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gkt-tummyaches · 7 months

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you said in that bratubbles ask that you could go more in depth into ur bubbles characterization, it would be cool if u did!!

bubbles is a bit of a social chameleon. being somewhat of a public figure makes meaningful friendships difficult to achieve, and her love-life complicated.

i think as she gets older she tries to be a friend of the world, so to speak ? but isn't really fulfilled by only having acquaintances like boomer is, and strives for a deeper connection with so many different people that it eventually spirals into people-pleasing.

pleasing people means acting a certain way, conforming to a certain code-switch, and if you do it as intensely and wholeheartedly as bubbles does, it can mean changing who you are fundamentally. as she grows, so does the number of masks she wears for different people. along the way, she sort of forgets who she was or who she wanted to be; completely absorbed in being what everybody else wants - or what she thinks they want.

the unfortunate reality is that you can't be friends with everybody. it's not something bubbles really learned because of how outgoing she was as a child; people who didn't get along with her were either 'evil' or monsters, and it created a super black and white worldview until she was exposed to the gray areas in middle school.

and,, middle school is middle school. she probably had a couple people comment on how unerringly optimistic and forcefully positive she was all the time, eventually internalized the above message into more of a 'if people don't like me, there's something wrong with me' mentality. it's middle school. it's the start of teen hormones and feeling like a fraud and hating yourself, it happens - except most of us have a decent support to maybe grow out of it, or some other way of coming to terms with who we are.

bubbles is a literal superhero. she is famous, along with her sisters. from a young age she has been held to a much higher standard than other kids her age (in some parts, rightfully so. in other parts, not so much.) a lot of what she says is aired on tv, quoted in the local paper; as technology grows with the generation, she's viral on social media and clips of her circle faster than she can break a sound barrier.

it's very isolative. people only like her if she's bubbles: the joy and the laughter, and when that falls out of style, she's then criticized for being exactly who the crowd wanted her to be.

so she starts changing. and changing. and changing. until she's graduated high school and entering college with no idea of her place in the world, her social standing, whether people even know the real her - or if, in the mind of every person she's ever spoken to, she is some different, distorted version of herself. like looking into a shattered mirror.

her sisters,,, grew up, lived their lives, matured. blossom and buttercup have - in bubbles' eyes - known who they were and stood firmly in those beliefs. buttercup is unapologetic, blossom is unwavering; they don't fold under the pressure of strangers, and their title as superheroines or the weight of responsibility has never appeared to weigh them down.

and somewhere along the way, bubbles became a stranger to them. it's a little frustrating to think that her own sisters only remember her in the image of their childhood, but more than anything she's almost guilty that she drifted so far from them for it to happen.

there's a lot of things about interpersonal connections that bubbles tends to fixate over. the obvious is being friends with everybody; it's a very idealized, one-dimensional goal to have, but it stems from a place of wanting to belong, to have a place in the world - and moreover, for that sense of belonging to not relate to her status as more than a regular citizen.

this view definitely carries into her stance of romantic relationships too. especially with the burst in 'red flags' and 'green flags', the 'normalize x', and various other trends on social media that expose the difficulties in relationships, set certain standards of what an 'ideal' relationship looks like, and essentially make being content with what you have impossible. bubbles is connected to the world through media. this is what she knows best.

on paper, her wants aren't that extreme. as i stated in the bratubbles post:

"whereas bubbles is a very social character. goes through a dozen different phases on her opinions about the dating world, but ultimately is after the 'perfect match' - somebody devoted, open to negotiation and communication, with a healthy balance of social/love life. it's not a big ask, but for somebody like brat it very much is. (especially with the hidden caveat that bubbles, in practice, tends to want a liiiittle more than the average person can afford to give her."

it sounds simple enough. just a nice partner who cares about her enough to be honest and loyal, open to discussion, who doesn't cage her but doesn't neglect her. something just right !

the caveat is that bubbles doesn't know how to actually get that, or even really know what that looks like. she doesn't know what she looks like, doesn't know how to envision her wants and desires. does she have a type ? boy ? girl ? other ? for all she knows, she could just be looking for a pet rabbit.

factor in that bubbles isn't really sure what her core identity is anymore, and you get a long line of dysfunctional relationships that didn't work out because, more than anything, bubbles just wanted a lot more than what's written down in her hinge bio.

you get somebody who presents herself in several different personas like she's playing a character; there's no authenticity to her at all. she's playing into what she thinks her partner wants, and it worked once or twice, until it stopped being enough.

she could've had some really solid partners in the past. the ones that want to know her beneath the joy and the laughter, who want to share her troubles. and bubbles just… can't do it. can't break the wall down. the relationship gets stale, doesn't work out; she wants, but doesn't give anything in return - the relationship becomes unfair. usually the partner leaves.

other cases have simply been that she doesn't like who she pretends to be for some of her 'matches'. bubbles may not know who she is, but she knows who she isn't. some things simply cross a line and she's the one to break things off.

it's almost like she's never satisfied. the proper thing to do would be to stop spree-dating and do some soul-searching. figure out who she is. what she wants. be a little honest with herself. but she won't, because that means being alone; bubbles is already so alone, in a sea of people with only fake, meaningless pleasantries being all she has to show for her efforts.

instead, she dives into relationships head-first with several different methods of approach at the ready to win over her next match. rinse and repeat.

separate from that, i think bubbles does have a lot of moments where she's showing her true self. for example, the constant carousel of hobbies and interests she picks up are entirely her; there are so many things she wants to do, learn, create - simply for the sake of doing it. for being happy.

her sense of fashion is godawful. when she walks around in the ugliest, gaudiest, most feathery and sequined outfit you can imagine ? bubbles at her most comfortable. she definitely kind of takes on homemade fashion as a hobby and an artistic way to experiment, find her niche, express herself in ways that she struggles to do with words.

when bubbles is dressed in something reasonable, or something actually fashionable/stylish, it's usually something she's thrown on to fit in.

a lot of her other habits are like that, too. even tho her ingredient is sugar, she's not very fond of desserts. bubbles is a fan of spicey, savory foods, and drinks with rich, herbal notes to them (ie; certain teas, or herbal smoothies.)

she tends to accept sweets and other treats people give her because it's what they expect her to like. it's rude to waste food, and it's usually well-meaning. and if it's particularly sickly, sharing is always caring !

if she just took a second to evaluate i think she'd find that there's a lot from her childhood that didn't carry into adolescence/adulthood. but she won't, either out of fear of what she'll find, or fear of what's changed. fear of what's become unrecognizable.

// i do think bubbles understand that there's something wrong with this way of living, deep down. she can't continue to live off of the scraps of dopamine that she wrings out of every social interaction. it's not fair to her, it's not fair to the people she 'dates' - essentially uses them to make herself happy, and when it fails, she just drops them. it's not fair to her sisters. nobody said growing up is easy. out of all 9 characters, i think the change and the growth is something that hits bubbles the hardest. second maybe to berserk depending on how you look at it. being young and whimsical creates a narrative of naivete that colors the world a specific way that usually has no room for adjustment. there was no preparation. just,, one day she learned that being 'hardcore' isn't all about being violent - one day she learned that kindness eventually runs out. each life lesson just hit her over and over until she simply stopped 'being there' to be 'hit' - stopped being herself, started being the change, so that she never got comfortable and mourned what she might lose. it's a way to protect herself, but it doesn't mean it's healthy. having intense empathy as a child can sometimes be the worst gift the world gives you. she hasn't quite figured out how to use that gift productively in this new, modern environment she lives in.

🤔 just to point out this is all also in continuity with the hc timeline/general universe i have, so it's a little extra headcanon-heavy than what a generic answer might have been. hopefully it still works out !

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff bubbles #bubbles #headcanons #hc #ask #she's my least favorite tbh #and yet i have so much to say #character intro

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panda-writes-kpop · 1 year

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Sweet Melon Berry Blitz ~ For Neon

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! Happy (late) Birthday to my favorite boomer, @neon-city-dreams! Love you to the moon and back, and I hope your birthday was as incredible as you are!!! 🥹🫶

TW: Food mentions, Siyeon's a tease and you're cocky, arcade games are rigged irl but I have ✨️magic writing powers✨️ so it's fine lol.

♡ Masterlist ♡ 》》》 ♤ Prompt List ♤

A Melon Berry Blitz Slushie is the sort of drink that you'd order in-between rounds of arcade games with your friends. After a landslide victory or close defeat, there would be nothing better to calm your nerves than an ice-cold beverage. The company you keep, however, will determine if victory is sweet, or if losing is the sourest part of it all.

"Wow, Siyeon, you're better than I thought you would be!" You joke as the screen in front of Siyeon illuminates her cheeky smile.

"I'm not that useless, Y/N…" She mutters while moving the joystick around.

"I know, Siyeon, I was joking…" You trail off as you admire her gorgeous features. "You're absolutely stunning."

"Huh? Were you talking to me?" Siyeon turns to face you as a 'Game Over!' screen flashes on the arcade game. "It doesn't matter since I beat your score."

"Did you?" You nearly shove Siyeon out of the way as you check out the scoreboard on the screen.

She chuckles as you confirm her words by seeing her name above yours.

"Damn you, Siyeon. Now I have to spend more money to make myself look good." You sigh as you pull a quarter from your pocket.

Siyeon catches your hand as you're about to put the quarter in the machine.

"How about we try to win a prize at the claw machine?" She points at the claw machine, and you raise an eyebrow at her.

"You want me to win you a plushie?"

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to-"

"No, it'd be my absolute pleasure." You smile at Siyeon as she pulls you over to the claw machine.

"Why did you take me here, Y/N? Arcade dates seem pretty old-fashioned, even for you."

"I'm not old, Siyeon, I have just aged gracefully." You do a mocking hair-flip, which causes her to laugh.

"Ah, so that's what the old folks are calling it now." She teases, and you huff to yourself.

'I am not that old!" You exclaim as Siyeon continues to laugh.

"C'mon, this wolf plushie isn't going to win itself." Siyeon points at the cute little wolf plushie sitting in the middle of the claw machine.

"I bet you I could get it in one turn." You say as you admire the quarter in your hand before putting it into the machine.

"Oh really? What are we betting on?"

You smile as the machine comes to life.

"I get a kiss if I win, and if you win, you get bragging rights for beating me at an arcade game."

"Sounds like a win-win scenario for me. I'm in!" Siyeon cheers before leaning on the side of the machine.

A thirty-second countdown starts as soon as you touch the joystick. You carefully navigate the claw to the plushie, and you watch as it slowly opens up and closes in on the plushie.

You mentally thank whoever is watching over you as the claw successfully latches onto the wolf plushie. It makes its way over to the drop box, and you retrieve the plushie as soon as possible so you can give it to Siyeon.

"I think you owe me a kiss." You say after handing her the stuffed animals.

"I believe I do." She smiles before pressing a kiss to your cheek

"Hey!" You yelp as she pulls away from you and laughs.

"You never said where I had to kiss you!"

"You're so mean to me, Siyeon." You grumble as she takes a step closer to you.

"Aww, I'm sorry, baby. You want me to make it up to you?" She places a hand under your chin as you make direct eye contact with her.

"I mean, I'm not going to say no to that." You say as her lips connect with yours.

You smile into the kiss as you pull Siyeon closer to you. She yelps before grabbing onto you with one hand while holding onto the plushie with the other.

You break away from her with a cocky smile on your face.

"Even after all of that teasing, you're still soft for me, Siyeon."

She softly brushes a piece of hair behind her ear while clutching the wolf plushie to her chest.

"Thank you for winning this for me. It really means a lot."

"You're welcome." You say with a smile, and Siyeon responds with an even warmer smile. "How about we get some food? I heard this place has really good sweet and sour pork, along with-"

You're not able to finish your sentence as Siyeon drags you towards the dining area.

"If you were hungry earlier, Siyeon, we could've gotten food then-"

"No, but I'm hungry now and I want to eat with you!" You can imagine the cute pout on her face as she huffs, and you chuckle to yourself as you're led along by the one who was meant to capture your heart.

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molasses-house · 9 months

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Cigarettes and Cereal Milk

I was 12 when I started working at the Jersey Shore grocery & deli. It was old school with no air conditioning, some pinball machines and Ms. Pacman with only a counter and stools that would be filled in the morning with old men. They’d sit reading Racing Form and the Bergen Record - slugging down their coffees, smoking their cigars or cigarettes and eating the State Delicacy of Pork Roll, Egg and Cheese on a hard roll.

Ran by a fiery Italian couple from Brooklyn (or the Bronx?) and partially by their two adult children, I was initially hired to work Saturdays and Sundays to stock and stuff the then-thick Sunday newspapers with inserts: comic pages, circulars, auto, arts and classified sections that made the weekly paper as big as a Bible or the yellow pages phone book.

For me, summer and a job at the deli was jubilant. It was freedom. I’d leave for our 1950′s era seaside bungalow with my family the day school ended and hardly go back “north” (about an hour and change away from our home in North Brunswick) the whole summer. Like clockwork, every Saturday afternoon I would race down our lane of bungalows across Central Avenue to get to work and do the same at the crack of dawn on Sunday mornings.

Along with my newspaper responsibilities, I had the pleasure of refilling the coolers with cans of Coke, Tab and Dr. Pepper. I’d wipe down the pinball machines, replenish the Milky Ways, Gobstoppers and Fun Dip. I even got to venture behind the counter to restock the cigarette display cases.

Everybody smoked cigarettes or so it seems. It was the late 80’s and although the Surgeon Generals Warnings were in full effect – nobody seemed to give a shit. Cigarettes at the deli cost $1.50 a pack. I remember when a new tax was introduced that pushed them close to $2 and it was like someone canceled Christmas. Angry brows and hard scoffs abounded.

In those days – cigarette packaging and marketing was an art form. A literal science! The shiny, little packs of smokes were like works of art.

Shiny, snazzy and colorful rows of greens, beiges, reds, blues, pinks, gold, silver, and bronze with dramatic names that sounded like television soap operas or westerns or legal dramas:

Bel Air

Salems

Winstons

Benson & Hedges

Parliaments

Kent

Chesterfields

Capri

Lucky Strikes

Virgina Slims

Camel

Newport

Vantage

True Blue

Carlton

Kool

Lark

Tareyton

Marlboro (duh)

Viceroy

Merit

I was enamored. Ripping open the fresh cartons of vibrant sophistication and stacking them neatly in rows – it was like a tobacco Tetris. Seemingly, everyone smoked. The surfers, the lifeguards, the boomers, the Greatest Generation, the beach badge checkers, the cops, and the kids that also worked at the store…all puffers. My father was also a smoker. A secret smoker. The worst kept secret ever. Despite a massive heart attack that required open heart surgery at the age of 37…he couldn’t shake it. He’d have to slip away to go tend to “yardwork” and come back smelling like an ashtray and the family (me, my brother, sister and mother) would pretend to not notice the waft of smokey perfume that he’d come back into the house with…for decades!

I don’t remember when I picked up the habit definitively but it was between middle school (8th grade) and high school (9th grade). Eerily, I mimicked the actions of my dad. Stashing packs of cigarettes deep within drawers or in my little lockbox adorned with childish stickers. I’d keep handy a bottle of cologne (probably Drakkar Noir or some ilk of it’s day) and whisk outside the minute the parents left the house and crouch down outside against the side of the house near the BBQ grill to fume a Marlboro.

I was in my early teens but looked like a contradiction…tall, superskinny and blonde but self-consciously young for my age. How did I purchase these vile decks of cancer sticks? It was shamefully easy. In those days, there was no legal age to buy them. During the off-season and away from the seaside store, I could hop on my bike and ride to any number of convenience stores in the area of my “northern” home. For $2 (and change as the prices rose higher), I could satisfy my physical and mental cravings usually without a hitch.

If the purveyor did have some tinge of guilt serving cigarettes to a pubescent-ish Ricky Schroeder lookalike…I had a cover story in my back pocket:

“My grandmother (or aunt or step-sister) hurt her legs and can’t get around real well, kind sir” was a standard lie. If I was really organized, I’d have a friend waiting by their landline telephone to pretend to be said relative and say to the clerk, “She said you can call her.” 99.9% of the time that worked like a charm and only once did a phone call actually get made and “Kim” – an older girl by a couple of years magically performed the part of the ailing kin.

Freshman year of high school, I took the bus – having not yet made friends with anyone with a drivers license. The bus would pick me up on the back street parallel to mine. I’d wake up (usually with a teenage attitude fueled by nicotine withdrawal) and eat some breakfast before the bus. In order NOT to miss my ride, I had the timing down like a Swiss watch maker.

