#being a person is so fucking difficult and for what!!!!!!

[bbydoll18xx]

Guilty As Sin?

'We've already done it in my head'

Paige Bueckers x reader

I've never written anything, so this could very well be terrible, but I have a teeny tiny crush and it's killing me lol here we go!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some naughty thoughts, ANGST, friends to lovers aka my fave

....................................................................................................

If there was one thing you had learned throughout your time at uconn, it was that it was pretty fucking difficult being Paige Buecker’s best friend. 

You had met her early in your freshman year when the boisterous blonde was partnered with you in an introductory biology course. You attempted to hold back a groan and an eyeroll as you heard your professor assign the two of you together for an upcoming lab project. You hated group projects, and even more, you could not stand the prospect of not getting a good grade in a class so important for your major. 

Paige, even as a freshman, was extremely popular. Her incessant smirk caused girls to blush under her gaze, and the boys basically broke their necks trying to impress her. She was the type of girl who knew she was hot shit.

Unfortunately, that was your type.

As Paige strolled over to where you were waiting for her, you tried desperately to ignore the uptick of your pulse. ‘Get it together,’ you thought to yourself. Girls like that should have no control over you.

“Hey, I’m Paige. I don’t think we’ve met. I would’ve remembered someone like you,” she murmurs flirtatiously, looking you up and down. Trying to keep the pink out of your cheeks and taking a deep breath, you hold out your hand and introduce yourself. 

That was the beginning of the wildly complex and intimate friendship you would build with Paige.

As a senior in college, you had learned many things: don't drink copious amounts of alcohol without eating some carbs first, avoid getting into ubers alone, do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your TA, and falling in love with your best friend is never good.

It started off innocently enough.

Paige was clingy and affectionate to those she was close with. You, being bisexual and surrounded by mostly straight people before coming to uconn, were hesitant with showing any sort of affection. You had always worried about accidentally giving your girl friends the wrong impression. Paige never cared, though, as she conditioned you into accepting hugs and tentative hand-holding. You grew to crave her warm, longer fingers wrapped around yours or her hand resting on your leg when she’s next to you at dinner or in the car. 

You had realized you were head over heels for her in your sophomore year, and the rest was history.

History you’d very much like to forget.

You were laying on the couch in your apartment. Music filled the room and you basked in the warmth of the sunshine. You rarely have moments of peace anymore, now that school had started back up.

Suddenly, the front door flung open dramatically, allowing several members of uconn’s women’s basketball team to enter as if they owned the place. 

“Hey girlie pop!” screamed KK. “We are going out tonight, and before you say no, you are coming with us.” 

“What happened to bodily autonomy?” You questioned with an eye roll. This happened all the time. Paige and her teammates had made it their personal mission to turn you into an alcoholic.

“Fuck that,” chirped Paige. “You had all week to chill, and I will not stand for that shit for another minute. Party P is comin' out in full force tonight, and I expect the same from yo' ass."

You let your eyes lock with hers. God that shade of blue made you want to drown in it, gasping for sanity as if it was air. 

“C’mon, you always do this. We’re going crazy tonight,” demanded Nika.

Pretending to think about it, you hesitantly agree. You didn’t have any control when it came to Paige. Whatever she wanted from you, she got. You chalked it up to being best friends, but your stupid brain always reminded you of the true source of power.

Paige, Nika, KK, and Azzi all celebrated as you acquiesced, already planning drink orders, outfits, and song requests at the bar they always frequented.

You sighed as Paige sat down next to you. You could handle this. You always did. Focused on anything other than her, you pick at a piece of lint on the soft green couch. Everything seemed to be a distraction from her. The heat of her body sends your pulse racing, just as it did the very first time you met. She really was an enigma.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” she murmurs softly. “Wouldn't be the same if you weren’t there.”

Taking a page out of the Paige playbook, you look her up and down and respond with an “I know.” She momentarily wears a look of shock, before her lips slide into that smirk again, and she laughs. The sound makes you want to run through a field of flowers and then jump from a building.

The pregame was, like always, chaotic, loud, and gave you anxiety. A drunk Paige was a clingy Paige, and you were not sure you could handle the extra touching tonight. One of the bottles of vodka that sat on the counter in the kitchen was beckoning to you, and you decided quickly that the only way you were getting through the night was with copious amounts of alcohol.

As you swallowed with a grimace, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly, the door opened. Paige appeared, rubbing her hands together, looking like she was ready to fuck shit up. Your shit already felt ruined as you gulped at the sight of her. The black crop top she had on made you quickly spin around, shooting another shot in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the hunger that was brewing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. We don’t need you wasted before we even leave,” Paige taunts teasingly, as she saunters over to you.

With your cheeks pink and inhibitions already lowered, you licked your lips in a manner you could only hope looked seductive and put the bottle into her outstretched hand. For the second time today, a flicker of surprise graced her features. ‘Good,’ you thought. ‘Two can play that game.’ 

As Ted’s was close to the apartments you all were living in, it was decided that a walk would be more efficient than attempting to wrangle the numerous already drunk girls into ubers.

You cherished the warm breeze flowing through your hair, allowing it to briefly sober you up.  Walking alongside Azzi and Caroline, you let out another small sigh, catching their attention. Your feelings were evident to pretty much everyone except Paige, and her teammates often tried to coax you into admitting your feelings to her. 

“Try to have fun tonight. Find someone hot to grind on, and you’ll feel better,” Azzi said unhelpfully. You laughed, but it wasn't a bad idea. “You’re right. I need a distraction. And preferably someone who is not blonde,” You muttered, causing Azzi and Caroline to giggle. 

Paige’s head whipped around at the sound of laughter. She pouted for a second before bounding over to you. She secretly hated the attention you gave her teammates; she wanted you all to herself.

Paige was possessive, as well as mouthy when drunk, which could be a messy combination. But Paige did not care about being messy tonight. She wanted your attention and your attention only. She knew she could very well embarrass herself, but the desperation of needing your attentiveness was far more important. She could handle her anxieties in the morning. 

“There’s my pretty princess,” Paige announces loudly, taking my hand into hers, almost possessively. The pet name wasn’t unfamiliar. Paige called you every name under the sun except the one on your birth certificate, yet the sudden affection caused your heart to lurch dangerously.

You needed a drink.

The bar was already buzzing when you walked in alongside the girls, still being pulled along by the tall blonde. You were fortunate it was dark inside, allowing a sense of privacy to indulge in the intimacy Paige was supplying to you.

She places a hand on your waist, looking down at you. “Imma get you a drink, babe. Stay here with the girls, and do not let any creeps touch you.” You could tell the few drinks she had at the pregame were already getting to her. She was getting more proprietorial.

You nodded, but you wanted to see how far you could push her. You’d do anything for her attention, even if that meant flirting with a boring guy to test her. She was sexy when she was pissed.

You fantasized about the way her jaw clenches when she's angry, as you scoped out for someone to be the target of your favorite unhealthy game. A six-foot blonde with light blue eyes catches your gaze, and you smirk. ‘Game time,’ you think.

With a smoldering look in your eyes, and the alcohol in your veins to keep you feeling confident, you walk up to the guy and introduce yourself. You find out his name was Josh and quickly shift in closer to him, feigning intimacy you would only ever want with Paige. 

It’s not long before you feel Paige slid between you and Josh, creating the distance you wanted since you walked up to him. 

“Paigey!” you exclaim. “This is Josh. He wants to dance with me.”

You see Paige jaw clench in annoyance and she pushes the drink she brought you into your hand before wrapping her now free arm around your waist with her hand splayed against your belly. You shiver at the contact.

“Go away before I make you, bro. She’s mine,” Paige practically barks at Josh. He shrinks away with a weird expression on his face.

You weren’t sad to see him go.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Paigey,” you beam up at her and take a drink. Paige’s eyes never leave your lips as you bite them, looking around the crowded bar. Your lips are pink from the gloss you just applied, and she thinks about how they’d feel against hers. 

Paige would never admit it aloud, but she thinks about you. She thinks about your dimples when you smile at her. She thinks about your laugh. She thinks about how you taste. In her head, they are together. In her head, you are spread out underneath her, begging for her tongue, her fingers, for anything.

Paige is used to people throwing themselves at her, and the idea of rejection, especially from you, makes her shrink back in fear. 

Paige’s eyes are hazy as the dirty Shirley starts to float its way through her veins. She relishes in the feeling of lowered inhibitions and the perfect excuse to get closer to you. Paige pulls you into her to dance. With the alcohol fully in your system, as well, you giggle and seductively dance against her. You can feel the tight muscles of her abs up against you, and you swallow thickly. It's difficult to ignore the way it makes you feel hot and sticky. 

“God, P,” you mumbled against her pale throat. 

“You look so good dancin’ against me, you don’t even know, babe,” Paige replies with her signature smirk.

You could feel the boundaries of your friendship slowly stretching to accommodate the feelings of lust sparking between the two of you.

Between the dancing and the copious amounts of alcohol flowing, the night flew by quickly. Soon, you were getting pulled through the door and back out into the chilly Connecticut air with Paige holding you steady. You were a notorious lightweight compared to the girls of the basketball team, and that hadn’t changed tonight. 

“P-paigeyyy,” you whined needily. “Need you,” you pouted up at the blonde. The other girls in your vicinity shared curious looks with each other. You had never acted like this before whilst drunk, and no one really knew how to respond, Paige included. 

“What do ya need from me, princess?” Paige asked with a chuckle.

You motion for her to lean down and you whisper in her ear, “kisses.” 

“Oh? You wanna kiss me?” Paige questions, feeling all the blood rush to her head.

You nod with a dreamy look on your face. You were going to regret this in the morning, but right now all you could think about was how soft her lips looked and how much you wished you could be hers.

'We've already done it in my head,' you thought drunkenly.

Paige looks down at you with an unrecognizable look, but she presses a soft kiss on your forehead and says, ‘“let's get you home and to bed, doll.” 

As you stumble back into Paige’s apartment and onto her bed, you look up at her and raise your hands over your head, making grabby hands at her. Paige rolls her eyes fondly but helps you get undressed. Walking you into the bathroom, she lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly, helping you take your makeup off and brush your teeth.

It felt so domestic you could cry.

Climbing into bed, your drunk mind prepared itself to sleep next to Paige. It would never feel like enough to you. You wanted all of her. 

Paige lies down behind you, wrapping a long and muscular arm around your waist, caging you in just the way you like it. You are a second away from sleep enveloping you, when you think you hear Paige whisper, “I am so in love with you.”

Your heart stops.

You wake up the next morning with your head pounding. You squint your eyes and look around. Paige is still sleeping next to you. You gently smile as you gaze at her peaceful figure. You wish you could stop time to stay here in this bubble with her. Soon, you’ll go back to being just Paige’s best friend, and the relationship you’ve built up in your head will come crashing back down.

Soon enough, the blonde wakes up, ripping you from your daydreams. She smiles at you, and turns over to completely face your body. “Crazy night, huh,” she alludes slyly.

Your eyebrows crinkle in question. “Did something happen?"

“Uh yeah…you don’t remember what you said to me?” she asks.

You shake your head in confusion, but you start to attempt to recall the events of last night, and all of a sudden it comes back to you. You recall asking her to kiss you, hanging all over her, and the incessant pouting and neediness. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment, and immediately you jump out of bed to leave.

“Wait, don’t go please,” Paige pleads in a way that is startling unlike her.

You ignore her pleas, gathering your stuff and running out of her apartment. Tears burn your eyes as they threaten to slide down your face. You try to stifle your sobs as you climb the stairs two at a time and get to your own door. You throw yourself into your shower as you attempt to drown out your own cries. 

As you sat on the floor of your shower you could not believe how stupid you were. Drunk flirting with your best friend would be the end of your friendship. You could see it already. Paige coming to you, trying to let you down easy. You felt so humiliated.

You sat there until the water got uncomfortably cold, leaving goosebumps against your skin. As you toweled off, you replayed the events of last night in your head for the millionth time. The dancing in the bar, the walk back to Paige’s apartment, her helping you undress. You sigh at the idea of losing her before it all comes crashing back.

“I am so in love with you,” she had whispered into your hair. You still at the memory. Paige loves you? Sure it's common knowledge that you loved and craved her with all of your being, but a love that was requited? It was almost too much to think about. 

You grab your phone that you had left abandoned on the couch and see the messages from the blonde. Messages of regret and longing fill your phone. One more pops up as you scroll, saying ‘I’m coming over. I won’t let you avoid me over this bullshit.’ 

A few moments passed before there was a loud banging on the door to your apartment. You had never felt so appreciative that your roommates had left for the weekend. Your breath grew ragged as the door slowly creaked open, revealing a panting Paige. Her blue eyes looked almost wild as they met yours.

“C’mere, just let me explain,” she says quietly. You weren't used to Paige being quiet and almost solemn. It scared you, just as the thought of confrontation did. This was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

Fighting your own instincts to immediately bolt, you gingerly sit on the couch where she had already made herself comfortable. Some things never change.

