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#6 of them spent in basically hell

radiance1 · 8 months

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Killer Croc and Jack Fenton are brothers.

Killer Croc was the first born, just a about 5 years older than Jack. Their father was a large man, much larger than should be possible considering he never had a meta gene.

But oh boy would it have not surprised them if he did. Because that man was strong, 10 feet tall, and shrugged off things that would injure most people.

Like a brick to the head.

Anyways.

Croc was entranced with his younger brother; he was so small so much tinier than he had any right to be, and cuter than a button. He babbled like most babies do, but Croc wouldn't think twice before calling his baby brother the best baby of them all.

His dad could fit him in the palm of his hand easily! Which was just one of Jack's many great qualities in his opinion!

Croc and Jack's parents weren't really on the best of terms, Croc could tell. He didn't know why, really, but he didn't want his baby bro to feel unloved in any sort of way, and it's not like he really had friends to hang out with, plus his parents were busy with jobs.

So he mostly spent his time taking care of and playing with Jack. Changing diapers, feeding him, lifting him up and down with his tail, just the normal sibling stuff.

He feels kind of bad for his dad though, whatever kind of job he had didn't even let him come home most days, and when he did he could barely even walk upright without falling asleep and jolting awake. He still made time for them, however, when he got those rare few off days.

He's honestly surprised that man managed to drive a car properly in the state he was in.

Their mother was often out of the house, Crocc didn't know what she was doing but he just thought it was like his dad. Unlike his dad, however, she didn't really like him. He didn't really know why, nor did he really care either if he was to be honest.

Around a year later the tension between their parents got so thick it could be cut with a butter knife. Then it turned to arguments in the rare times they both were in the house, he didn't even know his parents could make such cutting remarks to each other, and then both of them being in the house less than before.

Then when he turned 10, and Jack 5. They got divorced. Croc was left with his mother and Jack got taken by his father. His mother didn't take the divorce well, really, probably because at the same time she got fired from whatever the hell she was doing and was left jobless.

Then she dropped the bomb on his that his dad wasn't even his actual dad and Jack is only his half-sibling and then promptly abandoned him in the sewers with the rats and what was most likely very poisoned water due to it being the sewers and Gotham.

Well. Fuck.

Croc thinks that Jack doesn't even remember him due to how young he was, nor did he ever see his dad again cause, y'know, being abandoned in the sewers and all.

Then multiple years later he ran into his brother again and got DAMN was he tall. Not taller than him, but it was basically the equivalent of a gut punch to Croc, because he remembers his baby bro being so tiny, so baby.

He blames his father's genes for him being 8 feet taller now. A head shorter than him, sure. But he wants back his small baby bro alright.

Then he finds out his baby bro has a family.

And fuck did he not want to involve himself anymore in fear of being a catalyst for tearing said family apart due to being, well, him and all. Then he was promptly (quite literally) dragged over to meet said family despite his stance on the matter.

Then he finds out he's just treated like a normal person with zero amount of fear. His wife? She had to have a giant in her family too because she was 7 feet tall and was smart enough to kick his ass.

His daughter? 6 feet tall and their first meeting she accidently became his therapist. Also, he was sure she was a meta of some kind, probably something to do with wolves.

Then finally, their son.

It felt like he was thrown back to his childhood when he saw him, he looked so much like Jack did, and he was so, so tiny just like his baby bro was. He had to physically hold himself back from doing anything with the kid because he feared he would accidentally break him or something.

Then he found out that apparently his nephew was half-dead and that his brother and his wife hated ghosts with a passion, built a portal to the other side, had their city attack by the ghost king and then promptly found out about their son's half-dead status and had to do a major revamp of basically everything they knew and acted upon.

Which they're still working on.

Oh and also their daughter is a werewolf, she had a meta gene from someone of his dad's side and only recently activated it.

All of that which was a lot to take in for old Killer Croc, also he knew his niece had something to do with wolves.

So, Killer Croc in all of his life from the point of being abandoned at up to now, decided to go screw the bats and whatever they're attempts of figuring out what the fuck's going on with him (look at you Red Hood.) and decided to try and integrate himself into this family and brother's life again as best he can.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #Killer Croc and Jack Fenton are brothers #Their Father was an insanely tall man #As all Fenton's are in my hc because I say so #Unless specified otherwise.#Killer Croc has been infodumped a lot of information about his brother's family and life up to this point #Barely computed it before going #Fuck it we ball #He's very much going to do his best to prevent a certain little red riding hood from investigating his brother's family as best he can

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armageddidnt · 8 months

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Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #my season 2 rewatch aka: I Went Insane #i am unwell #I haven't slept properly in 44 days and counting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #angel #demon #armageddidnt-blog #armageddidnt-gifset #armageddidnt-screaming #armageddidnt-pain #good omens 2x06

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capslocked · 6 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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drakaripykiros130ac · 3 months

Text

“The Greens are political masterminds compared to the Blacks.”

How many times have you heard this bullshit?

Their political incompetence is exactly what cost the Greens their victory in this war, and what gained Otto Hightower the gold medal in the “worst Hand in the history of Westeros” Olympics. And if you ask me, Criston Cole should have the silver for that one.

So, we’re talking about a faction who has been plotting to usurp the rightful heir, Rhaenyra Targaryen, for many, many years. They had so much time to prepare, and so many advantages: Alicent being queen and Otto being Hand, not to mention Rhaenyra and Daemon were away on Dragonstone for many years.

The Hightowers could have swayed things in their favor before Viserys’ death, and failed. They had to shuffle about, beg the Tyrells, send Aemond to Storm’s End with marriage promises etc. all after Viserys died. Lol. What have they done during those 10 years Rhaenyra was away on Dragonstone? They sat on their asses and did nothing. Not even prepare their puppet, Aegon Hightower.

Now, let’s list the Greens’ many, many mistakes:

1. Usurping the throne, instead of minding their own business and returning to Oldtown. Alicent doomed her entire line (children and grandchildren) with her schemes and thirst for power.

2. Not having Aemond and Daeron married by the time of the Dance. Boy, they really blew it with this one. Aemond was 20 when the Dance started and Daeron was 16. They could have been well married by the time Viserys died, and the Hightowers could have secured great alliances in time.

Rhaenyra’s sons were much younger than Alicent’s, and yet years before the Dance, she had Jacaerys and Lucerys betrothed to Baela and Rhaena, securing the Velaryons (a great power House) on her side for good. And certain people still have the nerve to say she did nothing.

Not having Aemond and Daeron married by the time of Viserys’ death, was a missed opportunity, which proves Otto and Alicent’s stupidity. They had the power, and Viserys was easily swayed, and they still screwed up big time.

3. Failing to get the support of their own liege lords, the Tyrells.

4. Failing to get the support of the Red Kraken and by extension, the Iron Islands. I mean, so few people realize that Daemon was the politically savvy one, knowing how to turn the Red Kraken against the Greens by appealing to his thirst for bloodshed. The Greens offered him the position of Master of Ships and he refused them, in exchange for a chance to stick it to the Lannisters. So basically, Daemon offered the Red Kraken nothing, compared to the Greens, and still managed to sway him to his side. That must have been so embarrassing for the Greens 😂.

5. Killing Lucerys. *claps* Well, done, Aemond One-Eye idiot. Before this, Rhaenyra was still determined to make peace with her half-brothers and half-sister, despite the usurpation, but not after they shed first blood and murdered her son. Hell no. Even Alicent and Otto were angry with Aemond for this one, because they knew how badly they screwed up.

The problem is that both Otto and Alicent lacked the intelligence to keep a bloodthirsty, idiotic maniac like Aemond in line. Not to mention that the one on their team holding their only ace-card, Vhagar, was this bloodthirsty, idiotic maniac.

6. Aegon Hightower choosing Criston Cole as his Hand. 😶 When I first read this part in the book, I was shocked. Definitely did not see that coming. Dismissing Otto as Hand (for the second time), I understand, considering that he really exudes incompetence. But what exactly went through the usurper’s puny brain when naming Cole as his Hand is beyond me. He is a military man. He is no political mastermind. Far from it. He is dumb as wood. He spent his entire career life kissing Alicent’s behind and only rising in ranking because of his hatred for Rhaenyra (because a young girl of 14 refused his advances).

There is a reason why Rhaenyra chose Corlys as her Hand, and not Daemon (like everyone expected her to).