Breakfast consisted of a Benadryl (allergies), a cup of coffee (light and sweet – and yes the Stankovits kids were all early coffee drinkers…) and usually some cereal. We weren’t allowed real sugary cereals so we had to “settle” for Rick Krispies, Chex or Raisin Bran and the occasional Cap’N’Crunch. Depending on the sugar content, I’d pour the milk over the cereal and dollop a spoonful of sugar in the bowl. After the crackles of crispy rice or soggy lumps of bran were consumed, there was the sweet reward of the leftover cereal milk. It was like breakfast’s dessert.

I’d slurp that down and head out the door, towards the end of our dead-end street where there was and still is a section of woods where I could cut through to the next street where the bus would pick me up.

Lighting up, I would get my fix and mentally prepare for the day ahead standing in the woods next to the wooden fence that captured the backyard of the last house on our block. It was meditative. Who the hell knows what I was thinking about…”Algebra quiz! Fall Dance! Fuck, am I queer? I can’t wait to drive and get the hell out of here?!”

The bus would come and I’d hop on with a waft of smokey aroma and cheap cologne enshrining me like Pig Pen from Peanuts. Usually, a pack would last a week or more. I’d check my pack to see how many cigarettes I had left before I had to begin another hunt…hiding away my Marlboros in my duffle bag (those were in style...) until the last school bell rang…ready to repeat another day. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

#dontsmoke creativewriting personalessay summerjobs 80s 90s cerealmilk

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half-a-dozen-roses · 1 year

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Not sure if I’m having one of those “ageing population of tumblr” moments, or if the younger generation have genuinely reached a new peak of stupid...

For context; I work in a popular budget supermarket in the UK. Within the first hour of my shift today, I was approached by several customers - all of whom either were or had pre-teen/teen kids - asking me if we had any “Prime.” I thought this was something Amazon related, or that maybe I was just mishearing them, or that they had our store confused with another with a very similar sounding name and were looking for something of theirs.

Anyway, I told them all “no” and carried on my day, only slightly curious about this mystery item people wanted.

Usually, people want the big, middle aisle items. Things we only get seasonally and in limited numbers and which are usually great bargains. Things like heated clothes horses (actually the best thing I’ve ever bought from work) air fryers and of course, the famous carrot plush toys we get every Christmas from the TV ads... I assumed it would be something along these lines.

I was wrong.

On my break, I googled this mystery “Prime” item and discovered that it is actually.... *drumroll*

Juice.

Like, individual, single serve bottles of juice. Not big 2 Litre bottles you can share, but a single serving of juice...

Or rather, a “Hydration drink” (as opposed to???) as described by its creators. The reason it’s in high demand? Said creators are (apparently) famous You tubers (no-one I’ve heard of) and the high demand for the juice they’ve teamed up to create (sorry, “water based hydration drink” - I wish I wasn’t quoting that directly, but here we are) is coming directly from their pre-teen/teen mass followers they have.

Apparently we had a queue outside our store at 5am just for this juice. We had to limit it to 1 bottle per customer. We sold out within minutes.

Am I turning into a grumpy old woman, or is that just totally insane?

I remember the excitement of queuing all night/early morning for cool stuff when I was younger. But that was things that were actually worth the effort. Like when the latest HP books came out and EVERYONE wanted to read them first and nobody wanted to be left behind, or when a big, highly anticipated film came out with midnight screenings (like LOTR) and even things like popular festivals/concert tickets would be worth queuing for.

But this? This seems absurd. It’s literally just JUICE. We sell that every day, this one doesn’t seem all that special. In fact it doesn’t even look nice!

What am I missing? Anything? Have the teens of today gone mad, or am I just doing what the boomers did to us milennials whenever we enjoyed anything????

#rant #kids these days #prime hydration #aldi #literally wtf #ageing population of tumblr.com #gen z vs millenials #i blame tiktok

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teacherintransition · 2 years

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Quit Bumpin’ Your Gums and Make Tracks to Earn A Five Spot Will Ya?*

*1930’s Slang

Not the “greatest,” not a boomer but Generation X…

Generational views of retirement: fathers and sons round 5,842

These articles are focused on preparing for a change of life, dealing with intrusive judgements by negative folks and other obstacles; but what do they say about the eternal conflict? No, dammit, not good versus evil or men versus women…the big one! FATHERS AND SONS! You know the battle of ALPHAS; who’s in charge now; do as I say conflict? The conflict that results in both not speaking for years, arguments at Thanksgiving, who gets the remote? There’s a lot to say about the father/son relationship and it’s dysfunction. That’s not to say that it has to be a disaster; it often isn’t. A recent discussion amongst The Great Triumvirate, the topic of how our dads view our retirement in our fifties came up. Well, it ain’t always, “atta boy son,”and in my case, mydad has passed on before I retired; but that doesn’t mean his presence isn’t still felt.

These generational conflict is just more of us versus them kind of bullshit that people promote for who knows why; but one can’t overlook there are profound generational differences. Almost every guy I know my age had serious conflicts with their dads growing up that still continued into adulthood and even middle age. Like I said, it’s a tale as old as time, but with the massive changes of the last 30 years,one does take a second look. Naming generations is definitely a twentieth century construct. We salute the “Greatest Generation” who won World War II and overcame the Great Depression, but most of our pops weren’t part of that one. We will skip over for this topic Millennials: born 1985 to 1996. ...Generation Z: born 1997 or after. ...Generation Alpha: born 2010 or after. I guess Baby Boomers … born 1946-1964, play a slight role; but for the most part my generation was Generation X… born 1965-1984. You remember us…we still played outside from sun up to sun down yet have mastered smart phones; we went from telephone party lines to high speed internet; we played youth sports but weren’t protected from the sting of losing. We were the slacker generation! Disliked the conformity of the Reagan years but celebrated the freedom of the Clinton years. We cut our teeth on hair metal (yuck) but graduated to arguably the best era ever in music. (Nirvana, Prince, Alannis Morissette, Pantera, Pearl Jam, TLC, Matchbox 20, Tupac, Alice In Chains, NWA) We also saw our dads work hard with little appreciation.

I didn’t have a clue that there was even a name for the folks born between Boomers and X until I Googled today: the Silent Generation. Oh shit, that does not sound good. According to Wikipedia: The Silent Generation is the demographic cohort following the Greatest Generation and preceding the Baby Boomers. The Silent Generation is generally defined as “traditionalist” born from 1928 to 1945. They are known as the "silent generation" because children of this era were expected to be seen and not hears and they average in age from 75 to 80 years old in 2019. By this definition and U.S. Census data, there were 23 million Silents in the United States as of 2019. ** https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silent_Generation#:~:text=The%20Silent%20Generation%20is%20the,United%20States%20as%20of%202019. These guys didn’t win the war, suffered poverty of the depression, didn’t protest the establishment, but were expected to be productive…always…produce and be quiet. Damn this explains a lot.

I outlined some characteristics of X, but what is indicative about the Silent Generation? Please don’t anyone get pissed off, these are just observations made by me and fellow Gen X’ers about our dads…it’s not written in stone. This generation of men …born and lived in a 19th century world a lot of times. went through the depression in their formative years. In other words, they did without and never really understood why. They were too young to have served in WWII which created feelings of missing THE big event. They came of age in the 50’s …when things modernized with real leisure time coming about and they wouldn’t allow themselves to enjoy it. Hammered with proving their value, producing, keeping up with the Jones’s and idle hands are the devil’s workshop, there had to be a purpose to everything because in the back of their mind they remembered losing every thing in the depression. Helluva stressful mindset. I don’t think my dad every let himself be happy without feeling guilty his whole life.

I remember once during dad’s sixteen year cancer fight … dad got really reflective one night. He said, “I wish just about more than anything that I could have fought in WWII.” I replied, “hmmm…I guess I understand wanting to be a part of it, but you were spared the burden of carrying around of the knowledge that you killed men. That’s a mojo I would never want.” He didn’t really understand or appreciate my response. I imagine he was thinking, “damn, young, slacker kids wouldn’t fight for anything and always gotta voice their opinion …and …and stay offa my lawn!” It was expected of the Silent Gen that they would work until 65 or 70 and still do part time work or volunteer until “they shuffled off this mortal coil.” Those are good things, if you want to do them, but to do your own thing? BUNCH OF DAMN HIPPIE, COMMIE FREE LOADERS! I jest, but only to a point. There are a multitude of things that I could share that would highlight in my mind the regrettable pressure put on those guys and how it influenced the father son relationship…yes, even into the retirement of the sons.

One of the early retiring members of the Great Triumvirate shared an anecdote along this topic the other day while texting. (See Gen X texting!) He was talking with his pops the other day and his dad asked what he was up to; to which the reply was going to be “sitting around the house about to do…” Rudolpho, my friend got out, “I’m sitting around the house,” when his dad interrupted with, “WHAT YOU NEED TO DO IS GET YOURSELF A DAMN JOB!” Whoa! Now do not judge harshly, that comment did not come from a place of anger. Rudolpho’s dad is a kind man and is extremely proud of his kids. I think that comment came from a place of that lifelong, stressful level of constant expectation while keeping your mouth shut. Doing any thinking or doing something for yourself was as foreign a way of thinking as you could imagine. So, we’ve retired and these good men who were our dads simply can’t understand anything except punching the clock until you no longer can. Ouch…that explains why even our “vacations” had to have a purpose. For us, it was traveling back to Georgia to visit family, never just to chill and have a blast. That…sucks. Learning this helps me understand why things happened between me and my dad and, to be honest it helps me deal with the guilt feelings of not still working. I work, but now the work is tasks of MY choosing.

So, what is the magic lesson to be learned here? I dunno for sure, but basically it’s a Gen X mentality that you have seek joy in life and not production quotas…I guess. Everybody’s plan of success is different…it ain’t gonna look the same. Boomers, X’ers, Millennials, Gen Z, Gen Alpha…whatever, live your life and don’t be judged or judge some one else’s definition of joy and do it without ignoring obligations…it can be done. Now, I’m gonna drink a beer and sit on the porch.

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rocknrollsoniye · 2 years

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Curse of Sexism

How many times have we heard the statement "oh he is such a stud. He bas slept with many women" or "she has a high body count and she is a whore"? Ever wondered why there is a difference in attitude to both genders when they are sexually active? It is because of patriarchy and misogyny. Now personally I, being a demisexual, can never understand hookup culture. But it is ok if 2 consenting adults agree to it. Who am I to stop them? But the way a society demonizes a woman for being sexually active is beyond imagination. Women are allowed to enjoy sex and shouldn't be made to feel bad in any way for that. The misogyny is changed from boomer generation to GenZ. Earlier it was " my wife is bad." Now it is "cum and dump the whore" Not gonna lie I have slut shamed many women in my head too. Honestly I feel good that those words didn't come out of my mouth. I have even slut shamed myself for just the fact that strap of the bra was out. I forgot that it was just a piece of lingerie. Also thank you Mom for making me believe I was seducing men of 35 years at 14. Yeah sure a child can seduce a full grown adult! The recent over turning of Roe vs Wade is the biggest encouragement to slut shaming and also shaming women for their bodily autonomy. Yeah a cluster of cells have greater value than a woman.

With the ongoing sexual frustration of teenage boys there seems to be a growing number of incels. Incels are described as involuntary celibate. Incels are usually part of online forums on reddit, discord , telegram etc. The overall themes of failure and frustration along with anger and hate towards women are the perfect recipe to incels. I mean dating was always biased towards good looking people. But it doesn't mean that avg looking people didn't or don't date. Incels have weird vocabulary of the people -chad and stacy. Chad is a sexually successful young man. He has blonde hair and pulsating muscles. The thing is that it is not restricted to internet forums. Elliot Rodger killed six people and turned the gun on himself in 2014. He is an inspiration to the Incel community.

Earlier I used to think that people have a problem with women being promiscuous as they fear that she might cheat on him. But lesbians are also fetishised. Even though they will never sleep with a man or get sexually attracted to men. Yet a section of straight men do watch lesbian porn. Promiscuity for women is a high risk low award proposition. Women are taught to hate themselves from an early age. We give so many adjectives to women who engage in hookups as insecure and lacking self respect. In India we also have tight gender roles -women cook, clean, wash dishes etc. I think there is nothing wrong with doing the tasks. But it becomes tiring when only the women have to do the task.

Now I know it is a common notion in radical feminist spaces that men benefit from patriarchy. At the expense of sounding like a liberal feminist I am going to say patriarchy affects men too. Men who do not fit the ideal of "strong, tough, earners of society, emotionless, sex hungry" are often deemed worthless. The need to be "manly" is so overhyped. Societal pressure on men to conform to patriarchy not only has men fearing the concept of expressing emotions.

Male rape is not talked about a lot. This is again in accordance with the idea that men love sex in any condition. The joke of " it is dream of every middle class boy to be raped by a woman" is so harmful and pathetic. It is dehumanising to men who have been raped.

Honestly i think patriarchy is a power structure. All men don't hold power. In US be a white cis upper middle class heterosexual man. In India be a Upper Caste, Upper middle class , cis, heterosexual man. With these conditions met you will be able to reap benefits. I was thinking something like this. There can only be a few leaders and there will a lot of followers. There seems to be this idea that is promoted that anyone can be "The Alpha Male". But most likely you will be the one under the thumb of an "Alpha Male." Part of Patriarchy is to not only control women but to control men too.

* The Despotic King that conquers another kingdom and forces all the people to follow him instead.

* The Dictator that rules the country with an iron fist and oppresses anyone that steps out of line or any minorities.

* The Hypocritical Church leader that forces oppressive rules on people but will not always follow them.

* Actual Slave Owners that beat and can potentially kill his male slaves and sell the children they fathered.

* The Bad Boss who treats you badly, underpays you, and can steal your ideas for his benefit.

* The Abusive Father that beats his son, tries to "toughen him up", he is also neglectful and withholds his love from his own son.

All of these men have the power to make the lives of other men a living Hell. Power is easy to abuse. Women clearly suffer under these men too. And sometimes I feel like women and children become punching bags for the powerful abusers and punching bags for men forced into following the abusers. And it sucks how a lot of men can't even see how they are being exploited and manipulated by Patriarchy.

#patriarchy #masculinity #femininity #feminism

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no-reply95 · 3 years

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Power Dynamics: John and Paul via the proxies of Brian Epstein and George Martin

I don’t think many people would argue against the view that Brian showed favouritism to John, which Paul resented and that George Martin showed favouritism towards Paul, which John resented.

Both Brian and George were crucial to the band, Brian more from an organisational business perspective and George from a musical and creative one, hence why they’re usually and both credibly described as the 5th Beatle.

The balance between George and Brian helped to foster a balance between John and Paul until 1967 when Brian died. Given the fact that Brian died right when the Beatles quit touring and decided to focus on the studio, his death really threw the power dynamics in the band into disarray because now the band was manager-less and the manager that John had a special connection and understanding with was gone. The Beatles were spending more and more time in the studio with the same George Martin that had proposed Paul as the lead singer, suggested that Yesterday should be a solo Paul McCartney single and had asked Paul and only Paul to assist with the musical score for the Family Way film… it’s no wonder that John felt the need to look for outside reinforcements to bolster his position in the band and try to restore some balance in his relationship and rivalry with Paul.

Enter Yoko Ono and Allen Klein.

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #john and paul #george martin #brian epstein #power dynamics #band dynamics #in a way i think brian and george were the kingmakers of the band #and a lot of john’s resentment of the production of songs may have been informed by his resentment of george favouring paul #i do think brian and george did balance each other out and without one or the other things could and did spin out of control #thoughts #look at me sounding like a middle aged boomer #disclaimer: i don’t think this is the only reason why l/m fell apart but i do think it was a contributing factor #yoko ono #allen klein

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

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headcanons with adeuce, Malleus, Crewel and Leona for when they find out the cute innocent seeming little m/c is actually an adult woman that got carried there after she fell asleep in the middle of her nine to five desk job

Curiouser and Curiouser...

If you thought Ace was already a disrespectful little shit to you before, think again. It’s about to get ten times worse now that he realizes you’re an “adult” and not someone his age (well, at least on the initial onset, it’ll be worse).

“Hah? You look like such a little kid, though. You telling me you’re actually way older than that? Woooow~ Must suck to be so tiny for your age, auntie/uncle. No one’s gonna take you seriously!”

He now exclusively calls you some variation of “old”, like “fossil”, “geezer”, “boomer”, etc. Always very loudly, always very obnoxiously, regardless of whether it’s in public or not.

Sometimes he imitates you in a raspy voice, hunched over and pretending to grasp onto a cane for support. You aren’t that much older than his brother, but that won’t stop Ace from making jokes about you retiring in your “golden years”, or breaking a hip when you bend over to pick something you dropped.