“Listen,” she starts out cautiously. “I never want things to be weird between us. I never imagined I would be feeling this way towards someone who was just a friend, but…I think we haven’t been ‘just friends’ in a while.”

You finally allow yourself to meet her gaze, trying to search for any semblance of where this conversation could possibly be going. Surprisingly, she looked hopeful, as if she knew something you did not.

“I-i want you. Like, more than a friend,” Paige stutters out, “And I think you feel the same way. We’ve both been too scared to admit it, but I’m tired of ignoring how you literally make me feel whole.”

You blink back more tears in realization that the last three years of hell of being only Paige Bueckers’ best friend was finally coming to an end. She could finally be all yours and yours only.

Without thinking, you place a hand on her jaw, bringing her to your lips. They meet yours with such hesitancy you almost think you’ve ruined the delicate balance of what you are to each other at the moment. Paige lets out a breathy sigh and pulls you onto her lap. 

You were heavenstruck. 

As the both of you finally pull away from the drug of a kiss, you look at each other and giggle.

“So much for the dramatics, I guess,” laughs Paige. 

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Not my fault,” you pout. “I have no control when it comes to you, P.”

“Same,” grins Paige. “The only thing left to do is figure out how to tell the girls. They’ve all been beggin’ me to tell you ‘bout my lil crush on you.”

“Those bitches knew?” you ask incredulously.

“Well yeah,” Paige says. “I’m not subtle.”

You giggle at how stupid you felt. The signs were there all along, but the fear of rejection and the cloud of lust had obscured any indications of reciprocity. 

“Let’s just start making out the next time we’re in front of them and see how they react,” Paige suggests with a waggle of her eyebrows. 

You could hear the whoops and cheers already.

“Deal,” you say blissfully. 

She was finally yours. 

#paige bueckers #paige x reader #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #guilty as sin?

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move. 

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever. 

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes. 

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells? 

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes. 

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum. 

Or survival instincts. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . . 

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion. 

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still. 

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.” 

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person. 

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem. 

A serious problem. 

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?” 

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head. 

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?” 

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was. 

Flattering, but incredibly obvious. 

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.” 

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.” 

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves. 

Or a lot harder, sometimes. 

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . . 

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes. 

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside. 

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe? 

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone. 

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now. 

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.” 

Red Hood laughs. 

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!” 

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes? 

She spent way too long in Amity, yes. 

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake. 

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . . 

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . . 

Then again, her life is her life. 

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now. 

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.” 

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?” 

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling. 

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that. 

Hm. 

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies. 

Well, so is Amity Park, of course. 

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not. 

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances. 

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved. 

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells. 

Definitely inappropriate. 

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says. 

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means. 

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly. 

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.” 

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it. 

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment. 

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering. 

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?” 

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows. 

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . . 

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . . 

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.” 

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because. 

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way. 

“Are you sure?” she asks.

#dpxdc #anger management ship #hardcover ship #wip: alpha jazz and a dark alley #tabetharasa #omegaverse

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

When will you post the y/n Meeks Martin x Ethan Landry post 😭

Right fucking now lmao.

This is my first post in a while, take it easy on me 💕

Secrets - Ethan Landry x Fem!Meeks-Martin!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Growing up with overprotective siblings has made it difficult for you to find someone to be with, until you meet your brother's nerdy best friend.

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Some violence-ish, Oral - f receiving, riding, p in v, teasing. (If I missed something, let me know:)

A/N: If any of yall are familiar with Spongebob, I have the fucking suds and I'll be writing a lot the next few days lmao

Your brother and sister were so protective of you. After some of the things they’d been through, you couldn’t really blame them, and you were thankful that they were always looking out for you. The only downside? They seemed to hate every person that asked you out or showed interest in you. You were sure that you would be single forever if it was up to them, because they didn’t think anyone was good enough for you.

Once they went away to New York for school, you missed them, but with there only being a one-year age difference, you knew you wouldn’t have to wait long before you’d be heading to Blackmore. You took the opportunity to finally put yourself out there and go on dates without the twins interfering, and you were starting to realize how right they were when they told you that the guys in Woodsboro weren’t really worth your time.

When you FaceTimed Chad to let him know that you got accepted into the same university as him and Mindy, he was beaming at the news. He was going on and on about all the things he loved about New York, and wouldn’t shut up about the pizza, but you tuned out everything he was saying once you noticed his roommate in the background. His hot roommate.

“Dude, my sister got in!” Chad yelled, as you rolled your eyes. He seemed more excited than you were about the whole situation. “Ethan, come say hi.”

“Fine,” he huffed, as Chad passed him his phone. He paused for a second once he saw you, but quickly pulled it together. It was awkward enough to meet someone for the first time on a phone screen, and he didn’t want to make it any weirder. “Hey, I’m Ethan.”

“Ah, the dorky roommate,” you said, as Ethan looked away from you to glare at Chad.

“Is that how you tell people about me? You say that I’m dorky?”

“If the shoe fits…” Chad trailed off before he tried to take his phone back from Ethan.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, passing the phone back to your brother.

“Have you told Mindy yet?” Chad questioned, a smirk on his face as he waited for your answer.

“No…”

“I knew I was your favorite!”

Once Chad and Mindy came home for summer break, they wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to take you back to New York with them. They were heading back early to help Chad move into his own apartment with Ethan, and Mindy was moving into the spare bedroom at Tara’s with Anika. They decided that you needed to come with them, even though you wouldn’t be able to move into your dorm for a couple weeks.

“I’m not thrilled about couch surfing,” you said, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“I’d sleep on the couch. You could sleep in my bed.”

“So, she’s staying with you for two weeks? I thought she’d stay at Tara’s,” Mindy said, “What happens when you want to stay over with Tara and she’s left alone with Ethan?”

“Oh, please. Ethan won’t try anything,” Chad said, as Mindy scoffed. “What?”

“What makes you think Ethan wouldn’t try something?”

“Because he’s my boy. He knows she’s off limits…I already told him,” Chad said, as you sighed in frustration.

“You know what? I’m not doing this whole ‘You can’t date so and so’ shit that I’ve dealt with for years,” you said, as Mindy cocked her eyebrow at you.

“You’re staying at Tara’s,” she said, “You’ve gotten a little feisty lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you tried to get with Ethan just because we said you can’t.”

“No, I’m staying with Chad. It’ll be fine. Ethan doesn’t seem like the type to try anything,” you said, as she had a confused look on her face.

“When have you talked to Ethan?”

“Oh, that was when she called me first to let me know she got into Blackmore,” Chad smirked, as Mindy snapped her head in his direction.

“No, she called me first.”

They turned to look at you, “Who did you call first?” they both asked at the same time, as you shrugged.

“I’ll never tell.”

When you made it to New York, you were exhausted. You couldn’t sleep on the five-hour flight, and the jet lag was really starting to get to you as you went to the baggage claim area to get your stuff.

“When’s your furniture getting delivered?” Mindy asked, as Chad checked his phone.

“Soon. Ethan’s here somewhere,” Chad said, glancing around for his friend that was taking you back to your new home for the next two weeks.

“I think that’s him,” you said, pointing to the guy with the huge sign that said ‘Meeks-Martin’. “Is he always that lame?”

“Yeah, poor dude can’t get a girlfriend to save his life because he’s that cheesy,” Chad said, as he walked over and took the sign from him. “We’re just going to put this in the trash.”

“Hey, it took me two minutes to make that,” Ethan said, as he glanced over to you. He noticed you struggling with your luggage and carryon. “Can I help you with that?”

“I got it,” Mindy said, grabbing the large suitcase from you. She stared Ethan down for a second before she walked past him.

“How do you deal with them?” Ethan asked, as you sleepily smiled at him.

“They’re not that bad.”

As Ethan drove, Mindy was in the backseat arguing with Chad as he sat in the passenger seat about how you staying at Tara’s would be best. You sighed as they bickered, before you noticed that Ethan kept glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror. You thought he was even more attractive in person and thought about how hard the next couple weeks could potentially be with him living in the same apartment as you.

“Seriously, how are you going to feel when those losers leave the toilet seat up all the time?” Mindy questioned, as Chad scoffed.

“I think we’re housebroken,” Ethan spoke up for the first time in the drive as he glanced back at Mindy. He quickly looked away once he noticed her glaring at him.

“Listen, Landry. I know I won’t be able to convince her, so I want to make it perfectly clear that if you touch my sister, I will kill you.”

“What makes you guys think that I’m like that?” Ethan asked, the annoyance in his tone obvious.

“They think anyone’s like that when it comes to me,” you said, smiling at him as his eyes met yours in the mirror again.

You made it to Chad and Ethan’s apartment seconds after the furniture delivery truck pulled in. Once they opened the back of the truck, Mindy’s jaw dropped.

“I can’t believe mom paid for all this stuff,” she said, as Chad sighed.

“She didn’t. Ethan and I took out loans.”

“Maybe you should’ve asked mom. She paid for all my bedroom stuff,” Mindy shrugged, as Chad sighed.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

After the stuff for the apartment was scattered in various areas of the house, Mindy got the text that Anika was at Tara’s, and was wondering when she’d be over.

“You staying here, or coming with me?” Mindy asked but cut you off before you could even respond. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, she can hang out here if she wants to. We’re all going out for pizza later tonight, anyway,” Chad said, as Mindy rolled her eyes.

“Are you two going to argue like this until I move into my dorm?” you questioned, as the twins exchanged their glances.

“Probably.”

“I’ll hang out here,” you said, as Mindy nodded.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Later that evening after you’d helped the two boys set up their new apartment, you were starting to get hungry. Chad wanted to keep working, and you eventually flopped onto the couch, sighing in defeat.

“I’m starving,” you whined, as Ethan walked into the living room and sat down on the free cushion beside where your feet were resting.

“Me too,” Ethan said, matching your whining as Chad glared at the two of you. “What? It’s been a long day. We skipped lunch.”

“We’ll leave soon,” Chad said, as you got an idea in your head.

“Orrr you could meet us there,” you suggested. “You know how I get if I don’t eat.”

“True,” Chad sighed, “Ethan, make sure nothing happens to her.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight.”

As you walked beside Ethan, he started to make small talk. By the time you made it to the restaurant, you were in a full-blown conversation about all the interests you both had, and he was proud of himself that he didn’t get nervous when he talked to you. You scanned the restaurant for your sister and Tara, but once you noticed they weren’t there yet, you and Ethan sat at one of the tables.

“Do you want to eat now, or wait?” he asked, looking at you from across the table.

“We can eat now, I’m so hungry.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

While you and Ethan ate the pizza that Chad hyped up so much, you were surprised at how good it was. You kept talking to Ethan, but you soon realized how much time had passed, and no one else had showed up to the restaurant.

“Where do you think they are?” you asked, as Ethan sighed.

“Okay, don’t hate me,” he said, as you curiously stared at him. “I kind of wanted to get to know you without your brother and sister making it seem like I was trying to get into your pants.”

“That’s really sweet,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “But if they aren’t here, where are they?”

“They probably went to the one on campus.”

“Did you trick me into going to dinner with you?” you joked, as he started to blush.

“I’ll be honest, I thought they would’ve come to hunt you down by now.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Chad, Mindy, Tara, and who you assumed to be Anika walked in. Chad sighed in relief once he saw you, but Mindy just looked pissed.

“You know how many pizzerias we stopped at to look for you?” she questioned before she looked at Ethan. “Why did you bring her to this one?”

“Simple mistake,” he shrugged, as Mindy stared him down.

“Simple mistake, my ass. I told you Ethan would try something with her.”

“It’s just pizza!” you snapped, “Last time I checked, we weren’t fucking.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped at your words as the waitress brought the check to the table. Ethan took it from her, his mouth still hanging open as he looked at you.

“You want to split it?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“I got it.”

“We’re going back to Tara’s,” Chad said, as you stood up from the table to hug her.

“Hey,” you said, before you turned to Anika. “It’s nice to meet you. Mindy wouldn’t shut up about you all summer.”

“Aww, babe,” she said, pulling Mindy into a side hug.

“Look, as much as I’d love to hang out with you guys, I’m exhausted,” you said, yawning as Chad sighed.

“I really wanted to hang out with Tara.”

“I’ll walk her home,” Ethan suggested, as Mindy, once again, glared at him. “I can drop her off and go to Tara’s after.”

“No, I don’t want her left alone in an area that she doesn’t know,” Chad said, as you rolled your eyes.

“I can stay there with her, then. Seriously, I won’t try anything,” Ethan said, putting his hands up in defeat as Chad nodded.

“I know you won’t, dude. Thanks.”

As you and Ethan made your way out of the restaurant, you heard Mindy scold Chad for being so trusting. But Chad felt like he had no reason to think Ethan would do anything to betray his trust.

Once you got back to the apartment, you were tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. Ethan was about to head to his room before you stopped him.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I thought you were exhausted?” he asked, as he turned around and made his way towards you.