Criston Cole led his forces in the Riverlands and got himself killed when facing the Winter Wolves. He didn’t even use his position as Hand. He just wore the pin.

Seriously, this has to be one of their dumbest moves. If I were in this usurper’s position, I would have chosen Tyland Lannister as my Hand, certainly not the overly subjective and creepy Incel who kisses my mother’s behind for a job.

7. Burning the Riverlands…for no good reason. *claps* Once again, let’s applaud Aemond’s idiocy. Basically, he decided to burn the Riverlands because their lords sided with Rhaenyra. That’s it.

Because of his stupidity, he basically secured the entire Riverlands on the side of the Blacks even after Rhaenyra’s death. The Riverlords fought for Rhaenyra’s son instead of agreeing to make peace with the Greens.

8. Choosing the Triarchy as an ally. What exactly made them think that they would gain any points by allying themselves with a great enemy of the people of Westeros? These are foreign savages that Daemon and Corlys have been fighting for years, and the Greens got in bed with them. Bringing an army of dangerous foreigners in a civil war is high treason against the Realm.

9. Burning Bitterbridge. The Reach was the Hightowers’ home, and not only did they fail to gain the support of the Paramount House there, but they also turned many of their bannermen against them. Well done. *sarcasm*

10. This one is one of my favorites: trusting the Goldcloaks. Otto Hightower knew perfectly well that the Goldcloaks were Daemon’s men, and despite making some changes and putting his son, Gwayne, as second in command, Otto still managed to get played and the Goldcloaks turned on the Greens when Daemon arrived in the capital.

The smart thing to do would have been to disband the Goldcloaks when the usurpation happened. The decision to keep them lost the Greens the capital.

11. Proposing to call a Great Council only when realizing that they were losing. So, once Rhaenyra took the capital, only then, did Alicent propose to call a Great Council. Why couldn’t she suggest that before usurping the throne? Alicent’s stupidity got her the nickname “Queen of Chains”.

12. Trusting the Dragonseeds who betrayed Rhaenyra. Seriously…how stupid could they be? Don’t they know that people who betray once have a tendency to do it again??? The Two Betrayers wasted no time and turned on the Greens soon after because they wanted the throne for themselves.

13. Trusting Larys Strong. This creep got his own family killed for the sake of power. He has no morals and is just like Littlefinger. Once he realized that the Greens were losing, Larys turned on them and most likely participated in poisoning Aegon the Usurper.

14. Refusing to name Aegon the Younger heir and sue for peace with the Black armies after Rhaenyra’s death. This basically guaranteed the Greens’ permanent defeat.

15. Trying to convince her eight year old granddaughter to kill her husband lost Alicent any freedom rights after she lost the war, and she spent the rest of her life in isolation and madness.

So, seriously, people who say that Otto and Alicent are politically intelligent need to get a clue and read the book.

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not-magdi · 5 months

Text

A Future with you

Summary: Talks about the future with your boy

Warnings: none ;)

Word count: 1k

A/N

I’m so so sorry I‘ve been offline for a while but school was stressful as hell 😫 But it’s getting better so hopefully I‘ll be able to update more …

Your sister Elena has recently given birth to your first niece, and you were absolutely ecstatic about it. You helped her a lot during her pregnancy due to her having many difficulties during it, where you didn't want to leave her alone. So, the wonderful sister you were, visited her nearly every day to look after her and help her with what she needs.

So when she FaceTimed you from the hospital with her newborn daughter Nora in her arms, you cried for a solid 10 minutes, getting a worried look from a very perplexed Pablo who just wanted to get himself a cool-pack for his knee.

Turning the phone around, you showed Pablo your screen, where a very tired Elena with little Nora in her arms came into view.

With wide eyes, he limped over to you to get a closer look at the infant and the new mother.

"Dios mio Elena!"

He snatched the phone out of your hand, and his face filled your sister's screen with how close he was to the screen. You laughed at him and tried to get your phone back again, though without any success.

Pablo and your sister always had a good relationship since you introduced them. So him being so excited about the arrival of your niece made your stomach feel all warm and fuzzy.

After you finally got Pablo off the phone, you decided to visit the fresh family. At first, Pablo wasn't sure about tagging along, not wanting to disrupt the intimate family moment. But after you reminded him that he basically already was family, he grabbed the little barça jersey he got for Nora and headed to the car.

You were in the hospital room for exactly ten minutes, and your ovaries couldn't take it anymore. The sight before you was god-made. Your boyfriend, sitting in one of these uncomfortable plastic chairs, your 6-hour-old niece dozing off, absolutely comfortable and safe in his arms.

"A child looks good on him", the soft voice of your sister caught you off guard. And you quickly divert your gaze from them.

"Y-yeah-but we're definitely too young for that, like way too young!"

Hearing your sister's soft giggle made your cheeks change into a deep, rosy colour.

Ever since your sister announced she was pregnant, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to what it would be like to be pregnant with Pablo's child, if it would have your eyes or his, if it is going to be as good of a futbolista as his father, and so on.

What you didn't know was. Ever since you came running into his office, nearly tripping over a vase, telling him you were going to be an aunt, he couldn't stop thinking about your future together. He already knows that you are his forever, ever since you threw a football at his face and nearly broke his nose.

But now, he couldn't stop imagining what a future with you might look like, from your new house to what pets you would have. He has everything planned in his mind.

The moment he saw you with your niece in your arms, cooing at the little bundle of energy, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to all the different scenarios of how your future could look with him.

The whole ride home was silent, not an uncomfortable kind of silence, more like a comforting and calming kind.

Pablo's head leaned against the window. He was gazing out into the dark landscape that was passing you, completely lost in his own world.

You weren't any better either, your thoughts running wild as you drove through the familiar streets to Pablo's house, which gradually became your house too, having spent more time there than anywhere else.

The living room was filled with soft noises that came out of the TV, which was playing in the background. But nobody was paying any attention to what was currently playing. Both of you too engrossed in basking in each other's presence.

The sound of Pablo's voice broke the silence you were in, "Do you ever think about the future, amor?"

Turning your head to look at him and think for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, sometimes … why?"

"I don't know … I just- I was just curious, I guess."

He was grateful for the dim lights, so you couldn't see his burning cheeks, as he answered your question.

Not able to hold it back any longer, you shot up to look into his eyes, "Please tell me that Nora also got you thinking about babies. Because that's all I have been thinking about for the last two days straight, and I think I'm goin-"

Pablo's laugh made you stop your rambling, to look at him with a confused expression.

"Sorry babe, but I'm just so happy that I'm not the only one who has been going crazy here. I think I planned our whole future through over the last few days."

Relieved, that you and Pablo were on the same page, when it came to your future, you cuddled yourself deeper into his embrace, careful not to hurt his knee and asked him what exactly he planned for the two of you.

With red cheeks, he started to explain to you how he wanted to have a house with a big garden so he could teach your children how to play football like his father did with him. He went on, about how he already found the perfect ring for when the time was right and how he wished that you at least have two children, a boy and a girl, like he and his sister.

It warmed your heart to hear his excitement when he explained that he already found little barça jumpers for babies and how he thinks that Fermín would be a terrible godfather.

You spent the rest of your night cuddled up together under tons of blankets and pillows, speculating about how your future will look like, a future you couldn't wait to live in.

A future with him

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi x you #gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavi x you

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riaisnotok · 7 months

Text

We fell in love in October

☆ 2005! Bill x fem! Reader

It was a rainy day in October and you were heading to school. Orange, brown and yellow leaves were falling from the trees, another day of you having to stay with those stupid classmates of yours for 8 hours. You are already sick of all the noise in the class and the boys who play football in the class and break windows, break cabinets and much more.

It was starting to rain harder so you opened your umbrella and continued on your way.

Regarding your classmates, they are worse than the animals from the jungle, once one of them threw themselfs out the window because someone threw their schoe out the window. Or not to mention the girls who talk about what it's like to have sex while you're on your period, or the sluts who fuck in the bathroom every period. I really don't think you can last anymore in that school. Is so disgusting.

"Y/N!" You were halfway to school when one of the slut girls from your class came up to you, she didn't have an umbrella with her at all. Her make-up was ruined, her mascara was dripping from her eyes. But it's not like you don't wear makeup, whatever girls wear you're not any more special than them, It's just that you don't fuck in the school bathroom like them or have 5 boyfriends in a week.