In truth, Ace feels kind of bad for you, choosing to fall back on immature humor to get you to lighten up. He’s never been one to be responsible or to idolize adult life, but it sure sounds boring from what he’s heard about yours. “Hey, cheer up already. You get to ditch your dumb ol’ desk job to hang out with me, so it all works out in the end!”

Deuce beats himself up for assuming you were the same age as the rest of them; how could he have been so dumb?! He should have asked sooner! He should have been showing you more respect all this time!

“I shouldn’t have assumed your age based just on how you look, Prefect! Nngh... I made such a basic mistake! My mom taught me to respect my elders, but I couldn’t even do this much.... Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

From then on, he greets you every morning with a rousing shout and a 90 degree bow. Deuce insists on calling you his “big sis/bro/sibling” (as a show of your seniority), and does what he can to help support you. (Need him to go on a coffee run or something? He’s got you covered!)

Deuce tries his best to keep Ace’s rude remarks in check; the two are normally butting heads anyway, but on this matter, they especially don’t see eye-to-eye. He’ll often point out to his friend that you’re not that much older than them or their professors, which tends to lead to more squabbling. (... This becomes a part of your usual morning routine.)

While Ace thinks of adulthood as something lame, Deuce honors the maturity and wisdom that comes with it. “Hey, don’t listen to him. There’s nothing wrong with growing up and getting a desk job. It’s super respectable!! The world can’t run on just slack, so... You should keep on keepin’ on!!”

You’re still a child to Malleus, whether you’re a fresh-faced first year or a fresh-faced adult. His own age easily eclipses yours, even if he is considered a teenager by fairy standards, so an extra handful of years makes little difference to him.

“For fae, the passage of time flows much differently. What is a considerable chunk of time for humans is but a drop in the bucket for myself and others like me. But... fufufu. Who knows? Perhaps you are privy to wisdom far beyond my scope.”

Though Malleus has lived for much longer than you, he still thinks there is value in the life that you have lived. He’s curious about what you’ve experienced, often asking you to recall mundane aspects of your life during your shared strolls. It’s strange, but Malleus gets oddly engrossed in your tales about job interviews, paying loans, and apartment hunting (which, by the way, he recommends finding a “lucky gargoyle” for).

He’s a little envious of the freedom you are afforded, even in adulthood. It’s not as easy for him to “clock out” of being a crown prince—it’s a position that sticks with him at all times. “I can only dream of this fabled ‘9 to 5’ of which you speak of,” Malleus laments (a phrase which, without context, sounds so odd to you).

While you are able to share some of your knowledge with Malleus, so, too, is Malleus able to share his own knowledge with you. “You needn’t concern yourself with age, my friend. You are still young at heart, much like Lilia. As long as you have that, you shall never truly grow up.”

Honestly? Crewel isn’t surprised anymore. He has seen all kinds of students walk in and out of his classroom over the years. Beastmen, merfolk, fae, robots, royalty... A small working person going back to school is really nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“So we have ourselves a black sheep in the latest litter of puppies. Hmm, interesting. I certainly hope you’re prepared to train them up. You’ll find that their bites may be just as bad as their barks... so I should hope you’ll be able to hold your own against those puppies.”

When he sees you in the hallway, Crewel just regards you with a knowing nod. Your vibes give him the sense that you, too, are a tired adult who is constantly swarmed with children but just wants to do their job to get by in the day. What a mood.

If you ever stop by the teacher’s lounge, Crewel might offer you a cup from the communal coffee machine and a chat. Perhaps you might gossip about the students, or mutually complain about how incompetent Crowley is your bosses over a warm drink and some raisin butter biscuits.

He relates to a lot of the struggles of adult life that you may also experience. You know you can always knock on Crewel’s office door to ask for advice or comfort. He may be a bit stern, but sometimes you need some tough love to set you back on the right track. “What’s this? You’re in need of guidance, pet? ... I understand. There are times when even the fiercest of us are worn down. Come. Sit. Let your troubles out.”

Oh, great. Leona’s not exactly jumping with joy to find another adult around—as if he doesn’t already deal with enough of them between the NRC staff and his annoying older brother. He doesn’t care what you look like or how you act; if you’re in some kind of position of seniority, he’s got a bone to pick with you.

“Hmph. An herbivore still trapped in baby hare’s hide when it should be full grown... Life’s just not fair, now is it? This school isn’t exactly known for being kind to fresh meat, so you’d better pray that your wisdom will serve you well in the wilderness.”

Really, Leona doesn’t react to you or treat you any differently than he treats Crowley. Be prepared for a lot of snubbing and/or straight up rudeness. He’ll do what he wants when he wants to, regardless of what you have to say to him.

The lack of respect Leona gives you is a reflection of his attitude toward figures of authority and how they present in the world... as “superior”. He’s very much grumpy and jaded about it and will take every possible opportunity to get under your skin.

Truthfully, deep down, Leona’s jealous that you have your life sorted out. He might sneer at your 9 to 5 out loud, but at the very least, you have a role, and you’re needed somewhere. Unlike him. Seeing you around is a constant reminder of a future he was robbed of, a wish bitterly unfulfilled—and it makes him seethe. “... Stop staring. It pisses me off just seeing your face. Why? I don’t have to answer to you, herbivore.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #Leona Kingscholar #Malleus Draconia #Divus Crewel #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #curiouser and curiouser #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert

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nashibirne · 3 years

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PICK UP

Trucker!Sy is back! I had so much fun writing him, so I decided to write a follow-up to Truck Stop. In this one Sy initiates a little role play. I hope you like it just as much as part 1. If so, please leave me a reblog, comment or like 💜. Thanks!

Pairing: Syverson x reader/y/n/you (f)

Word count: 2.3 k

Summary: Sy wants to pick up a little bird at a bar. This is a follow-up to Truck Stop but you can read it without knowing part 1.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, PWP, smut, sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, roleplay, cream pie

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Credits: I don't own Captain Syverson

Find my other fics on my masterlist!

Taglist:

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84

Off we go....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine, you liked the little role play, your girlfriend surprised you with so much, you want to return the favor. You didn't tell her what you've planned, you've just told her to show up at that bar and to play along....

I am nervous, I mean like really nervous, which is silly, because it's my girlfriend I'm going to meet in a few minutes. But then again, tonight she's not my girlfriend. She's going to be a random stranger, sitting at the bar, catching my eye and I'll try to pick her up.

I enjoyed her surprise the other day so much, our little the-trucker-and-the-hitch-hiker-role play, I want to return the favor and so I told her to come to the "Midnight Cowboy" at 8 o'clock and wait there for me at the bar. And that's why I sit here in a dark corner booth with a good view at the entrance and the barstools, glancing nervously at my watch again and again. I'm really not sure if this is going to be a success. I've never been the type for one-night-stands or flings. I've always been in long-time-relationships, with my first love at high school, with two women in my twenties, with my ex-wife and now with y/n. All my relationships started the classical way. You meet through friends or through your job or at a party, you start dating, you fall in love and get serious.

Never before have I tried to hook up with a woman just for one night at a bar, guess I'm an old-fashioned boomer but well...that's me. The door opens once again and I raise my head hoping it's her but it's just a middle-aged couple with matching outfits and a tiny dog on a leash. Oh, wait, there she is, y/n follows right behind them. She looks so pretty, my heart skips a beat. It's still hard to believe that a woman like her wants to be with an ordinary trucker like me. She's dressed up, wearing a pretty summer dress that's sexy in an innocent way. It's not showing much skin but I know what a great body hides underneath, I know the curves that are wrapped up in the light blue fabric with the floral print by heart and that's why it's so promising and hot to me.

She takes a quick look around before taking a seat at the bar. I duck my head and hide myself from her eyes. I don't want her to see me, not yet. She smiles at the bartender and makes her order. It's cute how she's sitting there, fumbling with the colorful bangles on her wrist that match her outfit, glancing at her watch. She's nervous too and to be honest that's a big relief.

The guy at the other end of the bar keeps looking at her and he's not very subtle. Actually it's more ogling than looking and I feel the jealousy rise in my guts. She's my woman and I should be the one undressing her with his eyes. Well, to be honest I am. I just can't keep my eyes off of her, her gorgeous body and her lovely face. The bartender places a cocktail in front of her, it's a Tequila Sunrise, and she takes a sip, before checking the time again.

Okay, it's time for my entrance, to let the games begin. I take my beer and leave my comfortable booth to sit down at the bar. I choose a stool diagonally across from my sweet little bird to make sure it's easy to have eye contact. When she sees me she presses her lips together to suppress a grin. She gives me a quick, curious glance before she lowers her eyes on her drink. I have a swig of beer and keep looking at her to get back her attention. If I wasn't her boyfriend I probably would freak her out by staring at her like a psycho but I don't know what else to do. Luckily she knows I'm not some kind of creep and so she gives me a look and a delicate smile eventually. I return the smile, nodding at her and I raise my trucker cap a little to greet her.

She giggles and looks away, pretending a shyness that's not typical for her but very fitting for our little role play. While she fakes innocence I try to strike her as a man who knows what he's doing and who knows the rules of this game. We keep on exchanging glances and smiles but I have to make a move eventually and so I do what I consider to be smooth and I beckon the bartender to come over.

"Another beer for me please and another Tequila Sunrise for the pretty lady over there."

"Sure."

He gives me a nod and brings me a new bottle of beer just seconds later before mixing her cocktail. He places it in front of y/n, talking to her and they look in my direction at the same time. He goes back to polishing glasses and she flashes me a bright smile, mouthing 'thank you' over the country music that's a little too loud for my taste. I mouth a 'welcome' back and raise my bottle to her. She takes a sip of her drink with a sexy smirk but averts her eyes again.

Time for the next move. I get up and walk over to her with big confident strides and a bit of a swagger. I know women like the way I walk and move and y/n is no exception.

"Mind if I join you?" I smile at her with what's supposed to be a flirtatious wink. She looks me up and down skeptically.

"Why?"

"Umm…" I'm not prepared for this question and I don't know a single pick-up line that wouldn't be an absolute cliche or totally sexist, so I decide to stay close to the truth. "You just caught my eye. You're not only pretty but you seem to be an interesting person. So…" God, I suck at this. Please don't make it too hard for me, little bird.

"You can tell I'm an interesting person just by looking at me for ten minutes straight?" She gives me a teasing smile and I can't help but laugh.

"Okay, that sounds strange, I know. Let me try again, okay?"

"Okay."

"I saw you sitting here and you caught my eye. You're beautiful on the outside and I just hope on the inside you're beautiful too and hopefully an interesting person...so... I'd just like to get to know you by chatting a little." I shrug and give her a sheepish smile because I feel like an idiot.

"Well, honestly, that's a great answer. Much better than the usual pick up crap. So, yes, please..." She pats on the seat beside her and I sit and turn to her.

"Thanks. I'm Tom, by the way. But everyone calls me Sy."

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you...Sy. Sy is short for?"

"Syverson. My last name."

"I see. Sy. I like the sound of it. Feels good on my tongue." She smiles again and I'm at a loss for words for a moment. Cheeky little bird. Time for a bold move. "I may have more things to offer that feel good on your tongue", I grin with a smirk.

"Oh, really?" She raises an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"You'll find out...eventually...maybe." I wink at her and raise my bottle. "Cheers."

"Cheers, Sy." She takes a big sip from her Tequila Sunrise and I look her deep in the eyes. "So what are you doing at this bar, all alone, y/n? Or are you waiting for someone?"

"No. I'm not. I'm here on my own. Actually I was so lonely at home, bored and unsatisfied so I decided to get out and about a bit."

"And you're lucky you found me. I'm known for keeping women entertained and satisfied." I may be overacting a little but I hope my little bird plays along. "Women? More than one at the same time?" She smiles at me innocently.

"One after another of course."

"Lucky me, I'm first in line tonight."

"Right." I laugh and she joins in, patting my thigh playfully. "You're a funny guy, Sy. So what do you do besides satisfying women? For a living I mean."

"I'm a trucker."

"Oh, that's great. Do you have your own truck?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Cool. I like big machines. Strong engines, roaring loud but running steady with a lot of power. Hard to handle but a smooth ride…"

"I bet you do." I give her one of these smirks she finds so sexy and she grins before she takes the cherry from her drink to take it in her mouth. The whole cherry, complete with fruit and stem. She chews, swallows and spits out the stone, placing it on her napkin carefully, but where's the stem, I wonder. Fascinated, I watch her tongue move around in her mouth for several seconds and then she opens her pretty lips and sticks out her tongue, presenting to me the cherry stem that now is knotted. She takes it and places it right in front of me. I gulp and look her straight in the eyes. "Did you just knot the stem with your tongue?"

"Yeah. I'm good with my tongue." She holds my gaze and licks her lips and I feel my dick twitch in my jeans. Jesus. My girlfriend is Audrey Horne and I feel like Dale Cooper all of the sudden. Fascinated, aroused and confused by her. "You mean you know more tricks than this one?" She leans in to whisper in my ear. "Many more." When I turn my head her face is just inches away from mine and I stare at her mouth, leaning in. She does the same and as soon as our lips meet we share a hungry, passionate kiss.

It takes us ten minutes to pay, leave and get to my flat that's just around the corner. As soon as the doors of the elevator close behind us y/n literally jumps me. I grab her by her ass and press her body against the wall, kissing her feverishly while she rubs her pussy over my hard-on.

When we reach my floor I carry her to my apartment, we're still making out and so I keep on stumbling, crashing into the walls of the hall several times. I manage to open the door, while y/n is licking my earlobe and kissing and sucking on my neck which makes me moan.

I put her down and drive her towards the wall until her back is pressed against the rough surface. We keep on kissing with animalistic passion and hunger and I grab her wrists and pin her hands above her head, parting her legs with my thigh at the same time. She immediately starts riding it. I use my other hand to caress her tits and our moans get louder.

I let go of her hands and sink down on my knees. I hitch up her skirt and press a hot kiss on her vulva just to pull down her panties then ever so slowly. I grab her leg and place it on my shoulder before I start to eat her pussy. God, I love this...to taste her juices, to smell her arousal, to hear her soft moans and sighs.

"God, Sy…" Her voice is thick with lust and I can tell she's close already. I go on, keep on licking and sucking, I give her pleasure with my mouth, my lips, my tongue and I know she loves the way my beard scratches her sensitive skin. I work my magic on her clit and she cums soon with a long lustful moan, whispering my name while her fingers run over my scalp. I get up and she pulls me close for another kiss, she loves tasting herself on my tongue. She tugs on the hem of my shirt and I strip it off and throw it away. Her hands run over my hairy chest and when she pinches my hard nipples I let out a feral growl. "Babe...I need you. I want you." I pant out of breath.

"Fuck me, Sy."

I open my fly in a hurry and get my dick out. It's so hard it almost hurts and I just want to stuff her sweet little pussy with my fat cock. My jeans drop to the floor and I grab her by her waist to lift her up. She wraps her legs around my hips and I place my hands on her ass, squeezing her cheeks. I move her in the right position to enter her and make her sink onto my dick. I glide inside of her and immediately start to thrust. I fuck her fast, I fuck her hard, I fuck her deep and we both love it. I groan and grunt like an animal. My brain's stopped working, it's just basic instinct and lust now and I get closer to the edge with every raw thrust.

Her little shrieks and the way she moans tell me I hit exactly the right spot and the fact that she's about to cum again makes me even hornier, driving my arousal to new heights. I get higher and higher and when she calls my name from the top of her second climax, scratching my back, her whole body shivering, I explode inside of her. I orgasm with a loud groan and keep on thrusting when I cum, savouring every single second of this hot play's grand finale. I pull my cock out and take a step back, still out of breath. I look at her and she's a mess, her clothes crumpled, my cum running down her thighs. I cup her face and kiss her tenderly. "I've ruined your pretty dress."

"Forget the stupid dress, baby. You've made my day."

She kisses me back and it's the beginning of a long night full of love making - of two people who know each other well and love each other much, having sex that is even better than the spectacular fuck of these two, who pretended to be strangers. And I can tell you, she showed me all of her tricks that night.

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #captain syverson pov #captain syverson x reader #syverson #syverson smut #syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

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Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all).

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

#politics for ts #long post #anonymous #ask

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sorryimananti-romantic · 3 years

Text

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 4

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 6.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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Seohyun was waiting for Jiwoo for quite a while now, sitting on the desk in her room, doodling in her notebook. She sighed as she shut it, a bit frustrated. It was not like Jiwoo to leave her hanging.

Seohyun considered going out; it was highly likely that Jiwoo was at their usual spot- the park near the school, her home, or the accident site. It was about 10 pm. Wasn't that late, was it? She got up, but stopped.

Maybe Jiwoo needed space.