“I just didn’t feel like going with them and being there all night,” you sighed, as he sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Why are you sitting over there?”

“Because if Chad comes home and sees me sitting beside you, I’m sure I’ll be moving out of here into an unmarked grave,” he said, half-joking as you rolled your eyes.

“Please. If it was Mindy, yeah. But Chad, I don’t think so.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, scooting closer to you as he turned on the tv. “You cool with something scary?”

“Mindy’s my sister, what do you think?”

“Scary it is.”

Ethan thought that after sitting through some of the goriest movies ever with the Twins, there was no way that you’d be freaking out over some jump scares. But once you were practically in his lap, your face hiding behind your hands as the scene played out on the screen, he started to laugh to himself.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him. That’s when you realized that you were practically on top of him and went to move, but his arm wrapped around you to hold you in place.

“Your brother and sister don’t get phased by this shit,” he said, smiling down at you. He started to glance between your eyes and your lips, and he was so close to making a move, when a loud shriek on the screen pulled your attention away from him.

“This is one of the few I haven’t seen,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t be so jumpy if you picked something I had seen before.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Ethan chuckled, as you turned your head to look at him again.

“If you want to kiss me, you should probably do it soon. The movie’s almost over,” you said, as he smiled and leaned down.

When his lips touched yours, you felt something different than what you’d usually feel when you’d kiss someone. You immediately felt the chemistry, and with the way his lips were quickly moving with yours, you were sure that he felt it, too.

Once he pulled away to catch his breath, he had a sweet smile on his lips. He definitely didn’t expect to kiss his best friend’s sister, but he was happy that you were bold enough to tell him it was okay. Another thing he didn’t expect was for you to adjust yourself so you were straddling him, as his eyes looked into yours. His hands moved to rest on your thighs as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, it was way more intense. Your hands were in his hair as his hands rested on the curve of your ass to keep you as close as he could.

The second the kiss got deeper, you heard the sound of a key going into the front door.

“Shit,” you said, pulling away and jumping off the couch.

“Wait,” Ethan said, as he followed you. He pulled you in for one more quick kiss before you rushed into Chad’s room and shut the door.

When Ethan walked back out, Chad had just made it to the living room.

“Where were you?” Chad questioned, as Ethan glared at him.

“My room is beside yours. I wasn’t trying anything with your sleeping sister,” Ethan scoffed, as Chad nodded.

“Sorry, dude. I had to listen to Mindy talk about how much she hated the idea of the two of you being here alone.”

“It’s cool, just don’t accuse me of shit you know I wouldn’t do.”

Ethan felt a little guilty for lying to Chad, but you were the first girl that he’d actually felt something for in a long time. After days of stealing quick kisses and steamy make-out sessions whenever Chad was in the shower, the sexual frustration was starting to build. Ethan knew that he wasn’t going to initiate it, because the last thing he wanted was for you to think that was the reason he was spending time with you. Plus, you hadn’t been left alone long enough since the first night.

“So, I think Tara and I are going to a movie tonight. You guys want to come?” Chad asked, as Ethan looked over to you as you sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch a movie,” you said, as Chad cocked his eyebrow at you.

“You don’t want to watch a movie?” he questioned, as you shook your head. “What about you, Ethan?”

“Dude, spend time with your girlfriend. I’m sure she doesn’t want a third wheel tagging along.”

“Mindy and Anika are going, too. You wouldn’t be a third wheel,” Chad said, as Ethan chuckled.

“Your right, I’d be a fifth wheel. You guys have fun. I’ll probably just play video games all night anyway.”

“Okay, I should be back around eleven,” Chad said, as he made his way towards the apartment door.

As soon as he left, Ethan was on you, literally. You moved so you were laying back as he hovered over you, his mouth moving with yours as your legs wrapped around him.

“Hey, do you want to go to your room?” you asked once he pulled away to breathe.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Within seconds, his feet met the floor, and his hands reached for yours to pull you up. He led you down the hallway to his room, before his lips connected with yours again. He backed you towards the bed, a small squeal slipping past your lips against his as your back hit the comforter. Your legs wrapped around him again, holding him as close to you as you could. One of his hands was running up your side over your shirt, until the material started to ride up. He gave you goosebumps as his fingers moved over the newly exposed flesh, before he pulled away to look at you.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, “Because if you just want to make out, that’s fine. There’s no pressure, and I don’t want you to think that I just want sex.”

”I know you don’t,” you said, smiling at him. “But if the sexual tension get’s any stronger between us and we don’t do something about it, I might actually explode.”

“So, you want sex,” he said, trying his best to not freak out.

“Yeah,” you said, as he leaned back down.

It didn’t take long for his hips to start moving, the hard cock in his sweatpants brushing against you. You gasped into the kiss every time your clit got the smallest amount of friction, before his hand moved in between your bodies so he could rub you over the shorts you were wearing.

“Fuck,” you mumbled against his lips. “You can take those off me, if you want.”

He quickly slid them down your hips before his hand went back in between your legs, rubbing across your soaked panties.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “Does kissing me do this to you?”

“Yes,” you said, as his lips moved to your neck.

Your bottom lip was in between your teeth as he slid your panties to the side, his finger rubbing slow circles over your clit.

“We’re here alone, baby. Don’t hold those pretty sounds in.”

Soft whimpers were slipping past your lips as his finger moved faster against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy was already drenched, and you felt yourself getting more wet by the second. You whined in protest once he pulled away, but he quickly shut you up, a low moan falling out of your mouth when he easily slid two of his fingers inside you as he moved down the bed.

Your hands tangled in his hair the second his tongue touched your clit, his fingers hitting that special spot inside you. Your hips were involuntarily arching off the bed at the feeling as he struggled to keep you pinned down.

“So good,” you moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth. “Fuck.”

Once he started to hum with your clit in his mouth, you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. Your moans kept getting higher and louder, and he made the mental note that he really couldn’t sneak around with you like this if Chad happened to be home, because you were just so loud. He loved it, though. All the noised you were making went straight to his throbbing cock as he brought you closer to the edge. Once your pussy started to squeeze his fingers, he sucked harder on your clit, the feeling throwing you into an intense orgasm. He groaned as your shaky hands tugged on his hair, his fingers slowing as he got you through it.

Once you started to relax, he sat up to look at you as he slowly slid his fingers out. Your cheeks were rosy, your chest was heaving, and you were still a little shaky. He loved that he had that effect on you and couldn’t wait to actually be inside of you.

“Let me help you with your shirt,” he said, as you sat up and looked at him, your eyes still hazy.

“That felt so good,” you finally said, as he chuckled.

“I hope so with how hard you were pulling my hair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly as he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry, I loved it.”

Once he got you out of your shirt and bra, and he slid his sweatpants down his hips, he walked over to the bedside table to grab a condom.

“You still want to do this, right?” he asked, as you smiled at him.

“Yeah.”

He slid his boxers down his thighs before he rolled the condom on and lined up with your soaked pussy. He took his time as he inched his way inside of you, a loud moan falling past your lips once he was all the way in.

“So fucking tight,” he rushed out, before he started with slow thrusts. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts as he started to go faster.

You knew you were wet, but you could hear how wet you actually were as his cock slid in and out of your pussy. His eyes stayed on you. He didn’t want to miss any of the faces you were making.

“Can I be on top?” you asked, as he smirked at you.

“Yeah, babe,” he said, as he pulled out and laid down.

You got up and moved to straddle him, the whimpers flooding out of your mouth as you sank down onto him.

Ethan felt like he was in heaven as his hands held onto your hips. He had the perfect view of your face, your tits, and he could even see his cock sliding in and out of you. Your hands moved to rest against his chest so you could stabilize yourself as you rolled your hips, the tip of his cock giving your g-spot the attention it needed.

“Come here,” he said, as you leaned down, your bare chest pressing against his. You felt his hands snake around you to hold you close before his hips started to move, his cock thrusting in and out of you so quick that you couldn’t think straight. He was letting out soft grunts that could barely be heard over your moans. You were both getting sweaty as you clung to him, his pace not letting up as you felt yourself start to get close.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whined, as you felt that white-hot feeling spreading across your body, your hands gripping him as he just kept fucking up into you.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but he went even faster. You were a moaning mess as he kept slamming his cock into you, before his thrusts got erratic.

“Cumming,” he groaned, as you slowly moved back to meet his thrusts as he got himself through it. “Fuck, that was…fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his chest.

He slid out of you but held you close for a few minutes, his hands rubbing over your back as you both caught your breath.

That’s when you heard other voices inside the apartment. You shot up, your eyes looking down to meet Ethan’s panicked ones.

“Where are they?” Mindy asked, the annoyance in her tone obvious as you and Ethan jumped up to grab your clothes off the floor.

Ethan quickly took the condom off and slid his boxers on as you tried to put your clothes back on. It was too late, though, once his bedroom door eased open.

“Hey, dude,” Chad said, before closing the door once he noticed Ethan was just in his boxers. “Shit, sorry.”

Chad was embarrassed as he turned to look at Mindy before he realized something. Your shorts were on Ethan’s bedroom floor.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Chad’s voice boomed once he opened the door. This time he was able to see you, but you’d just slid your shorts back up over your hips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He walked over to Ethan and grabbed him by the shirt he was able to put on in those few seconds, and you could see the fear in Ethan’s eyes as he looked over to you.

“Don’t fucking look at her!” Chad yelled, as Mindy finally walked into the room.

“Told you her staying here was a mistake,” she said, as Chad got angrier by the second.

“I didn’t think that my best friend couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Stop, seriously. You guys are making this more than it needs to be,” you said, as Chad looked over to you. “Calm down, Chad. He’s your best friend.”

“Last time I checked, friends don’t sleep with their friend’s sister!” he yelled, before he looked back at Ethan. “I can’t fucking believe you did this.”

“Why are you acting like I had no part in this?” you asked, as Mindy scoffed.

“Yeah, right. I’m sure Ethan charmed you out of your panties just to get what he wanted.”

“That’s not true!” Ethan snapped, his fear of Chad kicking his ass turning to anger as his friend finally let go of his shirt. “I really like her. This has nothing to do with me just wanting to sleep with her.”

“She’s my baby sister, Ethan!”

“Stop calling me that,” you sighed in frustration. “I’m a year younger than you. I’m a legal adult. Nothing Ethan and I did is wrong aside from you two saying that he needed to keep his distance from me.”

“He obviously doesn’t listen,” Mindy said, as you felt yourself start to get mad.

“You know what really fucking sucks? You two are my best friends, but you won’t let me live. You won’t let me experience things. You know Ethan’s not a bad person…you know how bad I’ve wanted to hang out with him and get to know him better, but you guys won’t let that happen.” you ranted, “I like him, too. And if I want to be with him, you aren’t going to tell me that I can’t! You better not threaten him anymore, either. I’m sick of this childish shit.”

Your sibling stared at you as Chad nodded in understanding. He had no problem intimidating any of the boys that’d shown interest in you, but out of the two of them, he was the one that seemed to be the one that got you.

“I do really like her. I don’t want us to have to sneak around, but I’ll keep doing it, if I have to,” Ethan said, smiling at you. “She’s amazing. It’d be stupid of me to not want a chance with her.”

“Do we have to sneak around? Or can you guys be cool about it?” you asked, as Chad sighed.

“I’m cool with it. Just…no hooking up when I’m here.”

“You’re okay with this?” Mindy scoffed, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“Ethan’s not a bad person. If he really likes her, what’s the big deal?”

“And that’s why he’s my favorite,” you said, brushing past them to head to the bathroom.

“Told you,” Chad said, teasingly pointing at Mindy before she smacked his hand away. “Ow!”

“Ethan, you better not hurt her,” Mindy scolded, as he nodded.

“I won’t…but can you guys get out while I put my pants back on?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

[exhaslo]

Firstly I would like to say that I love your writing.When you can, I would like to know if it would be possible for you to write a story where Y/n works at the Spider Society and Miguel O'Hara is jealous of her with other spiders and decides to declare himself to y/n, who responds by kissing him and this ends in 🔥🔥🔥

Thank you!!! It means a lot when people like my writing!!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, jealously, almost caught

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were a vast amount of different variants of Peter Parker within the Spider Society. Amongst the variants were a few Mary Janes, a few Gwen Stacys and even a few others. At least 95% of Spider People were related to Peter.

But, there was that 5%.

Including you.

You were not a variant of Peter Parker, nor someone who was related to him in any way. You were one of the few special cases, much like your leader, Miguel O'Hara. You were a unique case and a very unique Spider-Woman.

Miguel had his eyes on you since the moment he recruited you. Call it a spark, but Miguel felt an urge to have you by his side. You were talented, so it was quick work to have you within his inner circle for the tough missions.

Now, Miguel would never call himself possessive. Nor would he call himself a jealous man. He just liked having what was his close. Nor did he like it when others would get near was belonged to him.

