#and I’m trying to remember something in therapy but even if it’s what I think it is then what does that mean?????

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

#autism acceptance day #actually autistic

[abbyromanoff]

Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

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[riality-check]

Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #corroded coffin #hoh steve harrington #jewish eddie munson #(he snuck his way in here) #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #st #steanger things #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #gi;pe au

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

#they should argue more actually it’s so funny #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #will/nico #nico/will #banter #valentine’s day #fluff #fic #my writing #longpost #not established relationship but it might as well be

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Never Love Another

It was no secret that when Jason came back he came back wrong. The violence and pit rage were the most obvious ones of course, but now that it had faded other little things had started to surface. He had noticed this deep loneliness and homesickness for something he couldn’t remember or name. He didn’t know what to do about it besides, well maybe try to find someone who could sooth the loneliness. But it wasn’t working, if it wasn’t for how bad he wanted a romantic connection he would have thought he was aromatic now because he never, Never felt a spark at all, with anyone.

He actually talked to Dick about it, and let him talk Jason into therapy, but that didn’t help, and when Tim found out about it the paranoid little shit started doing tests. And that was how fucking Bruce found out, and he was even more paranoid so they would not believe it was a coincidence or anything and more tests were done. No answers were found until Batman called in a favour from JLD, Jason tried to insist it wasn’t worth it but Batman said his happiness was the most important thing, which made Jason shut up and make a face like he’d bitten into a lemon.

Now he was just trying to avoid admitting that they were right. “What the fuck do you mean cursed?!” Jason demanded from Constantine who shrugged and lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last one.

“I don’t know mate,” He said with a shrug, taking a drag. “While you were dead you must have pissed off some pretty powerful bastard because it’s Not a petty curse either, not the sort of thing I or Zatanna can break. Looks like it’s to ‘never love again’ or something like that, I don’t know it’s not exactly written in words.” He explained and Jason dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

Of course, why wouldn’t this happened? Honestly though as the literature nerd he was he had to think whoever had cursed him must have been of a similar temperament, given how melodramatic is was.  He wished he could remember what the fuck he had done to get cursed like this?

“So how would we break the curse?” Batman asked, ever solution oriented.

“Don’t know Bats,” Constantine admitted with a one shoulder shrug. “I think you’d have to find whoever cursed him and convince them to lift it. They’re a seriously powerful denizen of the Infinite Realms so we could try a summoning but there’s no guarantee that is would work, and if not you’d have to go to them which would be veeery risky. I’m not sure it’d be worth it honestly, I mean it’s a bit of a blessing isn’t it? Not like our lifestyles really lend to romance,” He snickered and everyone ignored him.

���How long will it take to arrange a summoning,” Nightwing demanded with a frown, why he had to be here too Jason didn’t know but… he was privately a little grateful that he was.

“Mmm A couple of weeks, we have most of the stuff required and the unique ingredients aren’t that hard to find,” the magician hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll remind you, there’s no guarantee that it’s going to work,” he reminded and even though Jason hadn’t looked up he could practically sense the twin scowls Dick and Bruce were shooting John.

“We’re going to try it,” Batman growled and Constantine hummed.

“Sure, whatever you say, I’ll start setting it up.”

------

Those two weeks were plenty of time to panic about who it might be, what Jason might have done to cause this, and what the being might do if they answered the summons. They had a lot of preparations to do, but when Jason tried to say they shouldn’t do this Bruce and the others insisted that they needed to know ho had it out for Jason if just in case they decided to cause more problems. There was discussion about if Jason should be present, but he really wanted to be if this was happening, he wanted to see the monster that had cursed him.

Constantine and Zatanna were both there the day of, as well as Batman and Nightwing, and superman, just in case things went horribly wrong. The spell was… stressful for Red Hood, the portal it opened made him feel like he was staring into the Lazarus pits again, even if it was missing the feeling of rage.

It felt like they were all holding their breath for a few long minutes waiting to see if the summon would be answered. Jason was just starting to think that no one was going to answer when a white booted foot stepped through, followed quickly by the rest of the body.

Jason blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the being that had answered the summons, not because they were some incomprehensible monster, but for the opposite reason, because they looked so human. Not normal, their ashen skin, pointed ears, and white hair that disregarded gravity, made sure of that, but he looked human other then that. A head or so shorter then Jason, lean and agile looking with unusually wide hips and soft curves for a man. His ears were pierced three times, two having studs like planets and a set of dangly ones shaped like a sun and a moon which glinted in the light of the glowing crown on his head. It looked like ice that had trapped the northern lights within them, it was beautiful, it took his breath away.

He had a vague feeling that the others present were talking, but Jason and, it seemed, the spirit, were not hearing them. Jason couldn’t tear his gaze away from the creatures Lazarus green eyes, why did he feel so familiar.

“Jay,” The being breathes, a bright smile spreading across his face, revealing little fangs that shouldn’t have been so adorable. “How did you, you shouldn’t have called me, I don’t… You don’t remember me do you? You shouldn’t,” He breathed, the smile dropping as the initial joy at seeing Jason overtaken by worry.

“We want to know why you cursed my son!” Batman shouted, suddenly cutting through the odd, tunnel version they’d both been trapped in and sending them both reeling. Jason had been leaning forward and ended up stumbling.

“Oh,” The creature sounded, his brows furrowing as Jason finally looked around and noticed how Constantine was cowering.

“Batman! Don’t yell at the fucking king of the Infinite Realms!” Constantine practically squeaked. The king?! How had Jason pissed off the king?! “We’re so sorry for disturbing you your Majesty, please don’t destroy us,” the wizard said, sounding like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

The being still in the circle cackled and crossed his legs under him, sitting on air at the odd cape that looked like it was made of the night sky billowed behind him. “Don’t worry I’m not planning on it, honestly, I am happy to see you again Jaybird,” He said with a soft smile, his gaze going back to Jason like he wanted to drink him in. “You’ve grown so much pretty-bird, are you happy? Do you like being alive again?” He asked worriedly. “You’re always welcome back-“

Nightwing read that as a threat that this supposed King was going to kill Jason again and yanked him back, standing between Jason and the stranger, even though he was shorter and slimmer then Red Hood. “He’s not going anywhere! Why did you curse him?” Nightwing demanded again.

“It wasn’t a curse, it was a price,” Phantom said with a frown. “I would let him go, but not to love another.”

“Love, another?” Jason asked this time, his voice harsh and soft. God how his heart ached, why couldn’t he remember something that made him feel so much longing and pain?

“Another,” Danny said, his voice softening again. “While you were in my realm we were… Close, very close. But you couldn’t let go of life, you weren’t ready to give yourself to me, not fully,” Danny bit his lip for a moment. “It hurt, but I only wanted what was best for you Jay, so if you had unfinished business… well, I let you leave. I did! I let you go, but-but maybe I was selfish, I was going to be waiting decades for you and-and I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting that long only for you to have fallen in love again with someone in life and, even after dying and remembering me, choosing to stay with them! So that was the deal, you get to live again, but only if you don’t love again, and you come back to me when you’re done. You agreed.”

There was a long silence as everyone processed what the king had said, it was Constantine who reacted first, rounding on Jason. “You dated the King of the Infinite Realms!?” He demanded, flabbergasted.

“Ugh, just call me Danny, I’m the king sure but I don’t care much for the title,” The bring in front of them corrected with a grimace.

“Danny,” Nightwing said, holding out his hand in a sort of placating gesture. “Can you… change the price?” He asked uncertainly.

“NO!” Danny said instantly, his voice echoing in a way that made those present flinch. “No, the deal still stands. I let him leave my kingdom, but I won’t completely give him up. I can’t, I can’t,” Danny said and Jason could swear he saw Danny’s eyes glimmer with tears.

“It’s alright,” Jason said, softly as he could, Danny’s pain called to him in a way he couldn’t explain. “It’s just, I’ve been lonely, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something since I came back. I thought it was love, but now I think, I think it’s you. I’ve been homesick, for You,” He said, stepping closer again and holding out his hand. John yelped when Jason broke the circle, but he was being ignored.

Danny’s eyes widened in shock, then welled over with tears as he reached out and took Jason’s hand, his feet landing back on the ground as he stepped closer. “I’ve missed you too Jaybird, I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe,” He practically whispered. As he stepped over the line a white ring ran up and over his body, leaving a- well, for all appearances a human man with similar features and inverted colours, maybe a little younger then Jason. “I’m sorry you’ve been lonely, but I wanted to let you live your life. If you want, I could visit more? I would be happy to put in the work to, start over, let you get to know me in this life?” He laced their fingers together, taking Jason’s other hand as well, standing chest to chest and looking up at him through dark lashes, framing beautiful clear blue eyes.

“I would love that,” Jason breathed. Startled by a sound of disbelief behind him, he’d forgotten Nightwing was there and he glanced back. “What? It solves the problem of me being unable to love, it turns out I was just trying to love the wrong people.

#dead on main #danny phantom #Jason/Danny #jason todd #batman #dc x dp #nightwing #fanfiction #john constantine #Jason and Danny fell in love while he was dead #Danny made a compromise #ghost king Danny #this isn't edited #I'll edit it and post it on AO3 later

[cutielando]

Hello, I saw that your requests are open so could you please write something about Charles taking care of his girlfriend after getting a knee surgery, I got surgery not too long ago (nothing serious) from playing football and I just feel like he would be such a caring boyfriend.

a/n: thank you so much for sending this in!❤️

Summary: Charles taking care of Y/N after a knee surgery. (grant the request🌸)

Words: 1.2k+

Other works: my masterlist

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Ever since you could remember, you have always been the adventurous type.

You would rather go exploring than stay in, the thrill of a potential adventure overpowering the need for a relaxing day in with the one you loved.

Which fitted perfectly with Charles’ need for adventuring and going on as many trips around the world as he could.