You turned your head towards her, "CAN I SIT WITH YOU UNDER THE UMBRELLA?" She asked, she was wet from head to toe. You nodded yes and let her sit next to you under the umbrella. You two look like two lesbians going to school💀

"I love your makeup today!" She complimented your makeup, you smiled. "What eyeliner do you use?"

In the meantime, you finally arrived at school, that slut said goodbye to you, and you don't think she'll ever talk to you again unfortunately. Oh yes the slut's name is Tiffany lol.

You entered the class and put your umbrella to dry. Danny, onr of your classmates and desk partner (I dont know how to say this, basically in romanian school you have someone you stay with in your desk, you got that idea no?😭) came to you.

"Y/n what are you doing?" He asked, he wanted to know how you are, how you feel, he really cares about you and for a few days you've been suspecting that maybe he has a crush on you, but unfortunately you don't like him at all, this whole thing with love for you it seems strange and disgusting, but maybe it's because you've never had a crush that lasted more than a week and that's why.

But Danny has already been behaving like this since you started school, and he also gives you notes during class or he puts them in your bag before you go home. Like loves one, and some of them are rizz 💀

"Oh hey Danny, I'm doing good I just arrived, you?" You said, you really didn't want to talk to anyone after the conversation you had with Tiffany on the way to school.

"Okay...I wanted to ask you if you studied for today's Math test..." He said looking deep into your E/C eyes. "Yeah I learned, also Danny what are you going to do on Halloween?" You continued the conversation in yours desk.

Time rang and the first class is Mathematics, come on, you haven't learned anything, you've spent the whole night listening to music, and you'll definitely copy from Danny this time too. After all, he has a crush on you and he'll let you, right?

Today at school was a little better, now you only have one more period left and that's it, you'll finally go home...

It's over and the last class was 3 o'clock in the afternoon, you took your umbrella from the dry place and left the classroom through the door, but Danny stops you by grabbing your sleeve. "Y/N…."

You hear his voice "What's up Danny?" You asked him, all you wanted now was for him to leave you alone and go home to sleep because you woke up at 6 in the morning.

"Can we go somewhere more private, for example in the bathroom?" He asked, you nodded. You were curious what the hell he wanted to ask you and what the hell he wanted from you now. You went to the bathroom and Danny pushes you against the bathroom wall. A smirk could be seen on his face.

"Y/N...I like you...I like you so much that every night I think about you, every time before I fall asleep I think about you, your beautiful lips that I want to kiss so much , your bright eyes, what wouldn't I do for you, Y/N? I would give my life just to have you, I would kill anybody. Your body Y/N I want to see it without clothes, and I'm going to make you feel so good in this bathroom. So undress, I know you feel the same way."

His words left you speechless, you were speechless, you tried with all your might to get something out of your mouth, but nothing.

"D-Danny what is this?" You asked him, this doesn't look like the Danny you knew, the one who studies at school and seems very innocent and is very innocent. You could never imagine that Danny has such a dirty mind. And you think it's because of the sluts.

"We're not friends anymore Danny!" You said pushing him away from you, you put your hand on the bathroom door handle and opened it, you quickly ran out of the bathroom. Now that you've seen Danny's true face, You don't think he'll be your desk partner anymore.

You left school, it was still raining outside, but not that hard, so you didn't open your umbrella.

On the way home, you stopped at a cafe, your favorite one. You entered it, ordered a latte and took a seat at a table by the window. You waited for your latte looking out the window as it was lightly raining outside. But you still can't get over what Danny did.

Your latte arrived, you started to drink it slowly and after a few minutes two guys enter the cafe, you assume they are twins because they look about the same.

One of them looks like a rapper and the other looks like an emo? You stared at the emo one because you don't usually see people like that, but you got a look from him not short after, you didn't think he would notice.

You put the latte aside and looked away, you heard a chuckle from that guy. You feel so ashamed right now, and you hope that guy doesn't think you have a crush on him.

The two of them ordered and sat down at the table behind you. You tried as hard as you could but you kept hearing that one of them kept talking about you and how beautiful you are. (That was Tom lol, not Bill) You continued to drink your latte and then you took your things and left the cafe.

The next day.

You arrived at school, and of course you won't stay with Danny anymore. Ew

After school you went to the cafe again, hoping that this time those two twins would come too, you wanted to ask them something. But this time they arrived faster, before you.

You quickly went to their table and looked at the one with dreadlocks and then the one with black hair and makeup on his face. The one with the dreads begins to speak, "Oh, I was wondering when you would come."

The one with black hair was looking at you, his pupils were starting to widen. "He's Bill and I'm Tom, and I think you're super cute in that mini skirt of yours today and that white tank top, I can see your bra~" (💀 I'm sorry for how I made Tom)

When Bill heard Tom's words, he wanted to punch him in the arm, but he didn't want to scare you or anything. Love at first sight lol.

"Umm…thanks..Tom? I'm Y/N" You said feeling a little uncomfortable after hearing Tom's words. "Oh and let's not forget, I can see your pant-" "Tom enough, the girl is already very uncomfortable because of you, when will you understand that not all girls want to hear this!" Bill said, he could tell you were getting uncomfortable with what "King" Tom was saying.

You said goodbye to them, because the situation was getting a little weird already.

The next day, you came to the cafe after school and had a latte, again. This time the two didn't come together, only one I just assume his name was Bill? The one with black hair and wearing makeup.

He came to your table and looked into your eyes. "Umm...hello..I came to apologize for how my brother acted yesterday..that's how he usually is with girls"

THE VOICE. You blushed for no reason when he started talking, his voice was so cute. "It's nothing, it's just that I don't really get compliments from guys and I get very uncomfortable when I get one..." You said.

Bill smiled and took a seat at the table. "You seem fun, let's get to know each other better. What do you like to do in your free time? I like to sing.."

You smiled when you heard that someone wanted to be your friend. "I like to (what you like to do in your free time)"

"So cool! Do you have a favorite restaurant? Mine is McDonald's."

......

....

You two talked more and got to know each other better and it was already evening outside, the sun was starting to set slowly. "I'm starting to like you Bill..." You said, after realizing what you just said, YOU DID THE STUPIDEST THING OF YOUR LIFE. You usually don't believe in love at first sight or love, and I also said that love seem very disgusting to you.

Bill didn't expect those words from you, he blushed. You started to feel weird, "Uhh..Bill I have to go, I have a lot of homework for tomorrow, and my mom is waiting for me at home." With that you left Bill surprised and speechless.

"WAIT!" He said taking your hand. "Give me your phone number."

The next day you didn't stop by the cafe and you stopped somewhere in a nearby park, you sat on the swing with a pack of Skittles in your hand. Your phone was starting to ring, it was Bill.

"Hello?" - You

"Y/N where are you?" - B

"Uhh..in the park near the cafe.." - You

"Okay, I'll be right back!" - B

He hung up, you put your phone back in your pocket and waited for Bill to come.

After a while you hear footsteps behind you, it was Bill with a bouquet of (your favorite flowers) (😭 it's so cute)

It left you speechless.

"B-bill...what's with the flowers in your hands...and how do you know they're my favorites..?" You said surprised. "I thought you were the kind of girl who likes this kind of flowers, so I thought I'd get you a bouquet, because you're so pretty..you know that?"

You blushed at Bill's words and took the bouquet from his hands. "Bill-"

"Y/N I love you." Bill said directly without letting you finish your sentence. Your eyes widened, although I don't know how you're still surprised after you were the first to tell him your feelings for him yesterday.

"And I know you love me too."

"Yeah...I love you too Bill..." You said, a tear ran down your cheek and you hugged him, "Y/N don't cry, you'll ruin your makeup!" He said wiping the tears from your eyes, the mascara remained on his finger. "Sorry..it's the first time a boy I love has said that to me..." You said looking into his brown eyes, he smiled and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"Y/N..do you want to be my girlfriend?" He asked, hoping you would say yes.

"Yes." You answered.

( I don't know how to end this story lol, AND IM STILL WORKING ON THE REQUESTS AND I HAVE SCHOOL TOO 😭)

2062 Words

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel fluff #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz

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lilsedge · 8 months

Note

Tjd x reader where reader becomes the special referee for a match they have

Surprise Surprise

The Judgement Day x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Made up match

The Judgement Day had a 6 man- tag team match with a surprise ref. The match was against Sami Zayn, Kevin Owens and Cody Rhodes. No one except the creative team knew who the surprise ref was.