Now, approaching you on the matter was difficult. Miguel couldn't just outright tell you that you weren't allowed to talk to any of the Spider people. He couldn't tell you that you should only be talking and hanging out with him.

That would make Miguel look bad.

Miguel would just have to watch you from the sidelines, growing weary and frustrated with every passing second. How Miguel wished he could pin you against the wall and ravish your every being. Whisper about how every part of you belonged to him.

Watch you whimper and cry his name as his cock buried so deep in you that you saw stars. Just the thought of you squeezing him, holding him and giving yourself to him brought Miguel to ruin. How Miguel wished to see your fucked out expression.

These thoughts plagued Miguel. Each passing day grew worse. Miguel's hand could only do so much. Every day you came to the Spider Society drove Miguel mad.

He needed you.

He wanted you.

Hovering over his desk, Miguel groaned and grunted as he watched you over the cameras. You were smiling brightly as you spoke with Peter variants. That smile should be for him. Unable to hold himself back, Miguel called for you via watch.

----------

You were having a great time. Your life back home was running smoothly for once and you had plenty of like-minded friends in the Spider Society. You were enjoying yourself.

Plus, you had a huge crush on Miguel O'Hara.

The leader of the Spider Society was on another level. Miguel was tall, fit and hella handsome. The amount of nights you dreamed of him hovering over your body, pounding you endlessly was getting a little out of hand.

Snapping out of those lewd thoughts, you refocused on what one of the Peter's was saying. Your cheeks were turning red as Peter mentioned your watch going off.

"(Y/N), come to my office." Miguel said hastily.

"Ohhhhhh, someone's in trouble." The Peter's all cooed, snickering to themsevles.

"Am not! Maybe....there is a special mission?" You muttered.

Your heart was racing a mile a minute. What could Miguel need from you? Lyla was normally the one who would send you on missions per Miguel. So to be request by him personally, oh you were going to have good dreams tonight.

Approaching Miguel's office, you tried to compose yourself. Your thoughts were raging and your panties were damp. Taking deep breathes, you entered his office and searched for your tall, handsome leader.

"Miguel? Hello?" You called out.

"(Y/N)," Miguel appeared behind you, his rasp voice against your ear. You shuddered,

"M-Miguel, hey! I got your message-" Your eyes widen as Miguel's hand stroked your cheek,

"Are the Peter's more entertaining than me?"

"Huh?"

You were caught off guard by Miguel's question. Honestly, you were drawn to the look he was giving you. It felt lustful. The warmth of his hand comforting you in ways you could have only dreamed.

"Do you like hanging out with everyone else? What seems to be the problem with me? Am I not good enough?" Miguel's tone was getting a little harsh.

"No, that's not it. I, uh-"

"(Y/N)," Miguel's thumb started to stroke your cheek more, "Why won't you give me the same smile? Those Peters don't love you the same way I do."

You felt your jaw drop slightly. Was Miguel really confessing to you this way? In a small jealous fit? This was super cute. As Miguel gave you his intense stare, you decided to be brave.

Using his shoulders for support, you used Miguel as a ladder to reach his lips, kissing him.

The sweet kiss didn't last long. Miguel's hands gripped your waist as he licked your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You gasped slightly, shivering at his forceful attack. His tongue ravishing your mouth, leaving nothing untouched.

"Mhm, Miguel," You muttered between kisses.

"Hm? Do you want me to stop?" Miguel asked. You held his hands, taking the moment to catch your breathe,

"No, but...I just wanted to say," You pouted as Miguel brought you in for another desperate kiss, "Mhm, I....love....you."

"Ah, music to my ears."

Miguel had you pinned against the wall, his kisses moving down to your neck. His large hands stroking the sides of your body as you started to tremble from his touch. You gasped softly as his hands cupped your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

"You're mine, (Y/N). I want you only to come to me, understood?"

"Mhm, yes sir," You whimpered.

Honestly, you found jealous Miguel really hot. His kisses trailed down your neck, sucking and biting until you whined. His hands roamed your body as if trying to find a way to take off your suit. Unable to handle the anticipation, you decided to help him.

Miguel whispered thanks repeatedly as he watched your suit come undone. His hands grabbed your waist, lifting you up so that your clothed cunt met his growing erection. Grunts were exchanged as Miguel grinded against you while his lips met yours again.

"Only I can touch you like this," Miguel whispered, his words growing sweeter yet more possessive by the second.

"Mhm~ Only you." You cooed. Miguel groaned as he made his suit disappear around his hands, trailing them towards your clit,

"Already so wet. How long have you've been wanting this?"

"I-I'll tell only if you do," You huffed, feeling your growing embarrassment.

Miguel only grunted in response before flicking your sensitive bud. You let out a sharp gasp, holding onto Miguel as he toyed with your clit. Soft moans escaped your lips as jolts of pleasure coursed throughout your body.

"You sound so sweet. How long again?" Miguel questioned against your ear.

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Months~"

"Hm, months. So I have months of making up then," Miguel chuckled lowly as he nibbled against your ear, "Months that can be redeemed easily."

"Ah~" You gasped as Miguel's fingers entered your soaked cunt.

You held onto Miguel, riding against his hand as pleasure took over you mind. His thick fingers making a mess of your pussy easily. The tight burning knot within you was about to burst with each curl of his fingers.

Biting your lower lip, you arched your chest against his. Your body shaking from pleasure as you felt your high approaching. Miguel must have noticed since his fingers started to work faster. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you cried out a loud moan.

"Ah~ Miguel!"

"Thaaaat's right. Only I can do this," Miguel hummed as you cam against his fingers, "That's my girl."

You panted heavily as Miguel licked his fingers. His hips lifting yours slightly as he started to reveal his massive cock. You could only whimper, ready to be devoured by Miguel.

"Miguel, are you in here?" Peter B. Parker called out.

"Aye, fucking timing." Miguel hissed lowly, "Fix yourself up, I'll deal with him first."

"Mhpm!" You pouted angrily, grabbing Miguel's wrist, "Don't keep me waiting. You said you had months of making up to do." You said with a whine.

Miguel's smirk widen as he kissed you hungrily. His talons ripping your suit slightly,

"I do. And I have to make up for this," He chuckled, tearing your suit some more, "Go hide while I deal with him."

"My suit!!" You cried before running off.

Miguel just watched you, his smile never fading. Hiding his erection, Miguel hurried to deal with Peter.

He couldn't keep you waiting after all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

[hakusins]

cw // tattoos, piercings

why are they so loud about liking blondes .... i haven't slept in months pLEASE (<- not a blonde enjoyer)

even the version thats not in DOL universe likes blondes too 😭😭😭

slight cameo of whitney the faithful that belongs to moosen/jdolh !! (no tag cause its just smol cameo 😭)

#WHY ARE YOU THREE MAKING THINGS SO DIFFICULT #STRANGLES ALL THREE ERI #PLEASE LET ME SLEEP #LET ME REST #I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN MONTHS !!!! STOP BEING SO DAMN LOUD IN MY HEAD #<- actually sounds like a crazy person #like these three would start crawling all over the walls in my head #whenever i read some random media #and it has a blond haired man/woman #ESPECIALLY LOUD if the blond haired man/woman have red eyes #im tired of this !!! #LET ME FUCKING SLEEP DAMMIT #STOP KEEPING MY UP WITH IDEAS I CANT KEEP UP!!!!!!!! #oh and also its such a surprise i draw whitney so much because if i met whitney irl #he's getting pepper sprayed idc #but these three like him #so i cant complain ERBFHJERBHFBERF #dol #dol related #degrees of lewdity #dol pc #eri the orphan #eri (oc) #ERI I DID NOT MAKE YOU A BLOND LOVER #WHAT HAPPENED THAT MADE YOU A BLOND LOVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #fan art #art #mine #my fan art #my art

[haveyouseenherlately]

here's a collection of bits & bobs from my drafts, some of them which i don't recall writing so i have no idea what was supposed to happen lol

warning: 18+, smut. grammatical errors, typos.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

lost inside your thoughts, you don't notice when he pokes his head through the open glass door and it's only when you see his bare feet walking towards you that you acknowledge his presence. hey. he takes off his stripped jumper to wrap around your shoulders before nestling by your side. the comfort that washes over you is instant. you would've never thought that a singular human being could make you feel at home. but matty does. he is home.

he lifts up your skirt, bunching it up at your hips for easier access, his eyes widening at the sight of the wet spot on your red underwear. seeing your slick seep through the cotton is all it takes for him to bury his mouth in the spot you craved most, sucking you trough the material. your taste and scent driving him absolutely mad. i love your cunt, darling.

it came as a surprise to no one that having sex while on tour could be a tricky yet exciting endeavour. on one hand, you were self conscious of invading your friends’ personal space because, let’s be real, it was fucking difficult to keep quiet and you always got teased afterwards. but on the flip side, the mere thought of being caught was almost more than enough motivation to fuck wherever you pleased.

you try your best to hold it but you cannot help but burst out laughing at his response. maybe lauder that you should've. "so you mean to say that ALL of those times we've listened to this album together you've been thinking about jacking off?" he laughs, too, slightly covering his face with his hands. "umm..." you give him a questioning look but he slowly nods his head. "not all of the time, though. but yes... the thought does cross my mind."

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty #matty healy #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #bf matty blurb

[crescentpaws]

i think fintan’s main motivation(s) can be boiled down to:

- “the ends justify the means” — knows what he’s doing (the murdering people) is wrong but believes it’s for the greater good of the elvin world. if people get in his way he must eliminate them; it’s nothing personal it’s just the easiest and quickest way to remove obstacles (like what happened with cyrah… in that case the starstones/elysian being kept a secret was more important to him than her living)

- in the case that he DOES enjoy murdering people though, i think it would be because it gives him a sense of control, which is something he probably hasn’t experienced since the pyrokinesis ban. i think this would apply to all his other crimes too….. over-indulging in the self-expression he was previously denied due to the ban (and especially since suppressing an ability seems to be extremely difficult, and he was forced to do that for centuries, all the arson would probably feel cathartic) sort of a “fuck you, you can’t control me anymore” vibe. this is why he’s always up front taking part in all his big schemes instead of hiding in the shadows and making the other neverseen members do it. he needs to control everything. (plus in stellarlune sophie mentions that his emotions are likely to be all over the place, which stina says will only make them stronger and easier for her to read. and we know elemental abilities (pyrokinesis especially) are influenced by emotions, so of course the more his mind deteriorates the harder it will be for him to control his ability. he probably knows this, which is why he’s being so destructive all at once. he wants to feel a sense of control while he still can)

- similar to the previous point but not quite the same: he craves the power and respect he used to have as a councillor. he went from beloved world leader to Most Hated Guy On Earth ™ in one night, and i’m sure that wasn’t an easy transition. we know he’s tired of being treated like shit because of his ability, especially because he used to be so loved. he is going to do whatever it takes to make sure people still recognize him as a powerful figure. he is going to scream and bite and leave claw marks on everything he touches because he will not let this opportunity slip through his fingers again. he will not be cast away and forgotten!! not this time!!!!! prime example of “if i can’t be respected, then i will be feared”

and then there’s the good old fashioned revenge

#anyway i think he’s very silly #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fintan #fintan pyren #kotlc headcanons

[sillyyuserr]

My take on ‘teruaoi’ in the new chapter ❗️❗��� (spoilers obviously)

Ive seen people take in the new teruaoi thing differently, from how it could erase akane’s entire personality to the exact opposite, but i think personally the teruaoi thing might be good (for now at least)

for the entire manga since very VERY early on (book 1), it was established that akane was entirely for aoi, not changing himself or pretending to like things aoi likes, but like worshipped her with his entire being, but he seemingly prioritizes her happiness, above actually being with her.

so when he found out teru and aoi were getting engaged, he tried to go back to the clock, and remembered he needed the other clock keepers to do so.

Realizing he can’t do anything, despite how much he doesn’t like it, he lets it be. Maybe aoi’s happier with teru? Who knows.

for just about the first time in the entire manga, this almost COMPLETELY severs akane from aoi, giving him (again for the VERY first time in the almost 10 years tbhk has existed) a chance to be just akane.

we need to remember akane is under the impression teru likes aoi, he might assume since one is happy, the other is too. Whenever teru teases him with ‘what if i asked out akane-san’ he never considers or even thinks aoi will reject him, he assumes they’ll be happy together since teru’s happy (spoiler neither of them are)

rounding this back to my initial point, since aoi is no longer apart of his personality (if he really does accept teruaoi as is) he will act simply as him, not as aoi’s fucking worshipper but yk just him

the only time i think we’ve seen this before is when aoi’s in the far shore and teru&akane are like going around town after the karaoke date but before they actually go back to retrieve her.

And during this time may i say teru was almost making moves on him?? Like not blatant but i’d say some of the most compelling evidence that ‘teru likes akane’ is shown all relating to aoi, but ALWAYS when she’s conveniently not there to witness.

