason for Steve being high-strung in Avengers, and doing his utmost not to show his PTSD because then he might get sent back to the cabin? Then there you go.

Two: SHIELD sent him to the cabin after the Battle of New York. 

I don’t know why, but unlike a lot of people, at the end of Avengers, I didn’t assume that Steve was driving off on his motorcycle to ‘see the world’ or whatever. I instinctively interpreted it as him just driving back to his apartment.

So, if we decide that Steve decides he wants to join SHIELD at the end of Avengers, then that is when SHIELD/Hydra might decide to send him to the cabin.

Which is just great cuz I’m sure fighting aliens and watching people die only a short while after waking up from the ice was just great for Steve and he didn’t need any support or anything during that time. Nah. Isolate him alone in a cabin. Should be fine. 

If you want a reason for Steve distrusting therapists and never wanting to admit having problems because he thinks that basically institutionalizing people is still a legitimate technique? There you go.

One day I will write a fic about this bloody cabin, but I haven’t yet.  

So yeah. SHIELD/Hydra sucks. And Steve suffered for it.

Apparently we got really angsty headcanons today, but they were fun to share! I hope you enjoyed, and if you want more headcanons let me know! 

Headcanon masterpost

[gwyns]

what would be your ideal elucien arc in canon?

this is a very good question and one i'll probably ramble with so sorry lmao i actually thought about an elucien plot a lot years ago. i had quite a few ideas and was trying to plot my own multi-chapter fic around them but well..... that didn't work out and this ended up getting really long, so i apologize for that lol

so here's the overall gist of what would've/what i would like to eventually happen one day. elain had a vision of lucien being harmed or something along those lines and her instinct had her finding him. whether this was through her learning she could winnow or some other means, i hadn't decided but eventually she'd show up and lucien would be so dumbfounded and question her reason for being there and ask if feyre knew she was here and elain would get defensive like "i didn't realize she was my keeper." and this is the first time lucien has truly seen her bite, her little bit of fire, so he's taken aback a bit but quickly reassures her she needs no keeper and he hadn't meant offense.

she gives an excuse about how she wants to see prythian and that nobody would show her so she decided to show herself, bc she doesn't want to admit she cares for him, even a fraction bc it might give him hope that she ultimately would have to crush. and it's not entirely a lie, she would like to travel and see the world, but it's not the whole truth either.

so moving on they'd partner up and he'd bring elain along on whatever adventures he's getting up to, they'd meet up with jurian and vassa of course and i have this headcanon that she and vassa would be the perfect friends. vassa is human so she'd offer elain something familiar you know? and vassa is also the type to stand her ground and she has a fire of her own so i feel like she'd help elain grow into herself and be more assertive and stroke the fire within elain some. as for elain and jurian.... it's awkward at first bc jurian is partially responsible for elain's turn (at least in her head) and he was there when graysen rejected her and so she overall has had bad experiences when he's around so she doesn't know what to make of him.

over time she comes to find that jurian isn't as intimidating as he first lets on. he's quite considerate and good at reading people, and he knows to some extent what she's gone through (as does vassa), he was tortured and killed by amarantha then bound to her jewelry for 500 years. he understands the feeling of violation and having a fae treat you as some toy and little more, and he apologizes for his part in her trauma. after this, i can see him becoming something of a big brother type to elain, they have a relationship few would understand but they listen to each other's troubles and just get it you know?

anyway, back to her and lucien. i can see them both being kind of reluctant in the beginning? elain bc she doesn't want to give him any ideas and lucien doesn't know want to pressure her so he keeps his distance but as they're working together, with the spring court, koschei, her learning more about her abilities, etc they both start to see how capable they each are and their feelings start to show here. for lucien it's more natural, like he always had a feeling that if he spent enough time with elain he could fall in love with her but with elain? she's freaked out. she doesn't want this, she wants her ability to choose. and maybe it's just the mating bond reacting for her or at least this is what she tells herself to explain away the butterflies she gets whenever lucien smiles at something she said.

at some point they have to travel to the autumn court and lucien is terrified, he doesn't want her anywhere near his family but elain asserts herself and says she's coming whether he likes it or not. he, of course, doesn't object. he just pleads with her to stay close to him the entire time. during their visit(s) they meet with eris and lucien's mother and you don't understand how badly i want elain and his mother to have a good relationship. her own mother only saw her as beautiful and something to capture a titled man to advance their status, she didn't truly see elain either. lady vanserra would be the kind and caring mother she never had and then being close would allow elain to learn more about lucien without asking him directly.

and her and eris? he'd take on the protective older brother role for elain, he would make sure no one even breathed near her unless she wished it so. maybe he'd introduce her to his dogs or something, too.

i can't get into specifics of what would really happen during these visits bc my brain sucks but overall it'd allow elain to learn more of lucien's upbringing and begin to understand him and in turn lucien would learn more about elain's childhood when she'd discuss her mother with lady vanserra.

maybe after this they visit the day court or something so they can view helion's massive library and try to learn more of koschei and elain's powers. they'd bond while studying, it'd start as courteous conversation but it'd soon develop into more intimate questions. maybe she asks about jesminda, who she'd learned some about from feyre and some from the servants in the autumn court, he'd answer her questions but never offer anything more than what he had to. she can tell her death still weighs heavily on him. this is when she really starts paying attention to what exactly she feels through the mate bond, tremendous guilt and, as feyre once described, he's endlessly sad.

this is where things get kinda fuzzy for me bc i never knew how this story would end, like i knew the koschei conflict would be the finale but other than that? nothing lmao but basically i could see elain and lucien growing together very slowly. they start getting comfortable with the faint touches and lingering glances they give each other. it eventually leads to a dark night in the camp and elain can't sleep so she gets up to take a walk but her feet just lead her to wherever lucien is and she sees him without his shirt on, his back is turned to her and she sees the massive scars across his back and can't stop the soft gasp that escapes.

lucien whirls around but elain can't get the image out of her head... who would have been so cruel as to cause those marks? who would dare to touch her mate like that? she knows she should be more worried about how possessive the mate bond makes her, but in this moment it doesn't matter, what matters is who hurt him. and she asks as much, "it's nothing, elain" is his response but she doesn't let up, she steps closer to him and motions for him to turn around, which he does. she hesitantly runs her fingers across his scars, she can feel her rage building, no matter how irrational it is she wants whoever did this dead. she blinks at that thought, but she's not scared no, she wants whoever caused him pain to suffer.

he tells her not to worry and that it's already been taken care of and she reluctantly leaves him to go back to her own tent (or wherever they're sleeping) and tries to sleep but everytime she closes her eyes the image of his scars, how he might have received them, flashes in her mind. then she starts to wonder who gave him the scar on his face, she wonders how she might find out and how she might get the means to return the favor.

also maybe at some point later in the story, they visit the autumn court again, i have a headcanon that elain doesn't only see the future, she can see the past in some cases so maybe she starts seeing this couple in a.... very intimate setting. and she works out the female is lucien's mother, but the male she's with is definitely not beron. this could prompt the helion reveal but honestly idk how that'd all go down.

i really can't tell you how this would all wrap up bc i am so bad at plotting but eventually they meet koschei, they defeat him and there's a scene where they embrace and the confessions come, it starts with lucien,

"i love you. so much. and i choose you. i'd choose you in a hundred–in a thousand different lifetimes."

"do you mean that?"

"i've never meant anything more."

elain brings her hands to his face, caressing his cheeks, then she moves to trace the scar on his face.

she finally says, "i choose you, too, lucien. i love you. now, kiss me... please."

they have the kiss we've all waited 5 books for. she accepts the bond and we all live happily ever after.

[thatgoblin]

Shower - Chris Redfield and Sherry Birkin

Summary: Sequel to 'Sacrifice'. After getting another hotel for the night, after checking to make sure it wasn't full of hidden rooms and a cult, Chris and Sherry clean up and talk about their confessions.

Warnings: Fluffy smut

Words: 4053 (This is a monster one. You're welcome. lol)

Requested by: @lyndibs

The sight of a Holiday Inn had never been better for Sherry. No more off the beaten path hotels or motels for them. The woman at the check in counter had looked rather wary at Chris and Sherry as they walked in with blood on them, but she didn't pry. Sherry figured she would be making notes to double check with the police or at least the cleaning staff to make sure none of the blood stained anything.

Chris once more carried their bags to their room as they quietly rode the elevator. They did need to talk about what had happened at the previous hotel. Aside from finding a cult, they had confessed their feelings to one another in the heat of the moment. Sherry had been shot and Chris thought she was dying.

When he remembered she could heal herself almost instantly, it was a bit embarrassing, but they didn't take anything they had said back. Instead they shared a kiss. It had been sweet and lingering and Sherry swore she could still feel Chris' facial hair rubbing against her face.