Adam Pierce had informed them at the start of Raw that the match was official, but it had to have a surprise ref. He wasn’t giving up the information about who it was. The ref could have been anyone they know and don’t know.

The match was coming close and Y/N was talking to Eddie Orengo, another ref who was testing her on the rules. She of course, got all of them right. She couldn’t help but still be nervous. It would be her first night back since her almost career threatening injury.

With lots of recovery and training, she’d be back for good this time. Y/N was getting the black pants and striped shirt on. When a crew member came to get her and lead her to the gorilla. Her theme song was the last being played. The boys avoided each other without a ref, which was surprising. Why was even more shocking was that Y/N was their surprise ref.

Rhea moves out of the ring to ringside, Cody’s jacket comes off, and the briefcase was handed to Rhea. Y/N made sure both boys that were starting the match were ready before signaling for the bell to ring. Cody and Damian were staring off the match.

They were both starting off strong. No shenanigans, yet it was too early into the match for them. Cody was reaching towards Sami or Kevin’s hand, but was being pulled back by Damian. Damian brought Cody to his corner tagging in Finn, who took over for Damian.

After a few hits and kicks, Finn pins Cody. Y/N moves down to the mat, slapping it one time, then another. Cody kicks out. Y/N puts up two fingers to the times keeper area before focusing on the match again.

Cody manages to tag in Sami. Sami is fired up and just gives Finn hell. He pins Finn, but Finn kicks out at Two. Both of the guys start going at each other again. Sami is put into The Judgement Day’s corner and held there. A tag was made. Finn tagged Dominik in. The man didn’t do as much damage as Finn, but he still did a fair amount. Sami tags in Kevin while Dom tags Damian in.

Few minutes later

The match had been going on for a while now, and just as Y/N suspected, Rhea was going to get involved. However, Y/N didn’t see anything that happened to Kevin, but she assumed it was Ripley. Rhea did also distract Y/N by flirting with her, while the boys did use Damian's briefcase.

Out of the corner of Y/N’s eyes, she saw Damian pin Kevin. She had never moved that quick in a while. She had hit the mat…

One

Two

Three.

Damian had done it. He won the match. The boys all stood in a line, while Y/N raised Dominik and Finn’s hand. Rhea made her way up to her boys, congratulating them. Y/N had to check to make sure Kevin, Cody and Sami were all okay and they were.

Y/N was basically done with her job. She made her way down the ramp, leaving The Judgement Day in the ring. The young girl encountered Eddie Orengo again. He was just informing her how she did good and remembered all the rules. After she left him, The Judgement Day was behind her. She smiled up at her lovers.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming back,” Rhea says, kissing her.

“Surprise?” Y/N laughs.

“Well, I mean, I would have liked to know,” Damian says, putting his arm around her and walking back to the dressing room.

“Hey, I could have let Sami, Kev, and Cody win,” she replies.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Dominik gasps.

“Try me,” Y/N giggles.

Finn comes up behind Y/N and gives her a big hug with a kiss on the cheek. Then the rest of them join in, so it’s a big group hug. Y/N didn’t mind that. She had spent a long time away from her partners.

#wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #the judgement day #damian priest x reader #finn balor x reader #rhea ripley x reader

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nightgoodomens · 3 months

Text

Crowley is the character who broke away from being stuck in a cult who follows blindly. He has a really realistic view on the world that he loves and protects. He’s very protective of Aziraphale and humans. He’s so smart he’s been fooling Hell since the beginning. He has seen it all and was involved in most important events of the world.

His whole point is freedom. He is the one who introduced free will. He fell because he hated blind following and control. He calls them all toxic.

So, yes, to see the fandom reduce him to nothing, call him degrading names, act like he canonically wants to be controlled and used, is fucked up. It is so fucked up.

And then taking Aziraphale, who Crowley spent 6 thousand years trying to make him see that he is still stuck in a cult and letting himself be manipulated, and that when Aziraphale cut himself away he automatically started reporting to Crowley instead because he needed someone to report to as he still has this mindset, Aziraphale who spent whole season trying to woo Crowley and create a fantasy ball for them - and reduce him to a cold monster who would want to degrade Crowley and have satisfaction in it…

I just can’t. It’s so insulting to both of them.

Everything Crowley does is a prompt to degrade him for it. (He danced once - degraded. We ignore that Aziraphale danced plenty of times before for him before Crowley danced even once. We ignore that it is something they both do. We don’t call Aziraphale a bitch for it, only Crowley.) Aziraphale doing what Crowley does plus so much more does not result in degradation. No, in his case it is seen as boss behaviour. It’s all just fucked up at this point. Crowley follows him once - degraded. Crowley does anything to show his love - Pet. Whore. Slut. Wants to be owned. Wants to be controlled. Pathetic. Cant cope without Aziraphale. Aziraphale creates the ball, gives away precious belongings for him, plays a damsel in distress, doesn’t accept what’s going on around him, his head is so focused on Crowley and looking at him like at a picture - boss behaviour. Master. Owner. Made Crowley his bitch. All sexually meant too of course. Yikes.

I just… what?

If you’re desperate to degrade one then I guess Aziraphale should take the fall. Except… why the fuck either of them has to?

Because I watch the show and see an Angel and Demon in love. Who want to spend time together. I see Aziraphale who loves Crowley with his whole heart but is still stuck in a cult. I see Crowley who loves Aziraphale with his whole heart but he wants to be free and wants Aziraphale to be free too. I see both of them needing to break free from toxic bosses and finally stop being hurt and controlled. That’s the whole point of the show.

I see so much love and marriage behaviour.

The whole point of the show is freedom.

And some in this fandom shit all over it.

And to take Crowley out of everyone and do this crap to HIM?! And think this would be “taking care of him”?! Oh I shuddered. He doesn’t need to be taken care of, not like this especially. That he needs that?! That Aziraphale/Crowley would want that? When they’re finally free you want them to revert and start doing this to each other instead and act like that’s a good thing.

Fuck. We really watched a different show.

Not everything has to be toxic.

At least - Neil, Michael and David - considering their views during interviews (Crowley being clever and he gets it and wanting Aziraphale to open his eyes and how much they’re like yin and yang and adore and love each other) and on Twitter (Michael basically saying Aziraphale is a bottom and how much he adores Crowley and sees him as Thin Dark Duke) - they watched and acted and directed the show I watched. Because I see it the way they do. Which is the opposite of what so many in this fandom are seeing.

#priv

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cupids-scream-queen · 6 months

Text

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 7 // 1.1k words

-> Part 6

Warnings: none!

A/N: sorry for the short chapter, tomorrow's is gonna end up being super long tho so hopefully that makes up for it!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The next morning was brutal. Your arms were sore from stabbing, your room smelled of blood. The high of killing was crashing down, and you really didn’t want to go to school.

But you had to. You wanted to see the faces of Tatum and Sidney as they worried what happened to Randy. You knew they wouldn’t discover the body in at least two days; Randy’s parents were going to get home Friday. And you wanted to see Stu and Billy. They very nearly spent the night at your place, but they weren’t quite keen on the idea of having to sneak out at five. You had two hours of sleep, and you knew you were going to need one hell of a boost of coffee to make it through the day.

You drove to school, a thermos of hot coffee added to your bookbag. You had nearly no makeup on, and you didn’t really care about who’d see you—your eyes were on two different people, and they were the only two people in which any opinion had an effect on you.

You took your beater to school, tired of fighting through the crowds to get to your normal car. Your beater was more suspicious in your opinion—nobody questioned a cherry red sports car, everyone questioned the polka-dotted paint job of your beater. Which was fine.

You were greeted by Stu, who was jumping up and down excitedly. He was wearing a Hawiian shirt, with a huge grin plastered to his face. Billy soon joined Stu, but he was dressed in a simple white tee-shirt and blue jeans.

“Sid’s out,” He drawled, his eyes glancing at you. “She’s at home, sick. We can still go after Tatum, but it won’t be as fun.”

“Is she home alone?” You asked, and Billy nodded. “Then why don’t we just kill both of them in one night? Alibi that you’re at my house.”

“Whose car would we use?”

“Steal one. Tatum’s ex-boyfriend’s, maybe?”

“What? Like, kill him, use his car?”