It was probably this, but Seohyun couldn't help fearing that she had just moved on. If she'd gotten her memories back, that could mean that she was a whole different person now. She might not be the Jiwoo she knew anymore.

Seohyun fell on her bed, staring at the wall, and suddenly felt goosebumps.

"Took you long enough," Seohyun said, not bothering to look at Jiwoo, who had just entered the room.

"Don't tell me you were waiting for me," Jiwoo smirked.

"Oh, why would I?" Seohyun smirked back, and made space for Jiwoo, who sat on the bed with her. "So?"

"So, my dear friend," Jiwoo began, clearly excited to tell her her life story.

And she did. She was Ahn Jiwoo, daughter to two loving parents and a sister to a 16 year old brother. She'd had a pretty normal life; her father was a finance manager and her mother a housewife, and she had a lot of friends during her school years too. The rumours about her father being some sort of criminal were wrong; she had to face those rumours in her life too. They had her confused with another Jiwoo in her class.

"So we were a group of four friends; 2 boys and 2 girls. I was kind of a rebel in my last few months of life, because I just found life boring. I wanted an adventure. Something new. I wanted to travel too. So I was suggesting to my friends that we should do something. They were all busy in their own ways, and I didn't understand. I kept bugging them. So when we were in that restaurant, we had an argument. I knew it was my fault. I stormed off, and I was just about to go back when I got hit by a car."

"Oh... so then you went to the hospital, and they found out you lost your memories?"

"Right," she said, "But I was already in a critical condition. Brain damage led me to death."

"Ah..." Seohyun stared at her. Jiwoo's eyes were sad as she told her this, but she looked content. "So the reason you stayed..."

"The reason I stayed was not one, but two. I wanted to make sure my friends didn't blame themselves and my parents had moved on. And I spent the whole day making sure that was the case."

"And the other reason?"

"I want an adventure," she said and smiled brightly.

"Ugh, you ghosts! You stay for the most stupid reasons!" Seohyun mocked and dramatically threw her head in her hands, which made Jiwoo hit her with a pillow until she was laughing.

"That's my last wish, Seohyun. You think you could do that for me? Go on an adventure with me?"

"Haven't you had enough of adventure though? I mean, living with me is an adventure in itself-"

"I already talked to San," Jiwoo said, catching her attention. "He actually thought it was a nice idea. So we're going on an adventure this week. He said he'll make it a surprise for me."

"Hey, hey, that's not fair? You didn't even ask me!"

"I didn't have to," Jiwoo flipped her red hair.

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

"I don't know why I ever agreed to this," Seohyun sighed, handing her bag to Wooyoung who put it with the other few bags.

"Stop being a boomer and get in," Wooyoung said, and Seohyun did, muttering how she should have never suggested this.

"Should've thought before you planned all of it," Jongho snickered and Seohyun shot a glare.

"Everybody's in?" Hongjoong asked and they looked at each other, shouting a yes. Hongjoong gave a thumbs up and took the front seat of the van after shutting the door.

Everyone, including Jiwoo, who couldn't stop smiling, were seated. Seohyun had asked her mom to lend her a van that could fit 10 people, and though her mom had raised her brows in question, she had agreed when Seohyun said it was a trip with friends. She had just been surprised she had friends that were not ghosts, so without further questions (quite conveniently) she agreed, on the condition that the driver would be someone from the company.

She did raise a question when she found out that she was the only girl in the whole group, and there were only 9 people. Seohyun finally told her she was doing a favour for a ghost who had saved her life, and her mother made her promise she'd tell her the story someday.

They were going to Muchangpo Beach. They decided they'd see the sunset there. It was close to Seoul and the only place they could afford to travel and have an 'adventure'. They'd have a fun time, the boys promised, saying everything was fun when they were together.

Jiwoo was sitting between San and Wooyoung, and the three of them were chatting. Seohyun smiled when she saw that San was her voice; he'd say whatever she had to say.

She herself was in the middle row with Seonghwa and Yeosang by her sides. The two of them were also half bent backwards, listening to whatever the three of them were talking about. Seohyun had plugged her earphones in but she wasn't playing any music yet. She just listened to them talk.

"Tell us something about Seohyun," Wooyoung asked, giggling. Seohyun smiled inwardly.

"Well, Seohyun," Jiwoo thought, "she's quite rude, isn't she?"

"She's quite rude, isn't she?" San did his job, and the five of them laughed.

"She's not that rude,~" Seonghwa casted a glance at her, sighing in relief when he thought she couldn't hear him. Seohyun bit her cheek from the inside to stop smiling.

"She's scared of crows, of all thing," Jiwoo revealed, and the boys laughed a little. "She'll never show it, but when more than three crows are around, she runs for her life."

"Ah, I haven't ever noticed," Yeosang said, rubbing his chin, "she can hide it really well."

"Tell us some ghost story," Wooyoung asked. He was clearly enjoying this.

"I have a good one!" Jiwoo exclaimed and everyone seemed to scoot closer. "There was once a boy about her age who had the most stupid reason to not move on."

San almost stopped as he narrowed his eyes at Jiwoo and she assured him it was not Joon Hyuk. So San told the boys, and asked them to guess.

"He wanted an adventure too?" Yeosang laughed.

Jiwoo pouted, but said it could fall in that category, but it was a different sort of adventure. She told them to let their imagination run wild.

As San told the boys, Seohyun decided this was her cue to interrupt. "We are NOT going to talk about that!"

Wooyoung screamed a little in surprise. "Weren't you listening to music?!"

Jiwoo was just laughing and Seohyun bared her teeth at her, making everyone laugh and wonder just what sort of adventure did the boy want. After a hundred pleads from the boys, Seohyun finally told them that it didn't actually happen; she just threatened the ghost in unimaginable ways, making him move on without his desire.

"I think I have an idea of what happened," Yeosang thought, amusement in his eyes, "But I am too afraid to voice it out."

"I think you got it then," Seohyun nodded in approval and Yeosang gaped at her.

"You got it tough, friend," he said, patting her shoulder to comfort her. San and Wooyoung were pouting very loudly, and Seonghwa just stared at Yeosang and Seohyun as understanding passed between them.

"You both are so weird," Seonghwa finally said.

"If I tell you, Seonghwa, you'll drown in shame. Better protect your ears and your pure mind," Seohyun grinned.

San and Wooyoung exchanged glances, frowning, but they shook their head. It couldn't be that bad. Could it?

Seohyun plugged her earphones again, deciding she'd take a nap and actually played music this time.

-----------

"We're here!"

Seonghwa shook her awake, and Seohyun slowly opened her eyes, her hand going in front of her eyes as she blocked the sunlight. She took off her earphones and the sound of waves hit her, making her smile. She adjusted her green dress that reached below her knees, and put her hat on.

She saw that Jiwoo was already out, running along the beach, and San was watching her with a smile on his face. He turned back, meeting eyes with Seohyun, who suddenly felt out of breath.

San was handsome- painfully handsome. And the plain white shirt he wore didn't help. His hair was flying due to the breeze and he ran a hand through them, cocking his head to the side as he watched her.

The sun making his skin glow didn't help either.

Seohyun cleared her throat and joined him, and they both watched Jiwoo, in her jeans and green T shirt that she had died in- her permanent outfit, running as freely as she could, her red hair flowing behind her, her laugh ringing in the air.

"I didn't know she'd be that happy to see the beach. Hasn't she been here before?" Seohyun asked.

"I think she has. She knew the way. And I'm almost suspicious she's doing this just to annoy you," San answered.

As if on cue, Jiwoo stopped, doing a weird dance, then started twerking-

"And that's our cue to look away," Seohyun grabbed San, now laughing, by his arm and went to join the others. "They didn't have to come. They can't see her."

"We figured out a way to enjoy with her even if we can't see her," San smirked.

And that was how, a few moments later, they all were assembled in a circle playing cards.

"Why do I think San and Seohyun are cheating on us with Jiwoo?" Yunho looked at them suspiciously.

"How do you think the cards are in the air?" Seohyun asked, and Yunho grinned. She had a point. To anyone who could not see Jiwoo, it would look like a bunch of cards were in the air.

"I WON!" Jiwoo smacked the final card and jumped in the air. Seohyun gaped at her.

"You cheated!" She shouted.

"I was sitting with you the whole time, don't give me that shit," Jiwoo smirked.

San told them that she had, indeed, won without cheating and everybody groaned. Mingi dragged the food basket and him and Jongho started spreading the food.

"Can she really not eat?" Jongho asked.

"I'm afraid not," Seohyun answered.

"Isn't it rude to eat in front of a ghost?" Jiwoo put her hands on her hip and Seohyun popped a cherry in her mouth, saying, "It is."

San scoffed. Jiwoo kicked Seohyun's leg lightly and said she was going to walk. The rest of them started to eat.

"I heard the sunset here is very pretty," Seonghwa said.

"I've been here before," Mingi took a bite of his sandwich, "It really is the prettiest."

After eating a little, Seohyun looked in the distance where Jiwoo was standing near the shore, the waves flowing near her. Jiwoo looked back and started walking towards them, then stopped halfway and gestured at them to come.

"She's calling us," San said, and they all got up, joining Jiwoo.

"I want to play in the water," Jiwoo said.

"What's stopping you?" Seohyun asked.

"With you all, you dumbass," Jiwoo laughed and took her hand, leading her to the shore.

"Hey, hey, easy there," Seohyun laughed and let out a little yelp as the waves hit her bare feet. "The water is so cold!"

Jiwoo bent down and sprayed the water on Seohyun, smirking.

"Oh no, you did not!" Seohyun bent down and sprayed back before she could run. And so started a battle of getting each other wet. They all forgot all their worries for a while, running around in the waves, laughing as loudly as they could, laughing even louder when one of them got Jiwoo. By the time it got darker, they were all quite wet.

Yunho and Yeosang ran back to get towels for everyone, throwing them one each, and wondering if Jiwoo should have a towel. Seohyun said there was no need, but Jiwoo snatched hers once she was done.

"The sunset's here, guys," Yeosang said.

They all stood silently, side by side, watching the sky change to brilliant shades of candy, the sun reflecting on the sea. It was breathtakingly beautiful. At some point, Jiwoo crossed her hand with Seohyun's, and she turned to look at her face. Her red hair shone brightly and her eyes were wet.

"I want it to be the last thing that I see before I go," Jiwoo almost whispered. Seohyun's heart sank in her knees. It was really happening.

Jiwoo looked at San and smiled widely, San smiled back and waved at her. Jiwoo asked him to tell everyone that she was thanking them for doing so much for her. They all assured her it was nothing, and said they were gonna miss her.

San looked at Seohyun, nodding and urged the others to come with him. Only Jiwoo and Seohyun remained now, facing the sunset.

"It's really happening," Jiwoo finally said. A cry of pain escaped Seohyun's mouth. She couldn't take it anymore. Jiwoo rubbed her hand comfortingly, making her face herself. "You've given me an adventure. The time I spent with you, that was enough. Today was for you, Seohyun."

"Are you serious?" Seohyun asked.

Jiwoo nodded. "I told everyone it was for me, but no. It was for you. A gift for helping me out so much. For being a friend. A little sister that I always wanted."

Seohyun smiled sadly, "I'm gonna miss you so, so much. I got used to you, I shouldn't have."

"I know," Jiwoo smiled, kissing her forehead and wrapping her in a hug. Seohyun closed her eyes and inhaled. "Don't cry on me right now, Seohyun."

Seohyun laughed a little. "I'm trying not to, you're making it harder by reminding me!" She opened her eyes and saw the boys, watching them from a distance.

"I hope you'll open your heart more, Seohyun. That's my last wish. You had a tough life, but you have so many people, dead and alive, who love you. I hope you remember that, always."

"Unnie..." A tear escaped Seohyun.

Jiwoo watched the sunset, Seohyun in her arms, and it was perfect.

She closed her eyes.

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

Seohyun felt it, felt her presence fade away. She was no longer hugging Jiwoo. She stood for a few seconds before finally collapsing on the sand and she shuddered as tears began to flow. She put her face in her hands and cried her heart out.

The boys approached her, sitting around her, rubbing her back, telling her that it was okay. She just cried and cried, and she knew she was letting go of Joon Hyuk along with Jiwoo too. The proper goodbye that she had so badly wanted, she finally got it.

San put her arms around her and brought her closer, caressing her hair. After a few minutes, she was out of tears. She let her hair cover her face as she rested her head on San's shoulder, trying to normalize her breath.

Jongho handed her a water bottle. She managed a smile and took a few sips, rubbing her eyes. The boys looked at each other. They weren't sure what they should do next.

"God damn me if I ever befriend a ghost again," Seohyun said and finally laughed, making everyone else laugh along.

"Are you okay?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yes, I am, actually," she said, wiping her eyes again. "I'm done crying for a while now." Her eyes went to San, who understood and smiled.

"Alright, let's get some dinner."

-----------

The driver had dropped Seohyun home now, and was on the way to drop the rest of them. As Seohyun entered her home, it felt strange. She felt utterly alone now that she knew Jiwoo wasn't gonna be back ever.

She tried to recall the time, only a few months ago, when she hadn't met Jiwoo yet. What did she even do in her spare time? She could not remember.

Seohyun went in her room and changed into her PJs first. After she combed her hair and scrolled a bit, she got up to turn off the light and saw something lying on her desk.

It was a painting. Of Jiwoo and her, cheek to cheek, smiling, the black cat in their arms. Seohyun gasped a little and examined it. It was really well drawn. Who made it?

She turned the page and saw something written on the back of it:

Seohyun,

I remember now that I loved painting. Since we don't have any photos, I captured us in this painting. Now you have a photo!

Love always, Jiwoo unnie ^^

Seohyun laughed a little as she read how she had addressed herself. "I guess you really liked being called unnie," she thought out loud.

She set the painting on her bookshelf. After being content with its position, she turned off the light, and slept surprisingly peacefully throughout the night.

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

"I swear to god if you don't make fun of me when I do something stupid, I'm never gonna talk to you all again."

"Well, that's new," Yeosang commented, "You're begging for it now."

"Better that then you all being like this!" Seohyun let out a frustrated sigh.

The boys were being ridiculously sensitive with Seohyun, and she was feeling absolutely uncomfortable. She hadn't noticed it the first two days, but then she noticed in the little things; how they'd always offer her food before eating themselves, how they'd always accompany her, etc. She had enough of the special treatment.

"You're acting like someone died," Seohyun said.

"Back at it with the dead jokes are you?" San shook his head.

"Technically, Jiwoo was dead," Jongho remarked.

"So did she die twice then?" Mingi wondered.

"Oh please," Seohyun sighed again, "I just want you all to act like we used to. No more special treatment. Please, this makes it worse. I'm already at terms with Jiwoo going. It was bound to happen."

"Alright, alright," Seonghwa said and shushed her. "We didn't know what else we could do. Back to normal, okay?"

"Thank you," Seohyun truly meant it. "Also, I think I'm ready to share my drums." The boys hooted except one.

"Are you angry?" Mingi asked. Seohyun immediately turned to San, who was suddenly interested in Wooyoung's fingernails.

"Now I am," Seohyun muttered, and San smiled without meeting her eyes. The teacher came and interrupted their session, so they went back to studying.

After school was over, the boys decided to go to their warehouse, while Seohyun asked if anyone would help her bring the drums. San volunteered and they walked to her home, the black cat in San's hand.

As they walked, talking about how it looked like the cat missed Jiwoo, San stopped in his tracks. "I think you have a guest."

Seohyun looked ahead and saw a middle aged man dressed like a doctor. He was a ghost. Seohyun shared a look with San and went ahead.

"How can I help you?" Seohyun asked. The ghost got startled when he saw that San could see him too.

Jiwoo had once explained that to ghosts, Seohyun shined a little brighter than the rest of the humans, which was how they knew. Seohyun had just thought she was crazy but now she realized, now that she was with San, that it must be true.

Or maybe Jiwoo hadn't been joking that one time when she said there was a banner on top of her head and every ghost could see it, only Seohyun couldn't.

"I was told you'd help me," the doctor said. Seohyun nodded and he continued. "I made a mistake. I operated on a patient and it went wrong. It was my fault. The patient lost his vision. They were going to sue me, but when I tried to settle it, we had an argument. They gave up on suing me, saying I wasn't even worth the trouble.

"It was a few days later. I went into a slump and started drinking a lot. I was on the roof of the hospital and it wasn't my intention, but I slipped. That's how I died."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Seohyun said, "How can I help you move on then?"

"I want to let the patient know that I truly am sorry, and I want to let my family, just my family know that it wasn't a suicide. I wouldn't leave them behind on purpose."

"But... isn't it easier for your family this way? Than knowing that you are now a ghost? That it wasn't an accident?"