"You can take a shower first," Chris said, moving around the room to check it out. He was not about to make the same mistake again and be knocked out by gas.

"Okay," Sherry said, digging out clean clothes before taking off her boots. "You find anything?" She asked, pausing as she watched Chris inspect the windows.

"Thankfully, no," he said as he looked at her. "Oh, uh, let me check the bathroom first before you do anything."

She nodded, stepping out of the way to let him through. Chris checked the mirror, the sink, the drains and shower heads before giving her a nod.

"Pretty sure we're good," he said as his eyes scanned over her figure. "I'll, uh, let you get to it."

"What happened to asking me if you could help me shower?" She asked, giggling softly. Sherry had meant it as a joke, figuring that Chris had been flirting and not serious.

"I mean, I can," he said, his voice getting soft and low as he took a step forward. "If you want me to." His fingers twitched as he gingerly took Sherry's delicate hand in his own rough one.

Did Sherry want to do this so soon? They had just confessed their love for one another and kissed after a supposed near death experience. She'd always adored and had feelings for Chris, but she'd never been in a relationship before. She'd barely held hands with a boy let alone actually go on a date. Between the scientists and how strict Simmons had been growing up, she'd been lucky to have her first kiss at 19. Even then it was over so quickly she barely remembered what it was like.

"Hey," Chris said, his hand cupping her face to gently turn her to face him. "We don't have to do anything you don't want. I'll stay out here and guard if you would rather."

"No, it's just that. . . I've never seen another person naked before. In real life and definitely not in a romantic way," Sherry said, covering his hand with hers. "I've never even held hands with someone let alone get this far."

"We can wait till we're in a better place. My place even," Chris said. "You know it's safe and we can take our time and go at your pace."

Chris' relationships had petered out after The Spencer Mansion incident. He'd been paranoid and didn't know who to trust. Anyone could be working for Umbrella. So anything beyond a first date and maybe a one night stand was not something he really knew about. That even dwindled to nothing as he got older. It had been too long since he'd been with another person romantically.

"I know," Sherry said. "I want this though. I want to be with you and have since China. We don't have to do anything, but I want to be close to you."

"How close are we talking?" Chris asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"This close," she said, pressing against his front as she reached up to hold his face in her hands. "I want you as close as I can get you."

"I can do that," Chris said, his hands resting on Sherry's hips. Slowly, he leaned in to catch her lips in a deep, unrushed kiss. This wasn't like the last one. No, they weren't in danger and not in some stinky cult pit. The Holiday Inn wasn't exactly the most luxurious of accommodations, but it was a full flight of steps above the last place. "Come on," he said after pulling back. "If my clothes are sticking to me in uncomfortable parts, I can only imagine your discomfort."

"Yeah, now that you mention it," Sherry said with a giggle.

Going into the bathroom, Chris closed the door behind them before he started the shower to let it warm up. Both of them were taking their time in undressing, almost in a nervous giddy way that teens were when they were seeing each other naked for the first time.

Sherry was nervous because she didn't look like the other women at the B.S.A.A. Her body was athletic, but not nearly as voluptuous as the others could be. It did make her pause in pulling off her shirt. Would Chris be disappointed that she wasn't as large in the chest as Jill was or Helena? Her backside was lackluster as well, so would he still want her stick body?

Chris was going through his own insecurities. Would Sherry still want him after seeing all his scars? She'd seen him naked in the cult room, but this was different. It was up close and personal. Which meant every discoloration and dimple in his skin was on display. Sure, he was built and used every damn muscle in his body, but it didn't make up for the fact that he wasn't as flexible or able to do everything he used to be able to do because of all his injuries and his age.

Taking a deep breath, Sherry decided to break the ice. They wouldn't get anywhere in a relationship if they always froze up on one another.

Making sure to face Chris, Sherry pulled her blood soaked shirt off before reaching behind her to undo her bra. Grunting softly, she was usually able to just snap her fingers and it would come off, but in the rush to save Chris she must have gotten it tangled.

Following her lead, Chris had shed his shirt before glancing to Sherry. He had to pause because even covered in blood she was gorgeous.

"Here," he said with a chuckle. Going around to her back, he helped untangle her bra clasp before slowly pushing the straps down her shoulders. Sherry was beautiful and Chris was never going to get over it. Leaning in close, he press his lips to the soft skin of her shoulder, humming softly as his hands slid down to her waist. They moved to her front to pull at the button of her jeans.

Sucking in a breath, Sherry felt like her whole body was suddenly on fire with just a few simple touches of Chris' rough fingers and chapped lips. It was new and exciting, making her feel almost drunk as she pressed back against him to feel his bare chest.

Well almost bare. He had a smattering of hair that covered his chest, trailing down his belly to below his belt line. Her hands covered his as they unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pushing them down with her underwear. As he was pressed to her back, she could feel exactly how much he wanted to keep going. His bulge in his pants felt daunting and almost too big, but she trusted him to not hurt her.

"Still good?" He asked, his voice low and husky in her ear.

"Uh huh," Sherry said with a slight nod, breathing harder as she let her bottoms drop to her knees. Shaking slightly, from nerves and how sensitive her skin was to touch, she let his hands roam her to discover and map her out. When was the last time she'd been given such a gentle touch? Not even sexually or romantically, but just a hug from a friend?

Chris was in the same boat, doing his best not to rub against her from behind as he continued to kiss up her neck while he found her sensitive, soft parts. His fingers ran down her sides as he let a small grunt out when he felt the short, soft curls that lay between her legs. Listening to her breathing as it became heavier, he dipped one hand down to cup her as the other moved up to grasp one of her breasts.

"Chris," she groaned, seeming surprised at how she sounded. Her voice was naturally high, but it went down in pitch as he rubbed over her mound without penetrating her. "Don't stop."

"I haven't even started, Baby," he said with a chuckle. His teeth found a spot on her shoulder to knead as a finger pushed past her folds to tease her hole with slow strokes. While it had been a while, he remembered the gist of what women liked when having sex and what parts were the most sensitive. With Sherry, he assumed she was going to be extra sensitive from lack of stimulation there. So he kept the pace slow in case she had any qualms about what was happening.

Sherry reached behind her to hold onto Chris as he kept working her up, feeling her entrance grow slick with each swipe of his finger. His large finger at that. Then he moved it to that small bundle of nerves, his finger circling that nub as she began to pant and whine.

"Feel good, Baby?" He asked as she spread her legs further.

"Uh huh," she mewled as her hips began to try and press into his finger. "Please don't stop. Feels so good."

"Don't worry. I'm not stopping till you cum," Chris moaned into her ear as he sped up his motions. His other hand massaged her breast, moving to pinch and pull at her nipple to give her more pleasurable sensations.

"Chris!" She cried out, whimpering as she felt herself getting close to that proverbial edge. Small mewls and whines were all she could make as she felt him speed his ministrations up, increasing the pressure to have her grip his arms hard. Throwing her head back, she couldn't stop the sob as she came hard in his arms.

"That's it," Chris said as he kept working her clit through her orgasm. "You sound and look so good, Baby," he groaned softly, holding her up as she caught her breath.

"Holy shit," she moaned softly. "That. . . We barely did anything and I was. . . Wow."

"You're welcome," Chris chuckled, holding her up till she was able to stand on her legs again. "Now, let's get a shower before we test how much hot water this place has."

"What about you?" She asked, turning to look at Chris after pushing her clothes completely off of her. Sherry had been pressed back against him, writhing on him practically, he had to be needing to get off.

"Slow down," Chris said with a hum, raking his eyes over her as she face him. "I'm not going to be a speed demon here, besides. I wanna be with you in a bed, not a hotel bathroom while covered in blood."

"Oh," she said, smiling softly as a blush crept across her already rosy cheeks. "I guess who should shower then." Chris nodded, letting Sherry get in first before handing her the shower supplies. Stripping his pants and underwear, he took a second to take a deep breath. He was achingly hard, but didn't want her to feel obligated or anything. Chris had already said he wanted to have her in bed, but that wouldn't happen if he got off in the shower.

Stepping into the hot spray behind her, Chris grabbed a wash rag to lather it up. Sherry was already washing her front so he went to work on her back. She hummed as he took his time and made sure she was clean, taking extra care on her lower back where she'd been shot.

"I feel so stupid," he said as his fingers ran over where a bullet wound had been not an hour earlier.

"What do you mean?" Sherry asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"I forgot all about you being able to heal. Fear just shot through me and I couldn't get it out of my head that I could lose you and you had no idea how much you meant to me," he said, letting go of her to wash himself.

"It's going to take a lot more than a .22 bullet to make me leave you," she said, turning around to face him.