But there was a slight problem with that. With the adventurous thrill also came the danger.

And you were very prone to injuring yourself. Just like you had done on the last skiing trip you had gone on with Charles, right before the F1 season started up.

Adventuring a little too much on a not so safe skiing slope resulted in your falling and injuring your knee. An injured knee which required surgery.

You had been devastated when you found out you would need surgery. Not only would the recovery be horrendous and strenuous on your body, but it also meant that Charles would go out of his way to take care of you, neglecting his training in order to make sure you were okay.

That was the biggest problem in your eyes. Not the injury itself, not the surgery that you would need to have, but the fact that Charles would move the mountains in order to take care of you.

Which is exactly what happened. 

You had your surgery two weeks after your knee was injured, a mere couple of weeks before the season picked up again. Charles was proving to be a great caretaker, dotting on you and being the sweetest person ever.

He would bring you food, medicine and anything else you would need in bed, he would help you to the bathroom by supporting you. He got in touch with the best physiotherapist that he knew and immediately started your road to recovery.

He would take you to every single therapy session, every doctor’s appointment that followed your surgery to track your progress and your recovery.

He helped you exercise at home, urging you to push yourself in order to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

He would hold you every time you would break down because it would all get too much. The pain, the recovery, the pressure of getting better, the stress on your body. He would hold you through it all, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that would instantly calm you down.

You didn’t like feeling this helpless, like you couldn’t do anything on your own and practically lived at Charles’ pity.

You hated it.

And Charles had begun suspecting as much. He had noticed how closed off you had become over time, but he didn’t want to say anything that might make you feel even worse than you already did.

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” he asked one evening after you had got back from a particularly strenuous physical therapy session.

You smiled at him, shaking your head as you rested on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, I’m okay. Just a little tired” you lied smoothly, but it was not enough to convince him.

“Please don’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you ever since your surgery, don’t think I haven’t noticed” he said, sitting down beside you.

You sighed, biting your lip. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, everything that you had been bottling up threatening to boil over.

“I hate how dependent I have become on you” your voice was small, too worried that you could hurt his feelings.

Charles frowned, the wheels in his head turning to understand what you were really trying to say.

“Am I bothering you? Is that it?” he asked, his face sad and broken like a puppy dog’s.

You immediately shook your head, wanting to get up from the bed and comfort him but it would take you way too much time.

“No, don’t ever think that. It’s me that’s bothering you” you said, your frustrations slowly making their way towards the surface.

If Charles had been confused up to that point, he was even more confused now. How could you ever bother him?

“What do you mean? You’re not bothering me, what are you talking about?” he made his way towards you and took a seat next to you on the bed.

You sighed, tears slowly welling up in your eyes as you rested your head in your hands.

“It’s just this stupid surgery. I can’t even get up to go to the bathroom without needing your help. It’s pathetic, I can’t do anything on my own anymore” you cried silently, hiding your face in your hands.

Charles’ shoulders suddenly slumped into realization, his heart heavy. He didn’t say anything, instead he brought you into his arms and pushed your head into the crook of his neck, wary of twisting you too much because of your knee.

You let out strained and tired sobs, clinging onto Charles like your life depended on it. You had missed him, even though he’s been with you the entire time up until then. You had missed his touch, missed him holding you just because you both needed it. Both of you have been so preoccupied with your recovery, with taking your meds, going to physical therapy with Andrea and managing the pain that you forgot to be just Y/N and Charles, a couple.

You stayed in his arms for a while, just needing to let it all out. He understood that, holding you against him without saying anything, just planting kisses on your forehead from time to time.

Once you calmed down, you slowly pulled away from Charles, who wiped away your tears and gave you a small smile.

“Mon amour, I’m only going to say this once. You will never, ever in this life be a bother to me. I don’t care if I have to take care of you every single day for the rest of our lives, I would drop everything in a heartbeat to be with you. Don’t ever doubt how much I love you and the lengths I would go to just to see you happy and taken care of” Charles’ speech did nothing to stop your sobs, in fact they got even worse.

Charles knew it was the pain and frustration talking from you, and that you didn’t actually mean anything you had said to him. However, he didn’t mind one bit reassuring you and telling you anything that you might need in order to feel better.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled out once you started to calm down a little. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I get it, I would probably be the same if I were in your place. Just don’t ever doubt how much I love you and how much I enjoy feeling needed when you need me to take care of you” he joked a little at the end, bringing a smile to your face.

“I love you so much” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his lips down to yours.

Between salty kisses and whispered nothings, you realized that even through the rough patches, Charles would always be there to get you through everything.

Your caretaker for life.

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[thebirdandthebee]

Back to Sleep (18+)

A little something to try to get back into writing - let me know what you think! 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Back to Sleep Ain't sorry that I woke ya. WC: 1839

“Baby, you almost done?” Jake asked from the kitchen, where he’s just finished loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. “Come on, let’s be couch potatoes,” he insists.

It’s tempting, it really is, but you’ve got so much work to get done to stay ahead of schedule. Perched at the dining room table, your hair was tossed up in a ponytail as you focused on the laptop ahead. Yes, you were first in your class in your occupational therapy program, but final exams were coming and you were gunning for the number-one spot.

“You go ahead and I’ll meet you,” you said, tipping your head back for your fiancé to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’ve been studying like a maniac for weeks,” Jake pointed out, one hand gripping the back of your chair and the other braced on the corner of the dining table, “one night isn’t going to break your streak – exam isn’t for a few weeks, still.”

“I know, I promise, give me thirty minutes,” you insisted, looking up at him through your blue light glasses that you knew he loved.

“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, kissing you again.

But thirty minutes came and went, and you were still staring intently at your computer. Admittedly, Jake got swept up in Thursday Night Football, and at halftime, he shook out of it.

“Excuse me,” he called from over the back of the couch, “Where is my fiancé?” He asked. You peeled your eyes off of your study cards, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Twenty more minutes!” You called back, tucking your hair behind your ear. But as twenty minutes passed once again, you found Jake dragging your chair back from the table. “Jake, please, I’m on a roll,” you whined. You barely had time to grab up your notecards before Jake lifted you from the chair to bring you over to the sofa.

“You can study from the couch if you must,” he said, only somewhat dramatically.

And that’s how the evening progressed, with you flipping through notes and Jake’s arm firmly around your shoulder as the clock ticked later and later. Soon, you were yawning and focusing more on the back of your eyelids than your flashcards.

“Jake,” you murmured, eyes still shut. “I gotta sleep,” you said, reaching over and patting him on the stomach twice. 

“I’m going to finish the game, be up in a second,” he assured. You dropped another sweet kiss on his lips before making your way upstairs, flashcards in hand. After changing into a pair of Jake’s boxer briefs and a big t-shirt, you crawled into bed, still flipping through your notes.

Jake was surprised to see you still awake when he came up to bed about forty-five minutes later. Leaving the bathroom door open, he quickly showered and brushed his teeth

“Baby, time for bed,” he gently plucked the cards out of your fingers, tossing them onto his nightstand. You groaned quietly but snuggled up to his side instead. You’d been hitting the books hard and it was finally catching up to you. Jake’s warm, vetiver skin lulled you quickly to sleep.

However, much later, during the wee hours of the night, Jake awoke to find your side of the bed empty. His eyes strained in the dark night and if he listened carefully, he could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jake muttered, wiping at his eyes as he rolled out of bed, lazily pulling his sweatpants up his hips to pull the drawstring tight. He padded down the stairs to see you yet again perched at the dining room table, the chandelier above dimmed to the lowest setting. “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes still adjusting to the light, “it’s almost three in the morning.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see your fiancé frowning at you in the soft light.

“I know, but I had a dream that I showed up for exam day and couldn’t remember the steps to the malleability scale and I woke up panicking,” you listed off. “I just thought if I could re-arrange some of these class notes into a more visual aid, it would help me remember,” you gestured to the computer, a giant yawn overtaking your face.

“Babe, it’s time for bed,” Jake said, stepping closer. You protectively splayed your hands across your notebook on the table.

“I’m not done,” you said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Jake reached over closing your laptop.

“You’re done. Bed, now,” he ordered, which gave you a little shiver, but you complied nonetheless – dragging your feet down the hall. Luckily for you, you could turn the brightness down on your phone and run through the study guide your leading MD sent out.

After tucking into bed yet again, Jake rolled over, invading your space.

“Phone,” he said, holding out his empty palm.

“Jake,” you began to protest. He tipped his chin up in a challenge. “I need it for my alarm,” you weakly argued.

“We have an alarm clock and I’ll make sure you’re up,” he reassured as you reluctantly placed your phone in his hand. Jake rolled over, his back to you as he set your phone on the side table before snuggling down into the mattress.

“M’not even tired,” you lied with a petulant tone. Jake rolled his eyes, not that you could see it. You spent the next minute being dramatic, sighing heavily and flipping all around to find a comfortable position.

“Baby, go to sleep,” Jake grumbled. You glared at his back for a moment before flopping on your back, arms crossed over your chest, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you could remember what the study guide looked like from memory.

A few beats passed.

“I swear to god just you being awake like this is keeping me up,” Jake said with finality, rolling over to face you, a stern expression on his face.

“You could have kept sleeping if you just left me alone at the table,” you pointed out.

“You have to sleep or that pretty little brain aint’ gonna remember shit,” he countered, nearly taunting. With a huff, you turned to face away from him, lying on your hip with one knee bent up.

“M’not even tired,” you mumbled again. Ten seconds later, you jumped when you felt Jake’s full body pressing into you from behind.

“You’re not even tired, huh?” Jake asked, knowing damn well you were just being a brat.

“No,” you grumbled, trying to keep in a squeal as his stubble scraped against your neck.