"I think," San began, "that he's right. It's more easier for them if they know he didn't commit suicide. They'd feel really bad if they think he left them on purpose. No one wants that from the people they love."

The doctor smiled thankfully at San. "I'll take you to the patient first," he said and asked if he should teleport the two of them.

"Do you want to come? You don't have to," Seohyun said.

San stroked the cat's head. "I want to."

"I don't know if it's safe for San to teleport. So we'll take the mundane route. Lead the way, sir."

"It's quite a distance. I hope you have money for taxi," the doctor said.

On the way to the patient's house, they had a nice chat with the doctor. He told them about his life, back when he was famous for being a good surgeon. He had never made a mistake and he had always held pride in that. But with this particular patient, he took a risk he knew he shouldn't have.

He told them he had a 10 year old daughter and he wanted her to become a doctor too. He wanted her to know that it was good to save people, and she shouldn't be afraid to take risks but also be careful at the same time and know her limits.

Seohyun was actually touched by the whole thing. It was good to have ghosts like these once in a while; nice, well-mannered ghosts.

They reached the patient's house. It was in a posh area; the patient himself must be rich. The house looked more like a mansion from the outside. Upon ringing the doorbell, a woman appeared, who the doctor told them was his wife. She seemed to be past 50s.

"We're relatives of Dr. Lee, the one who operated on your husband. We're here to discuss things about the case."

The woman passed them a skeptical look, "The doctor passed away, didn't he? We gave up on the case altogether. What do you want now?"

"We just want to talk to Mr. Cho. It's important. Please."

The woman let them in, guided them to the chairs in the garden and said she'd bring her husband. San and her sat down, admiring the lush gardens. The doctor paced worriedly.

"It will be alright. I have a way with words," Seohyun assured the doctor.

The husband and wife arrived; San and Seohyun got up and greeted them respectfully. "I am Seohyun, Dr. Lee's distant relative. This is San, my cousin."

"Have a seat," he said and they all settled down, including the wife. Seohyun sighed and decided she'd get to the point.

"Dr. Lee made a mistake. You must know that," Seohyun said. The wife looked at her husband worriedly.

"So he says," Mr. Cho said, staring in the distance.

"He wants to apologize, sincerely. I'll get to the point. He's here right now. I can see ghosts, the dead who have not moved on. He had unfinished business here, because he wanted to sincerely apologize. He won't be able to move on until he hears your forgiveness."

"Is this a prank?" Mrs. Cho asked, but Mr. Cho shushed her.

"I hope you can prove he's here," Mr. Cho said.

"Dr. Lee told you about some ginseng plant right before you went under anesthesia. No one was there when he told you, right?"

"That's true," Mr. Cho smiled. His wife began to complain but he raised a hand. "That's interesting. My father had a friend. He could see ghosts too. Are you the Mediator?"

San and Seohyun looked at each other in surprise. "That's what they call me, yes."

Mr. Cho laughed a little. "I used to not believe my father and that friend of his for the longest time, until I saw something and couldn't believe my eyes. That's why I believe you too, girl. You're doing a good job."

"Thank you," Seohyun said.

"So Dr. Lee is here? I can speak directly to him?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright. Dr. Lee, it was your fault, I know. But I truly forgive you. There are things we cannot avoid. We call it fate or destiny. What's bound to happen, fortune or misfortune, happens and you cannot avoid it. That's what I believe. I want you to move on, without the burden of my accident holding you back. You didn't do it on purpose, and that is enough for me."

Tears escaped Mrs. Cho's eyes and she wiped them. Seohyun muttered to San, 'wise man', and they watched Dr. Lee's eyes shine with tears to as he said his apology and thanks. Seohyun conveyed the message.

They were offered tea, but Seohyun told them they had to get home. The man offered to help Seohyun out if she ever had trouble with this Mediator job. She accepted, saying she would pay a visit someday.

The three of them left the house, standing in the street and reflecting on what had happened.

"That went rather smoothly," Seohyun commented.

"I know!" San widened his eyes at her.

"Thank you, Seohyun. It really does feel like a burden off my shoulder."

"No problem, we should move now. What's the next job?"

"I don't think I can see them like this," the doctor said. "I love my daughter and my wife very much. Seeing them would want me to stay. Do you think I can write a letter to my wife? You can give it to her tomorrow."

"Will your wife believe that it was really written by you?"

"We had a secret code between us; we created it. If I mention it in the letter, she'll have to believe it. And she'll recognize my handwriting too."

San and Seohyun decided that was convenient, and Seohyun handed the doctor a pen and paper. He wrote a short one, muttering something about how the less he wrote the better it would be. Then he folded it and handed it to Seohyun.

"I trust you. You'll give the letter tomorrow, right? I wrote the address on the other page."

"I will deliver it personally."

"Thank you," the doctor smiled. "Do you think I'll be able to watch over my daughter?"

"Maybe you will," Seohyun said.

"Guardian angel," San added, making the doctor smile as he disappeared. He had moved on.

"Well," Seohyun said, "That was quick. I love it when ghosts are wise enough to actually know how to handle their mess."

San scoffed. "Let's go."

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

Grabbing some coffee from a café they passed by, they took a taxi to Seohyun's home. Seohyun insisted that they should eat before they packed the drums and go to the warehouse. San helped her set the table. She had made pasta last night, which she reheated, and had some chocolates for dessert.

"Does your mom ever come home?" San asked as he nibbled on the chocolate.

Seohyun yawned. San reflected. They both were tired and sleepy now. "She has an apartment near her office so she only comes once a week here."

San yawned again and Seohyun laughed. "Should I let you nap?"

San smiled lazily. "Let's just pack the drums while you're still angry. I don't want you to change your mind."

Seohyun threw the wrapper at him and he caught it before it hit his face, throwing it right back. She dodged it. "Come on, let's dismantle it."

It took them ten minutes to dismantle and pack the drums. But it was already night time, and the boys had locked the warehouse and gone home when San asked them.

"Well, I'll call them here tomorrow. They should take it if they want it so much."

"Good idea." San said, yawning again.

"I think if I let you go home now, you're gonna fall asleep in the middle of the road. Take a power nap, San."

"Oh no, I shouldn't. I'll just go," he said and walked past her, only to be grabbed by the arms and led to a room despite him insisting he was not THAT sleepy.

San entered the room and immediately knew it was Seohyun's. The potted plants, the books, the mess. And the painting.

"So that's the painting, eh," he said, walking towards it and looking at the detail, absolutely wowed by it.

"How do you know? I don't think I mentioned," Seohyun narrowed her eyes.

"Jiwoo told me she left a gift for you," he smiled. Seohyun went to stand with him, looking at the painting with him.

"She's really good," she said.

San looked down at her. She felt so small; he was about a head taller than her. He turned towards her, his hand going to play with her hair. "You're really okay, right?"

"I am, San," Seohyun assured him. "I do feel lonely when I'm home, but you guys make up for it everyday."

San nodded. He was still playing with her hair. Seohyun suddenly flushed; they were standing quite close to each other. San noticed her looking at him, her light brown eyes shining.

He seemed to be searching her eyes for something. And Seohyun wasn't sure what it was, but she felt her heart pumping louder every second. She was, oh god, she was so attracted to him. He made her feel so many things just by looking at her.

"What are you looking at?" Seohyun asked- almost whispered.

"You," San said, bringing his hand to cup her face, surprised when she leaned in to his touch and closed her eyes. It made him melt. He brought her in for a hug and she gladly wrapped her arms around his waist, his small waist. She could hear his heart beat just as loudly. San rested his face on her head, rocking them back and forth. He didn't want to let go, he wanted to stay like this as long as he could.

Seohyun sighed. All she could think about was how he felt. Her mind was truly blank.

San finally broke apart a little, Seohyun's arms still around his waist. He was staring at her, his hands cupping her face, putting stray hair behind her ears. Seohyun wanted to do the same to him, but at the same time she didn't want to let go of him.

"Seohyun, Seohyun," he whispered, loving the sound of her name on his lips. She bit her lip. It seemed like they just stared at each other for the longest time, afraid to say anything, until Seohyun smiled at the situation.

San kissed her forehead first, a light peck. When she didn't move away, he tilted her face a bit upwards to kiss her cheekbone, then her cheek, leaving butterfly kisses, making her tremble all over. She clenched his shirt tighter, out of breath already. Their noses brushed and she loved the feeling of it, his breath warm on her. And when their lips brushed, San finally kissed her properly.

And Seohyun's mind went blank.

San's hand went behind her neck and Seohyun finally left his waist, only to cup his face herself as she guided him along. They tasted chocolate on each other. Seohyun was deepening the kiss, she just couldn't get enough. San mirrored her movements, following along, making her bend backwards until her back hit the desk and her hand went to rest on it for support.

San broke apart to catch his breath. His eyes were glazed, and so were Seohyun's. He put his hand on Seohyun's, the one that was on the desk, and with a sultry look and half a smile, he kissed her again, so passionately that it made Seohyun curve back and back until San was half on top of her.

When they broke apart, finally short of breath, Seohyun smirked. "I thought you were sleepy."

"I still am," he said, resting her forehead against her and smiling, eyes shut.

Seohyun lead him to her bed, making him sit. She bit her lip and smirked as she positioned herself on San's lap. San held her by her waist and let her kiss him; on his cheeks, like he had done, a peck on his nose which made him laugh, and finally a kiss to the lips.

"God, the way you make me feel, Choi San!" She sighed dramatically.

"And how do I make you feel?" He questioned. Seohyun shook her head. "I'll tell you later. Now we sleep."

San set his alarm for a power nap and with Seohyun in her arms, they both slept peacefully. When the alarm did go off, Seohyun didn't budge. With a kiss on her forehead, he left the house.

----------

"There's something wrong with Seohyun," Yeosang announced and everyone turned to look at him.

"There's more?" Wooyoung asked sarcastically and Seohyun glared at him, turning to look at Yeosang, asking him what he meant by that.

"I don't know," Yeosang threw his hands in the air, clearly frustrated, "She keeps smiling to herself. It's creepy."

Seohyun and San shared a look and San, despite his struggle not to, burst out laughing. Seohyun pursed her lips, trying not to smile but failed.

"See?" Yeosang pointed at her, "Has she ever smiled like this?"

Wooyoung was looking at San and Seohyun. "You both.... Is there a secret I don't know about!?"

"I don't have secrets anymore..." Seohyun lied shamelessly, shrugging. San put his hands in the air and said, "I only laughed because of what Yeosang said."

"No, you're looking at each other with the most disgusting look in your eyes," Yeosang observed, "Don't tell me you two..."

"Ah, no, that cannot have happened!" Hongjoong waved him off as Seonghwa gasped.

"How could you even suggest such a thing?" Seonghwa shook his head, clearly disappointed in Yeosang.

"No, I didn't even say anything yet..." Yeosang looked at Seohyun to apologize but she smirked at him, making his eyes go wide.

"I am RIGHT! Something happened between these two, she smirked at me!"

Seohyun immediately put her poker face and looked at Mingi and Jongho, who were right in front of her, with the most innocent look in her eyes. "Did you see me smirk?"

Mingi and Jongho shook their heads. Yeosang shot Seohyun a glare. "I know I'm right. If this turns out to be true..."

"Stop being so dramatic," San said, shushing Yeosang, and got up to drink water.

They were all in the warehouse, having just left school, and were currently relaxing and drinking juice, chatting with each other. Yeosang had noticed Seohyun smiling more than usual, which made him think something happened. It didn't help that San and Seohyun couldn't stop exchanging glances.

Seohyun had brought the drum set with Yunho before coming to the warehouse. Seohyun motioned to Mingi and they got up, leaving the rest behind.

"Have you ever played drums before? Like, actual drums?"

"Yeah," Mingi answered, "A friend of mine had them."

"Alright, you should learn how to arrange them."

So Seohyun taught Mingi all about the components of a drum set, their various uses and how to dismantle them and put them back. Mingi listened carefully, and Seohyun smiled inwardly at how happy he looked. It made her feel guilty that she delayed it so much.

When they were done, they stood back to have a look.

"A much needed upgrade," Mingi smiled, ruffling Seohyun's hair, "Thanks."

"This drum set is my baby, okay? Use it well."

"Yes ma'am," Mingi saluted and Seohyun pointed at the drums. "Have a go."

Mingi sat on the stool, testing the weight of the drum sticks in his hand. He tested the sounds then, and played a little, freestyling, laughing as he did. The others had come to watch him, cheering and hyping him up.

"Not bad," Seohyun said when he finished, "Just go with your heart. Don't think."

"Your turn," Mingi handed her the drum sticks and she almost panicked.

"I think I'm good," she hesitated but someone pushed her forward. It was Yunho.

"I didn't go through all that trouble of coming to your house and carrying the drums to not see you play," he shook his head.

"Alright. Just a second," Seohyun said, tying her hair in a ponytail. "There you go."

Everyone hooted, clearly excited. This was the first time she was going to actually play in front of them, save for the time she had played the violin for San. San smiled at her as if he was thinking the same thing. Seohyun inhaled, testing the drums, and began.

She realized she really did enjoy playing the drums; there was just something about drums where you could express freely, and loudly, as if you wanted everyone to hear it. And it made her smile like crazy, put her brain on pause for a while and play with her heart.

She played like crazy, and when she was done, everyone was in awe.

"You're actually very good!" Hongjoong said, finally clapping. Seohyun bowed her head and got up. "I didn't expect this."

"It's like she was a different person," Jongho was looking at her with wonder.

"Teacher! you're my teacher from today," Mingi declared, and Seohyun scoffed at him.

"You don't need a teacher, teach yourself. I know you can."

"Nooo~" he wailed, "I would love you as a teacher!"

Seohyun just waved him off, going to San and smiling embarrassingly at him. He pinched her cheeks and she pouted, the two of them forgetting for a moment that everyone was still watching her.

"You two... there is something different!" Jongho laughed in disbelief. San and Seohyun started laughing. Yeosang just shook hands with Jongho, thanking him for finally noticing.

"They're not even bothering to deny it, guys," Yunho grinned.

"San is mine!" Wooyoung shouted dramatically, coming to hug San, sticking his tongue out at Seohyun. Seohyun glared at him, baring her teeth at him, and snatched San from him. Wooyoung gasped, and suddenly the two of them were in a battle, both pulling at San by his arms, who was laughing painfully, shouting for help.

"He's not even choosing!" Seohyun laughed, and winked at Wooyoung as she said, "Let's ditch him."

Wooyoung pushed San away, rather forcefully, who fell in Yeosang's arms. He put his arm in Seohyun and she flipped her hair as they walked away from him.

"No one loves me," San buried his nose in Yeosang's neck, pouting. Yeosang sighed, patting his head.

"You're right," Yeosang said, "Absolutely right."

"Hey..." San moaned like a little kid.

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sjw-publishings · 3 years

Text

Retrospective Division

Josh and Henry walked hand in hand down the hallway, directly to the office in which they resided. The young men were in charge of small LGBTQ business in the building...only to be kicked out due to being too ‘liberal’, making room for tenants who were closer to his ‘Retrospective Vision’.

So much so, that the taller one had to voice it out.

“I’m...I’m going to send an email to the higher ups!” Josh spoke.

Josh Ming was the older of the two, only slightly older though at the age of 23. Fresh out of college and directly ready to start business with his newlywed husband.

Dressed in a pair of of white loafers with matching pair of beige khaki shorts, he wore a light blue buttoned polo underneath his pink checkered sweater vest with rainbow flag pin over his right breast...

Was that the final straw for the clearly conservative owner to kick them out after just a few months? If it was...

He scratched the back of his head, left palm messing with his wavy raven locks before briefly adjusting his rectangular half-frame specs. Something was real off...and he really wanted to get to the bottom of it.

This sudden rising passion of energy within him was also different, tightening his grip on his boyfriend, he would usually remain quiet and reserved, ignoring the such attitude towards them...but being kicked out? That really ticked him off.

“Honey, I like that attitude!”

Meanwhile, Henry was quite astonished by drive his husband was showing. Sure they both took turns in the bed and was Jeffery incredible when he was top, but he had never seen this side of him until today...

The 22 year old caucasian smiled, loving every bit of the drive from the other male, considering he was usually the one taking charge vocally.

Placing his right hand on his waist, swishing his hips in those pink bermudas while strutting in his own pair of slip-on, navy blue formal shoes that he recently got.

They had the right to dress liberally and freely, he would never sass directly-he and his boyfriend’s clothing says it all! With a matching light blue buttoned down-minus the sweater and throw in a white cardigan for variety.

Swooshing his blond curly locks, his sky blue eyes narrowed in admiration towards his partner, freckles rising with his cheekbones.

“Heh...must’ve gotten it from you~”

“Awww.”