Chris had to give her credit, she really did try not to stare at him as she reached out to help wash him.

"I know it's not everyday that you see someone naked," he said with a chuckle as she forced her eyes to stay on his chest. "You can look. I mean, I've certainly enjoyed seeing you."

"It's just that. . . I haven't seen one hard before. In medical documents and school work for biology, but. . . I didn't really look for those types of things," she said, letting her eyes drop to his member as it stood at attention between them.

"I mean, I could say I was much bigger than any other guy, but I'm not," he said. "I don't think scaring you would make you want to go further or explore more."

"Uh huh," she said, almost half listening.

"It's average. A lot of guys will say they're huge, but they're all average. I promise," he said with a chuckle. "You can touch it if you want."

It was no skin off Chris' back to explain he wasn't the biggest out there. He wasn't small either, but he knew how to satisfy someone with what he had and that was what counted.

Sherry glanced back up at him, licking her lips before reaching out to run her fingers down his shaft. Chris couldn't have made that image up if he wanted to. The sight of her delicately stroking him as her lips were slightly parted had him wanting her so bad. He wouldn't push though. There was no need to ruin this moment because of him being too horny for his own good.

"Does that feel good?" She asked, looking up to see his chest heaving as his eyes were dark and half lidded.

"You have no idea," he groaned as she properly grasped him to continue stroking him. "Fuck."

She was curious about how he tasted, but that was too much too fast. They had time and could do that later. Right then, she wanted to be coupled with him, to feel him inside her and cum because he was with her.

"If you keep this up, we're going to have to wait a while before we can get to the big event," Chris grunted as he pushed Sherry's wet hair back from her face.

"We'll have plenty of time to explore later," she said with a smile. "Right now, I want you."

"I want you too," Chris said, leaning in to kiss Sherry. She was the perfect height for him, just a tilt of her head and her lips were his. "We'll go slow and let me know if you want to stop."

"Same goes for you," she said, giving him a wink. Clean and no longer covered in grime and blood, the pair turned off the shower before stepping out to dry off a bit.

"Are you on birth control?" He asked as they moved to the bedroom.

"Yeah, I have an implant," she nodded.

"Alright because I don't have any condoms and I would hate to put a pause on the moment," he said with a chuckle. Sherry giggled as he came close, wrapping her arms around his neck as he picked her up. Her sex was already aching again as it pressed to his belly with Chris' cock so close. Kissing, he carried her to the bed where he laid her down as he continued to taste her lips.

His scruff scraped against her skin, making her moan as his lips began to roam down her throat to her chest. His hands guided her legs open before his fingers were stroking into her again. Sherry couldn't help the gasp followed by a deep groan as he pushed a finger into her. It felt big, almost enough to get her off again with that alone.

"Gonna open you up, Baby. So it doesn't hurt," he said, looking up at her before pressing a kiss to her hip. Sherry nodded, clutching the duvet as she watched him closely. It never occurred to her how attractive he could be by just being so close to her naked. She had assumed it would always take something special and extra to find that spark between her and another person, but there Chris was with his finger knuckle deep in her as he nipped and sucked on her hips.

Feeling how slick she was, Chris added a second finger, nearly cumming at the moan she gave him. Her hips bucked up to meet his thrusts as he stretched her.

"You're doing so good, Baby," he moaned, his cock pressing against his belly as he kept going. "You're so beautiful like this. I get this all to myself."

"All for you," she whined as he began to massage a spot inside her that made her pant harder. "Chris, oh god."

"That's it. Just relax, I've got you," he said as he added a third and final finger.

"So full," Sherry moaned, her eyes glazed over as she shook under him.

"You're about to be even more full, just a bit more," Chris said, leaning down to swipe his tongue over her clit experimentally.

"Fuck!" She cried out, earning a chuckle from Chris. Sherry rarely cursed and if she did it meant they were deep trouble. This though, Chris was glad he got this for himself.

"Did that feel good?" He asked as he kept working his fingers in and out of her, getting a bit faster.

"It felt so good," she sobbed as she threw her head back into the pillows, moving her body with his thrusts.

"I'll make sure to show you how much fun oral can be later," he said as he finally pulled his fingers away. Sherry whined as she looked up to see him licking his fingers clean. Why was that so damn hot? She didn't have time to ponder it as he moved between her legs, positioning them wider as he held his member. "Gonna go slow. Let me know if you need me to pause," he said, looking up at her. "It's not supposed to hurt and that's the last thing I want to do to you."

"I promise, I'll tell you," she said. Sherry had expected her first time to probably hurt and be over quickly, but Chris was making it so much more than that. He was taking care of her, making sure she was okay and wanted to keep going. This wasn't just sex to her and she saw that it was the same with him. They were becoming closer in a way that they both craved in their touch starved lives. If she could, she would never stop touching him and she was sure he felt the same.

Chris nodded, guiding his member to her slick folds. He ran the head up and down a few times before so very slowly pushing into her. It took everything not to sink into her fast and hard. She was hot and wet and tight even with the stretching.

"Still good?" He asked, pausing after just an inch.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said. It wasn't painful really, just a lot of pressure. As Chris moved further into her, it became tighter till he was completely seated and the angle changed just the slightest. Sherry groaned as her body relaxed around him, her legs held up on his hips as her clit ground against his pelvis. "Oh fuck," she moaned as Chris stayed there, letting her adjust while giving her shoulders and neck kisses.

"Just wait till I start moving," he said, smirking as he pushed himself up to watch her. God, he couldn't get enough of watching her enjoy such pleasure. She had gone through hell as a kid and as an adult, she deserved the whole damn world and he'd give it to her. He moved to a different position, allowing him to keep that angle while pulling his hips back.

Sherry had scene the movies, read the romance novels, watched the tv shows, but had never figured sex would be so good. She figured it was hyped up and wasn't as enjoyable as it was made out to be. It never occurred to her that it could be all that, with the right person for her.

Chris was that person and as he started to move, she was loving every second already. They started slow, Chris being true to his word to take it easy so she could experience it fully. As he began to speed up the pace, making his thrusts harder, she wanted more. She wanted more of this, of this intimate feeling of being connected to Chris, but also it made her feel so normal.

Normal was not something she thought she would ever know, but in that moment, in that small world of just her and Chris, Sherry felt like they were just a couple on vacation. They were just on a quick get away to have some time to themselves or some other story she could make up later. Her emotions and feelings were spiraling in the best way, making her first time more potent and memorable.

Their lips connected again as Chris hiked one of her legs up higher, hitting another spot she had no clue about to coax a noise she didn't realize she could make.

"Right there," she panted, one of her arms around his neck and the other hand grasping as his side. "Oh god, right there!"

Grunting, Chris nodded, keeping that angle and speed, watching as her eyes rolled back into her head. It had been so long since he'd been with someone and with how receptive Sherry was, he wasn't going to last long. God, he wanted to give her everything he had, to please her and worship her. She deserved that treatment and he was going to give it to her.

Sherry felt herself on the verge of an orgasm, one much bigger than before. She clung to Chris as he kept thrusting into her, making wet noises with their bodies she'd never thought would be sexy.

"I'm-I'm gonna cum," she gasped, looking up at him as she tried to hold on just a bit longer.

"Go on, Baby. I want you to cum on me," Chris moaned, moving a hand between them. His thumb found her clit to rub it as he kept thrusting.

She cried out, sobbing as a few swipes of his thumb sent her over the edge. Cumming hard, she clenched his member tightly as he kept moving. He didn't last much longer as her core was practically milking him. Grunting, he gave a few more pumps before staying as deep as he could inside her to cum.

Sherry could feel it. She felt his release inside her and while it was strange, it wasn't bad. Staying connected to her, Chris leaned down to kiss her hard. His tongue swiped at her lips in a request for entrance. She groaned, opening her mouth as they tasted one another.

"I love you," he whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers, still panting slightly.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, her hands cupping his face. "No more near death confessions. Not anymore."

"Aye aye, Captain," he said with a chuckle.

[borathae]

Hello! I just wanted to let this out 😔

I am a writer too and I frequently write sub bts fics but I always feel that my writing comes out the same, same verbs, emotions, adjectives and there is literally nothing to distinguish one smut fic from another.

I had been going through multiple sites so that I could figure out what my writing is lacking exactly and how can I rectify it. And it ALL says, focus on 'the scene' and don't just word it out.

And I try to do that but it never works and I'm really desperate for some weird sort of bulb to go off and enlighten me about how I can improve but it hasn't been working out at all 😭

As you frequently write sub!bts, could you help nd figure out what I can do to help me come out of my slump? 😞

Okay so first of all I feel honoured that you come to me for advice omfg thank you so much anonie! I try to give you good advice, but I can't promise anyTHING fdsh

Also putting this under read more because I wouldn't shut up.