Whether aoi’s stuck in the far shore or being married off to someone, whenever aoi’s not present and/or in some kind of difficult situation terukane really pulls through. 😭 who knows maybe it’ll be another ‘coming back closer than before’ kind of falling out they’ve had like 5 times already after this arc. HOW MUCH CLOSER CAN YOU GET LIKE KISS ALREADY

maybe this might push akane to do things he’s never done, maybe we see a side of akane we’ve never had the chance of seeing before, who knows.

this is simply all my interpretation, if you see something different here pls tell me im very interested. Terukane REAL

#ngl i feel like im losinh hope #the more i look into it the bigger ‘if’ terukane becomes #real #terukane #minamoto teru #aoi akane #yashiro nene #aidairo #tbhk #teruaoi #tbhk chapter 113

[buttfishfan]

People aren't completely wrong about Kara's story being really weak, but i also feel like people dont realize the amount of missed opportunity in her section of the game.

Kara's story could've been AMAZING if only David Cage knew what he was trying to write.

Sooo here's some ideas ive been mulling over for a couple weeks about how id fix Kara's story.

1. Making Alice human

Even when i was blind to a lot of the bad writing in Detroit this plot twist made me so agitated and confused because there was no plot twist it was seriously just david cage lying to the player for 12 hours 😭 making Alice human would fix many inconsistencies in Kara's story like how she just chooses to ignore the fact that Alice is an android and acts shocked when she finds out. Having alice be human also opens up the story to a more interesting themes about the bonds that can be formed between humans and androids like holy fuck david did you forget the story you were writing midway through 😭 If Alice was human it could also lead to new game mechanics or plot where kara would need to take care of Alice's human needs like food and water which then leads into Kara being put into situations where she is forced to do the "moral" thing and sacrifice comfort or to fight for Alice's survival.

2. Giving Kara's section of the game an actual overarching choice

The biggest reason i believe people think Kara's story is so boring is because in a game that prides itself on letting its players choose their very own story Kara's story allows for the least amount of choices. Both Connor and Markus have overarching distrinct choices that lead to VERYYY polar outcomes. Connor has the ability to deviate or stay a machine and markus has the ability to lead a peaceful or violent revolution. The only distinct outcomes in Kara's story is if you make it to Canada or not and even that is just if you chose the /right/ choices instead of the choices you consciously made. I wish there was more opportunities for Kara to be really evil and fucked up but all in the name of giving Alice the world. I know you're able to steal and lie in various chapters but it never felt like it had any true weight to how kara or the story progressed.

3. Give Alice an actual personality

Throughout the entire game Alice kinda doesn't do or say anything of value like I've seriously lost count how many times she's said "im cold". It makes no sense to me how you get the relationship status of family with her as Kara when you genuinely know nothing about Alice. She doesn't talk about anything. Even as an android she like must've had some sort of interest programing to act like a child but she just never shares anything even with the people that are supposedly the closest ones to her?? I feel like her personality should've been dependent on the way youd approach Karas story. If kara is willing to do immoral things for Alice's sake I feel like Alice should also be fucked up and evil cuz like, shes a kid and kara is her role model of COURSE she'll try an be similar to her mama. If Kara chooses to sacrifice comfort for morals then Alice takes after Kara in that respect too. So not only would you be responsible for how Kara acts you'd also be responsible for the way Alice acts which gives the player the choice of do they want this little kid to follow in the wrong steps or not?

Some ideas i have for how the story should've gone

Todd brings Kara home after she gets fixed and she meets Alice for the first time. Alice obviously knows Kara but after attempting to make Kara remember her she realizes that Kara's memory has been wiped. Since Kara would've probably been the only person to care for Alice before she was broken this would lead to Alice having a breakdown where she realizes her only protection and source of comfort is gone. Alice would probably resent or be distrustful of Kara a little in the beginning because of this.

I feel like running away should've been a more difficult decision on Kara's part. She's just come home from being fixed and she's already deviated i don't think she fully knows what she wants to do with Alice. Especially when they've started off their relationship with nothing i don't think Kara should've been leaning into the whole mom thing. It would've made more sense if their interactions started off as Kara just making sure Alice stays alive and then over time their relationshio actually has room to develop instead of starting off as mother daughter and ending off as mother daughter.

These are only some ideas. Im obviously not a writer but i just really care about this game and feel like it had too much lost potential 🙏🙏

#dbh #detroit become human fanart #d:bh #detroit: become human #kara dbh #dbh kara #ax400 #alice dbh #dbh alice #im the number one detroit become human fan

[sharonisthebettercarter]

billy butcher and addiction--

felt there's a need for a good and proper analysis for this fucker (as well as i can manage, maybe throw in a bit of a rant on poor fandom etiquette, 'three laws of fandom' are an oldie but a goodie lol) so here we go i guess--

i wanna start by saying this is a full scope character deep dive (sortaish?? best i can do take it or leave it--lol i might go further in depth on specific scenes or whatnot later, i'm longwinded but i'm tryin' to condense as best i can for this, aaaaaaaaaaand long long post ahead--) that def includes elements solidly confirmed in dear becky and probably leans more on comics billy overall, but def does intertwine and interlock with show billy (as they are essentially the same, garth ennis' own words went something like 'he's a perfect billy butcher' lol)

i'll try to avoid spoilers (??) for the most part like dear becky, but there are some things that may need more context (there is quite a bit of in the show that works well enough to represent anyway but i guess we'll see how this goes, i may end up talking more about the show elements and how they parallel with comics billy anyway)

i also think it's worth mentioning that there's a lot to billy (especially in the comic) i feel fandom either ignores, dismisses or doesn't want to acknowledge, or just doesn't notice.

whether from personal bias/prejudice, desire (fitting billy into that 'alpha's alpha' toxic masculinity 'dom top' fever dream 'mold' so to speak, probably--no, definitely the *worst* way to interpret and easiest way bungle up his character, it completely misses the fact that billy has built *that* 'daddy approved' version of himself as a *facade* to *hide* his own shame and insecurity, and he is *so* much more complex than that nonsense (and genuinely uncomfortable and unhappy being that way-beyond the subtle guilt of a constant high). can we talk about the ways in which fandoms promote and perpetuate toxic masculinity--what, no time we'll be here all week?? oh, okay. jesus fucking christ that is exactly as bad if not worse than the maga chud interpretation and unironic worship of homelander--), lack of personal experience/familiarity, understanding--fuck it, even lack of education in media analysis or reading comprehension (if not both), and *especially* being pro-censorship/americentric/*stuck* with purity culture blinders (or even some part of them lingering)

all of those can def make media (and characters like billy) that isn't 'cookie cutter america-approved' fairly difficult to understand or accept (i guess??)

i've seen so much listed to hell and back in attempts to describe comics billy. 'he's a piece of shit' *YES*. 'he's just wish fulfillment for the author's hatred of superheroes' *no*??? let me not get into the complete hypocrisy of someone who writes or enjoys fanfic--the epitome of *wish fulfilment*--unironically complaining about other authors doing this and thinking it's a legit complaint. how does *anyone* read the entire story and come to *that* conclusion???

did you even bother reading the comic? no, i don't mean glossing over it with a completely closed mind while actively ignoring and dismissing everything important put in front of you and designed to make you think because the blood and guts or other is too distracting apparently, i mean *actually* reading it thoroughly and making an effort to think about what's being presented and why, waiting for the drop *instead* of jumping to judge (as is the american way)

and to some degree, i get it. i wouldn't say this comic is the easiest to digest (especially if completely unfamiliar with many of the themes presented, even the show has sparked some ass takes and interpretations) there's also plenty of common misconceptions, one in particular about garth ennis 'hating' superheroes. this is actually not true, what he hates is how the superhero *genre* has bottlenecked the comics industry and what is more likely to see success in it (and as a fellow creative, i completely understand how frustrating that would be, his main interest is actually war stories)

it's def one thing to say, 'nah, i don't vibe with the style' or 'it's not really for me/my taste but it's fine if others like it', i get that, satire and horror aren't for everyone. honest critique is fair even.

but it is a whole 'nother thing entirely to pretend your own personal tastes are *the only 'correct' creative law* and then *vehemently* oppose or hate something an artist created and denounce, harass, or fuck--dehumanize the people who enjoy it, if not the artists who work(ed) on it.

i'm sorry, this is a tangent cause it's def not limited to the hate the boys comics or ennis gets *at all*, it's especially prevalent in *literal* kids media like teen titans go where the thing in question is simply put--*NOT MADE FOR THE SHITHEADS NONSTOP COMPLAINING ABOUT IT* when they can literally, *LITERALLY* just *accept* that they weren't the *target audience* and move the fuck on with their day, happy as can be. *instead* of shitting on something *or the people who like it* to make literal *children* or other people feel bad about liking it.

it's one thing to try and educate people or have discourse and discussion, it is another entirely to *bully* them over something so *stupid* as *fiction*.

i especially have a problem with this shit when i have *several* artists tell me that they don't feel *safe* or *welcome* being themselves, liking or creating what *they* want to make in a fandom *because* of the fandom attitude and normalization of *hate* within that fandom.

i *thought* fandoms were supposed to be about *love* so what the fuck is this human tribalist false dichotomy bullshit??

and of course, that's not always the case. there is also an unbelievable level of respect that is given to fanartists and fanfiction writers, and that is *beautiful*. 'don't like, don't read'. *PERFECT*. curate your own content, complain or rant in your own spaces--you're entitled to an opinion, but *accept* that it still has a right to exist and other people still have a right to love it (and aren't wrong for that, opinions cannot be objective), *even if you don't like it*. just don't engage then, it's that simple.

now extend that level of courtesy to the people, artists and writers in the industry.

no, i'm not trying to shut down criticism of media, proper critique is how we learn and grow and understand better and in turn *create* better. yes, they can fumble the fucking bag too, especially when adapting something from a source material and--like *some* fanfic writers out there--think they can do it 'way better'.

but the people in the industry? who bend over backwards, going on strike in some cases, breaking their necks to work on and create the things that we *love* and latch onto?

they're people too. and whether the thing they make goes *exactly* how we want or not, however you feel about the money in the entertainment industry (which they see barely a dime of if those fucking strikes and constant mistreatment are any indication), they don't deserve to be treated like scabs.

that mentality of 'not my personal taste = universally bad' and 'anyone who disagrees with my opinion is wrong' is fucking gross and *extremely elitist*, just straight up announcing how pretentious, obtuse, willfully arrogant and ignorant, and *lacking in self awareness*--the number one easiest way to be the *shittiest* kind of artist/writer/critic--you are. it is *exactly* like cishet white men complaining about something being 'bad' because it's 'woke' or has anything *besides* a cishet white man for the protagonist.

*god forbid something isn't tailor made specifically for them.*

swear to gawd, i got a list of different bullshit and circle jerking i've seen all across different fandoms for different reasons. no i'm not mad at any one person in particular, just a little salty from recurring problems and gatekeeping (ghoulfucking-GHOULFUCKING OF ALL THINGS I--I CANNOT) if not straight up bullying (does it really make a bitch feel *so* much better to try and hurt other people for liking what they, and let's be honest, are not willing to give the time of day?) in fandoms. (the complete audacity of people to complain about a media being 'childish' or 'bad' because 'insert nonsensical trivial bullshit here that holds no weight because it's personal taste if not flat out wrong and not actual critique' and then turn around and throw the biggest fucking tantrums about it--let me not get into the whole sharon carter debacle jesus christ--)

same shit. different pile.

also, fuck me. i keep *forgetting* that genuinely valid critique (*not* personal taste/opinion, proper critique pertains to things like techniques used, composition, narrative consistency and plot holes, goals of the artist/writer, accomplishments of those goals, etc.) is something that needs proper education and understanding all on its own which not a whole ton of people get or even know, which just goes to show--i'm a dumbass too. (but i won't deny that plenty of 'critics' are full of shit and *know* this but use their 'personal taste' as 'critique' *anyway* because... they enjoy being complete assholes and discouraging other artists i guess.)

y'all, take a class or two in art critique and literature analysis. you'll learn all the cool lingo (to later forget if you're like me~), and maybe (hopefully) walk out with a bit more of an open mind wanting to encourage more art in the world, even if you don't personally like it. take a moment to *listen* to differing opinions in their *entirety* and you might even gain a new perspective.

*no one* should be ashamed to ask questions or admit they don't know or understand something and fuck the people that would make you feel that way. *we can and should help each other.*

but stagnant or hostile fandoms with no self awareness and perpetuated elitism circle jerks? *really* fucking shameful, regardless of the form or where they are.

ANYWHO--

ugh, fuck. okay. i think i'm done with that tangent, back on topic--

BILLY BEAN~<3

and i want to reiterate that *again*, dear becky *does* confirm pretty much everything i'm going to discuss here tho technically speaking, nothing is spoiled here as it's just reiterating what is implicit (if not stated outright) throughout the series.

as far as dear becky goes, it's a good final gut-wrenching piece to the series and i loved it, but it definitely leaned on more of 'tell' instead of 'show, don't tell' (no duh in context, but probably because the rest of the comic did the 'show'--very well imo but it still flew over peoples' heads and made them misplace their brains--i'm sorry, i've just lost so much patience for the lack of reading comprehension and media literacy, but honestly? ennis is genuinely too good at knowing how to spark a strong emotional reaction in readers. and can we talk about the dense mofos that *make* authors have to 'tell' just to confirm something that is heavily implied--what, no time? oh, fuck, fine.)