In a matter of seconds, they reached the entrance to their office. They were told to pack up and go in the middle of the night, and with the full moon shining directly at them from a open window behind.

They immediately released the grip from the other as they walked in without question.

Not even realising that they won’t be holding the other this way when they come out.

————————————————————

As they entered, the room stayed mostly the same for now, with the only major difference, is that their desks are apart, parallel to one another.

Just like their formerly interlocked hands.

“Of course! the owner doesn’t support us working side by side directly!”

Josh noted, rolling his eyes as his tone got snappy. Folding his arms, not realising his lisp fading slightly with the remark.

“No worries hun, that just means I’d get a better look at you~”

He turned to his boyfriend, who looked lovingly at him at the side. At Eye level, re-assuring the other that everything will be alright. He blinked, did Henry just get taller all of a sudden? He definitely did not notice it earlier...must be the new shoes he was wearing.

“Right back at ya love~”

“Ooooh now there’s that attitude I love!”

PINCH!

“Oof!”

With that, Henry gave a tight pinch to his behind, smirking as he walked to his desk. Of course, it was far harder than usual, that tease. His husband liked to do that especially when he was happy, which was great when he was happy despite those remarks from the owner!

But something about the pinch...really set him off.

Playing it off, not noticing his larger steps as he strode to his side of the room. Legs stretching wide apart, feet grounded to the floor as he stood like a 1930s cartoon, except with more realistic proportions.

PLONK!

Landing butt first on his chair, he winced once again, he sat with more force than intended. Probably due to the aggression towards the owner, but wasn’t there supposed to be a cushion he and his husband brought from home on his-

Sleek Office chair, the modern kind without the comfort. Just pure professionalism like the way the owner demanded. Did that arse remove his-

Meanwhile Henry from across looked comfortable in his...’Chairman’s chair’. Like he was a higher up overseeing him, with a smug grin, but it was just cause he found him cute right?

“Sit up straight hun...wouldn’t want the owner to think otherwise.”

“Got it...! Thanks for reminding me!”

“No problem love...”

He responded quickly...though kind of irritated, he knew it was the owner’s policy too, about a ‘straight back leads a straight life’. He often made visits to everyone of his tenants or so he claims...especially them.

How ridiculous of a ‘motivational message’, though Jeff did like to keep his back straight for proper posture and presentation, not cause he was...

Anyways...what is with the fact that his fiancé is on a grand chair while he was stuck lookin’ like a subordinate. Sure Henry was slightly older...and taller than him, but the difference between them was huge.

He shouldn’t let that get to him...but its kind of pissing him off, specially with that smug grin on the older male’s face.

Mustering up all his professionalism, he spoke to the other male about their situation, holding in as much anger as he could.

“Say...how else do you think the owner expects us to behave?”

“Don’t know, probably...like him...”

Older days...yeah that sounds about right. Blinking, Josh watched as numerous LGBTQ posters and photos he framed up on his side taken down in an instant, replaced with framed photographs, mainly black and white of men and women in retro-esque attire.

But the main thing were the fact was there were only happy heterosexual couples in the wedding pictures that he took...where wuz’ all the gay ones huh?

Meanwhile, Henry’s side had the pictures reshaped into various expensive degrees and award certificates apparently. Josh wasn’t sure when his senior was such a stick in the arse and show off his life, but apparently its the reality they live in now.

Mixed with the wood panelling, their office walls split into two. With his fiancé’s side having a more polished grey shine to it...and his having wallpaper of grey rocks right behind him.

He was pissed, all his hard work gone to waste when the boss removed all his...stuff, doing renovations...Sure he kinda liked the new decor, always felt sturdy where he wuz at. But still it was his stuff!

Though then again, he also did help take some of those conference photos for the boss when he had met with several of his big league associates, a proof of skill he could use when advertising his talent to the boomers...

Whatevah! He was still goin’ to be typin’!

As he had started up his trendy PearPC, he blinked as the load in bar showed up. Tapping his fingers impatiently, not realising the shiny light weight frames becoming heavier and grounded as the quality of the pixels dropped tremendously with every second.

“Something is not right! And I’m gettin’ to the bottom of dis!”

“Whatever you say, hun...”

Rolling his eyes at his lover’s statement, the older male was not as passionate as he was when it comes to delivering the truth. Not fighting as hard as he was, whateva’!

He was doin’ it HIMSELF!

Rubbing his palms, as his ‘doorframe’ retro PC lit up, being an older model did not hinder his goal as he opened up the word processor and began typing away!

He was always a fast typer, especially when his grandpapy trained him when he was younger. Though that did not sound right? They didn’t have computers back in the day and age!

As Josh blinked, the digital letters seemed almost printed out the more he starred into them. As he continued typing on his keyboard, he didn’t notice the swiftness of his fingers as he crunched on the keys effortlessly, neither did he mind the metallic clicking sound with every syllable.

Precisely, rubbing his eyes, the glossy flow shifted into simple paper. Grinning to himself, retro it is! Right in front of em’, a policy that the boss really stood firm in his heart.

“Not that I mind, Chief.”

Muttering to himself, Joshon was raised by a highly conservative grandfather who drilled him in the importance of staying true to their values.

Not noticing with that remark, his rainbow flag pin stretched like taffy around his neck, solidifying into a black monotone neck tie as the collar of his Polo tee stiffened.

And folded down.

Sweater vest splitting into two, the sleeves merging with the polo as the vest thinned out. A long row of buttons trailed down the merged too, colour bleaching white into a straight, iron-pressed dress shirt.

Even though he was sorta queer, there was no way he’ll be outrightly pissing his grand-papy off! Folding his arms determinedly, as the pinkness of the remaining vest fabric faded to black, looping into straps with a big criss-cross over on his back.

SNAP! Wearing his suspenders with grey pride.

It didn’t really matter to him in the face of a scoop. Especially when it comes to whatever the owner of the establishment is doing, he was determined to write it like the reporter he was.

You can say, it was going to be the scoop of the century!

“Did you say something?”

Gohen got up from his throne, dressed in a thick black suit, with faint white checkered patterns all over, with the typical office dress shirt and matching tie he always wore.

Sauntering over to the reporter’s side of the room, possessively. The hispanic-caucasian stared at the pan-asian male...though its less so love and more so-

“What are you doing?”

But oh man, does he piss Joshon off.

Yeah they’ve been engaged, but the way he breathes down his neck makes the reporter sick. Arms toughening with strong toned biceps, as a healthy dusting of hair lined his forearms.

The roughness the two exhibited even in bed was less out of love and more so...pent up frustration, especially lately. No matter how the conversation went, its just conflict after conflict.

“I’m just typing away the new article, lovah!”

His lover’s been clinging onto em’ again. Examinin him like a piece of meat, even though they just get engaged recently...though it was more so the lawyer’s idea rather than Joshon’s.

Tied down to another guy like that, even that was too gay for his liking.

“Why don’tcha just-TALK TO ME?”

“I AM TALKIN’ TO YA!”

He was so ANGRY with his lover, getting up, hands pressing against the other...and with a-

PUSH!

The impact left a huge blow to their relationship.

Flinging both men back to their side of the room, onto each of their seats. Rings morphing into simple tie pins as they stuck onto their new ties. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, and definitely nothing to personal with the other male.

They just anger each other.

First came the realisation of the older male, who tugged relentlessly below, surging through age and maturity as his weathered face took on a caramel tan.

Hair styling into natural curls, shortening into a dark brown, embracing his new identity of a conservative single man in his fifties. Letting loose any notion of being attracted to anyone but his future-

“Hermosa!”

The hispanic BOOM-ER’ed his manhood, letting loose all his reservations and kindness as a dark glare rested on the male. Deep eye bags alongside a faint beard.

Dusting himself, the middle aged man made sure he appeared presentable, despite still in a hazy afterglow.

Shaking himself out of his trance, the older man glared at the younger male.

“Get out my office.”

Walls fell down between the two, a complete division of interests as the attorney faded from his sight.

“Well who needs ya?”

Still thirsting for release, his face contorted at any thought of attraction to the older man. What wuz he? Queer? That kind of shit gets ya kicked outta office!

Which was why he liked it ere’!

“PANSY!”

A young handsome guy free to be chasing the ladies! Hair slicked to the side, as his skin embraced that peachy caucasian tan of his new ethnicity.

“QUEER!”

The tense fights he had with his competitor and rival next door. He wouldn’t trade it for the world. Grinning arrogantly at the triumphs he had over the man, especially when he told Gomez about the queer vibe he got from those chicks.

And both ladies turned about to be lesbians!

Imagine how much the owner of the establishment would be proud of him, how his grandpapy would be proud of him.

His arrogant sneer framed by his squared jaw, licking his lips as his signature five o clock shadow lined his masculinity. Narrowing his much larger eyes, blowing a large-

“GOT DA SCOOP RIGHT ERE!”

And so the incredibly heterosexual reporter proclaimed, kicking back as his hard member came and came like the single retro business owner he was.

Slumping back in the afterglow, immersing in his heterosexuality like he always did past midnight as he-

Knock!

Jolted up, zipped his trousers, and crossed his arms as his boomer rival barged in.

“Matt! Will ya keep it down?!”

“Shaddup Diego! As if you and your crusty balls didn’t jerk off for the third time this evenin’!”

Of course, they initiated their famous, tense, stare down at the other. The caucasian reporter remaining in his position as the hispanic lawyer made his way to the seat in front of him.

The two of them fought ever since they met. With Gomez being being really disapproving towards Johnson as a result.

The Chief’s colleague vouched for their grandson Johnson to be a part of the many businesses in the building, claiming he will be a value asset to his ‘conservative vision’.

Of course, Reporter Johnson was a prodigy. Being raised in the art of the press by his Grand-pappy, the ins and outs on the ‘black N white days’ without too much influence from the modern world.

It was no surprise that the chief, the owner of dis ere’ place, gave him an office of his own.

Even bypassing Attorney Gomez’s approval, who, besides being the prime defence lawyer against any allegations towards the property owner, was also the one who made the deciding vote on whether someone was able to rent an office in the Chief’s estate.

Of course, the idea of a man, over a decade younger, having this much influence in the building had ticked the hispanic boomer to his very core. And ever since then, it became a non-stop cycle of one upping the other.

“Listen Matty, you know how it goes as much as I do. We’re men and still single, we need women.”

Though despite their numerous arguments, over the years, they may never admit it...but when it comes to getting partners, they were both unfortunate enough to remain single this long.

In their late thirties and fifties respectively, flirting with ladies and getting rejected like some 50s comedy routine.

“Never understood how did some guys get married immediately after college...bunch of queers.”

“Agreed, especially for a hot rich lawyer such as myself, being single is definitely out of the equation.”

“Hey! Hey! You think the ladies care about an old man in a suit when a hot stud like me is around?”

“Not when you are far from tactical with your words! Besides, you should see how the women look at me when I walk down the hallway.”

“Oh yeah? Well Chicks can’t resist spankin’ my arse with every step!”

And so the argument continues, like almost every time they met. Like a married couple, except they were straight and talking about women women women.

And for some odd reason, because of this fact, despite their glaring differences in almost about everything. They knew they had each other’s back when it comes to this.

“Anyways...the owner said he’s found two ladies working in an office below us...and that they are not only interested in us...but-”

Taking out the photographs from the brown folder, in them were two gorgeous women that these straight men could not peel their eyes off. Like an alluring magnet of compatibility, that kind that they were unable to resist.

The left one definitely screamed the ‘mamacita’ that Diego desired. As he placed his matured palm over that photograph, red tints could be seen over his cheeks as he subconsciously licked his lips.

Of course, Matt’s hard on throbbed at the sight of the right chick. Like a lesbian who turned straight in front of his lens, the kind of Gal he would spend his life with, and for some reason he knew she would too.

“You in?”

Lawyer Diego Gomez folded his arms, but barely hid the incredible pheromones of attraction towards his lady. Sandwiching his manhood and rubbing it, desperately needing her immediately, closing his single case once and for all.

Reporter Matt Johnson mirrored the older male, and not wanting to admit it, is thirsting for that retro babe like the scoop of the century. He really desired for her...but he ain’t gonna show weakness in front of his rival! He was taking charge, hungry eyes blending in with a determined expression.

“You be my wingman this time Gomez, and you’ve got a deal.”

#retrospective division #gay to straight #g2s #mental change #personality change #lib to cons #racial change #retro tf

132 notes · View notes

grapesodatozier · 4 years

Text

Anything You Want

a fic for @heterophobicrichietozier !! thank you so much for requesting this fic!!

rating: explicit

words: 7.5k

tags/warnings: sugar daddy au, domtop!richie, subbottom!eddie, daddy kink, age gap, marking (hickeys), degradation and praise, porn with feelings, mentions of sonia’s abuse

notsfw below the cut!!

Eddie Kaspbrak was running short on both money and patience. He was only just over a month into his second year of nursing school, and he was already struggling to pay his rent. And sure, rent in New York City was never easy to pay, but he’d been saving, he’d had a plan. The problem was that pretty much all of his money had unexpectedly gone toward his tuition when his mother had refused to pay for a second year at school.

At eighteen, Eddie had left his small hometown in Maine and moved to New York City to start college. He had just barely convinced his mother to let him go, and to help with his tuition as long as he covered his own rent. He was required to call her four nights a week, and he had to go back on the “medicines” he’d disavowed around age fifteen (all of which he routinely flushed down the toilet), but the physical distance had been amazing—at first. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough, and his mom started demanding he call her every night, accusing him of being reckless and taking advantage of her. When he’d told her he wasn’t coming home for the summer, she’d exploded into hysterics, crying and telling him he had to come home. It was when she began rambling on about how Eddie was probably running around with dirty New York City girls and catching all sorts of horrific sexual diseases, demanding that he come home so that she could keep an eye on him and find him a nice girl when she decided he was ready for one, that Eddie had snapped. Though it had been the result of years of pent up frustration and rage, he had stayed calm as he told her that he wasn’t missing her calls because of girls, but because of guys—because he spent his weekends getting fucked by men. “Sorry Ma,” he’d said, his voice cool as steel and even as could be, “but I can’t really pick up the phone when I’ve got some guy’s cock inside of me.” It wasn’t exactly the coming out his friends Bill, Ben, and Mike had been gently running by him, but he was angry, and it had felt good; he figured she’d have had the same reaction no matter how he said it, so what the hell, right?

Still, it stung when she’d told him she wasn’t paying for his college anymore. He hadn’t really believed her at first, as she was still hounding him about his sins and how he needed to come home, but sure enough, when emails about tuition began rolling around, they all went to his school email and explained that his name was the only one on his account, that his mother had bestowed the loans onto him and given up the account. Eddie nearly vomited when he’d received that email. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he blocked his mother’s number.

He already had a job for the summer tied down, but it was just an internship level position filing in a medical office, and it was only four days a week; there was no way it would cover tuition and rent and food, among other expenses. So he was forced to take on a second job as a waiter at a new restaurant a few blocks away from his apartment, then a third job working at a mechanic shop on Fridays and Saturdays. On top of all of that work, he had to completely redo his FAFSA and reapply for loans given his new financial circumstances. His school and the government did give him a bit more, but not enough to drop any of his jobs.

By the time classes rolled around, he had paid his tuition for the semester, but he’d had to dip into money he’d been saving for rent. Now, in early October, he was still working Fridays and Saturdays at the garage and was waiting tables Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He had a night shift shadowing a nurse on Tuesdays, which left Thursdays and Sundays as his only free nights, nights which he largely spent doing homework. All of this work, and he had still been eating Cup Noodles for the past two weeks.

It was a Friday night, and everything had been going wrong. In the middle of his shift at the garage, he’d gotten a notification from his school’s site informing him that he’d gotten a C on his most recent test, one he’d lost sleep over studying. Then work at the garage had run over and he barely had time to eat dinner before making it to the restaurant in time. He was tired and upset and feeling badly about himself, not to mention missing a party all of his friends were going to, so all it took was one baby boomer yelling at him over a mixed up order for him to excuse himself to the back room and start bawling. Thankfully, his manager seemed to be understanding and let him cool off. “I’ll take that table until they leave,” she told him, to his immense relief and gratitude. By the time she came back to check on him he had calmed down considerably and was staring into the mirror in the break room trying fruitlessly to pat down the puffiness around his eyes, trying to will away the redness that lingered. “Hey,” his manager said, “you wanna take table four?” Eddie sighed and nodded, trying out a smile. “Atta boy.”

He took a deep, steadying breath before heading out for his new table. His eyes fell on a table of three: a woman with dark red curls that fell to her shoulders, a man with truly impeccable posture, and the hottest man Eddie had ever seen in his life. And he was unabashedly looking Eddie up and down from behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses as he approached. “Hi!” Eddie greeted them, his big, bright customer service smile finding its way onto his face like it was possessing him. “I’m Eddie, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”

“You got me started already,” the hot guy said. Then, meeting Eddie’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “Have you been crying?”