“You want me to put you to sleep?” He breathed into your ear, big hand landing on your upper thigh, just below where his boxer briefs had ridden up your leg with all your tossing and turning.

“You can’t,” you replied, still feeling put off by Jake confiscating your flashcards.

“Sure I can,” he said, hips shifting so you could feel his soft erection against you.

“Bet I can get you to sleep in twenty minutes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“Not even tired,” you tried not to gasp as his fingertips slipped below the stretchy band of your borrowed shorts.

“How can you be tired when you’re this wet?” He asked, swiping his fingers through your sex, making you huff.

“You know I like those boxers on you,” you muttered, embarrassed, but at least you were honest. “You’re on the clock, Hangman,” you reminded. Jake gladly cradled your clit between his two fingers, rolling them up and down against your skin. The way you almost avoided his touch by pressing your hips down into the mattress made him grin. Sometimes it was almost too easy. You frowned softly into your pillow as you felt Jake’s hand retreat from your body, but squealed as he quickly dragged the waistband of his boxers all the way down to your ankles.

Jake softly huffed as he pressed his blunt tip against your sex, jaw clenching at the resistance as he sunk in further and further. Turning him further beneath you, your front was pressed down into the mattress.

“How’s that, hmm?” He murmured in your ear. “Gonna listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep, smart girl?” You simply whined gently at the feeling as he filled you. “You hear me?” He asked, knowing he was being haughty.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pushing your hips back against him. Jake reached underneath you, palming your breast in his hand as he continued to fuck you gently down into the mattress. “Jake,” you huffed softly.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed patronizingly. “Put you right back to sleep tonight,” he snapped his hips, making you jump. His hand traveled down your stomach, the other braced against the bed so he didn’t squish you entirely, to find your clit again, and gently circling it.

You could feel it start to tickle at the soles of your feet – a telltale sign of impending orgasm.

“More,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently both from pleasure and pure exhaustion.

“More?” Jake asked, pulling his hand out from between your body and the mattress, dipping his fingers in his mouth as his hips continued their steady thrusts. Zeroing in on your clit once more, he knew you were getting close – after this long together, he could read you like a book. He didn’t mind, he was close as well. “Going to fill you right up with a sleeping pill,” he didn’t care that he sounded corny, he was putting his money where his mouth was. One more strategic roll of his fingers and you were fluttering around Jake’s cock, toes curled tight at the end of the bed.

“There we go,” Jake grunted, meeting his own orgasm as he pumped into you dutifully. “That’s a good girl,” he exhaled.

You hated it when Jake was right, because now, your eyelids felt like they were being weight down with bags of cement. Whining once more as he withdrew, you jumped when he tapped the head of his spent cock against your clit.

“Wait right here, precious,” he said, pressing a kiss to the round of your hip.

As if you were going anywhere now. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you knew an alarm was set for the morning, because now you simply couldn’t be bothered to lift your head from the pillow.

“Warmed it up for you, baby,” Jake murmured as a warning before a wet washcloth swiped through your folds. “I know, I know,” he hushed. Jake wiped himself down before padding across the room to drop the towel in the laundry hamper.

Crawling back onto the mattress, he threw a blanket over the two of you, double checking his alarm once more before tossing an arm over your waist. Your lashes laid across your cheekbones in pure serenity as you entered deep sleep.

“Thought you weren’t tired, huh?”

#jake seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fluff #hangman smut #hangman fic #hangman x reader

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: Orientation play/conversion. Remember that your sexuality is valid, and conversion is NOT a thing beyond fantasy. Also, fuck "conversion therapy"

“All I’m saying is…”

“Look, you’re speaking out of your ass”, Ava said, barely containing her frustration.

“How am I speaking out of my ass? It has been done and thoroughly…”, he tried to reply.

“Yes, yes, Pavlov, blah blah blah. But you’re talking about something else entirely, not conditioning reactions”

“Not Pavlov, Skinner! Actions can be conditioned too. Look around you! Mobile games, casinos, even the goddamn army uses conditioning to…”

“Can we agree that there’s a difference between conditioning obedience in a controlled setting and whatever the fuck it is you’re suggesting? You’re not talking about tapping on impulse to buy funbucks in a game! You are talking…”

“It’s only a difference of degree, not of kind. With the right combination of techniques…”

“No, there’s a core there that you can’t just… overwrite. Some things can’t be changed. Like… like how you can’t hypnotize someone into doing something they would never do”

“You know that’s bullshit, right? The whole hypnosis thing. You absolutely can make someone do whatever the fuck you want. It’s just a matter of how you approach it. Like, you would never harm a person, okay? But if I change what your idea of ‘person’ is, say, by making it more narrow you would absolutely harm someone I made you see as a not-person. Or maybe you can be made to believe you’re helping them, not harming them”

“That’s some creepy cult shit, dude. And anyway you can’t write a paper on this because a) there’s no evidence and b) doing the research to get evidence would be absolutely immoral. So I say look for another topic and for the love of God don’t go around spewing that bullshit if you want to ever get laid. Oh, speaking of! Linda will be arriving shortly and we have a date night, so please, please try to be a normal roommate and not freak her out. For me, okay?”

“When have I ever freaked her out? Linda loves me! And who knows, maybe she has an opinion on our little debate”

“Dude, she’s an Art student. I doubt she’ll be interested in our weird Psych dissertations”

“Perfect! Fresh eyes!”

“See, that’s the kind of weird shit I-”

The buzzer cut through the air, and a moment later Linda was inside the apartment, all smiles as usual. He took a moment to watch them as they embraced. 

They were almost comical in their contrast. Linda was tall, taller than he was, willowy and slender, her limbs graceful and shapely, her hair a long, flowing river of playful copper that almost seemed to dance on its own volition– with her green sundress she appeared to him as some sort of elven princess ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel and stuck into a mortal world in which she didn’t really fit. Ava, on the other hand, was probably the shortest adult he had ever seen. He might be tempted to call her petite, but that had a connotation of a lithe frame, almost like a tastefully proportioned doll. Ava was the complete opposite of that. Sometimes he felt Ava was an experiment aimed at testing how much of a person’s weight could be tits and ass, held up by strong, thick thighs. He felt quite guilty about such thoughts, and he understood why she wore nothing but oversized t-shirts and hoodies. It was logical: an early, spectacular growth spurt, heightened by her small size, had made her the target of relentless bullying by jealous classmates and awkward come-ons by hormonal teen males. It enraged him, he realized. Ava was beautiful and the cruelty of idiots had made her feel pain about it instead of pride. He made a point to never stare at her, even if he sometimes failed. It made their relationship as roommates a tad hard, he had to admit. 

 

Not that he had a shadow of a shot, of course. Ava had no interest in men.

Unless, of course, he was right in his theory. And he had good reason to think he was.

“So, Linda: Ava and I were having a bit of a debate…”

“Don’t start, dude”, said Ava.

“Oh, a debate! Do tell!” chirped Linda.

“Do you think we can be completely conditioned and changed, or is there some part of us that cannot be modified, no matter what?”

“Huh. Hard one. Like… a soul? I don’t know I buy it. I feel there isn’t really a self, you know? Like… Buddhism. The self is an illusion and all that”

“Come on, you can’t be serious! You can’t change who someone fundamentally is, and it’s sick to even consider it!”, said Ava.

“Well… what if I could prove to you it can be done?”, he stated, barely able to hold back. He know what he was going to do. He had been reluctant, but now it felt like a certainty.

“You can’t, so stop being an ass”, said Ava.

Fine. Game on.

“Linda, I love your socks! Pride socks!”

“Yup!”, said Linda

“What the hell–”, mumbled Ava.

He took a deep breath.

“Linda: rainbow socks…”

She replied in an instant.

“Are for sucking cocks!”

Ava felt as if reality had shifted into some horrible, twisted nightmare. She was about to scream something, anything really, to make Linda take that back before something stopped her in her tracks. Her body heard it before her mind did: her roommate's voice simply commanding her. Watch. 

And she watched. She watched as the love of her life smiled and went on her knees. Ava could do nothing but watch in disbelief and pain. Linda had never been with a man. Ever. 

“I might have… started testing my theories. On you both. Not that you’d remember, obviously”, he stated casually as the beautiful girl in front of him lovingly undid his pants. “I’d say Linda’s sexuality is part of her core self, wouldn’t you? Let’s see how that holds up after the months of conditioning I’ve subjected her to”

He felt guilty, sure; but there was such a high to it, such an entrancing quality to the combination of seeing instant, complete obedience and the final, definitive proof of the truth he had known to be right all along. Was it wrong? Yes. Did he care? Not at the moment. Ava’s eyes were a poem to him. Suddenly he was ripped from his reverie by the soft, loving touch of Linda’s tongue on his dick. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten hard just from the sense of complete power, of total, undeniable conquest. This was a primal, ancient arousal. Ava could do nothing but watch, and he took that sight in. God, he could almost taste it.

Linda moaned. The cock was so beautiful. So perfect. She felt so… silly, like she was now, for the first time, seeing in color and realizing the sky was, in fact, blue. It was obvious. Simple. Natural. Cock deserved worship. Cock deserved devotion. Cock demanded obedience. It was as if it was growing in her mind, taking over more and more of her, pushing who she had been out effortlessly. It expanded. It corrupted. It twisted and shifted all within. Cock. Cock. Cock. She kissed it with reverence, in awe of it. It was all that existed to her. All that mattered. She needed to please it. Needed to feel it throbbing inside her. Needed to be taken by it.

Ava saw her girlfriend slide a hand between her legs and felt nauseous. As much as she knew this wasn’t Linda’s fault, she could feel her heart breaking, her anger rising… and worse, her pussy getting wet. Her body betraying her. She hated him, and she hated Linda, and she hated herself most of all.