OKAY--

addiction.

what about it, and why am i mentioning it. well. because if it's not clear by now, william butcher is an addict.

and it is one of, if not the core element that drives him to do what he does.

not becky or becca. not justice.

addiction.

and i don't mean traditional substance abuse (though he admits there has been as much in his life, especially with alcohol, his drug of choice is a bit more complex and maybe not so easy to spot on the surface for those unfamiliar with addiction).

in the show, we even see him mention that he's 'done 'em all' and there's *nothing* like temp v--and it's because temp v *amplifies* his *addiction* to the highest level it could exist on.

something else to note, there's a ton of stigma and widespread (ableist) misconception surrounding addiction still (which may be part of why people may not want to recognize it in billy), but it is absolutely a clinical mental disorder and people who suffer from it should be treated as *medical patients*, not reduced to violent criminals and scumbags. (fuck you drug war and prohibition, you are the root of organized crime and you're racist as shit.) it's also possible to become addicted to *anything*. and i mean *anything*.

if you can repeat a behavior and your brain no longer cares whether or not that behavior is causing you harm because there is a *compulsive* urge for that *repetition* or a specific result from it? that is addiction. money, anger, pain, violence, self harm, attention, love...

you'd think the last one might be okay, but it's not. it's an easy way to get caught in the infinite loop of an abusive relationship, just with promise of it. no delivery necessary.

but it doesn't have to be drugs that cause addiction. hell, gambling addiction is a thing all it's own that can get *incredibly* severe.

and listen, too much of *anything* can be horrible for you. fucking coconut will give you the runs if you eat too much that shit is *not* fun pun intended--

i digress.

in billy's case? he's actually addicted to two i just listed.

violence. and self harm.

i mentioned before that what drives billy has next to nothing to do with what happened to becky or becca.

there's a common misconception that, at the end of the day, billy does have some level of good intent behind his actions, and to a degree this is true in the *complete reverse* of what people often assume, and this is proven repeatedly in both the show (with just what we have seen) and comic (where its laid out too heavily to ignore).

setting aside the fact that there's *never* a good 'rEaSoN' to commit or even attempt *genocide* (EVER. i have ZERO patience for the constant apologism of this bullshit, SWEAR TO GAWD FANDUMB--) and billy's genocidal tendencies on their own, the idea that 'he goes after homelander for becca' or 'justice' has been completely debunked.

'justice is not vengeance'

something to always keep in mind.

but... in the first season? hughie called him out on this.

butcher calls him a 'disgrace to robin's memory', and hughie--bless his little heart, responds with 'i think i'm doing this *for* her.'

it's an interesting response, because hughie is essentially saying--

'you'll *die* for this woman, but that's not what she would have wanted. i'm going to *live* for robin, and for *annie*, because *that's* what she would have wanted.'

and he's absolutely right. billy loved becca, would have died for her. but he refuses to listen and *live* for her.

the group therapist too even before hughie. she literally laid it all out, front and center in the clearest way possible, 'it's a defense mechanism', and then butcher had his little meltdown just before telling hughie about becca, everything he can, including *using* other peoples tragedies and his own *specifically* to manipulate hughie and try and make sure *starlight* can't *save* him from what butcher is trying to turn him into.

*so that hughie stays stuck on his reason to die, instead of finding one to live.*

in the second season, *becca* herself calls him out on this, multiple times.

'you put me on this pedestal but i never knew how to save you'.

'--i didn't come to you, i went to vought--.'

and that's just it, becca (and becky in the comic) is *intimately* familiar with billy's *addiction* and the underlying mental health issues he *wouldn't address*. she didn't tell him what happened even after the shock of it because she *knew* that it would just become a reason for billy to *give in* and be his worst self to a degree where she would *lose him* regardless of what she felt or asked for from him.

she felt she had to *suffer in silence* to *protect him* from *himself*, something that ends up *destroying* her.

becca wanted to *save* billy, but more importantly, she wanted *him* to *save himself* because she *believed in him*, *so much*.

'i never wanted that for you.'

she doesn't want billy to drown and suffer or cause harm in his own hatred and addictions. she *loved* him so much so, that she was willing to *drown herself* if it meant she could save *him*. she loved him *too much*.

billy's mum too, even tries to help in her own way. (she is much less aware of billy's activity in the comic, but we'll come back to her. for the show, this was likely in response to seeing the news about *stillwell*, something his dad fucking *praised* him for)

'--that he wouldn't have this hold on you--'

billy's actions are almost entirely driven by the *addiction* his father forced on him. on doing the things that would make his 'daddy' *proud*. and the thing is, he's *fully aware* of this.

he constantly *says* that *becca* is his 'reason', that she was his *cure*, but she's the *excuse*. his *new addiction* and *self medication* (also billy, you fucking cunt you *know* what you do and have no leg to stand on when it comes to self medicating--)

both in the worst of what he does and his rejection of addressing his own traumas, and she is *unwilling* in this endeavor. she never wanted this hate to consume him, she never wanted all of this death with her name as the signature, *she never wanted billy to be his father*, much less be something much worse.

he even admits as much in the third season when he hallucinates lenny who tells him his actions would 'break becca's heart'

billy responds something along the lines of 'becca's dead, it doesn't matter what she thinks'. (a line presented in the comic even more harshly, but it drives the point home perfectly.)

when he sees lenny again in his nightmare--

'i'm not that bastard--.'

'come off it billy, you always have been. cause anyone who's ever loved you, you end up gettin' 'em killed, don't ya--.'

'--the last person on god's green earth tryin' to stop you from bein' a monster, and what do you do? drag him down to your level... when he dies... and he will... then no can stop you.'

OOF OUCH OWIE--. the lenny stuff hits so damn hard but it represents *perfectly* what butcher's own *internalized beliefs* are.

mallory calls him out on it literally every season.

'--but billy! not the others!'

'it's like asking a cockroach to not be a cockroach--'

'--because it wouldn't stop with just homelander--'

'this was never about ryan or becca, it was always selfish. the hate inside that you want to let loose on the world.'

'--i was wrong... you are your father, always have been...'

and then there's billy's subsequent impulsive reaction to push ryan away, and *be his father*.

but hell, even in gen v when mallory is speaking to shetty.

and truthfully, billy was even showing *withdrawal* symptoms at the beginning of the third season.

billy himself, even *self punishes*, picking fights he knows he *won't* win as a way to counterbalance *and* satisfy his own addiction, infinite loop. vicious cycle.. (ooh i will def be coming back to the big one here--), and we see this in one *HUGE* way, and in many many smaller ways, but even in the more literal sense of going to bars, starting trouble, and laughing or smiling when he's getting beat the fuck up or *losing*.

it's even highlighted in the show, billy *seeking out violence* and conflict whether he should or not, *especially* when unnecessary. getting his own face busted up and smiling because of it is something that happens multiple times in the comic (even on accident in one instance), and is def given a place in the show. it's easy to pass off as billy simply being a masochist (which is def true lmao he does admit as much), but there's also more to it than that and it goes hand in hand with his *addiction* and--

what he thinks he deserves.

billy *hates himself* so *severely* that he actually *does not believe* that he is capable of the *good* that others, such as lenny, becca, his mum, and hughie are willing to *see* in him. he *completely* believes it when others say that 'he is his father' (internalizes it, struggles with it, and frequently acts on it).

he puts on a show. bravado, posture, and 'confidence'. and he's so good at putting on that front, that he can fool himself, even for a moment. and those that believe it will even *enable* him. and the people he feels *nothing* for? again, he maintains the front. he lives his life *masking*, *faking it*--so fucking hard. homelander could never--

and it's not even necessarily the result of toxic masculinity. don't get me wrong, he def has some issues with that lingering (y'all, if you have *say* you're an 'alpha' and posture out your sweet little ass off 24/7, you're def *not* an 'alpha' lmfao), but it's more so his own *trauma* that forces him to *cling* to that.

but when he *loves*, and he loves *deeply*, he completely rolls over and shows his belly like a kitten<3... when he was with becky, he was happy and comfortable, and all of that *ridiculousness* just melted away completely... he didn't feel any need for it because he felt *safe*, because this constant *insecurity* and feeling of being *threatened* all the damn time looming overhead had suddenly cleared up with becky there.

it's not even so much that billy doesn't feel fear. he might not traditionally (at all if his amygdala is damaged), but considering the fight or flight response, billy's *default* setting literally *is* that *fight* response. he's the way he is because he is *always* afraid and he's been conditioned for it to manifest itself as *rage*.

we see bits of his love come through in a few moments he has with people he has genuine care for. (the way he loves his mum and she instantly calms him down is genuinely so sweet.)

but it's always gonna come back down to 'daddy dearest'.

because of him, *billy is afraid of living*.

and--

his father. *is proud of him*.

billy is *just like him* or *everything he wanted to be* as a *man*, or at least is compelled to *project* this on the surface. and everything in *billy* that *is* his father, *just like him*, is *everything* that billy *hates*. so it manifests into an *intense* self loathing and spiraled addiction that magnifies the worst of what his father *forced* on him.

he *doesn't want* to be *his father*, but he feels, and fully believes that *he already is*. his self hatred is another form of *hating his father*, because *he is that man's legacy*.

so *billy* doesn't *believe* that he deserves love or goodness or care from other people (a parallel we see in homelander, presented a bit differently.) so he 'doesn't care'. makes excuses to not care (about people in general, if not just the very *prominent* antisocial tendencies), or leave, or push them away, lashing out to give *them* the excuse to leave him, because he is *afraid* and in his own mind, *unworthy*.

he's *afraid* of being loved, of *losing* that love, of *hurting* those he loves. he is *afraid* of being his own father.

but it's all he's ever known, all he's ever been *conditioned* to be. intoxicated, ever present, it's this terrible thing that destroys him but he *can't* stop. *addiction*.

and what better way to protect those he loves than to keep himself as *far* away from them as possible? than to *make* them hate him. than to do the *wrong* thing, to *disappoint* them. self sabotage. self punishment.

he can't stop himself. he deserves it.

lather, rinse, repeat.

so what does that mean for homelander, or even the reason he goes after homelander? the *real* reason.

'there must be *some* good in him because homelander 'must be' this 'ultimate evil that *must* be stopped', right?

not really. he's a symptom of a much greater evil, but he was never the root of it. if billy really wanted to solve the problems at hand and get *justice*, he'd go after *vought*, NOT homelander.

homelander is not even the real villain in *billy's* mind, in all actuality.

what homelander *is*?

temptation.

he is... the *ultimate* final high for billy. in terms of addiction to both *violence* and *self punishment*.

he doesn't actually go after homelander because he wants to 'stop him' or even kill him. not really. there are times billy starts a fight *expecting* to *lose*, *wanting* it. homelander *is* one of those times to the most intense degree that billy could find. and he even senses this when they first meet--unnecessarily, privately insulting the man because why?

because he feels *threatened*. because he feels *insecure*. because if homelander is *truly good*, even with *all that power*--

then billy has no fucking excuse--

it is, in essence, the same exact reaction that lex luthor has to superman. forcing himself to *challenge* him because of a *constant* sense of *fear*. (except lex *is* afraid of dying, so 1000% a huge coward lmao--)

but~, when he finds out homelander is *bad*?

homelander is billy's *failsafe*

to stop the person he feels is the most terrible evil of all *and* to set the world on fire in the process. a way for billy to kill two birds with one stone. compelled by his addiction to *chase* this ideation relentlessly.

homelander is to billy--his ultimate end, self punishment, a death wish, a *suicide attempt*.

and a way to *unleash his hatred onto the rest of the world*, *to make it burn*, even after his death. (this would be why despite many many MANY warnings to *not* push homelander *because of the catastrophe this will ultimately instigate and the loss of life this is bound to result in*--billy does not give a shit about the potential consequences. he welcomes them--)

if homelander were a *nuke*, billy would want to *launch* him. right now, homie is more like the *demon core*, incredibly dangerous and in some instances lethal, but not *yet* explosive.

billy *wants* the *warhead*.

it was why he got *so excited* at the *chance* of homelander offering him 'scorched earth'.

the man read billy like an open fucking book, and set the bait--

y'all, in other words, homie straight up went to billy's house and offered *crack* to the *crack addict*--fuck yeah he's gonna take that offer!

homelander never actually perceives billy as a real threat *at all* (safe to say, this is the main reason he doesn't kill him. there's a bit of personal complex combined with the deals/blackmail/request involved, but this would also be why he doesn't *hesitate* to 'kill' billy at herogasm. he genuinely gives no fucks about this poor man or his many anal complexes and daddy issues beyond the mild entertainment he gets from him and just how *easy* it is to read billy or rile him up. maybe a *dash* of novelty being found in billy's obsession with him. i'll go into the homie side of things in depth maybe someday soon lol but for now--)

and here's the thing, homelander isn't the *only* failsafe. he is simply the *ultimate failsafe*

included in all the possible bad habits billy has is pawning off his *responsibility* and personal accountability, even his *will to do good* onto others.

i mentioned before that becca (becky) was like a new addiction for him. and she was. in a sense, billy was using her to self medicate. she loved him, gave him love and made him feel good, no pain, no shame--but also no pause to think about that pain, self hatred and self doubt and actively address it. she was a way to not worry about his own *goodness* because she was an *easy* reason for him to *want* to be good.

and something important to note?

billy feels that he has *cheated* on becca/becky *since* the day she left/died. (there's a whole ass deliciously intricate story there but i'm trying to avoid the spoilers lmao. kind of a freebie hint i guess.)

lenny and hughie similarly make an effort to *hold butcher back* and reach out to him. (everyone does honestly, but not everyone is so successful with it). and butcher lets them, but *also* removes the agency of his own choice in the matter.

he doesn't just *let them* make him *good*, he doesn't believe he's capable of stopping himself on his own--but he believes in *them* because they *are* good, *truly good*.

hughie all on his own is *another kind of failsafe* and lo and behold, even calls butcher out on this by the end of the third season (theme is prevalent in the comic a lil different but again spoilers lol):

'i don't think you want to do this. i think you want me to stop you.'