Luckily, Eddie didn’t have to respond to that, as the guy’s much more refined friend chimed in, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,” just as the redheaded woman was letting out an exasperated, “Richie, oh my god.”

“One gin and tonic,” Eddie smiled, his cheeks burning. “Anything else?”

“Could I have a martini, please?” the woman smiled kindly up at him.

“Martini, got it.” As he jotted it down, he prepared himself to face the hot guy—Richie, apparently. When he did, he was struck by the depth of his blue eyes. He was surprised by how warm they were, and they glittered as he smiled up at Eddie. “And for you?”

“What do you like?”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” Eddie flushed, letting out a small laugh. With a joking smile, he added, “The Shirley Temples are great, though.”

Richie laughed, his eyes never leaving Eddie. “A Shirley Temple it is.”

Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver either, and he put on his best innocent, big-brown-eyes look as he asked, “Virgin or dirty?” He had to fight back a smirk when he saw Richie’s eyes darken.

“Dirty.” The way he said it sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine. “Pretty please, with three cherries on top.”

“You got it,” Eddie said with a wink. Though the day was still weighing on him, he was beginning to feel better already. He might have even swayed his hips a little more than necessary as he walked away. He told himself it was because he could tell this Richie guy was into him, so he was aiming for a nice tip, but really Eddie loved the attention itself. With his schedule, he no longer had time for the hookups he spent his freshman year indulging in. So he couldn’t be blamed for preening under the attention of a hot older guy. Honestly, it was the pick me up he’d been needing for months.

The night went on, all three of them being incredibly kind to him, with Richie throwing in not at all subtle flirtations any chance he got. Eddie didn’t miss the three knotted cherry stems on Richie’s napkin when he brought their food and offered to refill their drinks.

He was almost sad to see Richie go, but he was grateful for the small smile he had on his face as he went to collect his tip and clear the table. At first he went to simply slip the cash into his pocket, but then he realized there was a note on the napkin beneath it: a name, Richie Tozier, with a phone number under it. It was then that Eddie realized he was holding five hundred dollars in his hand. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, an embarrassed flush running from his ears down his chest as he hurried to clear the dirty dishes and bring them back to the kitchen.

The cash burned a hole in his pocket all night, all the way home. What the fuck? he thought to himself. Because seriously, who leaves a five hundred dollar tip on a meal that was barely over a hundred? Eddie locked his apartment door and placed the money on his dresser, staring at it. Five one hundred dollar bills. Who carried that around? What if they were counterfeit? Eddie pulled out the napkin and studied that as well, deciding to Google the name Richie Tozier. His jaw dropped when he did. There his face was, with his big glasses, cocky smile, and fluffy, dark curls. Apparently the guy was on SNL and had two Netflix comedy specials. He was also twenty-eight, nearly ten years older than Eddie. His net worth? Five million dollars.

Eddie sat down on his bed, his mind spinning. The place Eddie worked was nice enough, but it wasn’t exactly frequented by millionaires. Still in his work clothes, he dialed the number, figuring there was no way it would go through.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

It was his voice. “What the fuck?” Eddie blurted out.

He heard a bright laugh on the other end. “Is this Eddie?”

“Yeah, it is, and seriously, what the hell? Five hundred dollars?”

“You looked upset,” Richie said. He sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his voice had softened noticeably.

“So you gave a stranger five hundred dollars?” Eddie was honestly more confused than upset. Sure, maybe his pride was a little bruised, but to be honest he was touched. And kind of turned on.

“Just redistributing my wealth,” Richie joked. “I’ve got more than I know what to do with, so I figured giving it to a pretty boy who was having a bad day was a pretty good way to spend it.” Eddie flushed at that—pretty boy. The way Richie said it, so casually, yet with a joking tone that made it almost teasing, had Eddie’s pants getting tight. When Eddie stayed silent, Richie continued, “There’s more for you where that came from, if you’re interested.”

“What?” Eddie said, blood rushing in his ears. Was this guy serious? Was this actually happening?

“I’d be happy to help you out if you need it. A college kid like you should be partying on a Saturday night, or taking a fucking nap, not crying at a minimum wage job.”

“Like a sugar daddy?”

Richie laughed. Eddie loved the sound of it. “Yeah, like a sugar daddy, baby.” The pet name made Eddie shudder, made him feel like he was glowing. But still, he didn’t want this guy getting ideas.

“I’m not gonna have sex with you.” Even as he said it, his cock was hard, and the memory of the way Richie had been flirting with him made his skin hot. But he wanted to make explicitly clear that he wasn’t into selling himself.

“That’s not why I’m offering. Seriously, I just wanna help you out. And sure, maybe you’re ridiculously cute, and maybe I want to get to know you, but mostly I wanna help you out. Pay for your rent, give you time to study and party and be a college student.”

And how could Eddie turn that down? As much as he was struggling with it, with his pride and the stranger danger anxiety that his mother had ingrained in him, he seriously doubted that a hot millionaire would come around again offering to pay his rent.

So Eddie agreed, and soon he was sending Richie his Venmo information. Two minutes later his phone screen glowed with a notification: Richie Tozier sent you $2,000.

It had been hard to get used to at first, but cutting his work schedule down to just Monday and Wednesday nights at the restaurant and just Friday afternoons at the garage felt amazing. He finally felt rested, could finally give his schoolwork the attention it needed.

“You know, you really don’t need to work at all if you don’t want to,” Richie told him one night when they were having dinner together.

“I know,” Eddie said to his food, “but I like the independence of it. And working with cars calms me down, it makes sense to me.” He didn’t mention the real reason he kept both jobs: the big Just In Case that loomed over him. This seemed like a fairy tale situation, like an extended, intricate prank, and he was terrified that something would go wrong. He wanted to be prepared if Richie suddenly pulled out for some reason.

However, as the months passed it became pretty clear that even without sex Richie wasn’t going anywhere. And that started complicating things.

It was late in December, which meant finals and holidays, which meant lots of stress. It was the first Christmas Eddie wouldn’t be spending at home, and that made him feel sad in a way he didn’t understand; he was incredibly happy to be free of his mother, but there was something so final about it. He supposed it was still a loss, even if it was a welcome one. On top of that, his days were plagued by the anxiety that she might get a new number, might start calling him again, might show up at his door and whisk him back to Maine. So it was just negativity on top of worrying on top of sadness. Under all this stress, he found himself spending more and more time at Richie’s apartment, more and more time talking to Richie, wanting to get close to him.

So far, things had been pretty professional. They got meals together once or twice a week, often in Richie’s apartment due to fans of his popping up everywhere wanting pictures. Mostly they hung out because Eddie liked it; Richie was always reminding Eddie that he didn’t owe Richie anything, but Eddie genuinely liked his company.

Also, he was still ridiculously hot, and he fawned over Eddie like he was the one getting paid.

Seriously, Richie was so amazing to him, it wasn’t just the money. When someone at work pissed him off, Richie put on one of Eddie’s favorite shows and offered to hire some people to beat up whatever asshole customer had yelled at him. When Eddie complained that the construction outside his apartment was affecting his studying, Richie let him study in his apartment, and even brought him hot chocolate and rubbed his shoulders.

Now it was a Thursday, and Eddie had finished his last final. He had just gotten home from saying goodbye to Bill, Mike, and Ben for winter break when Richie called. Like always, the loneliness that was threatening to creep over him began to ebb as soon as he heard Richie’s voice. “Hey! How’d your test go? We still on for dinner to celebrate?”

Eddie appreciated the offer, but a fancy dinner wasn’t what he wanted just then. “Can we do dinner at your place tonight?” he asked, his voice worn and small.

“Of course, anything you want.”

Richie’s driver picked Eddie up, so he didn’t actually see Richie until he was knocking at his door and falling into his arms. Richie, with his roughly nine or ten inch height advantage over Eddie, easily scooped him up and brought him to the couch. “So would it be tone deaf of me to ask how the exam went?” Richie grinned, settling down with Eddie resting against him. Eddie tucked his feet under his legs as he leaned into Richie’s embrace, finding the relief he’d been needing all day once Richie’s arms were around him.

“The exam went okay,” he sighed. “But Bill, Ben, and Mike all went home today, and I won’t see them for like a month.”

Richie shifted so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, facing Eddie. Eddie naturally moved closer, like a magnet was pulling him toward Richie, and he ended up practically in Richie’s lap. He let out a small, happy sigh as Richie stroked his hair. “I could send you on a trip somewhere, take your mind off of it.”

But it wasn’t just the location that was the problem. Sure, he wanted something to do, but mostly he wanted someone to do things with. A specific someone, if he was being honest with himself.

Eddie looked down and ran his hand lightly over the stitching on the pocket of Richie’s button up. It was covered in a Pac-Man pattern, but Eddie knew it was more formal than his normal look. The idea that Richie had dressed up somewhat for dinner with him made him smile. And it should have calmed him down as he prepared to ask Richie his next question, but his heart was still racing as he took a deep breath and looked up into Richie’s eyes. “Will you come with me?”

Richie’s eyes widened just barely before a smile broke across his face. “You thought I’d miss out on buying you souvenirs?”

Eddie beamed. Richie looked so beautiful when he smiled, and his hand was a comforting weight on Eddie’s hip. The thought of travelling with Richie, of sharing a hotel room with him—sharing a bed with him—made Eddie glow. “Did you have any destination in mind?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.”

Richie’s voice was soft and low, Eddie felt like he could melt into it. He ran his hand up Richie’s chest, cupped his cheek, and watched Richie’s eyes dart over Eddie’s face, clearly trying to get a read on the situation. Eddie had been thinking about crossing this line for a while. He’d been holding back for months, and as the months moved by, his hang ups had begun to feel less and less important. Sure, the money made things different. But, did it have to? Did it really? Richie was here. Richie was holding him without expectation. As Eddie watched Richie lick his lips, as he felt Richie’s hands on him, he couldn’t remember a single reason he’d come up with to not dive headfirst into what they both so clearly wanted, what they had both wanted since the moment their eyes met for the first time.

So he leaned in, the tension that had been building for months coming to a head and taking his breath away. But just as their lips were about to come together, Richie murmured a soft, reserved, “Eddie.” Eddie’s heart caught at his tone, and he pulled back a bit, trying to figure out what was going wrong. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do it,” Eddie huffed. He was pouting now, and moving to straddle Richie’s hips. “I want you, so bad. I’ve wanted you ever since I met you.” He took Richie’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “No one’s ever treated me as well as you do. The way you take care of me, the way you look at me... I’ve never wanted someone this bad before.”

Richie studied Eddie’s face, his eyes softening, darkening. He unfurled his fist and held Eddie’s jaw in his hand, ran his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip. “Fuck, you deserve the world, angel.” Eddie flushed at that. His heart was racing at the light, teasing way Richie pressed down on his lip. Just as he was about to wrap his lips around Richie’s thumb, Richie slid his hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it noticeably tighter than he normally would. “Tell me what you want, baby.” His voice was low and rough in a way that made Eddie wish he would just bend him over and fuck him senseless already.

But Eddie didn’t mind being coy, didn’t mind pulling the tension as tight as it would go, seeing how much he could tease before Richie snapped and took him the way Eddie wanted him to. “I want you to kiss me.” His nose was bumping against Richie’s now, and he could feel Richie’s shallow breath on his lips. Richie’s eyes were dark and didn’t move from Eddie’s face. Eddie took Richie’s hand and guided it from his waist to his hip, just barely on his ass. Biting his lip, he whispered, “I want you to fuck me, so bad.” He put on a pout and continued, “I fuck all these college guys, but none of them are you. They aren’t as tall as you, their hands aren’t as big as yours.” Eddie watched Richie’s jaw clench. “They can’t fuck me the way I know you could.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie nearly growled. Eddie gasped when Richie grabbed his ass, hard, and tugged his head back. “Did you think about me while they fucked you?” he whispered in Eddie’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through Eddie.

“Every time,” Eddie said, gripping Richie’s shirt in his hands. “Wanted it to be you so bad.”

Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s neck, still not kissing him, still making him wait while he groped his ass. “I know, baby. You needed more, huh? You need your daddy to take care of you.”

Eddie let out a surprised little noise of pleasure. No one had ever said that to him before. He wasn’t expecting it, and he certainly wasn’t expecting how much he would like it. It made him so hard he got dizzy, completely pliant in Richie’s arms. “Yes,” he breathed, already pathetically desperate. “Yes, daddy, need you so bad, please, please.”

Richie cursed under his breath and grabbed Eddie by the jaw, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Eddie couldn’t help but let out a little whimpering moan when he finally, finally felt Richie’s lips against his. They were just as soft as they looked, and so full. As Eddie sank his fingers into Richie’s thick, dark curls, Richie sat up a bit and pulled Eddie closer against him, grabbing him by the hips and pressing their clothed cocks together. Eddie gasped and buried his face in Richie’s shoulder at the feeling. He mouthed at Richie’s neck, moaning at the way Richie smacked his ass. “This is mine, got it?” he said, his voice smooth and low. “None of those little college pricks are allowed to fucking touch you. Understand?”

Eddie moaned at Richie’s sudden possessiveness. All he wanted was to be Richie’s, for Richie to claim him and show him who he belonged to. “Yes, daddy. ‘M all yours, just wanna be yours.”

“Good boy.” He tugged at Eddie’s hair again, pulling his head back so that his neck was exposed. Eddie yelped as Richie licked a stripe up his throat and sunk his teeth into Eddie’s throat, sure to leave a dark bruise. Eddie squirmed in Richie’s lap as he sucked on his neck, hard and intentional. With a final kiss to the bruise, Richie said with a satisfied grin, “Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” He chuckled and nipped at Eddie’s neck again when Eddie moaned. “Yeah, you like that baby? You like when daddy takes what’s his? You want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for your daddy?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, already starting to feel like he was floating. After finals and classes and work and months of controlling himself around Richie, this was exactly what he needed. It felt so amazing to just let go and let Richie take control, knowing Richie would take care of him. He couldn’t believe how good this was and none of their clothes had even come off yet. He fumbled with the buttons on Richie’s shirt, but Richie just chuckled and grabbed him by the wrists.

“That’s cute, baby. Daddy decides whose clothes come off and when, yeah?” Eddie whimpered and nodded. Richie slid his hands back under Eddie’s ass and stood then, lifting Eddie up. Eddie instinctively held tight to him, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist and his arms around his neck. Richie kissed Eddie’s hair as he walked them to the bedroom. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.” Eddie’s heart soared as Richie sat him down on the edge of the huge bed, the duvet soft and cool under him. His legs dangled off the side. Richie’s eyes softened as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “You doing okay?” he checked.

“So good,” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hands fisted in Richie’s shirt.

Richie leaned down and kissed Eddie’s forehead, and by the time he straightened up again that look that made Eddie shiver was back on his face. Still cradling Eddie’s face, he asked, “Can I get a little rough with you, baby?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Please,” he moaned.

A dark, mischievous grin pulled at Richie’s full, dark pink lips. “That’s a good boy,” he said with a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “Arms up.” Eddie quickly did as he was told, eager for Richie to strip his shirt off for him. “Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned as he tossed Eddie’s shirt aside. He ran his hands up Eddie’s sides and teased his thumbs over Eddie’s hardened nipples, making him gasp and grab at the sheets. Richie’s hands looked even bigger wrapped around Eddie’s ribs. It made him press his legs together, his cock throbbing desperately in his jeans. “Aw, you don’t need to be shy, kitten,” Richie cooed, forcing one of his legs between Eddie’s and pressing his thigh against Eddie’s crotch. Eddie moaned at the contact and desperately started grinding against Richie’s leg. “Fuck, you look so pretty grinding on me like that. Think you could come like this?” Richie pressed his thigh harder against Eddie’s cock. “Think I could make you come in your pants?” Eddie cried out as Richie pinched his nipples.

“God, yes,” Eddie moaned, rolling his hips. And he could, he could feel the pleasure building and building. But just as his moans were getting breathier, just as he was really desperately rutting against Richie’s leg, Richie pulled away and tugged Eddie up by his belt loops so quickly Eddie got dizzy and fell into Richie’s solid chest. “Wh-what,” he pouted, looking up at Richie, who was smirking at him.