“Naw, I was thinkin’ of pulling one of the shit’s we’ve done to Casey and her boyfriend. Keepin’ him as a kind of reward if she answers a question right.”

“If she gets it wrong?”

“Off with his head!” Stu stuck his tongue out, his lips curled into a smile and he cackled, causing you to laugh and Billy to smile slightly.

“You’ve got to answer our trivia questions, it’s like Jeopardy but with actual incentives,” Billy explained, and you nodded, pretending to take notes. Stu ripped the pretend notebook out of your hands, and mimed stomping it on the ground.

“You don’t need to take notes, just do, don’t think,” He told you, and Billy nodded in agreement.

“So let’s see, we’ll kill off Tatum first, then Sid. Alibi is that you both are at my house, and we rented four different movies, just for safety. Who’s going to be the killer, who’s going to be the caller?” You wanted to get the general semblance of a plan formed, even though you were certain Billy already had one. He was more of a silent prepper, making sure that everything could happen just right, allowing Stu to do basically whatever his heart desired in the time Billy allotted for it.

“I was thinking we have you be the caller, and then Stu and I go after the kill. You’re shorter than us, so it’d be odd if the killer was two different heights. We don’t want to make it obvious that there’s three of us,” Billy concluded, and you agreed with him. You were good for kills that weren’t going to require planning, but they were better for the planned-out, multi-faceted kills that made the original kill of Sid’s mom a success, even though they weren’t directly to blame for it—they framed someone else. You weren’t sure if they were going to bother to frame anybody, or just leave it as a cold case.

“Are we blaming anyone for this?” You asked, and Billy and Stu’s eyes went dark with some information that you knew would make your stomach sick.

“That’s the beauty of it. We’ve kidnapped Sid’s father. He’s going to get the blame for all of this,” Billy grinned, his smile practically ear to ear. “He can be blamed for Sid’s death, and Tatum’s ex can be blamed for hers. Such a sad coincidence that they happened on the same night.” Clutching a fake string of pearls, Stu dramatically fell into Billy’s arms. Billy dropped him.

“You’re such a dick, you could’ve pretended to go along,” Stu grumbled, and Billy simply shrugged. You were excited for tonight—Randy’s death was a good introduction to the kill pattern, but tonight was going to be the big game. This was going to be one hell of a night for all of you, and it just depended on not getting caught. Which was easy when the three of you had parents that didn’t exactly care about your whereabouts.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Your night started with getting your gear on, which was pretty simple. You found time to tailor the robes to actually fit you, which was wonderful since Stu and Billy couldn’t find any in your size.

The mask that Billy gave you fitted decently, but you decided to soak it in water and bleach beforehand, just to make sure it wasn’t coated in dried layers of teenage boy sweat. Your knives were in your bag, a familiar weight for you to carry. The finishing piece to the outfit was a bowie knife, one that matched the ones Billy and Stu used for their own killings.

Billy said he’d bring his voice changer, which you found relieving, since you couldn’t find the one that they used. Stu said he’d try to track down one of them, but he couldn’t remember where they got them. Billy just remembered that they weren’t the cheapest things ever. Stu said it was pocket change.

You were called at exactly nine-thirty, where the familiar and eerie tone of the voice changer greeted you, telling you to go outside past the bushes where you caught the two of them stalking you. You were to make sure to wear comfortable shoes. Even though you weren’t going to get out of the car, Billy and Stu wanted to make sure you were prepared. Just in case. Everything could go wrong, and Sid still had to end up dead. That was the singular goal of tonight. And although you didn’t know it, the end of tonight was going to be the most spectacular and unexpected turn of events that you wouldn’t have suspected in the wildest of dreams.

Enjoy my writing? Please like, reblog, or follow me! The support is super encouraging, especially since I'm going to make this a longer fic and post nearly daily 💕

♡ Want tagged every time I upload? Just send me an ask 💕💕

-> Part 8

Tag List:

@citrusbunnies @itsyoboysparkel -@winkev1 -@ghostbandghostcodghostface @dij-ology @l4vr0v @ilovefamousmen11 @cancelledkaley@4rtiee

#ghostface #ghostface x y/n #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #ghostface x reader #scream #slasher fucker #stu matcher x reader #stu matcher x you #slashers x reader

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 1 year

Note

I've always been curious. How much does the English curriculum focus on reading and comprehension compared to analysis of literature in non-English speaking countries? I imagine it's not until the last few years of school that things like Shakespeare are even remotely considered something worth teaching.

How do I answer this without turning it into a TEDtalk...

SO.

The QUICK answer is: It depends.

It depends on the country. It depends on the school. It depends on the curriculum.

I'm afraid you've fallen into the hole called 'non-English speaking countries' - and referring to them under a single umbrella... when in reality, the curriculum of, say, Japan's EFL education and Norway's EFL education are WILDLY different. Hell, even the Philippines and Japan are more different than you might suspect.

Personally, as someone who has taught English as a Foreign Language in high school in Japan (albeit briefly, it was a one-year contract to fill in for another teacher who left the position due to COVID stuff, most of the time I'm an Elementary School teacher), I can tell you that 99% of the high schools in Japan will not have Shakespeare ANYWHERE on their curriculum. Most people in Japan will never run across Shakespeare unless they take a specialized class... probably IN UNIVERSITY.

Shakespeare is a difficult, antiquated form of English. It does not appear on any standardized testing. Why would anyone except native speakers take the time to learn it?

The LONGER answer is:

Students in English-speaking countries enter school knowing how to speak English.

I know there's a tendency to think of 6 year olds as these dum-dums who say things like 'I goed school' but anyone who has actively spent more than 10 minutes around a first grader will know that, barring developmental difficulties and learning disabilities, they actually speak using full sentences and correct grammar 99% of the time.

Schools in areas where English is already spoken natively can focus on:

spelling (oh gods English spelling is a fucking mess, I'm so sorry children I am SO sorry)

punctuation (spoken language doesn't have punctuation, so we have to teach kids to convert pauses and concepts into commas and sentence breaks)

written format (and various ways to apply it in different situations)

literature (famous books, novels, stories which are considered a good serving platter of concepts like analysis and metaphor and other tools we use to make written communication effective and interesting)

Schools in areas where English is NOT spoken must FIRST focus on:

Words (they must memorize on average 2000 to have a basic understanding down)

Pronunciation (each language has different sounds, and English has a LOT of weird sounds that many foreign speakers don't know how to produce... and it takes practice)

Basic grammar (Thing goes first. Doing-action-word goes next. Thing-that-has-action-done-to-it usually goes after that. Sometimes we have a time word that goes-- oh god how do you explain this to an 11 year old oh god)

Maybe spelling by the end of elementary school (my 5th graders only know how to write basic 3-4 letter words)

Basic reading, grammar and punctuation by the end of middle school, along with basic conversational skills

Ability to write a whole sentence, maybe a paragraph, by the time they finish middle school

High school is basically just reviewing more complex grammar because holy fuck is there a lot of it

Shakespeare? Who the FUCK has time for that?! These kids are still struggling to understand how a gerund works!

Things that native English speakers know on instinct, like the fact that this is a weird sentence:

the red big dog sits on the car

(vs the big red dog sits in the car)

...must be taught, little by little, to non-native English speakers, which takes TIME TIME TIME.

So next time you meet someone who speaks English as a second language - I need you to be kind to them. I need you to be thoughtful. And I need you to be thankful you were able to learn all these crazy ass grammar rules and spelling when you were still a young child and your brain was silly-putty in the shape of a vacuum that sucked up vocabulary.

.............fuck ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵀᴱᴰᵗᵃˡᵏ

#chekhov answers

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swaps55 · 1 year

Text

Mass Effect Vanguard Guide

First and foremost, this is exactly what it says: a guide. It is not the right way to play this class; it is a way that I have found very effective after well over a thousand hours spent running different builds and different classes in campaign and ME3 Multiplayer. If you build it differently and like your style better, great! If you are having fun, you’re doing it right.

But if you are struggling at all with the Vanguard class or don’t click with it, this guide might help you. The build, loadout, and strategy are designed with higher difficulties in mind. This kit can easily make quick work of insanity and is a lot of fun if you enjoy using your face as a weapon.

THE BUILD

Shepard has 8 skill trees + a Bonus Power. At Rank 60, you can max out 8 skills and have enough points leftover to take the 9th to level 4. For this build, I recommend only taking Cryo Ammo to rank 4 (or skipping it entirely), and maxing everything else.