Suddenly, Linda couldn’t contain herself. She relaxed her throat, looked up at her Master and took his entire manhood inside her mouth. She almost came instantly. It was peaceful and sexy and just simple, like his cock was the puzzle piece that fit her perfectly, completed her, made her whole. She existed to be conquered, and realizing she was putting his pleasure over her ability to breathe was the final sign of her complete, loving surrender. She let it out, watched it glisten with her spit, and started licking it and loving it and she didn’t know how much came from her own need and how much it was a silent command by the man who had shown her the light. Her mind was too fuzzy to make such distinctions anymore.

He took a deep breath, fighting back the first signs of an orgasm. He needed to make a point.

“Linda… do you love Ava?”

The blonde stopped for a moment, shocked by a myriad of contradictions.

“Yes”, she decided. Her voice was shaking.

“Tell her”

Linda looked at Ava, the woman she had loved above all others.

“I love you…”

“But you have more to say, don’t you?”

“I… hmph… I…”

“Tell her”

“I love you… but… but… I love his cock so much more! Fuck! I need it! I need to feel it, to suck it, to be fucked by it… I’m sorry… but… I love it, I love it, I love it! I want it to fuck my throat, to take my cunt, to ram my ass! I need it! I need to be a slave to it, a whore for it, a fucking living toy!”

“What if you had to choose between Ava and my cock?”

“Fuck her! Sorry, my love… I do love you, but… You can never do to me what… what Master does to me, what his cock makes me feel! I hope I won’t have to dump you but… I would leave you for this cock in a minute! I’d do anything. Anything. Anything!” If she had more to add, her need to serve cock snuffed it. She took it all in with desperation, with total, shameless abandon. She needed to feel... used. In her proper place.

Ava felt a tear roll down her cheek. Her knees buckled in defeat. She didn’t even care. It was all gone. Her life, her love, all gone. And she could feel her eyes drawn again and again to the cock that had destroyed her. She felt her mouth watering.

“Linda, would you say you’re a lesbian?”

“Fuck no!”, she said before immediately wrapping her lips around the cock’s head.  

He felt a swell of pride. Of triumph. He knew Ava sensed the truth as well. He was right. He had proven his point. And now Ava’s full conditioning would take hold. A little bet with himself, making her own mental acknowledgment of his theory her final trigger. She took off her t-shirt. She would never wear it again. No more shame, no more pain about her figure. Only arousal and pride. His gift to her.

She crawled to him on all fours. The girls kissed– but now, they kissed for him, to arouse him. They were lovers, only they both knew there was a higher love. A truer love. Ava looked up at her owner and opened her mouth, greedily awaiting his blessing. Linda used her skillful hands, aiming his cock and teasing it, jacking it off, using just the right amount of pressure and speed. 

No man could resist such a sight.

In a few seconds, Ava was covered in his cum, more beautiful than she had ever been. Linda certainly felt that way, and she licked and kissed her sister slut clean.

He watched carefully, looking for signs of defiance, and finding none. In fact, Linda put his fears to rest with a simple statement.

“Ava, we need to buy you a pair of rainbow socks”

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[mvltisstuff]

Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.

lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙

love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹

are you with me - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality

it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.

over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.

she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.

all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.

buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.

most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.

she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.

“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.

“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.

“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”

“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.

“hang in there, y/n/n,” she says softly. “we’ve got you.”

despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.

“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.

“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.

“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.

y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.

y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.

“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”

“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.

“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”

“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“

“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”

“promise?”

“i promise.”

the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.

weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.

y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.

buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.

at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.

“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?”

her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”

“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”

“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.

“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”

her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”

y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.

y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #athena grant #henrietta wilson #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x reader #maddie buckley #911 chimney #chimney 911 #chimney han #may grant #evan buckley angst #evan buck buckely #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley one shot #evan buckley fic

[champi8n]

die for you | ethan landry

ethan landry x fem reader

warnings: slightly suggestive

sypnosis: ethan isn’t sure wether his feelings for you are unrequited until he finally opens his eyes

ethan had been watching you for a while and he believes developing feelings for you has been one of the worst things to ever happen to him

you and ethan met at a frat party through chad, he thought it would be a good idea to introduce you two to each other since according to chad you both fit perfectly in his definition of “geeks”

geeks are often associated to be losers like him but ethan knew from the moment he laid his eyes on you that you were no geek, he knew from the way you spoke to him so confidently and how you’re body language radiated control

he knew from how he had seen you dancing earlier and from how he wasn’t able to take his eyes off you, well it wasn’t just him but what in his eyes is everybody

you were charming and you had him wrapped around your finger from that first conversation, ethan remembers the sound of your laughter as he told you a dumb star wars joke and how your eyes seemed to sparkle from the low lights in the room

you stayed with him in a corner of the party all night and ethan is sure you only did that because you felt bad as you realised he was left alone, yet he wasn’t complaining because from that day on you guys became good friends

you and ethan had a free period at the same time so when you saw him waiting by a cafe near campus you approached him straight away without a single drop of shyness

was he shocked? yes, he wasn’t used to being approached in such a warm manner by people he’s only talked to once, he was more used to people pretending he doesn’t exist after they’ve had conversations with him yet he wasn’t complaining about that change in his routine

you guys talked about anything and soon you became someone very special in his heart, he knew he felt attraction towards you from when he first met you but he didn’t expect attraction to turn into real feelings

“what if you just tell her you have a friend that looks just likes you that thinks she’s fine?” chad spoke

ethan had been laying on the floor of their room staring at the roof for around an hour while having a small therapy session with chad

he wasn’t really sure how chad could help him get over his feelings for you but he definitely knew more than himself, he was inexperienced, clumsy, and he’s gotten rejected by all of his crushes with them saying “ew” at him

“she’s obviously gonna know i’m talking about myself, chad” ethan sighed, turning his head to the left to make eye contact with chad “you know she once told me about how she hates being hit on, what if she starts hating me?”

“that’s not gonna happen because she obviously has the feels for you” ethan frowned, almost sure that chad was probably delusional

“i don’t know what world you’re living in, but i’m quite sure she will never look at me that way, it’s like she doesn’t take me seriously”

“are you kidding? ethan i’ve seen the way y/n looks at you and believe me i’ve heard her talk about you too” as soon as those words came out of chad’s mouth, ethan immediately sat up intrigued

“what has she said?” chad notices the light in ethan’s eyes and proceeds to let out a chuckle at seeing how childishly in love he looks

“well whenever she sees me she asks about you, or when we are talking she brings you up at random moments” a tiny smile begins to form in ethan’s face, he’s using all of his force to try and block that smile away but the joy of knowing you talk about him too is overwhelming for him “oh wait, i just remembered something... we once played smash or pass and she said she would smash you” chad said "she didn't even hesitate, I remember"

ethan’s jaw dropped a little bit at the unexpected comment causing chad to burst out laughing even more

“shut up, it’s not funny!” ethan threw a pillow at him, flustered and embarrassed at how chad seemed entertained with his excitement

“god you’re such a virgin” chad said between chuckles, causing ethan to stand up ready to defend himself

but as he was walking towards chad, the two of them heard something. three knocks at the door left him and chad frozen while they both stared at the source of the noise

it was midnight and he wasn’t used to the door being knocked at such late hours, specially on a tuesday

him and chad share a confused look and as ethan is slowly walking towards the door to peek through the peep hole, two more knocks were heard but this time accompanied with a voice

“ethan? it’s me”

he heard you whisper and as soon as you did he felt panic run through his body as he realised he was only wearing a black tank top paired with R2 D2 pijama trousers

he was going to try and change his outfit quick but his fear came true as soon as chad opened the door, revealing you with a zip up sweater and low waisted jeans

“hey y/n, what’s up?” chad smiled at you, gesture which you did back “i was just going out to buy some … crack” chad said, leaving you a little bit confused but you weren’t gonna question it

“okay, have fun…i guess?” you watched as chad walked off, mumbling a yep, making you lay your eyes back on ethan

you had never seen ethan wearing anything like what he was wearing and you were completely not expecting it

you let your eyes wander for a minute, looking at him shamelessly, you could feel your heart racing as you realise how muscly he actually was and how strong he seems, yet it was all contrasted with his pijama bottoms and you couldn’t help but think he’s adorable

ethan did not let that go pass him, he saw the way you had checked him out and a light pink covered his cheeks, embarrassed and at the same time curious on wether you liked what you see

“are you okay, shouldn’t you be finishing your log?” ethan asked, you had mentioned earlier this week you had a final piece of coursework for your major

you were a fashion major so your work for school was almost always practical

“i know but i just…” you paused, mouth dry at the sight of him and fingers fidgeting because of your nerves “i needed to see you”

ethan raises his eyebrows, surprised at the remark and honestly speechless

“move, let me come in” you pushed past him, making yourself comfortable in his bed trying to leave what you said behind, ethan followed you with his eyes, closing the door behind him and sitting backwards on chad’s chair

“I need you to be my model for my piece and I must take your measurements” you dropped one of the reasons for your visit, ready to hear ethan's complaining

“no!" he said, not even thinking it through "there is no way in hell I'm modeling"

“why not? you're perfect model material" you sat up in his bed, looking at him with pleading eyes

"are you crazy? chad is more model material than me, models are meant to be pretty-"

"and you're pretty, you're a pretty boy!" you cut him off, not even thinking twice before letting your thoughts out

ethan raised his eyebrows at your comment, letting his mouth fall open but he couldn't seem to form anything coherent to say

noticing how you left him speechless you decide to keep talking "please just be my model, i really want to make you something"

the boy sighed, he felt powerless under your gaze and at the same time at complete peace

"fine" he rolled his eyes and you immediately jumped out of his bed to give him a warm hug that was well received by ethan since you could feel him caressing your back