1. Don't try to follow what those "helpful sides for writers" say

You put so much pressure on yourself when you try to follow the pattern / writing style those sides try to dictate you. There is no wrong or right way to write (and also no wrong or right writing style) and what works for someone doesn't just magically work for another. Listen, there was a time where I also heavily relied on what those sides said because I thought this is the only way to become a good writer and guess what? It wasn't, on the contrary. I gave myself massive writer's block because whenever I felt my story get off the default path I stopped myself and forced myself to go back to the style the side told me to us. It doesn't work, it just creates blockage and insecurities. Trust me, your own style of writing is perfect the way it is!

2. Don't try to force it

This is something I myself struggle with LMAO. But sometimes your brain just doesn't want to create and that's alright. The worst thing you can do if that happens, is force it to come up with a good plot. This will never work and will make you hate the story (and maybe even give up on it) Just relax and do something else. AND I AM TALKING SOMETHING ELSE, don't you dare open another word document on that day. Do something that has nothing to do with writing and yes this counts for reading too. If you read it can happen that your brain automatically goes into "I need to compare this piece of literature to my own works" and it will only block itself more.

3. Don't be afraid to use words

Okay now I need to explain what I mean with that. When I started writing smut I was afraid to use smut vocabulary (eg: leaking cock, throbbing pussy etc. you get the gist) because I was worried that it would sound way too dirty or filthy. I tried to censore myself and as a result my first smut scenes are very hard for me to read. So don't be afraid to use descriptive smut vocabulary and also don't be afraid to mention the characters genitals. It sounds way better when a character "clasps their lover's cock tightly and jerks it off desperately" than when a character "touches their lover's thing and does dirty things to it". I think you know what I want to tell you. Just remember. The point of smut is to be hot and filthy & a turn on, it is literal written out porn and censoring the played-with bodyparts and experienced sensations will make it sound far cringier than just including a nice lil "throbbing cock" every now and then. Which also brings me to my next point.

4. Be aware of what kind of scene & setting you want to write and try to adjust your vocabulary to it

Now, while you shouldn't be afraid of using smutty vocabulary it is also important to be aware of what kind of smut scene you want to write. Maybe that is just me being a perfectionist, but I think that the use of certain vocabulary can really ruin a smut scene for me if I feel like it doesn't really fit the mood. Now let's give you an example. Let's say you want to write a romantic love making scene between two lovers who are just whipped for each other, it is pretty vanilla and not very kinky. Using words such as "creamy, tight cunt" or "dirty little fuckhole" can ruin the mood of such scenes and make it sound very weird. Instead choose vocabulary that goes with the mood, that helps carry the feelings and sensations the characters experience and that makes the scene a pleasant read. This of course goes the the other way around too. If you want to write a complete batshit crazy kink scene, don't be afraid to use bolt, filthy vocabulary.

5. Don't be afraid to describe

I am talking how the characters move, how their expressions change, how their skin and muscles react to certain stimuli, how their voices change during a scene, what kind of bodily fluids are involved and what sensations they add to the scene. But also what are they smelling, how do the sheets / surfaces they lay on/ sit on etc. feel on their skin, what do they taste, what kind of sounds and noises do they hear, how does the lighting situation look like, in what kind of weather or during what time of day are they having sex.

And of course if they are still clothed, how do their clothes look like and do they have an effect on their partner, how does the fabric feel on the skin, how does the partner undress them, or how do certain clothes feel when they keep it on during sex and the fabrics rub against sensitive spots.

We humans are tactile creatures and describing what and how the characters feel and experience in a scene can help the reader dive way deeper into the scene. You know if a character "feels goosebumps run along their spine" people can relate that sensation to their own and feel way more connected with the scene.

6. Dialogues are important

Maybe that is just my personal preference again, but I don’t enjoy smut scenes that include minimal to no dialogue. Sex goes hand in hand with communication (that also includes always asking for consent if one character does something new to the other). If it is just a simple “that’s the spot right there” or a quick “keep going, keep going please” or the characters checking up on each other “you still good? wanna take a break?”, “how’s that? does it hurt?”, but including communication in your smut scenes not only gives it a way more realistic feel to it but also helps the readers feel more comfortable. Now let’s say you want to write a kinky BDSM scene where pain is consensually involved, only writing out what the characters are doing to each other & what kind of pain they experience can make the reader feel uncomfortable. You know, if they have the read the fifth sentence about how much the character’s ass hurts and how they can barely handle it, they can start to get worrried & maybe even wonder if it was still consensual. Including a quick “is that good?” and a “yes, so good. hurts so good.” can give the readers the reassurance they need and also add a sexy little bonus too, because what bigger turn on is there than to know that the characters are crazily into the sex. 

7. Just be batshit horny

lmaooao listen, I write my best smut scenes when I haven't jerked off in like three weeks and my brain runs on nothing more than getting off HAHAHAH listen this is such a stupid advice, but it seriously works for me. When I am just completely derailed and nothing but horny all those little mental restraints just shut off and allow my brain to come up with the best smut scenes.

So, those are my seven tips I have for you jafjsjd I hope they are somewhat helpful to you my love! Also rememeber that your writing style is perfect they way it is and it is not a bad trait to want to improve it, but don’t try to force it to be the replica of someone else’s style. You are perfectly amazing with your own style! 💜

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 2)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Papi

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: After a night of karaoke, Barba teaches you some Spanish, gives you some slightly patronizing advice, and follows you up to your hotel room. (Lo siento por mi español. Por favor dime si cometí algún error!)

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warning: NSFW/18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk.

For @thatesqcrush​’s kink bingo!

6,089 words

“So… Rafael Barba,” you changed the subject away from today’s trial. His failure to get a conviction had sent him into such a steep emotional spiral he cried in your arms at the bar, despite having just met you an hour ago. “That’s Spanish, right?”

The vulnerability in his eyes flattened. “Cuban,” he said, already bracing for the “but you don’t look Latino” comments, or worse, something about rafts or cigars. Instead your eyes got wide like he just ripped off a mask and revealed himself to be David Bowie.

“Cool!”

“I… guess?” There were eighty thousand Cuban-Americans living in New York, but sure.

“Hablar… I mean, hablas español?”

“Sí, lo hablo,” he answered with wry amusement, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You chewed your lip in thought before slowly saying, “Aprendí un poco de español en la escuela, y lo me gusta mucho.”

His brow raised. You actually knew more than he expected, which is to say, you could string more than two words together. “Not bad. Toda mi familia es de Cuba, así que el español es mi lengua materna. Soy el primer estadounidense.”

He spoke faster, at a natural pace, expecting you to follow, but when your eyes glazed over and you awkwardly squeaked out, “...Qué?” it became clear you did not, in fact, speak Spanish.

“Let’s stick to English,” he grimaced.

You whined in disappointment. “But that was so hot! Please? Un poco más. Dime algo en español!”

“Algo.”

An unflattering snort erupted from your nostrils, and you started giggling like a manic school girl. Barba shook his head with second-hand embarrassment, though a smile crept over his lips as you continued struggling to contain yourself, pleased at how well his bad joke had gone over.

“Come on, teach me something,” you pouted, leaning towards him, pushing your chest out. “Por favor… papi?”

He choked on his drink so hard burning whisky shot up his nose. “Ay, dios!” He pounded his chest and ordered a water. “OK, OK, bueno,” he put up his hands in defeat. “Hablaré en español. Solo para ti, mamita. Te gusta?”

“Mucho, papi.” You were taking advantage of calling him that now that you’d seen his reaction. He didn’t nearly die this time, but a red blush was sweeping up his neck under his shirt collar. Emboldened, he leaned toward you, eyes heavily lidded as he flirtatiously held your gaze.

“Tienes novio?”

“A husband? Do I look married?” you flipped your ringless left hand back and front and worried about your age.

He laughed, raising a hand to his forehead with his palm shading his eyes. “That would be esposo.”

“Oh. Right.” Your face darkened. “No, yo soy… single.”

“Estás soltera,” he prompted.

“Ah, gracias. Estoy soltera. Y tú?” you tilted your face down shyly and looked up at him through your lashes. “Tienes esposo? O novia?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, staring into the empty bottom of his scotch glass and wishing he hadn’t decided to cut himself off. The sip of water he took was boring and not numbly soothing at all. He had been single for a depressingly long time, in fact.

“Muy bien,” you smiled with delight, and he suddenly realized his years of failure at relationships were, tonight, a positive. It was the answer a very beautiful woman was hoping for. He may have been suffering from a string of humiliating losses, but winning you over reawakened his cocky self-assurance.