Prioritize Charge, Nova, Incendiary Ammo, Assault Mastery, and probably a few points in Fitness here and there.

Breakdown under the cut!

Incendiary Ammo: Incendiary ammo might be one of the most brokenly overpowered skills in the game. The explosive evolution adds a flat damage value vs. a percentage on every other shot, which is insane. On rapid fire weapons that do less damage per shot, like the Tempest or the Typhoon, you're basically doubling the amount of damage you're doing. Add the area of effect you get with the explosion? You're now inflicting this chaos on anyone else who’s nearby. Are you using a piercing mod (the answer should be yes)? You now have a shot at another roll for another explosion, because the damage call can pass through the armored target and torment the cannon fodder behind it. A piercing mod reduces the damage on your bullet, but not the explosion. This is super insane on shotguns, because you get a shot at the extra damage roll per pellet, not per shot. Shotgun blasts have multiple pellets per shot.

Have I mentioned that this is affected by increases in power damage? So any power damage increases you take in Assault Mastery make incendiary ammo better.

Rank 4 – Damage. To hell with your squad. I mean, your squad is amazing. But trust me, you want to be selfish with incendiary ammo. You can do so much more with it than your squad can.

Rank 5 – Are you handy with headshots? Take Headshot damage. Would you rather have more ammo capacity? Take Ammo Capacity. Whatever makes you happy.

Rank 6 – Explosive Burst. Always take explosive burst. There is no universe in which you want anything other than explosive burst.

Cryo Ammo: This is your dump stat. I don’t even put my leftover points in cryo ammo, because the circumstances in which you would choose cryo ammo over incendiary ammo do not exist, if you are going for maximizing damage. Cryo ammo is really nothing more than a debuff, and you know what’s better than a debuff? Killing it. Now, if you just want to snicker at enemies with a health bar freezing solid and toppling over, that’s different. 😊 But when it comes to higher difficulties, cryo ammo just doesn’t stand up to the effectiveness of other ammo powers.

Pull: Pull doesn’t provide nearly as much benefit as your other skills, so I suggest speccing into it last. It can, however, be a fun way to toy with mooks if you’re bored of scattering them like ninepins, and offer an alternative for dealing with Guardians if emptying a shotgun full of fire into their mail slot doesn’t quite do it for you. Pull will also prime biotic explosions. It’s not elegant, but you can do it.

Rank 4: Duration vs. Radius: I go for Radius, because as a Vanguard nothing stays alive long enough for duration to matter. But if you are having trouble with timing to get biotic explosions, you can choose Duration here.

Rank 5: Lift Damage vs. Expose: Go for Expose, which increases all damage to the target, including biotic detonations. Again, things don’t stay alive long enough for lift damage to do much for you.

Rank 6: Recharge Speed vs. Double Pull. DOUBLE PULL. Why would you choose one pull when you can have two? This skill already has one of the fastest recharge speeds in the game, so choosing recharge speed doesn’t gain you anything.

Biotic Charge: Biotic charge, of course, is the signature skill of the vanguard, and while there are plenty of playstyles you can use that don’t hinge on charge…why would you? Charge is stupidly fun. You can be reckless, silly, and stupid, and no one can stop you. You’ll make so many things explode you can hear colors. There isn’t a problem your face can’t solve, unless the problem is on a platform out of bounds.

Charge is also a detonator power, which means you can set up biotic explosions by painting a target with warp, reave, dark channel, and even pull, and then slamming your face into it. Charge will also create a fire explosion when you ram your face into something that’s on fire from incinerate or….incendiary ammo. Hey, who has incendiary ammo and can make their own fire explosions? VANGUARDS.

Rank 4: Force & Damage vs. Radius. Dealer’s choice. Do you want to smash for face against one thing with all the force? Or smash your face against all the things with less force? ME3 tends to emphasize cannon fodder over high tier enemies, so if you’re a little shy about running straight into the arms of a banshee and prefer to use yourself as a bowling ball into a pile of husks, go for radius. Otherwise, go for damage.

Rank 5: Weapon Synergy vs. Power Synergy. For most playstyles, power synergy is what you want here, especially if you like to spam Nova, as power synergy makes your nova hit harder. However, if you prefer to charge into something and then stick your shotgun down its throat to set it on fire with fire bullets, take weapon synergy.

Rank 6: Bonus Power vs. Barrier: I recommend barrier here, because the number one problem vanguards have is not giving a fuck, and having charge give you your shields back when not giving a fuck lands you in a sticky situation will generally save your life. Also, the cooldowns on this kit are so fast you really don’t benefit that much from randomly getting a free one to justify giving up those shields you really need because nova.

Shockwave: Shockwave is another detonator for biotic explosions, and it’s a handy mid-range attack when you’re stuck in cover or don’t want ravager goo all over your face.

Rank 4: Force & Damage vs. Radius: Shockwave’s biggest weakness is its short reach, so I choose radius here. NOTE: In the Original Trilogy, this skill is bugged on PC. Choosing radius actually causes this skill to do ZERO damage. So if you are playing OT on PC, choose Force. This bug appeared to be fixed in LE when I tested it.

Rank 5: Detonate vs. Reach: While reach would be great, because again, range is this skill’s biggest shortcoming, detonating combos is what makes shockwave so good. I recommend detonate, unless you find yourself not using it for explosions.

Rank 6: Recharge vs. Lifting Shockwave: Either one will work here, really. Lifted shockwave is cute, and can help you set up explosions, so I tend to choose it.

Nova: The companion skill to Charge! A lot of people are afraid of Nova because it depletes your shields. But I encourage you to practice with it, because if you get comfortable with the pattern of charge + nova + shoot it on fire until it’s dead, there isn’t much of anything a vanguard can’t handle.

Yes, even banshees.

Rank 4: Force and Damage vs. Radius: You can choose either here, though I will give the lean towards force and damage. If something manages to evade the radius, stick a fire shotgun down their throat to make them think about what they’ve done.

Rank 5: Power Recharge vs. Half Blast: I recommend power recharge here, because decreasing the effectiveness of nova means it dies slower, and Power Recharge speed increases your recharge speed by 25% across the board for 15 seconds. That means CHARGE recharges faster. Which means you can lock yourself in a continuous loop of faster recharge by charging and nova-ing until everything is dead. Remember, this kit does not have a grenade power because SHEPARD is the grenade. Realize your full potential and blow everything up.

Rank 6: Pierce vs. Sustain: Don’t be tempted by Sustain, and the allure of sometimes not using up your barrier. Choose Pierce. Not only does this make you more effective vs. Armor and Barriers, but also shields, which is something biotics aren’t great at. If you feel naked without your shields, remember you have a FIRE GUN that can protect you until Charge is primed and ready to give you your shields back, and Rank 5 means that recharge is faster.

Assault Mastery: Here’s where things get stupid. Assault Mastery makes all your badass shit even more badass.

Rank 4: Damage vs. Influence & Force: I understand that the Influence bonus is really attractive here, but we’re focusing a build that services combat, not story, and Damage brings you to a 20% power bonus vs. the 10% if you choose I&F. Remember, power damage not only affects your biotic powers, but also your ammo power. Remember how stupid Incendiary Ammo is? This makes it stupider.

Rank 5: Squad Bonus vs. Weight Capacity: Be selfish. Your squad is great, but Shepard is a god, and do you know how your make gods even more badass? Let them bring heavier guns.

Rank 6: Shotgun Damage vs. Power Intensity: Even if you primarily use a shotgun and don’t rely heavily on powers, the 20% power damage bonus from Power Intensity is better, because it also applies to Incendiary Ammo. And it gives you the freedom to use other guns if you want to.

Fitness: Let’s make this short and sweet: As a vanguard, you are not punching things with your fists, you are punching things with your face, so for ranks 4, 5, & 6, go Durability, Barrier Recharge, and Durability.

Bonus Power: I recommend any biotic power that sets up combos, since setting up combos is what Vanguards are not great at. Between Reave and Dark Channel, I prefer reave, because you can paint multiple targets, it staggers the target, it stacks, and it gives you damage reduction. I do NOT recommend Flare. While it is a really cool power, it has a painfully slow recharge speed, and vanguards need to move fast.

Reave:

Rank 4: Duration vs. Radius: I choose radius, to paint more targets. It’s not gonna live long enough for duration to matter.