"thank you, thank you, thank you! i promise you won't regret it, it's going to be so much fun" you pulled back, smiling at him and pulling from your back pocket a roll of measuring tape

"wow you knew I wasn't going to say no, didn't you?” ethan asked seeing how moved to chad's desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil and putting them on the floor next to him

"okay, here's what i need you to do, you're gonna stand still and look pretty, okay" you grabbed his shoulders as you spoke and then proceeded to kneel down in front of him

you caught him off guard a hundred percent, i mean, you were on your knees in front of him and his brain forgot what you actually intended to do until he saw your hand reach for the measuring tape

he gulped as he looked down on you and he tried to focus on literally anything else that would push his dirty thoughts away yet his attempts were useless as he felt your hands around his waist raising his tank top up a little and wrapping the tape around his skin

you moved to his side and then wrote down on the piece of paper a number he couldn't really see from where he was

after that you measured his leg length and then stood up to do his shoulders and torso, you seemed so concentrated he couldn't help but admire the way you bit your lip and the way your eyes mildly squinted to read the numbers in the tape

there was silence but it wasn't awkward, it was comfortable and he swore he could stay like this forever, watching you do your work and appreciating every small detail about you

"one sec" you said, interrupting his thoughts, you took off your zip up sweater leaving it in the hanger the boys had in their room, revealing the white tube top you had hidden underneath, leaving ethan stunned

you weren't naive and you noticed how ethan's adam's apple bounced as his eyes looked away from you, happy on the inside that you seemed to have an effect on him

"you seem nervous" you walked towards him, a small smile painted in your face from how he couldn't look you in the eye "you're going to be amazing as my model, you shouldn't be" he looked at you, giving you a tense smile

ethan felt a little relieved since he thought you had caught on to him yet his eyes followed your movements as you put your arms on his shoulders, massaging them slowly and ready to make your move

"you’re acting as if you have a little crush…" you teased him, seeing how his eyes widened “on me”

“what?!” he screamed followed by incoherent words and stuttering “I don't know what you're talking about, I don't... like you” he stated, hoping he sounded believable

disappointment ran through your body, feeling how your chest started to feel heavy as embarrassment got a hold of you

he noticed how your expression changed and how you almost seemed sad, yet he couldn't understand why

until it hit him, what if he was wrong all along? what if chad was right and you actually felt the same as him? what if he just ruined his chances with you and he just hurt your feelings on accident?

he stood there frozen in his place as you put strands of your hair behind your ear, quickly moving to pick up the measuring tape from the floor and the piece of paper, folding it as fast as you can and putting it in your back pocket

you were confident and strong but if you were being honest it was mostly a big facade and deep inside you can't help but be extremely sensitive, no matter how much you try to hide it

you felt like an idiot as you quickly rolled the measuring tape, thinking about how stupid of you it was to have such the audacity to be as delusional to listen to your friends and believe ethan could actually feel something for you too

you were dying of nerves as you walked to his dorm that evening yet as you stood outside you were built with courage to try and make a real move on ethan today, not just telling him his hair looked nice or that you liked his shirt like you always did

now you were just filled with regret as you couldn't even look him in the eyes “i'm going to go now, I'll text you if um, when the piece is done”

you quickly walked towards his door, wanting to escape the silence that was slowly becoming unbearable for you as fast as you could, not even bothering to get your zip up

as you opened the door ready to walk away you heard him move behind you and soon you felt a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you back harshly

“don’t please” he said before quickly engulfing you in a soft kiss

your hands found their place in his hair as his went to your waist, you caressed his hair as you felt him feel your back

the kiss was soft and gentle, yet the innocence of the kiss quickly escalated into a hungry kiss, he bit softly at your lip to your surprise but you were not going to complain

it was almost desperate but at the same time deeply sentimental almost as if he was transmitting all of his feelings and desires to you, he had longed for you for a while now and he needed you to know

soon you were pressed against his wall as you wished for the moment to never end but of course, all that's good has to end

as you both were running out of breath he pulled away from you in a delicate manner, leaving you feeling as if you were going to melt away from how overwhelmed you felt by your own feelings

he chuckled lightly, resting his forehead on your shoulder and you did the same, laughing in disbelief at what just happened

“are you sure you're a virgin?” you asked, making him laugh even more, you could see his chest going up and down from him trying to catch his breath again

he looked up at you again, big wide smile on his face, his cheeks had a red flush and his eyes glittered, making you have a funny feeling in your stomach at how perfect he looked

“just in case you didn't catch the hint... i like you a lot” he said, making you smile in relief

“no way, really?” you said jokingly, making him roll his eyes “if you really do then I think you should go on a date with me tomorrow” his eyebrows raised in surprise, did you just ask him out on a date?

“you're going to kill me someday” he said, walking backwards and brushing a hand through his hair, you bite your lip, nervous but trying to not let the nerves get the best of you

“is that a yes?” you ask and you look as he laughs

“of course it's a yes dumbass, can you not see how flustered you've made me?” you chuckle, looking at him with glowy eyes, completely immersed in the boy in front of you “why are you looking at me like that?”he asked

“like what?”you replied, completely oblivious to what he meant, making him sigh

“with those eyes, you’re making me nervous!” he replied making you laugh

“well then i’m gonna leave now so you can relax” you said as you walked over to the hanger, getting your zip up to then head towards the already open door

ethan rested his arm on the door frame, leaning towards it as you stood outside “will you call?” he asked, making you want to kiss him again

“no, i’ll send a bird to your window holding a message, it’s more romantic” you leaned in to kiss him cheek and with that you start walking away

“text me when you get to your room” he screamed down the hallway, watching you as you turned back while you walked

“i will!” you reply with a smile, swinging your hips as you walked away overwhelmed with happiness

ethan closed his door and went straight fall on his bed, he couldn’t get that dumb smile off his face and he laughed at himself because of how wrong he was, he doesn’t know what you saw in him but who’s he to complain? he finally has the girl of his dreams smiling because of him

he’s grateful to whatever it was because now that he has you, he doesnt plan on letting you go

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ghostface #ghostface x you #scream 6 #scream #fluff

[vampykween]

Crazy idea for toxic husband simon? Lets send them to couples counselling >:]

hehe i love this idea! sorry this took so long i pondered over how to write it, but i like how it turned out! these two deserve a brief reprieve from all the angst so enjoy this little glimmer of hope <3

“i still don’t think we need to do this, love” 

“so, you’ve said. can you please just go get the kids ready to leave, im not finished getting ready.” you mentally count down from ten while leaning over the bathroom sink attempting to finish up your makeup. you know by the time you hit ten, simon will have volleyed back some comment you’re in no mood to hear. 

“’s therapy, not a fashion show. dont even get why you’re getting dolled up anyway.” he’s unbelievably predictable. 

you roll your eyes and stare pointedly in his direction. “you know if you’re trying to convince me you still love me, you should try just saying ‘wow babe you look beautiful, of course i’ll get the kids ready’.” simon squints his eyes at you as if he’s actually considering what you’re saying, huffs, and stalks off in the direction of your daughters’ room. 

~ 

maybe your husband(?) was right, this does feel stupid. you two are sitting in a far too stuffy room with plain decorations, on a too-plush couch that makes you sink further with every movement. you don't even realize the therapist is asking you something until simon places a hand on your bouncing knee, stilling it to catch your attention. your heart shouldn’t stutter at the small display of affection, but simon hadn’t touched you in so long the touch melted the icy feelings you had towards him.

the session goes far better than you had expected. you didn’t think simon would open up much, but he was a lot more willing to admit his faults than you figured he’d be. you couldn’t help but stare at him incredulously, where was this man when you two were at home? when you were begging and pleading for help with literally any and everything? a part of you starts to feel bad when simon’s revealing his feelings of depression and worthlessness, not that you’re giving him a pass for the years of transgression, but once upon a time he was your soulmate and your heartbreaks knowing he was in so much pain.

maybe you didn’t see it because you were blinded by rage, or because you were so exhausted day in and day out, you didn’t have time to think of anything other than being a mom. you both come to the realization, with the therapist’s help of course, that you were both so eager to rush into life that you never stopped to consider what that would actually look like. you wanted a baby so badly that even when things started to snowball into madness you two convinced yourselves that this was just the way it was and that it had to be worth it somehow.

as you’re both walking back to the car, you leave feeling a whole lot lighter than when you went in. sure no major hurdles were cleared. you weren’t sure when you’d be able to kiss and love on your husband again without being confronted with everything he wasn’t doing, but you two are going to take it slow and learn to listen to each other. give and take. push and pull. as you slide into the passenger seat, simon tugs gently at one of your hands and interlocks his fingers with yours.

“i know i can’t take back the past, but i’m serious about changing. i want to be better for you, for us, and for our girls.”

you’re not sure what you had expected him to say, but his words have your breath caught in your throat. you distinctly remember a time when he promised he would be good to you, and he failed. you wanted to badly to believe him now, hearing the sincerity in his voice. warring between what the angry part of you wants to say and what the hopeful part of you wants to say, you land on a simple response of “okay”

“okay?”

“yes, okay. i’m not ready to forgive you yet and i don’t know when i ever will be. but i am saying that i will try.” his eyes lock with yours and you can see the emotion brewing in them, he doesn’t offer any words back. he simply squeezes your hand three times in quick succession. i love you. maybe just maybe things will work out this time.

#mic answers #mic writes #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader

[morganbritton132]

What happened with the death threats? is Steve okay? in your tags you said you were gonna put someone confronting Steve, even if that didn't happen, is he ever paranoid? Ive been thinking about this all day hsbeudnbeid i have so many questions lmao

Steve kinda just stops.

He doesn’t even realize it until the morning after Eddie confronted him about the letters, but he just stopped doing things after he got the first letter a couple of months ago. He stopped going grocery shopping. He stopped getting coffee. He stopped going on his nightly runs. He’s missed the last three of his and Max’s bi-weekly trivia night with their friends from physical therapy.