“Acércate.” He curled his finger to beckon you closer, and you swung onto his lap. God, you were so close. Your body fit so perfectly in his arms and you smelled like strawberry lemonade from that cocktail. Before he could help it, he was kissing you again. Softer and a little less desperate this time. A little more… something else. He just met you, but the way you made him feel cared about was stronger than he had ever felt, depressing as that was to admit. The one time he had put his whole heart into a relationship, he’d had it shattered so badly he was still picking up the pieces. Since then, he chose relationships that were mutually guarded, partners he knew he would never connect with, and who didn’t expect anything back. Barba did not open up to people. He’d never let himself cry on anyone before, except his abuelita. He must have been extremely drunk to let his guard down so much, but he pushed the realization out of mind as your fingers curled through his hair around the back of his head and pulled him deeper, your strawberry tongue slipping between his bitter lips. He wanted this. He needed it. He felt so close to you, so right—that was all that mattered.

He started whispering to you in Spanish between kisses, phrases you couldn’t understand, some that you got the gist of. He cringed a little at your attempts to reply in his first language, but kissed you more softly each time. You were trying, at least. You were trying very hard to understand a piece of him. The phrases he murmured against your lips grew progressively more filthy, which your keen ears picked up on even if you weren’t entirely sure what they meant.

“Como se dice, ‘fuck me harder’?” you asked in a low voice full of lust, fingers tightening against his scalp.

“...damelo más duro,” he said with a shudder. His cock twitched and he wondered if you’d noticed the growing erection pressed against your thigh as you sat in his lap. What you would think. But you must have noticed, and you weren’t moving to get away from him.

“Damelo duro, papi,” you purred, leaning to say it into his ear, your breath warm and tickling.

He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. Barba, always so eloquent under pressure in court, could barely form words to express a coherent thought. You were just joking. You must have been. To you it was a foreign language, and it didn’t sound like a real request to your ears. This was just a flirty game, teaching you naughty Spanish. “Y-you are… getting into dangerous territory here,” he tried to laugh jokingly, but his throat was dry. He swallowed again.

You lowered your voice and your eyelids. “I mean it,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. To punctuate your point, you rolled your hips, deliberately grinding your inner thigh against his forming erection. He was so wildly aroused with alcohol he thought he would come right there, but its effects were also preventing him from getting completely hard yet, something he should probably have been concerned about, but wasn’t.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he said, voice strained with urgency. “I would very much like to go somewhere immediately and fuck your brains out, please. If that’s… alright with you.”

***

The streets of Midtown were as bright and crowded as they were during the day, just a little less hurried—except for two people. You held Barba’s large hand, long elegant fingers laced with yours, laughing giddily in the warm summer air as you raced toward your hotel, stopping only to desperately kiss each other, fingers in each other’s hair, reigniting the flames that pulled you together.

Barba broke away panting, his lips wet with your saliva. The fresh air had a sobering effect, and something serious occurred to him. He had been animated and outgoing all night at the bar, but he suddenly very much resembled the shrewd lawyer whose picture you had seen in a news article. You felt like you’d been called to the principal’s office under the severity of his gaze, waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

“Did you take any pictures of us together?”

“I… might have taken a few selfies,” you admitted, terrified you’d committed a heinous faux pas.

“Good,” he said. “Do you have location data enabled? You should send those to someone you trust, along with the time you left the bar, and where we’re going.”

Gears in your head turned slowly to put together an intelligible response. You opened your mouth and declared, “...whuh?”

“You’re out drinking alone, taking a stranger home!” he gripped your shoulders as if to shake you. “Do you know how many cases never get off the ground because there’s no ID, no proof the victim and assailant were ever in the same room? Those photos would establish a timeline and a suspect, and would be enough for a warrant. Do you know what I would give to have evidence like that in every case? A lot more rapists would go to jail.”

“Are you… saying you’re a rapist?” you said slowly, cocking your head.

He stiffened, mentally replaying his own words. His eyes darted to the side, up, down, and three other directions in rapid succession. “N-no… But you have no way of knowing that. You’re too trusting. No matter how charming someone seems, it’s better to be paranoid and take precautions.”

“Uh-huh. Real charming. You know, it’s creepy telling someone that right before you’re going to sleep with them. How do you say that in Spanish?”

He groaned and looked so crestfallen it impressed upon you how much horror he must deal with every day, prosecuting special victims cases in the big city. How much that weighed on him and made him see nothing but worst-case scenarios around every corner. It didn’t seem so strange now that he was single—it must be impossible to connect with anyone when you live like that.

“I just… want you to be safe,” he said quietly, eyes down. A swelling of sympathy flooded your heart, and formed a lump in your throat. Before you could think twice, you’d pulled him into your arms.

“I feel very safe with you, Rafael.” Your words drew a tiny, strangled noise from his chest, and his grip around you tightened.

The mood had shifted catastrophically, to the point that it seemed unlikely a one-night stand was in your future any longer. Barba walked slowly by your side, lost in reflective silence. Sex or no, you invited him up to your hotel room. You would never get enough of being around him, and couldn’t bear to say goodbye, even if you were only sitting up talking of somber issues late into the night.

But by the time the elevator doors closed, leaving you completely alone together for the first time, your libidos overpowered the gloom and his hands were all over your body, his mouth hot and fervent against your throat. You moaned wantonly, confident in the privacy the elevator afforded as it whisked you upward toward the eleventh floor. You slipped your hands inside his jacket, feeling his solid pectoral muscles stretching his shirt, and he cupped a hand between your legs, kneading the crotch of your pants. Even through your jeans, it sparked a fire that sizzled through your whole body. You pulled at his back, drawing more of his weight against you.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Several cleaning ladies stared unimpressed as you and Barba quickly unhanded each other, stood straighter, and tried to pretend you were dignified professionals just riding an elevator together and definitely not almost having sex in there.

They were far more used to seeing this sort of thing than you were, judging by their almost bored eye rolls, but as you passed them on your way into the hall, one of them muttered something in rapid Spanish that made the other women giggle and Barba trip over his feet, face neon red, and look down at the front of his pants which were sporting a very conspicuous tent.

“Madre de Dios,” he groaned.

Shoulders convulsing with laughter, you took his arm and led him to room, uh… You fumbled in your purse for your room key with the number written on it.

“This is my first time doing this,” you confessed as the magnetic lock clicked and the light on the door changed from red to green.

“Having sex?”

“With someone I just met. In a bar!” you teased, turning the handle.

Part of you wondered when both of you were going to wake up and realize you were acting like horny teenagers—that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you hoped you wouldn’t, at least not until morning. You weren’t nervous. If you had been introspective that night, that would have surprised you the most. The whole confident, sexy Mimi Márquez, Out Tonight act was just a character you put on for karaoke to get psyched up and out of your shell. If you had been questioning yourself, you would have wondered how a shy good girl was having a one-night stand with a handsome Manhattan lawyer wearing a suit that cost more than your mortgage and not having an anxiety attack. But you weren’t questioning yourself, and you weren’t nervous. You looked in his intelligent eyes that were as pale as the underside of a silver maple leaf or dark as a dense hemlock grove depending on the lighting, and you simply wanted him.

***

He followed you into the dark hotel room, which was disappointingly small and shoddy for how expensive it was, so you left the lights off to preserve some mystery. The city glowed through the window brighter than a full moon, anyway. Barba pulled off his suit jacket, tossing it recklessly aside as he prowled toward you. Almost immediately, he thought better of this and found the heap of designer fabric on the floor next to the sandals you had kicked off, picked it up, smoothed it out, and carefully folded it over the back of an office chair at the little desk. He removed his tie and did the same.

You grinned behind your hand. Changing tunes so quickly from ravenously horny to prim—it didn’t surprise you that a guy who dressed as sharply as he did would have his priorities on wrinkle-avoidance even in the heat of the moment. It might have rubbed you as snobbish if it wasn’t so funny.

When he returned to you, his back was to the window, so you couldn’t make out the expression on his shadowed face, but the silhouettes of his shoulders were tense and his voice sheepish as if expecting a rebuke. “Sorry. I couldn’t leave it there. It’s a Brioni and—”

You slid your fingers under the pink-striped suspenders at both shoulders, closed your fists around them, and tugged. He lurched forward, and you caught his lips with yours. Letting out a surprised moan, he closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around you, grateful you weren’t accusing him of vanity. You held firm to the elastic bands like a leash on him, pulling him closer when you wanted to deepen the contact until he was so enraptured he needed no extra encouragement to shove his tongue between your lips as they parted, his hands roaming your sides, your hair, and over the swell of your bottom, grabbing a handful.

“You really do… have the best ass… below 14th street,” he said devilishly, in between crushing his hungry mouth against yours.