Rank 5: Damage Reduction vs. Recharge Speed: The recharge speed is a little painful, so if you aren’t having trouble staying alive, you can choose it. If you’re dying, damage reduction will help.

Barriers & Armor vs. Damage & Duration: You can go either way here, but I prefer Barriers & Armor, because you can fire a reave at a banshee and then ignore her while you go bowling with the cannon fodder. When all your toys are dead, you can then ram your face into the banshee so she explodes.

The Weapons

The weight capacity bonus you can get from Assault Mastery means Shepard can be this powerful and carry some REALLY good guns. I recommend weapons with a high rate of fire to take advantage of Incendiary Ammo. Shotguns are the obvious choice, but any weapon with a high rate of fire that keeps you close to or at a 200% cooldown is good.

My favorites are the Piranha and the Hurricane, the latter of which can take advantage of a power mag bonus. But since you are already giving up a valuable mod slot for the power mag, if you need a stabilizer to use it comfortably, I’d recommend going with something else. The Talon is a good choice because it is lightweight, fires quickly enough, and it has a damage bonus to shields and barriers. Basically, it’s a pocket shotgun. The Reegar is a weapon that can be REALLY dumb, since it melts shields, and it benefits from a piercing mod, but its drawback is that it is very short range on a class that already struggles at range. If you want to use it, I suggest the piercing and thermal clip mods.

Speaking of the range issue. I have two words for you: The Indra.

The Indra is an automatic sniper rifle, one of the absolute best weapons in the game, and Shepard can carry it and STILL HAVE A 200% COOLDOWN. Also? It costs 10k credits on the Citadel at the beginning of the game. Is it counterintuitive to carry a sniper rifle on a Vanguard? Yup. Is it immersion breaking? Possibly. But remember, this is a combat guide, not a story guide. Put the Indra on Shepard with Incendiary Ammo, and congrats! You are now invincible.

How to Play

Vanguard is a high risk/high reward class. It’s designed to play fast and at close range, so if you are trying to play it like an adept, you might not get good results. Get comfortable playing with your shields down (you’ll get them back with the next charge), don’t be stingy with medigel, and don’t fret too much about top tier enemies like phantoms and banshees. You might occasionally get sync killed, but truthfully, your damage output is so high you can often stagger them out of their murderous intent. Even turrets can’t stand up to this kit:

youtube

Turn on incendiary ammo the moment you load into a mission and leave it on. I suggest mapping charge, nova, and reave (if it’s your bonus power) to the hotkeys so you don’t have to use the power wheel for each, and make it a muscle memory. Charge everything. Nova with impunity. Shoot everything that isn’t dead until they’re on so much fire they wish they were. Use the power wheel to pause the game and get your bearings or figure out what’s shooting you. Use your squadmates to either strip shields or set up biotic explosions. Use and abuse combat roll to get out of trouble if charge is on cooldown. If you’re about to die, charge first, then medigel. Reload canceling is your friend. (If you are not familiar with reload canceling, I plan to make a post about it.)

A vanguard should rarely stop moving, except for the occasional stint behind cover to regroup, reload your gun, or set up an explosion. If you stop charging, you’ll probably die.

This class is a hell of a lot of fun if you let it off the chain and go hog wild. Don’t be afraid to die. Taking the risk – even if it doesn’t pay off all the time – helps you get comfortable with the batshit playstyle if it’s not something you’re used to.

I love all the Mass Effect classes, but this one is my favorite because this is how I really love to play the game. I hope this guide helps!

#mass effect #vanguard guide #mass effect build guide #vanguards: we punch with our faces

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fulgurbugs · 6 days

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share with us some of your silly headcanons :)

hehe i got two asks about headcanons so im gonna make yours an OT1 post and the other one an OT2 post….

Ok for OT1 here’s a random list of

Alfyn is genuinely a very good artist, he’s spent a lot of time practicing (at first just trying to emulate drawings of medicinal plants working on his ability to understand and identity them) but it ended up just becoming a hobby of his, and he’s pretty good at drawing from life, he can just sit somewhere and draw the scene in front of him or a pretty accurate portrait. this contrasts with his completely illegible handwriting. (tressa specifically finds this baffling as a neat handwriting haver and a…. decent-ish artist. she mostly just likes to doodle. she’s like how can you draw that good and write that bad. tressa they’re different brain areas alright. they don’t translate to each other)

ok. nonbinary tressa. is so real to me. i feel like she’s nonbinary in the way where she doesn’t care about the way she’s gendered, like whatever cis passing she just doesn’t give a fuck, but inwardly she’s like. gender i hardly know her. doesn’t give a fuck kind of thing (ME PROJECTING ALERT) but as she gets older she starts to just have a tendency towards more masculine ways of dressing, keeping her hair shorter, etc. light androgyny. it kind of isn’t at the forefront of her mind tho.

Therion has like, a select few party-trickish skills that he basically never pulls out because they’re objectively useless in a fight or his work or whatever. and you know. he hasn’t really had the opportunity (or outward desire) to like. ever pull out the fact he can juggle or “is this your card” some shit. this is part of the two wolves inside therion (the nobody look at me wolf) vs (the show-off wolf) so even he’s like i don’t even know why the hell i bothered to learn to do this kind of crap. (it’s because he’s got a theatrical streak.)

ok and also i was also thinking abt this a while back from the worst poker game post, but here’s a ranking of how good i think everyone is

1. Therion (cheats, but even when he doesn’t he’s really good)

2. Olberic (experienced player)

3. H’aanit (really good poker face)

4. Ophilia (often underestimated opponent, and she knows it and uses this to her advantage.)

5. Primrose (good but not great)

6. Cyrus (understands all the strategies, but cannot execute and often isn’t able to read his opponents as well)

7. Alfyn (he’s better at reading other people, but unfortunately is basically incapable of looking neutral himself)

8. Tressa (though she, like cyrus, understands the game and what she should be doing, she lacks the experience to be deceptive, is easy to cheat against, etc. but give her some time and eventually she’ll figure it out and rise in the ranks. she can be molded into a champion eventually and win all the money. just not yet.

Here a bonus doodle for this one

#octopath #me and my bestie r constantly making like.#random ass category then rank the travelers lists. so much fun i love doing that

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katyawriteswhump · 3 months

Text

the power of love part 7 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Chapter Seven

Eddie POV

Steve insists on being pathfinder lead for the next hour.

Eddie’s gotta admit—following Steve, as he thrashes his way through the undergrowth, is the best entertainment that banishment has provided yet. Steve’s tight-fitting pants don't do any harm. Goddammit, the perspiration patches on Steve’s shirt make Eddie sweat even harder than Steve is.

“You need the fedora hat,” calls Robin, “and you’ve totally nailed the junior Indiana Jones look.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder. “I was channelling that guy out of Romancing the Stone.”

“Michael Douglas? No way as hot.” Eddie flashes his best flirtatious grin with ever greater confidence. This afternoon, Steve has begun returning them. “Stick to Indy, man.”

By the time they reach the logging camp, however, they’re all beyond exhausted.

Eddie’s feet are raw with blisters, and Robin’s been complaining of the same for the past hour. She limps through the door of the first cabin they come to, which fortunately turns out to be a bunkhouse. She throws down her pack then throws herself onto the bottom of one of two sets of bunks. Steve collapses onto the other lower bunk and appears to fall instantly asleep.

Eddie considers crawling up onto one of the top bunks and seeing if sleep takes pity on him.

He doubts it would. The choppers were a stark reminder of the nightmare reality snapping at his heels, and he’s wired as hell. He begins to unpack their supplies. Robin, having taken a moment, sits back up.

“We should check this place out,” she whispers. “There must be a clean water supply somewhere, maybe a generator. Definitely canned food and that kinda stuff, for when the loggers come back in the autumn.”

“I guess it’ll make a change from cardboard-flavoured cereal.”

“God, I know, right! I’d literally murder for some Count Chocular right now.”

They split up to search the various cabins. Eddie hits the jackpot first, in the guise of a crate of bottled beer.

“Seriously?” says Robin, when she meets him outside the bunkhouse. Eddie sits on the beer crate he’s dragged out, taking a well-earned rest. “You’re gonna get buzzed?”

“You got it in one, sister.”