He can’t even remember the last time he hung out with Robin that wasn’t at his house.

It’s a little ironic that the only places he ever is these days are at work or home, the two places he’s received letters at. He just stopped doing anything and he didn’t even notice.

He only realizes it because Eddie asks if he wants to get breakfast before they talk, and Steve can’t bring himself to step outside. He feels like he’s seventeen again, all alone in a big empty house and trying to convince himself that there isn’t a dead girl in his pool.

“I can make breakfast.”

“We don’t have anything to make for breakfast,” Eddie says.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, yanking them through the tangles at the ends because he doesn’t even understand where the anxiety in his chest is coming from. He’s been outside. He goes outside to go to work five days a week, so – so he shrugs his shoulders, “Uh…why don’t you go and I’ll – I’ll do, uh, something around here.”

Eddie squints at him and taps a beat against his collarbone before asking bluntly, “Do you not want to be around me?”

“What?”

“Why are you acting like this? I know you’re mad that I found your letters but you’re the one that lied to me, Steve. I think – I think it’s pretty rich that you’re trying to make me feel like shit because I care about you.”

“I’m not doing that,” Steve said, eyes shifting to Eddie and then away. Eddie only makes eye contact if he’s angry and – yeah, Steve probably gave him plenty to be angry about. “I want to be with you.”

“Then act like it. Let’s go.”

“I can’t.”

“…Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered, and it makes him feel worse that Eddie just deflates. The frustration subsides and he looks away, and Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie to be mad at him. He wants Eddie to blame this all on Steve and tell him what it is that people hate so much about him so he can change. He wants – “My head is so fucked right now, and I don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Eddie perks up at that, “Are you going to-“

“No. I – I feel… I can’t leave,” Steve tries to explain. “I feel like I can’t leave. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does. It makes complete sense, Steve. Someone is threatening you and you’ve been dealing with it alone for months. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I don’t want to be scared.”

Eddie nods and then he sits down on the floor in their foyer. He makes grabby hands at Steve until Steve sits down with him, and then he holds his hand. Eddie asks, “What do you want, Stevie?”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Eddie gives him a kind smile – the smile that makes Steve fall in love over and over again – and he squeeze’s Steve hand before whispering like their sharing the most precious secret, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

#not sure if this even remotely answers the prompt #I feel like this whole situation would bring up all of Steve’s old insecurities #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[em-dash-press]

Why Creative Writing Might Make You Anxious (Even If You Love It)

When I sit down to write, sometimes I get so anxious that my stomach gets queasy. It can happen even when I’m wondering if I’ll have time to write today.

Anxiety affects even the best writers, so let’s talk about why your favorite hobby might also put you on edge.

Your Stories Involve Topics You Care About

Great stories always have centralized themes. Your theme drives your plot, informs your character’s choices, and draws readers in.

They’re essential, but they can also be deeply meaningful. You might feel the weight of being a voice on the topic, even if you’re talking about it through a goofy or unrealistic story.

Solution: Remember that you’re continuing a conversation, not presenting yourself as the all-knowing leader on any given theme. Give your perspective and thoughts on the theme through your work. Your unique take is why your readers will pick up your work.

Your Work Relates to Your Past or Present

Inspiration comes from anywhere. You might get an idea while walking the dog, but you can also think of stories when reflecting on your past or present.

Sometimes that means opening up parts of our history that wounded us. They might still feel like pressing on a bruise, even if you’re only writing a story for yourself.

Solution: Be gentle with yourself if you’re writing about a deeply personal topic, event, subject, or period in your life. Recognize that your anxiety is likely your brain trying to protect you, not sabotage you. If you can’t let it wash over you and continue your writing, consider starting therapy before writing your short story or novel. OpenPath is a great affordable option, along with sliding-scale therapists in your town. You might need to process that sensitive subject before you can write about it.

Your Story Feels Complicated

Longer stories can be overwhelming, even if they’re stories we desperately want to finish. They might involve more plotlines than you’re used to handling or a bigger cast of characters you need to develop.

We grow as writers by taking on new creative challenges. A few things I want to remind you if you feel like this is the source of your creative writing anxiety:

There’s no rush to finish a story. Ever.

Give yourself extra time when you’re trying something new. You wouldn’t expect a new runner to finish a marathon in 2 hours.

Take breaks to reset your energy, especially when you feel frustrated or anxious.

It’s okay to not finish a story.

Read that one again.

It really is okay to not finish a story.

You might come back to it in a year or two or three when your plot management or character development skills are better. It’s never a mark of failure to leave a draft in a to-be-finished folder.

Solution: Read through the bullet points above. Be gentle with yourself. Practice in shorter story forms, even with the same characters. You always have the judgment-free choice to finish a story or delete it entirely.

You Don’t Have a Plot Outline

Free writing is great. It’s a completely valid way to write short stories and novels. Some people excel at it. Others need an outline.

You might feel anxious about your current writing sessions because you don’t know where your story is going or how it will end. It’s a normal thing to experience and doesn’t make you any less of a writer—even if creating a plot outline changes your writing method temporarily.

Solution: Acknowledge that it’s okay to change your writing process sometimes. Every story needs a different support structure. Write your story idea in a single sentence, then expand on it in a paragraph. You can transform that into a bullet-point list or outline that makes writing the story more manageable.

You Haven’t Been Writing For a While

Some writers dream of having the time to write every day. Others like to write, but wouldn’t want to spend hours every day with their latest draft.

No matter what you prefer, sometimes returning to the craft of writing can spark anxiety if it’s been a while since your last creative venture. Whether it’s motivated by guilt, embarrassment, or shame, you’re not alone. It’s a typical form of creative anxiety and it’s something you can absolutely handle.

Solution: Give yourself some slack. Writing routines always change. Sometimes life draws us away from our creative writing for months or years at a time. You’re still a writer. Whatever your story becomes will be valid.

You Have a Loud Inner Critic

We’ve all been there. You’re trying to write but your inner critic is holding you back. You might want to jump into editing so you only continue with a perfect draft. Maybe you’re constantly polishing your world-building or character details.

The pressure naturally translates into anxiety. It’s okay to step away from your work if this anxiety makes you uncomfortable. You can always return when your inner critic is distracted or you feel more naturally confident.

Solution: Ask that inner critic to take a backseat. They’ll give you a powerful advantage when you move from the writing phase into the editing phases. Linework and structural editing can always happen later. But to reach that point, you need a draft. Preferably, your worst draft possible. Go wild with your writing—that’s what a first draft is for.

-----

It’s okay to love creative writing and also feel anxious about it. I think the only time anxiety didn’t affect my writing was when I was a kid and had never received criticism, constructive or otherwise.

Be gentle with yourself as you reflect on your anxiety triggers and potential solutions. You’re in the for the long run. Sustainable help will be your best source of help.

#writeblr #writing encouragement #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #writing anxiety #creative writing

[wordslostforever]

Couples Therapy

Ch. 1 "Work with me"

Pairing: Wanda/fem!reader

Summary: When your marriage with Wanda starts to fall apart, you both decide to have a last chance by going to a professional, for your son's sake, and your own.

Warnings: 16+! Established relationship, Angst, mentions of cheating, mention of Vision, implied sex (not smut), arguments, cursing, gaslighting, mentions of divorce. 

A/N: Honestly, this is the first Wanda fanfiction I’ve ever written, and I hope I did somewhat okay, plus a little warning, I made up everything about couples therapy, apologies in advance.

Also, my first language is not english, so I’m sorry for any grammatical mistake.

Word count: 2.9k

You don't remember the last time everything with Wanda seemed fine, right. 

Little by little, your marriage was becoming untenable with the constant fights and stupid arguments about things that weren't an issue at all, it was as if you didn't know each other, as if your wife didn't know you anymore.

Little by little, the love you once had was vanishing into thin air like smoke in the wind. You tried wearily to pick up those pieces, but they slipped from your hands.

"I never asked you to give up everything for me."

Everything was falling like leaves in autumn, from the ground you tried to grab the dying leaves that changed color.

"I never said you did, Wanda. I gave up everything for you because I wanted to, because I love you. If you brought that up, it's because you resent yourself for it."

So green, so full of life, the leaves turned brown, dry and empty.

"You're unbelievable. I resent myself for what? For making you stay? You're so unbelievable, so damn egocentric and narcissistic" Wanda paused at her words, red eyes crystallized with tears. Her lip quivered as she glared angrily at you, so angry at your straight posture and frown. "I don't even know how I got with you in the first place, you are so full of yourself that I don't know if I fit there with you."

Those eyes looked at you with nothing but resentment, and the love that was hidden in them, faded amidst all those thoughts.

"Jesus Christ!" you said, offended, as you tried to not let out a louder scream. Wanda looked at you indifferently with a raised eyebrow. Your heart was breaking at her gaze, wondering if you would ever see the love you once possessed. "If you want to go and fuck Vision, you should have done it long ago then! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time on you either as you seem so fond on thinking that I suck and I'm not worth your fucking time."

"And you brought that again, what the hell is your problem with me and Vision?"

"The problem is that you screwed him all over and I had to forgive you, I had to forgive your crap all the time, but when it comes to me doing something wrong, for once, you're at my neck annoying the crap out of me."

"I can't- You keep making me feel guilty about it, we said- You said you were over it. I'm over it, that's why I stopped apologizing."

"I was never over it, you made me get over it with your shitty apologies and excuses. Fuck! You even made me feel guilty about it." Maybe those were the words that ended what little patience your wife had, maybe your simple words broke what little was left of your marriage. "'Oh, Y/n, We have children together, Tommy and Billy will be broken, we can't do that to them' So full of crap, you're so full of crap."