Running down the length of his suspenders, your hands took a tour of his entire torso, enjoying the firm bulk of his chest, and the softness of his belly. You liked that there was something to love there. Gym rats with nothing but hard muscle were painfully dull. His stomach twitched ticklishly at your probing touch and he broke away from your lips to protest, so you continued your suspender tour all the way to the bottom, where the leather straps attached the elastic bands to his pants. His hips rocked forward, and his clothed cock pressed into your thigh. You let out a sultry breath and pushed your own hips back against him, lining him up against your clit to ignite a burning, tempting pressure between you. You couldn’t even kiss him. Your mouth hung slack, and all you could focus on was the friction of his hard cock against your aching cunt. You had to get out of these clothes.

“Bed. Now,” you huffed.

“Yeah.”

As he toed off his leather shoes, you slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and were slightly disappointed this did not immediately make his pants fall off. He climbed on top of the blanket, and you climbed onto his lap, throwing a leg over his hips.

An impressively sized hand with a vein meandering across it curled around that tempting leg, palming the tight denim stretched over your thighs. The hand rode up, found the bottom hem of your blouse and dove under it. You shivered as warm fingertips crested over your jeans and found your waiting skin.

“Are you okay with this?” he rasped, eyes flicking across your face.

“Keep going,” you nodded, the prickles of your skin screaming in protest at the thought that he might stop. His hand worked up your side, exploring new territory under your shirt. Every point of contact sent warm waves vibrating out to your most intimate parts. You lowered your mouth to his and your lips melted against his, pussy soaking through your underwear as you felt his body respond beneath you. His clever fingers found the band of your bra and inched over the fabric.

“Is this alright?” he paused his advance to check in again.

You leaned close and whispered, “I want you to touch me, papi,” darting your tongue just below his ear, and rolling your hips over his cock again. “Touch me everywhere.”

He growled, deep and throaty and thick with lust, his own hips bucking up to grind himself against yours. With your carte blanche permission given, a switch flipped inside him and he dove in, roughly palming your breasts with both hands, rolling the fat and finding your hardened nipples through your bra cups. Even through the thicker fabric, his thumbs circled and pinched the sensitive peaks hard enough that you whimpered with every sensation. Your hips were moving without your leave, desperately driving against his cock while your hands quickly worked to unbutton the front of your shirt. He had become an animal, his eyes unfocused, breathing heavy, lost in voracious need.

“S-slow down,” you tried asking, wondering if he would—if he could at this point, despite all his earlier talk of consent.

His hands were off you in an instant, and he was apologizing and asking if you were OK.

“Just testing your off switch,” you smirked as you finished the final button, and your blouse opened up. Marveling at the man beneath your legs, you unhooked the front clasp of your bra and felt his cock stir at the naked sight of you. Any lingering uncertainty was gone—you managed to score the most principled lay in all of New York sitting by himself in a karaoke bar, and you trusted him completely. “Since I already know your on switch, don’t I papi?”

He swore in Spanish, some excitingly lusty expressions you would have to take note of later.

“What was it again? Cómo se dice...” you teased, tapping your index finger against your lips in thought. You watched his pupils widen as you pinched your finger between your teeth. “Oh yeah. Damelo, papi. Damelo duro.”

Hearing those words from your perfect sensuous lips drove him wild. Grabbing your hips, he rolled you onto your back, swapping positions. His fevered mouth pressed wet kisses all over your exposed skin, heated breath dancing over your neck as his tongue flicked out to taste you. You reached down to curl your fingers into his thick, dark hair. He pushed your breasts, which had fallen to the sides, back together and ran his tongue through the cleavage. You drew in a sharp breath. “Just like that, papi,” you moaned. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over it until your cunt was pulsating and your breath coming out in hard, ragged whimpers, then pinched it between his teeth, drawing a yelp of pleasure mixed with pain. You yanked at his hair and your hips bucked jerkily. Your core ached with emptiness, longing to be filled by his cock. You wrapped your legs around his lower back and pulled his hips down against you to feel more of him. The strangled noises in his throat were practically feral as his clothed sex rutted up against you, valiantly striving to be inside you through your pants. His mouth sloppily devoured your breasts until they were burned raw from his stubble.

He released your nipple with a wet noise and sat up to free his straining erection from his pants. The latching mechanism didn’t seem particularly hard, but after nearly a minute of fumbling he had made very little progress, and you held up a hand and told him to stop.

He whined and gave you puppy dog eyes, but did as you asked. “Is this another test?”

“No. It’s just… those pants are not that complicated.”

His head tipped in confusion.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” You were tipsy yourself, but considering you could at least manage buttons, you had a sudden, sinking realization that he was far more incapacitated than you. He was so well-spoken and thoughtful you hadn’t noticed, but he was a lawyer—staying controlled and eloquent was his job. You might have been drunk, but he was drunk drunk. “If we have sex right now I think that would make me a predator.”

He frowned, cock still straining against the binds of his pants. “Technically, in New York state, being intoxicated does not invalidate sexual consent.”

“Don’t you lawyer this! I don’t care what’s technically legal—you are way too drunk. And I don’t want you waking up with regrets.”

His shoulders fell, because he knew you were right. It was a law he considered a glaring loophole, and he admired you for doing the right thing, but ¡maldita sea! he wished you were just a little less ethical. Deep down he knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he were in full command of himself tonight. But that was why he was so desperate to do it now. He would never let himself go again, not for a long time, and he would miss out on experiencing an intense—if ultimately not real—connection with someone. He would miss out on getting to be with you.

“Well...” you hesitated, watching the disappointment in his eyes displace what had moments ago been confidence and excitement, and tormented by your own unsatisfied ache. “I mean, we can still fool around, right?”

He laid his body down alongside you, his breath still coming in hot, shallow pants. His comforting weight settling beside you on the soft hotel mattress stirred up the coiling insistent heat between your legs. “Is this OK?” he whispered, voice heavy with lust. Blood pounded in your ears as his hand slipped under your waistband.

“Y-yeah, that’s OK,” you nodded. A compromise. It wasn’t sex. Technically.

Trapped tightly between your skin and your jeans, his fingers reached your slit, spreading it with surprising deftness to find your clit. Waves of pleasure exploded through your body as he pressed an irresistible finger to it, making your thighs spasm and lift off the mattress as you bit back a sinful cry. You were almost screaming from just one touch. The sound of throbbing blood in your ears was deafening, and your cunt throbbed in time with it to an unbearable tempo. God, you wanted him to fuck you with his cock.

He drew in a shaking breath as he observed your response, his lust-clouded eyes boring into you with a hint of the keen perceptiveness he used in court. He risked probing deeper, pushing a long digit farther into your panties, dragging it through your pussylips as you squirmed beneath him, then drew it back, dripping, to circle your clit, and smiled as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep a neighbor-waking vocalization in check. You were soaking wet for him, and it made his erection strain jealously against the closure of his slacks. It had been too long, since he’d allowed himself time for anything other than work. It was almost unbearable having someone moan for him and not be able to fuck them. But you said no, so he focused on what you would allow him to do—on giving you the most earthshaking orgasm you’d ever experienced.

The tightness of your jeans was too restrictive, and you quickly unbuttoned them and zipped them down. “My papi’s fingers feel so good,” you groaned. “I want more of them.”

“You feel… so good,” he answered, lowering his mouth to yours for a fervent, but surprisingly tender kiss as he moved his fingertips over your swollen, stimulated cunt. He traced over your dripping entrance, and pressed in just the tip of one finger, leaving you gasping for more. He withdrew from your pants and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes closing as he savored it. “You taste good, too,” he whispered low and gravelly, almost a growl, though not one you would describe as predatory. There was no danger lurking behind those perceptive eyes—the thrill he gave you had a different source. Your tongue darted over his, dipping into his mouth to taste yourself on his broad tongue.

“Is papi going to fuck me with those fingers?” you challenged, enjoying the way his breath hitched every time you called him that. You’d heard it in passing and knew it was something like calling him “daddy,” but you’d never expected it to have such a big effect.

He helped you pull your jeans down below the swell of you ass, not bothering to take them all the way off and interrupt your pleasure any longer. Once he had all the access he needed, he plunged his fingers into you. He observed carefully, gauging your reaction in the way the slick walls of your cunt gripped and twitched around him, and the tone and frequency of your pleading moans. When one finger wasn’t enough, he added a second, satisfied with his judgment as you cried out and arched against him, your hands gripping the blanket at the stretch. “Te gusta, mamita?” he purred, but you were too breathless to give an answer except a throaty carnal whimper.