He doesn’t feel the need to justify this—I saw Chrissy butchered in front of my eyes. I’ve spent a week on the run from the cops. I BASICALLY DIED IN A WHIRLWIND OF EVIL KILLER DEMOBATS. And now I’m on the run again, with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and I’ve fallen stupid hard for him. Oh, and there’s a small but real possibility he’s been flayed. Or something else freaky along those lines.

Robin hasn’t quit scowling at him. His smile is the first overtly false one he’s bothered with for a while:

“Forgive me, Robin. I’ve reached the point where, to quote my sweet old Granny—there ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ like it for me nerves. ’Course, she favoured hard liquor.” He offers one of two bottles he’s gotten out to Robin. “Want one?”

“I’ll stick to the cardboard cereal.” Her scowl lessens, though she remains deadly serious. “Look, promise me you won’t give too much to Steve.”

“Why?”

“What kinda pea-brain question is that? Despite the super-commando act, he’s still struggling, it’s totally obvious. Getting trashed is not gonna help.”

“Yeah, but… he’s improving, right?” Her slight wince betrays that, once again, they’re thinking the same thing. Perhaps Steve’s getting stronger, because he’s getting closer again to Lover’s Lake, Hawkins, Vecna, the Hive-Mind, and yet… “You know our little worst-case scenario, Rob? I’m still not buying it.”

The wind rustles the nearby trees. In sync, Robin’s hunched shoulders soften a little. “Me neither. Hand on heart, if Steve had a link to that evil shit, any at all, I’d sense it by now. Although… Was it just me who thought it was weird when the choppers came over, and then it suddenly clouded up?”

“Yeeeeaah, that really was just you. I was too busy eating dirt and shitting myself.” Now he thinks about it, mind, it was darn convenient.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m super-paranoid that way. I literally spent my Middle School years spotting aliens everywhere.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Then I realised they weren’t aliens. It was the Fae all along.”

“You sure it wasn’t dragons?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her laugh sounds as manic as his latest crazy smile. On the other hand:

“Maybe Steve really is getting better naturally,” he ventures, “and the set-backs are because he’s been overdoing it. I mean, yeah, we keep an eye out for anything cuckoo, watch for connections, make sure he takes rests, but… Time heals, huh?”

“Not always.” She purses her lips, veering straight back into scary mode. “Steve doesn’t like people to know, but since his second major concussion, he’s not supposed to drink. Of course, he does sometimes, but—”

“Message received. I’ll just have the one—for medicinal purposes, ’kay?”

“Please yourself. Then wake Steve long enough to put our own bedding on those disgusting bunks. I don’t wanna be bitten to death by bed bugs.”

Robin stomps off toward the camp generator. Eddie is executing the important business of prying the top off his beer, when Steve appears, leaning in the cabin doorway. “Why did you both let me… Hey, is that beer?”

The top pops off with a treacherous fizz. “Uh, no?”

“You’re a useless liar.” Steve closes in. His messy, sleep-mussed hair renders him totally edible.

“You got me.” Eddie darts his tongue nervously across his lips. “This indeed is the amber nectar of the Gods. You want some?”

There’s a skewed logic behind Eddie’s offer. If he told Steve he couldn’t drink, like he was his mom or something, Steve would probably get mad. He opts to play a good cop, bad cop routine with Robin, who…

Eddie glances toward the generator.

She’s not there. If bad cop isn’t gonna show, then he needs a Plan B.

“I guess I’ll have one.” Steve stretches to take the bottle.

“Just gonna test it. Been here a while.”

Eddie takes a glug, splutters it out across dusty ground. “Oh man, it’s worse than cat-piss.” He’s only slightly exaggerating. “There’s a reason those lumberjacks left this garbage behind.”

Steve yawns into the back of his hand. “Gonna be honest. I’m not supposed to drink anyhow. Long story.” Ooookay. That went easier than predicted. “Got any water left?”

“Yeah. By my pack.” Eddie hurries into the bunkhouse, and Steve follows. It’s the last bottle, so he hopes Robin’s busy locating fresh supplies. Though that proves the least of his worries.

Half a minute later, he’s sitting on the edge of a bunk, thigh-to-thigh with Steve. They pass the bottle of water and a bottle of beer between them.

And being this close to Steve, now Steve seems so much better? Exchanging chitchat about how long they can hideout here, and if any of them have the skills to hunt a deer or something?

It sends tingles up and down Eddie’s spine.

The way Steve looks at him underlines exactly why Steve was angry last night, when Eddie “assumed” he was straight. Eddie suddenly can’t look Steve in the eye. Trouble is, he then can’t stop staring at Steve’s mouth—those shapely, slightly chapped lips, moist and glistening with water and bad beer.

Then Steve blindsides him with: “Do you honestly think you died, Eddie? Before I did the CPR?”

“I dunno, Harrington.” Eddie squirms on his butt, all kinds of defences flying up. “It was like a dream. Apart from that, it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and Dustin was there, and Robin was there, and you were there, too.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Eddie cackles out a mocking laugh. “I’m misquoting ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ dude.”

“Oh.” Eddie glances sidelong. Steve appears… oddly crestfallen. “It’s just… You know, I said when I get hurt, I feel like I come back different each time. I mean, I don't know if it's true or not, but... I never knew you before... and I know you now and... and…” Steve fluffs his hair. “Jesus, I’m blabbering.”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “You sound like you’re getting somewhere.”

Compared to the meltdown my brain is having.

“Okay, well, here it is. I like you, Eddie. I really like you.”

Eddie half wants to flee for the hills. He fixes on a beetle scuttling across the dirty floorboards. “Dude, you sure you’re not in love with Wheeler?”

“I… I… No!” Steve doesn’t sound angry, only bewildered. “Yeah, I believed that once, and maybe I was. I guess she fitted in so many dreams I’ve had of my future, and I owe her a lot. But now I’m with you, and…” Their eyes finally meet. Steve’s earnest warmth sends a brutal shockwave through Eddie. “I know this seems fickle, but…” His gentle laugh is too much. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s because Nance has never been dead. Or, near dead. You know, we’ve gotten that in common, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Eddie says, stupidly, then, “Screw it, I like you too, Stevie. I really like you.”

They fling their arms around each other, and tumble into the kiss.

For Eddie, the sensations are like no make-out session before, such is the hunger that zings between them. Eddie’s so blown away, that the brush of Steve’s lips seems to kindle an actual crackling, electric friction.. Damn, the boy can kiss!

Eddie’s gotten a semi already, fingers threading up through Steve’s hair, toying at the nape of his neck. Steve does amazing twisty things with his tongue. Gnng! You wanna kill me again, Baby? Even the scrape of Steve’s shallow stubble totally unhinges him.

They work the kiss with their whole bodies, striving to get beyond close, as if they could slide beneath each other’s skin. Eddie can’t help wondering—can they get each other off, before Robin gets back?

Then something changes.

He senses Steve gasp, then moan into Eddie's mouth with something other than dumb teen passion. His arms, clinging around Eddie, falter and slip away.

“Stevie?”

Too late. Steve crumples against Eddie, totally senseless.

“Steve?” squeaks Eddie, struggling to stop Steve slipping to the floorboards. “Robin! ROBIN!”

Part 8

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #stobin #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson lives #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington hc

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utilitycaster · 5 days

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Hello! Could you expand on what you meant by your tags on the dorian and orym post you recently shared about people eliding their past (just out of curiosity!)

Orym's been friends with Dorian longer than anyone in Bells Hells other than, obviously, Fearne; he, Fearne, and Dorian met in late 842 and the start of Campaign 3 puts them six months into 843. Even with Dorian having left, he's spent more time with him than with anyone but Fearne, since Bells Hells have been together for almost exactly three months. Not only that, rather than it being pure backstory (eg, how Caleb and Veth had been traveling together for 6 months before the start of C2, or how Imogen and Laudna had been traveling together for 2 years before the start of C3) we've even seen a decent amount of that through EXU Prime. So acting confused as to why Orym might wish to talk to a longer-standing friend who he's been thinking about regularly in their time apart because "Bells Hells are right there!" feels like people are, again, disingenuously ignoring that history.

Basically. There's a bunch of entirely normal and even, I might argue, healthy reasons why Orym might really want to talk with Dorian specifically, and trying to erase those...look, I don't know if people want to discredit Orym, if they don't like Dorian, or if they don't like the ship or if there's something else at play, but it feels like either they're being stupid by accident or being stupid on purpose.

#cr tag

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