Tired, it was all too exhausting for you, for her, the words coming out of a part you both didn't know existed.

"Get out." Wanda said ending the conversation, and you laughed indignantly. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at you, firm, letting you know she meant it this time. "Get out! Leave!"

"And there you go running." At that you turned around grabbing your jacket from the couch roughly, and shook your head. "Again. You're unbelievable."

"Screw you, y/n."

With that you walked out of the house, closing the door delicately trying to calm the rage gathering in your chest. Wanda, on the other hand, burst into tears, frustrated tears covering her cheeks. It wasn't until a sound came from the staircase that she wiped the drops from her face with her palm, trying to fake a smile.

"Where's momma y/n, mom?" The little boy looked at Wanda in confusion, one of his hands gently scratching his eyes as a yawn escaped his mouth.

"She had to work, honey, just go to bed. Is Tommy awake too?" Wanda asked softly, watching him nod. Her heart broke at the images of her children listening to the fight. "Go to bed, I'll go with you in a few minutes, okay? I have to turn the lights off."

You didn't know what happened, how it happened. You loved Wanda as much as she loved you, but from one moment to the next, days passed from fight to fight and everything fell apart. Maybe it wasn't so abrupt, maybe you should have seen it coming after everything that happened between you.

One of the things that you loved most in the world was slipping through your fingers and you had no idea how to fix it... You had no idea if you wanted to fix it.

You spent the night out at Natasha's house, your best friend and co-worker. Tired, you couldn't sleep and when it was time to get out of bed it was almost an impossible mission, but you still did it, and with a forced smile you went to work.

You needed the distraction, work until your brain couldn’t remember the reason why your heart felt tight and broken inside your chest.

“No, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, maybe if you try to listen to her and put yourself in her shoes, there may be a way for you two to stop fighting.” You gave your best friend an inexpressive look, making her roll her eyes in annoyance. You sighed, fixing your gaze on your plate with salad, rethinking the point Natasha brought up.

“That’s all I have done since that day, I have listened to her. The problem is not me, it’s her. She is the one fighting, she is the one that complains about everything I do. At this point, I think she just hates me.” You said with a grimace, meeting Natasha features, who resembled your expression. “What?”

You turned around in your chair as soon as Natasha pointed with her head at the door of the restaurant. Your eyes fixed on the figure of your wife, who looked around trying to find you, making you bite the inside of your cheek with irritation. 

Wanda found your eyes and she walked to you. 

Instinctively your eyes roamed through her body, looking how the red dress she was wearing hugged her curves. 

"Wanda." You said her name as soon as she approached you with dark circles under her eyes, but you didn't change the serious look you were giving her. "What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?"

You bit your tongue trying to hold back the words of rejection that threatened to come out and nodded. With a regretful look at Natasha, you got up from the table grabbing your jacket.

You and Wanda walked out of the restaurant in silence and all the way to the small park nearby. You sat down on one of the benches with Wanda next to you. Your gaze remained fixed on the scenery and the people passing by, feeling Wanda's gaze on you, however, you didn't look at her, you didn't want to, knowing perfectly well that all the anger you felt would vanish in those green eyes.

"The kids are asking for you," The mention of your children made you turn your gaze to her and lock your eyes together. Wanda let out a shaky sigh before swallowing the ball that formed in her throat. "And I don't know if they are buying the work excuse anymore, Y/n, they are asking if you are leaving the house."

"I'll pick them up today and we'll go out. We can discuss what to tell them about us now."

"So, you're moving out? Are we done forever this time?" Wanda winced in pain in her place, hands shaking. You looked at her with your head tilted, feeling your chest constrict as her eyes moved from yours closing.

"Isn't that what you want?" Your eyes met Wanda's again, and you sighed when she shook her head. "Then, what do you want?"

"I want to keep loving you."

"I want that too, but this, my love," Your gaze softened at her and you gripped her clenched fist gently as you opened it. Wanda looked at you intently, melting at the nickname, and opening her hand letting it intertwine with yours. "this is not working anymore, you know we aren't."

“Do you want to divorce?”

"What choice do we have? All we do is fight, Wanda." You saw a tear come out of Wanda's eye and you wiped it away with your finger, trying not to cry. "We have a beautiful family and wonderful children, but our marriage is so broken. You're not happy anymore and neither am I."

"We can try to be happy, we can make it work, we always do. Why should we stop now?"

"Because maybe it's too late. Maybe we're too far apart."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then let's try one last time." Wanda said, placing her hand on your cheek. You closed your eyes feeling the touch and the warmth her hand transmitted. "I want to be with you, Y/n, I want to fix this."

"I want to be with you too." You moved closer to her, your forehead meeting hers delicately as her thumb brushed your lip. Your hands traveled to her waist squeezing gently as you felt her body tremble at the sadness and despair building up in her.

"Please work with me." You felt the warm air of her breath as Wanda whispered the words above your lips as closed her eyes.

"I always will."

*___________________*

After washing your hands, you looked in the mirror one last time, running one of your hands over the dark circles under your eyes and pinching the top of your nose with irritation. Leaving the bathroom, you walked down a long hallway, if you didn’t know what the place was, you would have assumed it was a hotel, but it wasn’t one.

Couples therapy.

How ridiculous. You knew you were doing it for Wanda more than for yourself, you knew the last thing you wanted to do was talk about your marital problems to a complete stranger who would start judging your every decision. You didn't need this, you didn't, but Wanda did, so once again you decided to put aside what you wanted to do for her.

Wanda seemed excited, you would even say happy to be there when the two of you met in front of the office door. She smiled at you and you forced a smile.

"I left the kids with Pietro and Monica."

"Are they back together?" You asked confused as you opened the door and made way for Wanda to enter, before walking in yourself.

"They never broke up, they just took some time apart." Wanda answered, before greeting the woman sitting on a couch, which happened to be across from a longer couch. "Hello."

"Welcome, you must be Wanda Maximoff. Please, take a seat." Wanda sat down on the couch and patted her side looking at you encouragingly. You sighed defeatedly before sitting down as well.

"She is-" Wanda started, but you cut her off with a polite smile toward the woman who nodded while writing something down in her notebook.

"I'm her wife."

"Y/n Maximoff?"

"Oh no, uhm." You stopped in your place clearing your throat at the situation, you knew the last name issue had been a problem between you and Wanda in the past. "I didn't take her last name, it's just Y/L/N."

"We decided after a couple of talks that we didn't want to change them." Wanda explained and you had to bite your tongue to hold the words that formed in your mouth.

The therapist tilted her head and settled back in her seat, looking intently at your actions making you feel self conscious. Wanda looked at you with narrowed and steady eyes, and you scratched your neck tensely before you heard the therapist's voice.

"Why don't we start now then? Y/n, you were about to say something about what Wanda said, but you held the words" You sighed as the therapist looked at you encouragingly. "You can talk here, this is a space where you two can talk freely, say what you really want."

"It's nothing really, it doesn't matter."

"No, I want to hear it." You looked at Wanda incredulously, irritated at the condescending tone she used.

"You decided that we shouldn't change our last name."

"No, we both did, you agreed."

"Because you made me agree, you barely let me say anything."

"Well, it's not my fault that you can't express your mind."

"You don't let me do it. You always overstep on what I say or turn it into something totally different from what I meant." The look in Wanda's eyes made you sigh tiredly, shaking your head in denial. Your gaze softened as you looked back at her, having no energy to fight. "I wanted your last name."

"Fine, then, let's change it."

"No, it's too late. We have been married for eleven years, it wouldn't make sense now."

Wanda rolled her eyes in irritation before crossing her arms in front of her chest and falling silent, turning her attention back to the therapist who seemed to be listening intently to the conversation. You, on the other hand, clenched your fists in frustration looking back at the therapist.

"I see, maybe we should start with the beginning. What do you think is the problem here? I want both of you to be really honest about this."

You snorted at the question before you felt a soft smack to your side from Wanda scolding you for your behavior. You clenched your jaw for a second, then settled back into place and feigned a smile.

“I don’t know, there are many things that could be or… maybe there’s none and this is useless.”

“Why do you think this is useless, Y/n?”

“Don’t you see it, isn’t that supposed to be your job? Figure out what’s wrong?”

“Don’t be rude.” Wanda scolded you, and you frowned. “She is trying to help.”

“I just don’t want to waste my time on this, you know, I’m not even sure if this will work.”

“We could just try.” Wanda said angrily, scoffing when you shook your head. “Just answer the damn question, Y/n.”

“You answer it then because I can think of a million reasons why everything is wrong.”

“So, there are millions of things that I do wrong?”

“I didn’t even say your name, why do you keep doing that? This is not only about you, it’s about us.”

And so the session continued until the hour was up. The truth is that you were tired, tired of the fights and the useless progress you had made. Wanda assured you that it was only the first session and with that you stayed quiet for the rest of the way home after picking up your kids.

Dinner passed as normal, you and Wanda, Billy and Tommy at the table eating and living like a completely perfect family. That wasn't a problem for you, pretending everything was fine with Wanda in front of your kids, pretending the fights behind closed doors didn't exist. That wasn't the problem. The problem came when you had to go to your room and close the door, at that moment the perfect facade of the perfect marriage fell from your hands.

Again, it was back to the same thing, the meaningless fights, the condescending tones. All that was killing you slowly, so slowly that you thought it didn't exist, but the tiredness would come, the headaches, the pain in your chest that prevented you from breathing. The sadness that invaded your being completely.

“You said you’ll work with me.” Wanda said while she took her clothes off, and you stopped in place, dropping the shirt you were trying to get off. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying.”

“It doesn’t seem like you are.”

“Really, Wanda? Now?” You bit the inside of your cheek looking at her as she pulled the oversized shirt down her body, falling closer to her knees. You took off your pants before shaking your head and taking off your shirt. “I’m tired, just please, don’t start.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” Wanda said once you had your pajamas on, and turned to her. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you. “I want us to work.”