Adapting himself to your responses, he alternated penetrating you with his fingers and teasing your clit, kissing you hot and fierce, ramping up his intensity to draw louder and louder cries, leaving a trail of wet bruises down your neck. Curling his fingers inside you, he hit a sweet spot that made your legs begin to tremble. You wailed uninhibited and raw, too overwhelmed with pleasure to try to rile him with another “papi.” He sucked your pulse point under your ear, savoring the feeling of your blood racing beneath his lips. Knowing how turned you were, how much he was affecting you was so deliciously invigorating to his ego. As easily as he could command a courtroom, he’d never had the same confidence in his body. Past lovers would say he had perfect technique, but no soul, no intuition for what a they needed—but here you were, cunt twitching on his fingers, moaning over and over for him.

Your eyes kept closing to focus on what he was doing between your thighs, but when they opened you saw how intensely he was watching you. The arousal on his face as he watched was intoxicating. You had never seen such anyone look at you with such wanton lust, and it heightened your excitement.

“Rafael… Raf—oh, fuck,” you hissed, jerking your hips up to deepen the penetration. “Keep going... deeper!”

“Dime, ‘más profundo,’” he ordered softly, but confidently.

“M-más profundo, papi.”

“Eres buena estudiante,” he praised, a smile lighting his eyes as he sank his fingers deeper with enthusiasm. You were getting close, the fire singing between your thighs blossoming outward through your entire body but always coiling tighter in your core, building an unbearable tension that threatened to break you. He rocked his hips, and the heat twisted tighter at the feeling of his iron-hard cock grinding against you.

You squeezed your hand between your two bodies, groping blindly down his stomach until you found his pants and the massive tent he was pushing into your leg. You grasped the hard outline of his cock, squeezing it and working it through his clothes. He drew a sharp breath and for a moment the rhythmic thrusting of his fingers stuttered and paused. His hemlock-green eyes were black with arousal as they examined you. Then he rocked his hips, thrusting into your palm with a low groan, and his fingers pumped into you again with renewed vigor.

“Que buena chica eres… Just like that,” he croaked. His breathing was growing ragged, he was starting to fall apart with your hand working his cock.

He adjusted his weight to free his other hand, stroking the side of your face as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. His thumb kneaded your cheeks as they smiled against his mouth and went slack with lust. His mouth wandered lower, teasing your collar bone with light nips to make you yelp and sigh, then bending to take a mouthful of breast. He withdrew his two slick fingers from the depths of your cunt and circled your clit slowly, gently—then fast and rough as he sucked at a hardened nipple, drawing a shattered gasp from your throat. You rubbed his cock frantically, trying to repay some small amount of the pleasure he was giving you. When he plunged his fingers back inside, he added a third, and you moaned at the added fullness—at being stuffed tight, almost too much for you to handle, an intense pleasure threaded through with pain.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt your climax build, every nerve ending in your body on fire.

“Is that a good fuck, or a bad fuck?”

“Good,” you stammered, barely holding yourself together. “Don’t stop, papi, I’m almost there.” The hint of pain faded into pure bliss as you imagined it was his cock splitting you open.

His eyes gleamed wickedly as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching you come undone with every stroke. This horrible week, he had felt so helpless, useless. It made him doubt himself. But this—this he had control over. Your body. Your arousal. Everything that had fallen apart wasn’t his fault; it was because of circumstances outside his authority to influence. When he was given complete control, this was his effect. He could get any result he wanted, elicit any twitch of your cunt, any moan from your lips, and have you singing in ecstasy just from his fingers. Imagine if you let him fuck you, the songs he could have you singing then.

He angled his hand so his palm was rubbing against your clit as he thrust, and he could tell you were riding the edge of the precipice by the helpless mewling whimpers pouring from your lips with increased fervor, how your walls began to invite him deeper, taking more of him until he was buried three knuckles deep and you were still bucking your hips to intensify each thrust, starving for more. His own hips began rocking at a frantic pace into your hand.

“Rafael… Oh, Rafael,” you moaned. You loved the shape of his name in your mouth. It was like you weren’t even strangers, the more you said it. For him, it would have been too personal for a casual hookup most nights, but for some reason it turned him on even more than when you called him papi.

“Ven conmigo,” he urged softly, his hips stroking at a delirious pace that did not match his calm tone. You didn’t recognize what it meant, but the sound of Spanish rolling over his tongue mixed with the wet lewd noises of his fingers fucking you drove you to the edge.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna...” Your voice broke.

He ducked his head back to your chest and drew a nipple between his teeth, sucking hard just as you came over the precipice and pushing you off it with a violent shove until you wailed out loud, careening into a free-fall steeper and farther than you’d prepared for, your back arching and your walls crashing around his fingers, clenching and convulsing around them.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me.” You could hear the lawyer in his voice—controlled, assertive. Not quite a command, but your eyes fluttered open obediently. Holding eye contact while your body was being rocked by wave upon wave of fierce climax was too intimate, but he repeated his request low and soft as a tiger’s purr. Your met his gaze and held it. The look of lust on his face, his lips softly parted, lower lip quivering, renewed the strength of your orgasm and sent another shockwave coursing through you.

He kept pumping into you through your orgasm, riding out the aftershocks, until your legs were shaking and weak. The sensation of you coming on his fingers turned him on so much, he only needed to rock into your hand once more, flick his tongue over your breast, and he lost control. He was not vocal as you were as his thighs trembled with his own release, but his hips slowed, and then stopped, their desperate thrusting, and you felt a warm, wet spot soak through the front of his pants. Your gasping cries were stochastic and desperate now, overstimulated—you pushed his hand out of your underwear to stop his relentless fingers, and he rolled off of you heavily.

Laying back on the soft pile of hotel pillows, he slowed his breathing, then sucked his fingers clean one by one with a lascivious growl of pleasure. You watched him, shivering with fascination, and he glanced back at you with a piercing gaze. “I want to fuck you next time. Por favor, déjame a cogerte.”

Next time. You turned away, your cheeks burning up. You never assumed there would be a next time to this, but your heart wouldn’t stop beating at the thought.

“Next time sounds good. That was…” You turned back to praise him, but his eyes were already closed, and a light snore was emanating from his nose. “...Amazing, you lightweight.”

The dizzying effect of all the booze was catching up alarmingly quickly now that you were spent. After the strenuous effort of tugging the blanket out from under Barba so you could tuck it over him, you were completely worn out, and within a minute you were fast asleep as well, cuddled under his arm, your chests rising and falling in unison.

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

That Someone- Roope Hintz

AN: yeah, idk man. This took far too long to write, esp with thought of quality that isn’t there. HOWEVER, I can’t stare at it any longer so here ya go.

Word Count: 2,5k

TW: alcohol, slight angst, general pining

Roope has never been an easy person to understand. One moment he is your best friend, and other times he’s one of the star players of the Dallas Stars. And the two roles, they shouldn’t be all that conflicting, but apparently they are, and you don’t know how to change that. 

“Roope, can you please for one second listen to me?” 

You speak up in between giggles as he is curled up in your lap. 

“No.” 

He mumbles into your stomach, the vibration of his voice against your stomach making you chuckle. 

“You promised. The deal is that you make dinner every other time.”

“But m’tired.” 

His protest makes you card a hand through his hair, which you know is a bad idea. It only makes you feel like your best friend is something more, to you. 

“Please just make dinner Roope.” 

You sigh. And with a grunt he actually gets up and moves to the kitchen while rubbing his eyes in a childlike manner. 

You twist around on your couch and grab your phone from the coffee table. 

People always scrunch their noses when they see that your lockscreen is just black. Most people call you boring for it, most of all Tyler Seguin, the Star that you feel closest to, if you don’t count Roope. 

You don’t care though, because you don’t want to have anything there. (If you were to have anything there it’d be Roope though). And that about sums up how far into the deep end you are. You have a creeping suspicion that this is what Tyler knows, and that’s why he keeps teasing you about your black lock screen. 

Shaking your head, you turn on some soft music on the TV speaker and wander into the kitchen. 

Roope has a towel hanging over his shoulder and is quietly humming along to your music.

“You really only know how to make pasta?” 

He turns at the sound of your voice. 

“It’s damn good pasta and you know it.” 

He teases with a smirk. You have told him on multiple occasions just how good his pasta is. 

“Maybe so.” 

“It’s finished soon, Miss Denial, will you set the table please?” 

Roope asks as he turns back to the carbonara he has been making. 

It’s the domestic, small things like this that make you fall even further. He just doesn’t realise. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the only person you have admitted your feelings to is you. Because when other people ask about Roope, he’s always just your best friend. As jokingly as he does it, calling you Miss Denial rings more true than he thinks it does. 

------

As one of the Star players of the Dallas Stars, Roope acts a little bit different. He brings you out after a big win, he does, but you never go together. There is always some excuse, mostly that he thinks you will have more fun getting ready with the WAGs. Because of that it’s just easier if you carpool with them. Or take your own car. For better or worse, because that means you have to stay sober for the entire night. 