*ding*ding*ding*!

nail on the head, hughie... butcher does not believe he can stop himself. so he sets up *failsafes* to do as much.

and let me just say, it is *unbelievably* shitty of him to do that, to pawn off the responsibility of his own behavior, whether good or pure evil onto other people. but i get it. and it fucking breaks my heart for him.

because *that* is addiction. it feels like mind control. aggressive compulsion. you feel ashamed, and hate yourself, and don't care if you hurt yourself or even others. but you keep *hoping*, *wishing*, *leaving a breadcrumb trail* so that *someone*, *anyone*, will come along and--

*save you. from you.*

and when you stop believing in yourself, in your own willpower to fight against this *thing* that just completely *destroys* you from the inside out... without *anyone* on your side, what else is left to do but to numb the pain?

i was able to recognize billy's addiction right off the bat because i've *been* to a lot of the places he has been. including the addiction. and he makes me so *fucking* mad because it's like seeing a version of myself *still stuck*, *still lost*, *still trapped* by my own issues and self loathing, and all of the abuse i've gone through--

and the biggest fuck up, the biggest *abuser* is me.

i can't *escape* me. *no one* can escape *themself*.

that fucker breaks my heart to pieces because *i have been there*, and i know just how fucking hard it is to *be* there, just how much harder it is to *get out* and start to *learn*--*who is it you really wanna be? who are you without this drug?*

and something he even says in the comics on a few occasions is--

'i'm not really here, i'm somewhere else watching this happen'

asserting that he *truly* believes that he has *no control* over *what* he is. (in contrast with homelander, who feels the weight of something similar but more literally in some regard, and in relation to so many other aspects in his life with the world around him.)

billy butcher *is* the *true villain* of *his own story*

of his own making.

he's not after homelander or even vought. he doesn't blame society or even his father at this point. he blames himself. and he's *given up* entirely on fighting himself. he's looking for his *overdose*.

*that's homelander*

ain't that a kick in the head...

it's part of what makes their relationship and dynamic so incredibly electric and titillating. it's got nothing to do with becca or becky.

butcher sees homelander as an easy way out. as a way to control the narrative, *maintain his own*, and *stop the bad guy* without bringing someone *good*, like *hughie*, down to his level.

he *sees* the parallels, a kindred spirit. he *knows* the potential. and he wants to be the *spark* to light all that *gasoline*.

because then it won't be his fault anymore. his *guilt*. he'll have passed on his *curse*.

likewise, he actually goes after supes in general for a similar enough reason, and it ties in with why he *doesn't* go after vought directly.

billy actually *likes* the status quo. to a degree, *needs* it, *needs vought*

because *vought* is the *creator* of his *supply*, feeding this addiction. and we hear billy say this in both the comic and show--

'with great power comes the absolute certainty that you'll turn into a right cunt.'

and billy actually believes this--about himself.

when he says it about other supes and even his intense hatred of them, it is a *projection* of his own issues and what he believes to be true for himself (that he would do the absolute worst thing imaginable given the opportunity). and in a way, going after them is in some ways a metaphor for stopping and destroying himself, hating himself, as much as it is a way to maintain his addiction.

and--

maintain the narrative he has built--that he is the true villain.

and if that's the case, well... it takes a *hero* to stop a *villain*, right?

but also--y'all remember that scene in the suicide squad where polkadot man imagines everyone as his mum? how he imagines starro as his mum?

yeah, that.

that's basically billy. every fucking supe, including starlight, and kimiko, and let's *really* not talk about what this means about him sleeping with maeve in context with his 'supe=daddy' issues, but even the person he sees in the mirror. *all of them* are *his father*.

listen, i'm not kidding. billy's daddy issues are seriously severe, so fucking bad, i--

his actions aren't for becca or becky or ryan or justice. even he *knows* that's bullshit and admits as much (which just makes fandom denying it that much more fucked). but they're not even *just because* or because he's genocidal, antisocial, or anything else. he *does* want someone to stop him. he's sane enough to recognize his actions for what they truly are *behind* the mask.

billy's actions are a volatile and violent *cry for help*, because he never learned how to *ask*, or even how to *believe in himself*.

he never truly learned that *he never had to be his father*, and he didn't *need* becky or becca, lenny or hughie to *be good*.

i actually think billy's greatest magic trick is convincing even the audience and readers that he is a *total*, complete piece of shit. and don't get me wrong, he is *def* a huge, massive, incredibly rank and ripe piece of shit--.

and y'all, i'm sorry if you believed him and got played like a damn fiddle, him and homie def throwin' in some hard balls--

but he's also still human. he also still needs just as much if, honestly? maybe even more, fucking *help* than homelander. which kind of draws back into their parallels. the tomfoolery of fandom might have you believe that billy is less complex or more put together than homelander, but their situations go hand in hand and the evidence suggests (if not confirms) something quite different.

billy's plight and even goal in some sense is *convincing the rest of his world that he is a monster*. driven by the addiction his father gave him. enabled by the world around him.

homelander's? it's actually the complete opposite. his struggle is with *his world convincing him that he is a monster*, and in turn, against his own instincts, *growing* into that role. when in reality, he never got the chance to decide for himself, it was decided *for* him a long long time ago.

'i think, therefore i am.'

'i can, therefore i must.'

however, *our actions cannot define who we are, because we can choose our actions*. good or bad are not something you inherently *are*, they are something you *choose to do*.

it paints what in turn becomes quite the brutal and tragic picture when these two forces meet. homelander and billy are both of the mindset that they *don't have a choice*.

and this bit is a bit more of a personal thought, but regarding billy's mum, she was *becky*. she was sweet, and kind, and cared for her family more than anything. *it didn't matter what she suffered, she was willing to drown if it meant saving the people she loved*.

as much as i adore how cute becca and billy were, i don't think she would have saved him.

i think the implication is that she would have either 'drowned' trying and become his mum, history repeating itself in a vicious cycle as billy spread his disease to any child they could have.

or that she would have lost her mind. and in turn *become* the person billy spread his disease to, if not another enabler for him. if not billy's choice of drug, maybe she would have taken up something else and eventually overdosed. i would even say the show implies this outcome with both becca and hughie, as the more butcher pushes--the more worn down they get.

if you put enough pressure on someone--they break.

becca was *good* for him. but billy was so, so fucking *bad* for her.

it begs the question of whether or not billy *is* right, if he really is this monster, *fated* to become his father in the worse of ways. of whether or not it's too late for him.

he's certainly not 'normal' or 'right' or 'good' or even an 'anti-hero'. at best, you could maybe call him an 'anti-villain', he is meant to be the deuterantagonist.

it def doesn't help that every time he has the *chance* to do the right thing, *someone* goes and enables him, gives him a reason to do the *wrong* thing.

fucking maeve in that last episode of the third season. but she's def not the only one, and def not the only time. (and yes, if it wasn't clear enough, being completely fucking indifferent to killing *thousands* of people to go after *one* fucking guy is in fact, the *wrong* thing to do.)

butt.

rewatching the scenes with lenny and billy's reaction, and even the final fight, showed something of a *possible* silver lining.

billy *enjoys* rejecting his father. actually pretty fucking greatly if we're being honest. generally speaking, it's when he *rejects* his father and everything that man represents that billy is at his *happiest* (lmao the epitome of an unfulfilled submissive sweetheart and bratty bossy bottom~<3<3<3)

there's a moment, where soldier boy says something along the lines of--

'--fuck you. you're weaker than he is.'

in regards to homelander. it's sort of glossed over, but this is billy's reaction to essentially being called a 'disgrace' so to speak by a toxic 'alpha male'.

y'all see that? it's a smile. lmao a smirk.

this is a moment where billy is protecting *ryan* and keeping his promise to becca. it's a moment where billy is *doing the right thing*, all on *his own* (mostly lol i'm sure there's a roundabout way to justify it in his head). and i think that's key.

it's not just a moment he's proud of himself and has a legitimate fucking reason to be proud of himself, (oh btw, we shoulda *all* been proud of billy in this moment), it's a moment he's *breaking through what his father made him* and his own *addiction*.

and he's doing it *selflessly* and--*without setting that responsibility on another person*.

so we *know* he has it in him, he always has. even becky *in the comic* kept trying to convince billy that *he is capable of good without her*. and again, we actually saw this in the second season when becca and ryan were reunited and billy *changed* his plans, *for becca*, instead of doing the selfish thing and selling ryan back to vought.

but if billy doesn't believe it himself...

i don't think billy is right about himself. but it is very *very* difficult for someone to *correct course* so to speak, once they have their *core beliefs*, lay out their own destiny and start along a *self fulfilling prophecy*, something him and homelander *both* do.

enter ryan.

and suddenly (lol probably in part due to reading dear becky lol), there was a bit of... not so much new, as *confirmed* perspective in play after that rewatch, something to *look* for and ponder in regards to *why* ryan may have been added for this story, a question in mind--

'would it be wrong of *ryan* to want to save his father?'

was it wrong of becca or becky, hughie or lenny, even his mum, to want to save billy?

how would *billy* even begin to answer such questions?

a different answer for the two would be a clear hypocritical bias (which lol i would not put past billy, but i also wouldn't be surprised if he maintained consistent thinking by answering *yes* to both)

. . .

y'all...

i still can't say i'm particularly optimistic about things turning out alright for either gent or ryan, butt~<3

garth ennis literally made the saddest, most pathetic, deliciously sweet, perfectly precious, extra emo tsun tsun baby boi ever, and put him right under our noses.

some a y'all fucking sneezing all over him, straight up sleepin' on all his *best* bits. how are we not utilizing billy butcher *properly~<3<3<3*????

;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

#billy butcher #billy butcher meta #the boys #the boys comics #the boys tv #the boys amazon #butchlander #homelander #ryan butcher #the boys meta #media literacy #reading comprehension #fandom wank #fandom entitlement #garth ennis #tw addiction #tw abuse #psa #long post #fiction is not reality #fiction is fiction #please #never harass or bully people over your own personal preferences in fiction #sad precious emo baby boi

[equalseleventhirds]

what up besties sorry i haven't been online much but would u like to read the piece i wrote for my final for creative writing? it's metaporically about being trans n neurodivergent n disabled n ppl loving an idea of you more than you, but also it is about a zombie who comes back, not wrong, but not quite what anyone wanted..

(cw for death, electrocution, being buried (not quite alive), and complicated feelings about gender & name but that journey not being completed yet.)

- - -

Grave News

Amelia Marquez, 34, passed away in a tragic accident…

            Later, when anyone learns she woke up already buried, she can see the horror movie assumptions playing out behind their eyes. The thought of waking up, trapped in a tiny, dark, airless space, scrabbling at the walls, gasping for breath, the weight of the earth above pressing down, down, down…

            She smiles and accepts their pity, their horrified dismay, and does not tell them about lying awake, perfectly motionless, trying to figure out how to move. About how easy it is not to struggle for breath when pulling air into your lungs takes conscious effort. About pushing at different groups of muscles, her body twitching and twisting in the dark, until she works out forward, works out force, works out the flex of her hand as it pushes through velvet, then oak, then dirt, then dirt, then dirt.

            Amelia claws her way out of her own grave, not frantic, not berserk, but deliberate. Gradual. Almost mechanical, as she practices moving by repeating the same thing again and again, her patient hands working their way through wood, through earth, to the surface.

            (It isn't until later, standing in her parents' doorway and listening to the screams, that she realizes what ceaseless digging does to the human hand. She realizes that she somehow did not feel the pain as she dug. She realizes she needs to buy gloves.)