You tilted your head towards her as you saw tears falling from her eyes. You approached her gently, kneeling down in front of her as you grabbed the hand that was on her thigh, and giving her a small kiss on the knuckles. Wanda looked up at you, wiping away the tears with her other hand and calmly grabbing your neck, nuzzling you.

That was the first time in months that you saw the love in her eyes, the love that was hidden in between the anger in those fights, the love that you thought no longer existed.

“I love you.'' You released the words naturally, softly, and before standing up, you left a short kiss on her thigh. “I will always love you.”

“I love you too, y/n” Wanda opened her legs to grab you from the waist, pulling you close to her. You smirked when your eyes locked together, watching her eyes darkened slightly and her cheeks take a soft pink color.

Your hands went to her neck after, and a sigh came from your lips when her hands slipped inside your shirt.

You at least had to try, for her and for the love that you had.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda x reader #mcu fanfiction #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader

[littlerosetrove]

I think the show is going to start doing better by Eddie in upcoming episodes, and I desperately hope I’m right. Some critical thoughts incoming because I just want better for Eddie.

My focus of this post is about Eddie being in a romantic relationship, although there are absolutely so many potential storylines to delve deeper into with Eddie. Trust me, I know. 

I do get why Eddie was with Ana, I do. That man was still repressing so much trauma for starters, and (even now) Eddie was also feeling pressured by society and his upbringing to “give Chris another mom.” It was something Eddie felt like he should do. And hooboy does Eddie still need to work on issues surrounding things he often feels like he “should” do. We all know that Eddie stuck it out with Ana far longer than he should have (Ana is guilty of this two, cause it takes two to tango). An apt description for Eddie is that he’s “the architect of his own misery.” ← Idk who originally said this phrase, but I got it from @yramesoruniverse, and it’s true. 

Speaking of misery. No matter how the show tried to paint it as something cute and good, there is nothing actually good about Marisol and Eddie. Let me explain and bear with me. 

Let’s be real. The show during 6B treated Eddie’s loneliness and his subsequent desire to date as a joke. Maybe not 100%, but even 1% is too much. That montage of Eddie going hiking, playing golf (??), and hanging out at a fucking country club (?????) to find a date? That was played for laughs. 

Now at one point, Eddie had a genuinely great heart to heart with Bobby. I can’t recall their conversation exactly right now since I haven’t rewatched season 6 since it aired, but I know Bobby basically said Eddie should find someone who will sit with him during the hard times (please correct me if I’m wrong).  

But then the show tried to frame Eddie running into Marisol - someone he met on a call - as this spark, this magical moment. Let’s remember that in season 6 Eddie was wistfully reminiscing on his and Shannon’s beginning and called it magic. And so again, the show tried to say, “Hey look! Eddie bumping into Marisol (no last name) is meant to be. This is magic!” Then we jump into season 7 where we’ve gotten no development on Marisol still, and zero development on their relationship, unless you want to call Eddie admitting to using Marisol as a babysitter as some development. Hell, we don’t even know how Chris feels about her. With all of this in mind, to me this just looks like Eddie had grabbed onto the first person he could so he wouldn’t be lonely. If the show wanted us to care an iota about Marisol or their relationship in any capacity, they would have. But they haven’t. And that’s just heartbreaking for Eddie. All they’ve given Eddie is a surface level, nothing of a relationship. 

It’s clear Eddie and Marisol are going to break up in 7x7 at the latest, and… for what? 7x5 will definitely have to do some backfilling on where and why their relationship isn’t going to work (it doesn't appear Marisol will be in 7x6). Even still, what was the point of it all?? Before anyone says it, yes Eddie is allowed to date, even casually, but GD there’s been nothing to grasp onto, you know? No reason to feel even remotely excited or happy that Eddie’s dating, specifically not with Marisol (and the actress is a shitty person) who ffs doesn’t even have a last name. Just having two attractive people in the same room does nothing for me, sorry. 

To try and conclude this, this *gestures at everything I just said* is why I want better for Eddie and Ryan. I really really hope we’re going to get something of substance for Eddie as a character. Yes it’s been great to see Eddie so much happier in season 7 (thanks to therapy, though he needs more, and Buck and Tommy lbr), but, and to stick with the relationship aspect of it all, I want better for Eddie. Idk if Eddie will have or needs someone like Tommy for himself, or if Eddie is just going to work on himself before the next relationship he’s in will be Buck. We’ll have to wait and see, but yeah…. Eddie just. deserves better. 

(this post was inspired by a recent conversation I had with @elvensorceress)

#911 spoilers #9-1-1 #911 meta #Eddie Diaz #my thoughts #gosh I hope this all made sense #I read over it a few times but yeah...

[sage-green-matcha]

WHAT WAS I MADE FOR? - ETHAN LANDRY ✨

“Cause I, I don't know how to feel. But I wanna try. I don't know how to feel, but someday I might” - Billie Eilish

Content includes: Reader with depression, Ethan Fluff! Ethan helping you heal! Angst ig?

A/n: I’m so excited for the Barbie movie! I rlly wanted to write something with Billies song, just because she means so much to me! My first fanfic ever was a Billie one, it was horrible! Anyways, to anyone who feels stuck or in a slump just know you’ll be okay. There’s people who love and appreciate you even if you don’t feel it. I’ll always be here if any of you guys wanna talk! My request box is always open! ILY guys sm 💛

<3

<3

<3

You felt horrible. You had fallen into a deep hole that you couldn't get out of. You didn't even attempt to try. You missed many classes, your friends becoming concerned for you. You didn’t know what to do with life anymore. It had all collapsed down on you, you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t know your purpose in life. You were mentally stuck and you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t communicate your feelings because you didn’t understand them anymore.

You were happy, and you knew you could be happy again. You wanted to go back in time, fix everything and anything that went wrong. Just so you could save yourself from feeling this way.

Ethan Landry was the only one who could get you out of your slump. He knew exactly what to say, even if it didn’t always come out perfectly. “It’s okay…to feel like that. I mean you don’t always have to be perfect, Y/n. We love you for you” his shirt would soak up your tears, keeping you company as you cried. You felt safe with him. He didn’t judge or ignore you. He actually listened and gave his opinion on things. He was helping you heal and you didn’t know how. It was just Ethan being his usual self that helped you.

“Wanna go out on a drive?” Ethan stood at your room door with keys in hand, a baggy of your favorite snacks in the other. “Yea” your smile was brittle but it was still for him, and it made him melt every time you showed it.

“How’d you feel today?” You played with the strings of your hoodie, head laid back on the car seat. “Okay, I think? Sam and Tara were fighting all day, which made me annoyed. And then I was sad I think, or frustrated because they literally wouldn’t shut up” he was amazed at how trusting you were with him. You vocalized your feelings way better than before.

“I think I forgot how to be happy” a small frown was on your face, heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. Ethan looked at you with concern, closing his laptop so all attention would be on you. “You can talk to me about whatever, okay…? I understand how you feel. I’ve been there before Y/n. It’s not easy to get out of but you can do it. I know you can” his words made you melt, providing comfort and warmth with each one.

You told him everything about yourself, he collected all the information and stored it in his heart. “Why were they fighting? I’m assuming Tara’s therapy?” “Mhm, she’s been acting different” you mumbled, your arm holding up your head as you looked out the window. The air blew through your hair, the warm New York air bringing you comfort.

“Can I take you somewhere?” You could tell he was nervous when he asked you. “Depends on where you’re taking me” “You’ll see” Next thing you knew he had you climbing up some sort of small mountain, taking a look at your surroundings once you got to the top. “The Hollywood sign? Real original, Landry” he smiled as you teased him, sitting down on the dead grass below.

“I like it up here. You can see everything” Your head rested on his shoulder, Ethan placing his jacket around you. He was blushing as you looked up at him, a thankful expression on your face. “How long have you been coming here for?” “Maybe a year now, since we started talking” Your curiosity got the best of you, having to ask why.

“I needed to like…I guess remember you. How pretty you are and…uh, stuff” You held back a giggle, watching as he stumbled over his words. “Cause you know! The view from here is so pretty…it’s pretty. Like you” he cleared his throat, thankful that the lights were off. If they were on you would’ve been able to see his red face, embarrassed at what he has just told you.

You found it so cute, pushing yourself closer to him, his arm gently wrapping around your waist. “Thanks, Eth, for everything. You’ve helped me so much…I” you held back on your words. You knew it was weird, to confess your love to him. Especially now, you had found someone who understood every part of you and you didn’t wanna risk getting that taken away.

“You…you what?” He gulped and you shook your head, trying to avoid the question. “Oh come on Y/n, you have to tell me now” “I can’t, it’s weird” he knew nothing you could say was weird. Even if it was a little, he would still validate you with his opinion.

“Just tell me” You shook your head, hiding your smile in his chest. “Okay, how about this? I’ll tell you something first?” “Okay, but it’s probably not as weird as my thing” he scoffed, his nose taking in the soft scent of your shampoo.

The silence killed you, even if it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Your heart pounded harder with each second that went by, hoping it was the same thing you wanted to say. “I love you, Y/n. I know I do” his eyes were closed tightly, looking at him in amusement.

"You do?" "Yea, I'm sorry" A scoff fell from your lips, pulling him by his collar down to yours. He followed your rhythm, lips latching on perfectly to each other. He tasted so sweet, and gentle. like his personality.

"I love you too" he scanned your face with a smile, grabbing your jaw gently before taking you in for another kiss. "How do you feel now?" you bit back your lip, holding a smile. "I'm happy Eth, you make me happy"

“Think I forgot, how to be happy. Something I’m not, but something I can be. Something I wait for, what was I made for?” - Billie Eilish <33

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