And even if you think every night is gonna be different, it never really is. Tonight is apparently no excuse. 

They have just won over the Islanders on home ice and are the usual suspects en route to the regular club. Roope had the winning goal and was over the moon when he got out of the locker room and media.

You had dressed in an emerald knit sweater, not being able to put on the jersey Roope had given you. You had tried to put it on, you really had, but feeling the weight of having “Hintz” on your back was just too much for you. Especially when you know that it’s all you’ll ever get. 

You’re all sitting together around two tables, doing shots and nursing different drinks. Roope is beside you on the outer end of the table. Tyler is on your right, for once having sworn he isn’t gonna get completely wasted. 

You’re all laughing at Miro as he downs another shot of something he supposedly likes, you can tell he’s close to the limit now. However you aren’t too scared, you’re his ride home anyways. 

Roope’s arm is resting behind your head and as the time starts nearing one am, even with the flashing eyes and loud music, you’re starting to feel drowsy. You lean into his chest and rest there, unknowingly making the whole table swoon.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get another water.” 

Roope’s eyes are slightly glassy as you look at him. Carefully he moves out of his seat to allow you to move.

“Want anything?” 

“Just a beer please.” 

Roope mumbles softly and you nod. 

The queue to the bar is longer than expected, and ten minutes have passed when you walk from there. 

You’ve almost reached your table when you notice an absence. It makes you stop and causes someone to bump into you, making you spill half the glass of water. You know they’re gone before you can register who it is. 

Sighing, you make your way over to the table and the vacant spot. 

“Hey, anyone know where Roope went?” 

The group around the table is more reduced now than you first realised. Apparently also feeling very pitiful, ‘cause no one wants to answer the question. Until Tyler does. 

“Uhh, some chick came up asking for a dance.” 

Miro stumbles to your side, positively hammered, and folds his frame over yours. 

“Roope s’stupid.” 

He slurs against the top of your head.

“Stop Miro.” 

You sigh. 

“But s true.” 

“Please not now, here drink this.” 

You say and hand him the half empty glass of untouched water.

“I think I’m gonna try to get this mafioso home for the night.” 

The remaining team members and their significant others all nod understandingly. And since you can’t see Roope, you start to hug people goodbye. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll come to his senses sooner or later.” 

Tyler whispers into your ear as he hugs you, giving you an extra squeeze. 

You set the still full glass of beer down by Roope’s spot, and take Miro’s arm so you can lead him out of the club. 

“C’mon, let’s get you and me home.” 

“Okay, I feel a little dizzy.” 

Only a few minutes later, after you and Miro have departed, Roope comes back to the table still fixing his cap and wiping lipgloss off his lips. Immediately he spots the glass of beer and takes a big swig of it. It’s not until he finishes swallowing that he notices the eyes on him, all except one pair. 

“Where did Y/N go?” 

He questions.

“So you finally notice, huh.”

Tyler mumbles, yet somehow Roope catches it. Making him frown at his teammate. 

“She went home, took Miro back to his place as well.” 

Jamie’s date of the night replies. Roope looks towards the exit, but sees no sign of you or his teammate. 

----

In all honesty, when you got the first message from Roope, asking why you left, your heart couldn’t take it. So you just shut off your phone and went to bed. And thank god for Sundays, cause you sleep until 11am that morning. It’s not good sleep, and you still feel tired when you drag yourself to the bathroom, and sad. The person in the mirror doesn’t quite look like you, she is much more bleak, faded. 

Regardless, you step into the shower and try to wake yourself up. Even though you don’t have anything to do, you still want to wash last night off your body. The soft almost non exiting pressure stream of water doesn’t help much, only adding to your frustrations. So you step out and dry off, before going back to your bedroom. You dress in a pair of old sweats that hang off your hips ever so slightly and a henley sweater you find in the back of your closet. 

Your phone is still on the kitchen bench when you walk in, and you decide to power it on again. As soon as you punch in the pin code, it’s overflowing with messages from Roope. And the general gist is worry and confusion. When you click on his contact, and see the messages and the times they were sent, it’s your turn to get worried. They go from tree am to ten minutes ago. 

Me: Roope, you need sleep

You type before you can think twice, and send the message. Almost instantly there is a new message, but this time only the one. 

Roope: I’m on my way over. 

And you swear you are frozen in time, cause minutes go by and you don’t notice, only staring at the screen.  A knock on your door shakes you from your stupor, and automatically you go to open it.

Roope looks rough, to put it mildly. He is still in the same clothes as last night, his blond hair is messy even hidden underneath his cap, and his eyes are red and droopy. 

“You need to sleep, Roope.” 

“No, I need you.” 

 You sigh and open the door a little further, motioning for him to come in. 

“Roope, please. You have to sleep.” 

It feels like there is little else to say. You don’t want to have this conversation with him now, when he might not remember it in the morning. Much less when you are on the verge of crying yourself. 

“Please, ‘jus wanna talk.” 

And he sounds so so sad, when he talks. You never could resist a sad Roope, there is something in the way his eyes plead with you. So you close the door and turn towards him, and are met with that exact look. 

“Okay, just go sit on the couch.” 

You sigh, watching as he stumbles over to the couch. The trip to the kitchen seems far too long, but when you make it you pull out a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. It isn’t until you shut off the running water, that you hear the soft snores coming from the living room. 

Walking into the living room, you see Roope completely collapsed in what has to be an uncomfortable position. At that moment you decide to let him sleep it off. Even if he doesn’t end up remembering this moment when he wakes up.  You set the glass of water on the coffee table along with the ibuprofen, and decide to go about your day in other ways. 

Like getting your laptop and sitting down by the tiny kitchen table you have, to attempt some work. In reality you end up editing some playlists on your Spotify and getting consumed by it. The next time you look at the clock on the stove, it shows 3pm. And you figure you’ve wasted enough hours on the internet. 

Quietly you close your laptop and take off your headset. When you walk into the living room,  Roope seems to have realized how uncomfortable he was and has curled up into a ball. Crouching down in front of the couch 

“Hey, you need to wake up.” 

He groans, but you can tell he is starting to wake up from the way his brows scrunch together. Reaching out, you place a hand on his upper arm and shake him a little. Slowly but surely, his eyes flutter open, meeting your gaze. The whites in his eyes are still a little red, but he seems a little clearer now. 

“Morning”

Roope mumbles, while getting up. He swings his legs over the edge and his upper body follows. You can’t help but let out a little chuckle while shaking your head at him. He leans his elbows on his knees, and lets his head drop into his hands. 

“Here, drink some water.” 

You hand him the glass from the table and go to shake out two pills from the bottle. 

“No no, I’m fine without.” 

He says after taking three generous gulps of water from the full glass. 

“It will help with the pain.”

You tell him, holding your hand out towards his. 

“Why?” 

He asks, and you answer absentmindedly. 

“Because there are chemicals in this that will help you relax.” 

Roope shakes his head at you and sighs. 

“No, I mean, why are you always so kind to me? Why do you care so much?” 

You feel your heart sting and sink to your stomach. 

“Do you not want me to?” 

The fact that you are getting defensive about this should tell him enough. But he only seems to get more fired up. 

“Don’t answer a question with another question.”

And you swear, time stops for a second, giving you time to think a few thoughts. First, that you should never have let him stay. Second, that there are a million better ways to do this. And third of all; fuck it. 

“Because I want to be someone to you.”

He frowns at that, trying to take a step towards you, only to discover that you’ve moved to the other side of the coffee table. 

“Of course you are someone to me, you’re my best friend.”

Roope even cocks his head to the side in confusion. 

“I want to be that someone to you. Not just your best friend. I want you to hold me in public, I want you to take me out on the dance floor when we go out, and I want you to not rush home after a night in. I want to be able to put on your jersey and not feel like an imposter. I think I want more than you’re willing to give. And that’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You don’t realize you have moved through the apartment, and you don’t realize that Roope has followed you. You do know though, because you can see his reflection behind you in the window.

“All of me, if you’re willing. I’ll give you all of me, because you’re not just my best friend, you’re the friend I call whether I’m happy or sad. When I’m having a crisis or don’t feel well I think of you, or come here. I just didn’t think you’d want all of the public stuff, cause I know you’re a private person.” 

He has been moving closer and closer, now you can feel him behind you, across the entire plane of your back. In the reflection, his head is a little bent and his breath is fanning across your neck. 

“All of me, is what I can give you.” 

Roope whispers, sending tickles down your spine. 

“Are you sure?” 

You close your eyes as you lean into his chest, feeling him wrap his arms around your front. 

“Never more sure of anything.” 

The confirmation makes everything fall into its rightful place inside you, so you lift a hand to the back of his neck, which causes him to lean down and place a soft kiss on your lips.