…the home she shared with her fiancé…

            Cole had been so certain about his repairs. Fifty bucks at Home Depot and a couple of days of work, and Amelia’s concerns brushed aside.

            “I’ve got this, Ames. Way better than hiring a contractor.” And she had agreed, had let him do it himself, had made dinner for a week while he spent his evenings messing with wires and fuses, assuring her that he was nearly done, that the video on YouTube made it so easy.

            Cole hadn’t been home when the lights went out, when Amelia went to the fuse box and tried to flip everything back on. When the jumble of wires in their walls shorted and flared and spread electricity through her body.

            When it killed her.

            Once her parents call, Cole drops everything to rush over. He falls to his knees in front of her, staring up into her face through a haze of tears and hope and shock.

            “You’re back. Ames, Amy, you’re back, how…”

            She stares down at her lap, making sure her hands are covered by the blanket her mother had nestled around her.

…a beautiful light in our lives, extinguished too soon. Her friends and family…

            Her memorial photo, the black clothes, the incense on the table, are all gone the morning after she comes back, packed away in boxes or thrown out in opaque garbage bags. Hands hesitate before touching her. They keep her at home, talking about rest, about recuperating.

            “Since you’ve been…” She sees the glances, the mouthed no, don’t say it. “…in your condition. It’s important to rest up.”

            It’s as though they think one wrong move, one wrong word, will kill her again.

            She wonders a little bit if they’re right.

            Her mother is the gentlest she’s ever been brushing Amelia’s hair, her hands careful, her voice filling the air. “And I unpacked some of your nice clothes,” she says, working through a tangle. “You don’t have to wear sweatpants anymore, I found your skirts…”

            Amelia looks down at her loose, comfortable clothes, the t-shirt worn and soft against her skin. She thinks about struggling with buttons on a nice blouse, thinks about whether ruffles will still itch the way they did when she was alive. Thinks about the way the mottled colors on her legs have lasted too long to be called bruises. Maybe she should call it decay.

            Her mother clicks her tongue sadly as a few strands of hair pull loose from her head. “These knots…”

            “What if I cut it?” Amelia asks. She’d been thinking about short hair back when she was alive. And it would be easier. “I can’t make you brush it for me every day.”

            Concern melds with distress on her mother’s face. “You can’t cut it,” she hisses. “What if it never grows back?”

...bright, funny, resilient, the first to volunteer...

            Once, she accidentally sleeps for three days. That’s the kind of thing the living joke about—so tired I could sleep for a week, as impossible as that would actually be. Turns out it’s easy for the dead—easy to lie still, easy to stop pushing, easy to drift away into forgiving darkness.

            She wakes to her mother weeping, her father pacing in the hall, Cole pale and haunted and clenching his phone in two hands. The funeral home’s phone number must be burned into the screen by now, but he hasn’t pressed the call button. Not yet.

            Amelia makes herself sit up in bed, reaches out to him, and sees him flinch.

            Right. Gloves.

            Even as she twists her face into a smile, she knows she's done it wrong. Her eyebrows are at odd angles, her lips curled strangely. She tries for light-hearted: "Whoops, close one! Don't want to wake up in a grave again."

            No one laughs.

...kept forever in our memories and our hearts...

            Late at night, she hears her parents whispering. “Is she all right?” her mother asks. “My little girl, my Amelia—she’s not acting like herself. She’s so tired, so...”

            “She just came back,” her father says. His voice is firm, comforting. Determined not to let any uncertainty slip through. The same voice he’s always used when her mother worries—the same voice he used when Amelia told him her own worries, her doubts about the future, about Cole. She always ended conversations with her father sure that he was right.

            “She’ll be back to herself soon enough,” he says. “We just have to keep her active. Remind her about being alive.”

            “But what if she’s not herself? I know we said not to bring up…” Her mother’s voice drops, furtive. “…the Z word…”

            “We’re keeping an eye on her. We’ll notice if she does anything that needs… intervention.”

            She closes her eyes. Wonders if she can turn off her hearing. Wonders if it would have been easier, staying in her grave.

            The next day, she brings up moving back in with Cole. He says he'd be happy to have her, and she pretends not to notice the look he exchanges with her parents.

…brought out the best in people, always ready to help, to listen…

            Cole is attentive. He brings her pastries from the bakery near their apartment and tells her about his day—work, his hobbies, a dog he saw at the park. Shows her pictures and videos on his phone. Mentions people by name, and she's not sure if they're new, since her death, or if she managed to forget people she knew about before.

            She knows which muscles to move for an understanding nod, an encouraging smile. She knows how to make herself chew and swallow food, how to bring it back up later so it doesn’t just sit and rot in her stomach. She still remembers the right way to ask questions so Cole shares more.

            There’s no real reason not to do it, but the more she thinks about it—the more she imagines forcing her body into the right place, the ordeal she’ll have to go through later—the less she wants to do it. She sits silently, pastries untouched, letting the muscles in her face go slack.

            “Ames? You okay?”

            It takes a second; she has to fill her lungs to respond. She tips one side of her mouth up in what could have been a reassuring smile, once. “Fine. Just tired.”

            He sits next to her, worry pinching between his eyebrows. "Of course. I'm sorry. Let's just sit here and watch TV? There are new episodes of all our favorites."

            The shows all feel distant, the plots blurred, the characters unfamiliar. She watches with him for hours anyway.

...a kind and giving spirit, she wanted to create...

            Shattering the mug isn't intentional. Even if she's started to resent the comforting cups of tea Cole brings her. Even if she's sick of pulling latex gloves over her cloth ones so she can wash the dishes. Even if the cutesy blobs of yellow and pink painted on it have always been too much, too bright, too false-forced-cheer, from the moment she was gifted it eight years ago.

            She still doesn't mean to let go of it, the muscles in her hand (and there are so many muscles in the human hand, so many to keep track of, and most of hers are damaged already) loosening and spasming as she's walking to the sink.

            The jagged pieces of it surround her, and Cole's hysterical babble of questions and assurances—"Are you okay, I've got it, just hold still"—fades into background noise as Amelia leans down to try and gather the shards.

            A hand wraps around her wrist and she turns to meet Cole's wide, frightened eyes. "Amy, your foot."

            A full inch of jagged ceramic is buried in her heel.

            She does not bleed, even after Cole pries it out.

...although she will never fulfill those plans, her dream will live on...

            "Ames, I'm worried." Cole reaches out, stops with his hand just over her thigh. Puts it down on the chair next to her, not touching. "This is... I know you've been through a lot. But you're acting like—"

            She turns her head until she can look at his face. Her neck jerks in the wrong direction a couple of times, but she's getting better at it, faster. "Like?"

            Cole's eyes are red, and can't quite meet hers. "Like..." His shoulders drop. "Not like yourself."

            He waits a beat—two—and gets up, breathing out harshly. "Ever since you came back, Amy. You barely look at me. You barely talk to me. You don't even like doing the things you used to like. I understand about your... condition, but..."        

...pray she rests well, and waits in peace for her loved ones...

            She sits in their apartment—Cole's apartment—long after he's gone, watching the afternoon sunlight shift across the space they used to share. Her books are still on the shelf. She remembers packing up her childhood bookshelf to bring to their new home. The painting she bought at a flea market is still hanging on the wall. She remembers joking with Cole about picking up a masterpiece for two dollars.

            Looking at them now, she doesn't even particularly want to bring them with her.

...invited to celebrate her life at...

            Merely dragging her body across the ground would be easier. But, even though she's wrong, even though she's not the person they think about when they look at her, she's still not a mindless, lurching zombie. Mostly.

            She walks. One step forward.

            Was she ever the person they thought about when they looked at her?

            One step.

            Maybe now she'll find out.

            One step.

...in lieu of flowers, the family asks...

            She settles into her seat on the train, making sure her hands are covered. A new start doesn't mean much if she sends an entire train into a panic.

            Someone sits next to her, bouncing in their seat. "Hey there! Looks like we've got eight hours ahead of us. What's your name?"

            She hesitates. Amelia. Amy. Ames.

"Mel," she says. It's strange in her mouth. Just slightly wrong, the same way she's just slightly wrong. Maybe that’s the right fit.

#algie writes things #what if u came back wrong but not evil just dealing with what it means to be dead but like in a disability way #and also u were transgender but hadn't figured it out yet #......something something society viewing ppl (trans disabled neurdivergent and more) as being 'stolen' or 'killed' #by theses aspects of our lives; as tho a 'normal' (per them) person WAS there but is no longer #but perhaps that 'normal' person never fucking was there #but circumstances make it more difficult to keep up the veneer of faking 'normality' #..........something. etc. u kno. #anyway! metaphors #but also i do love a zombie story so (shrug emoji)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

something i'm grateful for about Wally is the representation for people who love eye contact. we're underappreciated smh

#its very fun to see a character who Looks Intently bc he Likes It and thinks its Polite #eye contact is so so so so good but the majority of people hate it and Whyyyyyyy #it makes being around people so difficult #i naturally stare into a person's fucking soul when holding a conversation #so i have to constantly remind myself to look away periodically or look somewhere else entirely #and then my thoughts turn into 'youre making too much eye contact. now youre making too little. stop looking over there.' #'make eye contact WAIT NO NO ok great we just awkwardly glanced at them. fuck. what are they even saying rn we stopped listening' #and then if i make eye contact with someone in passing / a stranger #its immediate panic like Oh Fuck What If They Think We're A Total Freak Now. Shit Shit shit #or the equally terrifying What If They Think That Was An Invite To Interact #but otherwise. let me stare into your souuulllllll pleaseeeeeee #Without it being weird or making you uncomfortabllle #i am trying to CONNECT and show that i am ENGAGED i am LISTENING #absolutely unprompted #shoutout to all my adhd/autistic homies who looooooove eye contact #we're rarer than a unicorn stg #if eye contact is a sliding scale its the only binary im participating in #i think this might be why i like cats so much. instant staring contests. prolonged comfy eye contact #yeah physical contact is great but have you ever held casual Eye contact with someone

[ratinthevoid]

why did i believe i can ever come out to her

#i need to move out i need to move out i need to move out #i hate this #i can't do this anymore #i hate them but i feel like i'm not a loved to bc they care about me #fuck christiany and your stupid god #i was trying so hard and i can excuse a lot but what's even the point if they never understand #christianity is so evil so fucking evil it rots your brain #she tak about leftist propaganda and cults like she didn't let one control her for years #she want me to tell her stuff promises she can support me but it's simply a lie #she can only accept me if i'm the daughter she want me to be if i bend in the ways that are comfortable #just a little more but every day is so fucking hard #i know i'm gonna suffer and that i may be alone my whole life #but i prefer to be alone and suffer in a different place than be stuck here #and maybe i don't have to be alone maybe other people can have friends that actually care about them #fuck i believed for so long she won't have problem with me being aro like it's not even a sin right??? #i keep doing that i'm trying to tell them everything so they tell me what they really think and i'm not the bad person #but it doesn't matter if i'm the evil here i can accept it i was trying for so long #i know i'm difficult but maybe it can be easier for everyone if you just give up on me

[annamaryllis]

I would like to know exactly how luke asking annabeth to run away with him went down.

#annabeth🥺 #it's sad to think about how it'll be so much harder for annabeth to unpack and heal from that relationship bc he's dead #it's hard enough to come to terms with someone you love/held in high esteem hurting you so deeply #but she's also grieving him too so it's even harder to hold him accountable to herself and recognizing the good and the bad #she may struggle to not romanticize the memory of him #sorting through what about their relationship was pure and genuine and what was fueled by other stuff #both of their trauma really played into it in some of the worst ways... #but to even recognize how her trauma played into it she'd have to identify what her trauma even is and how it's affected her life #it's really complex and difficult work #and bc he's gone she'll never get to question him on stuff like what he was thinking at certain points and why #so certain things will never get the best closure #ugh it's all so fucked up #MAYBE SOMETHING WE COULD HAVE EXPLORED IN HOO RICHARD???? BUT NO #and it would have been perfect too bc she'd also be dealing with issues caused by both of her parents triggered by the MoA quest #like her mother's conditional love #and trauma from her mortal family #and her fear of spiders relates to both of these things bc it's a phobia that's passed down from her mom's actions #so she's being punished for something she's not responsible for and also being burdened with a quest simply for being her mother's daughter #and it also represents her mortal family's neglect bc they ignored her needs and all that... #AND THEN the only person she's received actually pure and good unconditional love from was snatched from her for 6 months #and the MoA quest could have been a way to confront some of these fears and wounds...so she's a little stronger by tartarus which #should bring out the best in her and the worst in percy #and then he can work through some stuff too down there #HoO could have been a journey for them where they're undone and then healed #bc at the end of everything they have the medicine to literally everything which is real love (which they have for each other intensely) #the rant I could go on about this...I have so many thoughts about what HoO should have been. maybe one day #annabeth chase #luke castellan #✏️