“Aw, baby, we’re just getting started.” Still dazed and whimpering and achingly hard, Eddie held onto Richie as he undid Eddie’s jeans. Richie then dropped to his knees to pull them off. He helped Eddie step out of his jeans, running his hands reverently over Eddie’s legs as he did so. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been keeping these thighs from me for months?” Richie kissed them, making Eddie quiver and flush. “Fucking tease,” he murmured into Eddie’s skin before biting down hard on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie cried out and grabbed at the bed for support. “Look at these fuckin’ things, you basically wore panties for me.” Eddie gasped as Richie playfully tugged at Eddie’s light pink, silky briefs with his teeth. He’d mostly worn them to feel confident during his exam, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Richie when putting them on, or if he said he hadn’t bought them with money Richie gave him. Eddie leaned back as Richie spread his legs, lifting one up to get a better angle to suck marks into Eddie’s skin. The sight of Richie’s head between Eddie’s thighs, combined with the knowledge that his thighs would be covered in bruises by the end of the night, had a wet spot forming on the front of Eddie’s briefs. Richie nuzzled his face into the soft material, just barely grazing Eddie’s cock. He looked up at Eddie, his blue eyes nearly totally eclipsed. “Did you buy these with daddy’s money, baby?” Eddie nodded, blushing. Richie smirked at him. “Is this how you spend your allowance? On slutty little panties?” Eddie moaned at that and grabbed at Richie’s hair, rolling his hips forward and meeting only air. Richie chuckled. The condescension of it went straight to Eddie’s cock, which visibly twitched in his tight little briefs. “Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you? You like it when I call you out on being a spoiled little cocktease?” Eddie yelped when Richie bit down on the inside of his other thigh.

“Daddy, please,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

For a moment Richie just hummed and kept sucking marks into his skin. But then, finally, he dragged Eddie’s briefs down and off his legs, leaving him fully exposed. Before Eddie could process what was happening, Richie was standing and spinning Eddie around and bending him over the bed, his face pressed into the mattress as his feet once again dangled over the floor. He let out a broken little moan as he felt Richie pull his cheeks apart and run his tongue over Eddie’s hole. After Richie had set a rhythm, lulling Eddie into a pleasured haze, he suddenly felt Richie’s hand come down on his ass. He moaned at the feeling, the slight pain that left an amazing stinging sensation in its wake. “God, you make the prettiest fucking noises,” Richie groaned, once again lapping his tongue over Eddie’s hole. He circled the ring of muscle a few times before pulling back. Eddie was just about to push his hips back when he felt Richie spank him again, harder this time, then felt him spit on his hole. Eddie let out a long moan; it was degrading and possessive in the best way. Eddie tried to rut against the bed, to relieve some of the desperate need that had his cock throbbing, but he couldn’t really do it with the way his feet were hanging off the bed. He heard Richie laugh behind him as he spanked him again. “Aw, you like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you?”

Eddie let out a muffled, pathetic little, “Yes.”

“I know, it feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you wish you could get off right now.” Eddie’s desperate writhing was confirmation of that. “Don’t worry, kitten, daddy’s gonna fucking take you apart.” Eddie gasped as he felt Richie slide his tongue inside of him, setting a rhythm of fucking and swirling and teasing that had Eddie squirming. He rocked his hips back, letting his mind go fuzzy from the pleasure until suddenly Richie was pulling out and lifting Eddie up again. As disappointed as Eddie was to have Richie’s tongue no longer in his ass, he was more than happy to let Richie toss him around and lay him on his back, his head falling against the luxuriantly soft pillows. He felt so small in Richie’s bed, felt so vulnerable under his gaze—he loved it. Richie ran his hand all the way from Eddie’s throat down to his hip, taking his time before squeezing Eddie’s hip hard. “God, you look so fucking good like this, baby.” He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

Eddie let out an involuntary little moaned, “Fuck,” at the sight of Richie’s bare chest. He sat up and ran his hand over Richie’s soft, pale skin, admiring his freckles and the slight muscle definition. His shoulders looked somehow even broader now as Eddie traced his fingers over them. Richie only humored him for a moment before pressing Eddie back down and kissing him, deep and just the right amount of forceful.

Richie’s hands roamed all over Eddie’s body. “God, you’re such a pretty little boy, baby. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re getting fucked.” Richie bit down on Eddie’s lip, sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. “I don’t want you fucking leaving this bed for the next week, gonna bring you everything you need. Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and then I’m gonna do it again, and again.” Eddie moaned as he felt Richie’s finger circling his slick hole. “Gonna keep you nice and full of my cock whenever I can, gonna take such good care of you. You won’t need to worry about anything, gonna be my pretty little pillow princess. You just lie there and be a good little cocksleeve and daddy will take care of everything else.” Eddie preened at the thought of Richie fawning over him, of Richie doing everything for him so that all he had to do was lie back and take Richie’s cock. It had him squirming under Richie as he grabbed at Eddie wherever he could reach, surely leaving handprints all over Eddie’s body as he glided his tongue over Eddie’s. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside you, baby.” Richie sat back on his heels then and eyed Eddie’s hole, rubbing at it teasingly.

“Please,” Eddie moaned, trying to rock his hips onto Richie’s finger.

“Shh, baby, soon,” Richie soothed, leaning over to kiss Eddie again before reaching into his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and covered his fingers in it. Eddie moaned at the sight; he didn’t think a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of Richie’s fingers since the first time they met. They were so long, and he could only imagine how amazing they would feel inside of him, fucking him, stretching him open. Richie chuckled when Eddie instinctively opened his legs. “I know, sweetheart, I know.” He tossed the lube aside and ran his clean hand over Eddie’s thigh, holding him still before slowly sliding a slick finger inside of him.

Eddie gasped and threw his head back; one of Richie’s fingers felt like two of his own and reached deeper than he ever could have by himself. “Fuck,” he cried, “your fingers are so big, oh my god.”

“Yeah?” Richie grinned, cocky and dark. As he slowly began sliding his finger in and out of Eddie, he slid his other hand up his chest until he was cradling his jaw and running the pad of his thumb teasingly over Eddie’s lips. “One finger and you’re already a mess, huh? You like the way I fill you up, baby?” Eddie moaned as Richie slid his thumb into Eddie’s mouth, effectively silencing any response Eddie could’ve made. He let out a contented hum and eagerly sucked on Richie’s finger, holding onto Richie’s forearm with both of his hands as he bobbed his head. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Such a good little slut for daddy.” Eddie moaned again, rocking his hips as Richie began to finger him faster. Eddie cried out as Richie thrust deep inside of him, making him see stars. “Yeah, you like how deep I can get inside you, baby?” Eddie nodded. “I fucking love it too, angel. You’re so tight, so small and sweet.” He slid his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and pressed his palm to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he tilted his head back, giving Richie better access. Richie pressed down slightly under Eddie’s jaw on either side of his throat, moaning at the blissed out smile that graced Eddie’s face. Richie only pressed down a bit, only for a few moments at a time, just enough to get Eddie’s cock leaking all over himself. He let out breathy little moans as Richie finger fucked him, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Daddy,” Eddie moaned. He met Richie’s eyes as he begged. “Please, please, fuck me, daddy, want your cock so bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute” Richie grinned, his voice low and condescending in a way that made Eddie’s cock throb. “I need to open you up a little more before you’re ready for my cock.” As he said it, he pressed another slick finger inside of Eddie, stretching him out. Eddie felt so full already from just two of Richie’s fingers; his cock ached at the thought of how big Richie’s cock would feel inside of him.

Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts as Richie spit on his chest, sliding his free hand over Eddie’s nipples, getting them nice and wet as he played with them. “Daddy,” Eddie began, but he cut himself off with a scream as Richie curled his fingers inside of him, making electric pleasure shoot through him. He moaned and squirmed and grabbed at Richie’s hair, at the sheets, anything to ground himself as Richie leaned down and sucked on his nipples, still relentlessly fucking Eddie’s hole with his fingers. “Please,” Eddie gasped, “daddy, please.”

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” Richie teased.

“Fuck me, please,” he whined, clearly getting impatient. “I can take it!”

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, pulling his fingers out. He had a look on his face that had Eddie’s blood pounding in excited anticipation. “Okay, baby. If you think you can take it.” He stood up off the bed then, and Eddie sat up a bit to watch. With rapt attention, his eyes followed Richie’s every movement as he dragged his jeans off his legs, then stripped off his boxers.

“God, daddy,” Eddie whimpered, drooling over the sight of Richie’s cock. It was thick and heavy and hard, and so fucking long, Eddie couldn’t believe he’d been keeping himself from a dick like that for months. It was even longer than any of his dildos or vibrators. He needed to feel it down his throat, he needed it.

Seeming to sense this, just as Eddie began to move toward him Richie lightly shoved him back down. “Stay where you are, baby.” Eddie whined but reluctantly complied. The way Richie tauntingly stroked his cock just out of Eddie’s reach had him debating whether it was worth it to be bratty if it meant getting his throat fucked. But his cock was throbbing between his legs, his hole pitifully empty, and watching Richie roll a condom on and lube up his cock made it hard to think about anything other than getting fucked. “Maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll come on your face,” Richie mused, almost casually as he climbed back onto the bed and spread Eddie’s legs, settling naturally between them. Eddie moaned at his words and melted back into the bed. The sight of Richie above him, the way he touched him, had Eddie completely pliant. He felt warm and buzzy, almost liquid as Richie ran his hand reverently over Eddie’s thigh. As he teased the head of his cock over Eddie’s hole, he took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers. While Eddie nearly moaned just at that sight alone, at the way Richie’s hand engulfed Eddie’s own, it was also incredibly endearing, and it made something stir in his chest. Guys didn’t normally hold his hand when fucking him, and if they tried it was just weird, as he pretty much only did hookups. But with Richie… it felt different. The way Richie looked at him was different. Like he didn’t want to miss a single thing Eddie did.

Richie’s voice was low and rich and brought Eddie back as he asked, “Ready?” Eddie bit his lip and nodded. As Richie pressed himself inside of Eddie, careful and slow, Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand. His mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he felt every inch of Richie’s cock filling him up. Once he bottomed out, Richie let out a low groan and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, pressing kisses all over Eddie’s face.

“Holy… holy shit,” Eddie panted, letting his body adjust. He’d never felt this full before, had never had anything so deep inside of him. “Oh my god.”

Richie chuckled in his ear as he kissed Eddie’s neck. “What’s the matter, kitten?” he teased.

Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to take the banter bait; everything felt too good, his mind was numb. “You’re so big,” he said dumbly, saying exactly what was on his mind. “No one’s ever been this deep inside me before, holy shit.”

“I can tell,” Richie hummed. “So fucking tight for me, baby, it’s fucking amazing.” Eddie let out a small whimper as Richie sucked on his neck. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “I just, I need just a minute.”

Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “As long as you need.”

As Richie kissed him, sucking gently on his lower lip, Eddie slid his free hand into Richie’s hair, admiring the way his curls felt between his fingers. Then, experimentally, he lifted his legs a bit, pulling them toward himself. They both moaned at the movement, and Eddie felt Richie squeeze his hand. “Oh my god,” Eddie moaned. He grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him desperately, pleading into his lips, “Fuck, I’m ready, please, please fuck me.”

Richie grabbed him by the hair and held him down, lifting himself up with his other arm. “Yeah?” he said, voice breathy as he pulled his hips back. He looked amazing, dark curls wild as they hung around his face, his blue eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses, his lips slick and red from kissing Eddie. He squeezed Eddie’s hip hard and asked, “You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please,” Eddie whined. He hooked his hands under his knees and pulled them up to his chest, spreading them nice and wide for Richie. He watched Richie’s eyes go dark and begged, “Please, need you to fuck me, daddy.”

Richie snapped his hips forward with a sharp, “Fuck,” making Eddie cry out. He pulled his hips back again, until just the tip of his cock was buried inside of Eddie. “Say that again.”

Eddie met Richie’s gaze with glassy eyes and whimpered, “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Richie cursed again and thrust into Eddie, this time setting a more steady pace. “God, you feel so fucking good on my cock, baby.” Eddie moaned and rocked his hips, his hands falling to grip the sheets beneath him as Richie began fucking him faster, harder. “You look so good like this, so pretty when you’re moaning for my cock.” Eddie flushed; Richie’s words had precome pearling at the head of dick, dripping onto his stomach.

Richie’s thrusts were getting hard enough to rock Eddie’s body back and forth, moving him so easily as Richie fucked him. Eddie loved it, loved how effortlessly Richie could toss him around. He loved hearing Richie moan as he fucked him, loved knowing that Richie felt just as good as he did. He loved the idea of Richie using his body to get himself off. The thought had him letting out little high pitched moans with every thrust. The pleasure left his mind in a haze, and all he could concentrate on was how good Richie’s cock felt inside of him, all he could say was a desperate string of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” broken up by wordless moans.

“Fuck, you take it so well, baby,” Richie praised, running his hand over Eddie’s chest. “So fucking good for me. You like getting fucked like this? You like being all spread out for daddy? Just lying back and taking it while daddy makes you feel good?”

“Yes!” Eddie cried. “Yes, yes, yes, daddy, oh my god, ‘s so good, fuck.”

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Richie marveled, leaning down to kiss Eddie. The new angle shifted Richie’s hips, and suddenly Eddie was seeing stars, every nerve in his body coming alive and fizzling like a sparkler. He cried out and clutched at Richie, nearly screaming from how amazing it felt.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice high and desperate. “Right there, yes, oh my fucking god, don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop.”

“Aw, sweetheart, does that feel good?” Eddie nodded frantically, his moans becoming shouts as Richie’s cock brushed against his prostate over and over, the pleasure so deep and all encompassing. He couldn’t think about anything else, all he knew was that amazing feeling, all he knew was he needed more. He wanted more and more and more, he could feel it building, was vaguely aware of the fact that he was digging his nails into Richie’s back hard enough to leave scratch marks.

“Daddy,” he slurred, “gonna c-come.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned. He spit generously into his hand and reached between them to stroke Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s back arched, pressing himself against Richie. The new contact had pleasure rushing through him, and with a few strokes of Richie’s hand on him and a nearly growled, “Come for daddy,” Eddie was coming undone. Pleasure exploded through him, wracked his body as he came all over himself, all over Richie’s hand, Richie fucking into him the whole time. Beyond the noise of his own moans and screams, he could hear Richie cursing under his breath, telling Eddie how good he was doing.

Eddie panted as he came down, blinking his eyes open slowly. Still buzzing, he watched as Richie carefully pulled out of him and rolled the condom off before leaning further over Eddie. He spit into his hand again and began stroking his own cock, a sight that made Eddie’s spent cock twitch in interest.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Richie moaned. Eddie happily complied, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes. Moments later, Richie’s moans were filling the room, as was the slick sound of Richie stroking himself, and Eddie moaned, small and content as he felt Richie’s warm come painting his chest and cheeks and lips.

He blinked open his eyes once he heard Richie let out a heavy sigh. He looked amazing, sweaty curls clinging to his face, blue eyes hooded as he took in the sight of Eddie beneath him, covered in come. Eddie made sure to meet Richie’s gaze before he swallowed the come on his tongue, then licked more off of his lips. “Fuck, you’re a fucking angel,” Richie grinned. He swiped his fingers over Eddie’s chest, spreading his come over Eddie’s nipple before bringing it to his lips. Eddie hummed happily as he sucked on Richie’s fingers. He still felt like he was floating. Richie leaned down and kissed him, deep and lingering, before saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby, okay?” When Eddie nodded, Richie climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Eddie watched through the open door as Richie waited for the water to warm, then wet a washcloth under it before walking back over to the bed. Eddie preened as Richie cleaned him, pressing soft kisses all over his face as he gently ran the warm washcloth over Eddie’s cheeks and chest and stomach. “That was fucking amazing,” Richie said. Eddie hummed in agreement. He felt like he was glowing when he felt Richie smile against his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Eds. So fucking good for me.” As soon as Eddie was clean and the washcloth was tossed in the hamper, Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and pulled him down against him, nuzzling into his neck.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured softly into Richie’s skin. They lay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other and pressing soft kisses against each other’s skin, until Eddie let out a small, “Richie?”

Richie sat up and met his eyes, sensing the shift in his tone. “Yeah?”

“What… what is this? Like what are we, I guess?” he asked, tracing patterns over Richie’s skin with his fingertips.

Richie smiled softly down at him and stroked his cheek. “Same thing it’s always been. Whatever you want.”

Eddie huffed. “What do you want?”

Richie bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Eddie’s. “I want you. All the time. I wanna take you on vacations and buy you gifts and flowers and dinner and watch movies with you. I wanna date you, Eds,” he said with a weak huff of a laugh. “I wanna give you the fucking world.”

Eddie grinned up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. “I wanna date you, too.”

After a few moments of chaste kisses, Richie murmured into his lips, “I also wanna fuck you in every position on every single surface I can think of.” Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder, but he was giggling, and he couldn’t say he hadn’t been thinking the same thing.

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