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lucy90712 · 2 days

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Not enough- Jude Bellingham

Dating a footballer is fun until he becomes incredibly successful and all of a sudden there are rumours left and right of him dating someone that isn't you. That's what my life is like Jude and I got together 3 years ago now when we were 17 and have been together since but we never made our relationship public because until the summer we were still long distance and didn't want the extra pressure. Having our relationship private has been so nice as it has meant when we do see each other we get to just enjoy being together but it also means we have to deal with rumours of who Jude might be dating. Those rumours never really got to me while Jude was at dortmund but since he's moved to Madrid things have just got so much more intense it seems that every few weeks there is a million new articles and tweets.

Having to read all of this and seeing how pretty all the girls has really started to get to me. All the girls Jude is rumoured to be with are either models or just incredibly pretty which makes me feel awful about myself. All these girls have made a name for themselves in some way yet here I am with my job in a cafe while I try and find a job in the area that I studied. Jude likes to tell me that he doesn't care what I do for a living or how much I make but I can't help but feel guilty when I can't contribute much to the house or get him expensive things like he does for me. I'm also definitely no model I'm definitely not as pretty or as skinny as a model which I used to be ok with but now I don't feel so confident in myself. The other wags are also so pretty I definitely don't fit in with them either which makes me feel even worse about myself.

Jude doesn't seem to have any clue that this is all going on he wakes up goes to training then hangs out with the boys leaving me until late at night so he doesn't see all the rumours or how they affect me. He's not here for the time I spend scrolling through social media or looking in the mirror judging everything about myself. Even when Jude is home he always seems to have something else on his mind so he never really gives me compliments anymore. I'd like to think that he still loves me but at this point I'm really not sure I mean he's young and he's attractive why would he want to be tied down with someone like me he can do so much better. I simply don't think I'm enough for him.

A few days ago Jude went out to celebrate a big win for the team while I stayed at home but the next morning all I could see was rumours that Jude was flirting with multiple girls all night letting them dance with him and since I haven't really spoken to him. I spent all of last night laying awake thinking about everything and I decided that I just think I need to break up with Jude so then he's free to do all the things everyone thinks he's doing anyway. It's hard to decide to end a relationship especially one that has been going on for so long and one you are so fond of but I don't see any other way forward. This is why I've been so distant with Jude because in my head if I didn't talk to him that would make all of this easier.

As always Jude left for training just as I got up for work but by the time I got back he was home which only happened the first few weeks I arrived so it was strange to see him here. Like always I headed upstairs to shower and change and when I came back out the bathroom Jude was sat on the bed waiting for me. I still didn't say anything to him because I'm trying to stay strong until I find the right time to tell Jude how I feel.

"Babe are you ok you've barely spoken to me the last few days" he said

"Yeah I'm fine just been busy had a lot on my mind that's all" I replied

"Please don't lie to me I know there's something more going on I see the way you look all the time I just couldn't figure out what was wrong and now I give up so please tell me what's going on" he begged

"I didn't want to say this yet because I'm still figuring things out but I think we should break up I just can't do this anymore" I said

"Please no baby no I can't live without you whatever I've done I can fix it and I'm sorry just please don't break up with me" he said

"It's nothing you've done it's just me" I said

"Then what is it please tell me if you really want to do this at least tell me why" he said

"I'm just not good enough for you every day there is new rumours of you being with someone else and all of them are prettier and have more going for them than I do and you deserve to be with one of them or to just be free to do what you want" I explained

"But I want you that's what I want I don't want any of these girls nor is there anything going on with any other girl incase that's what you're thinking I like that you live a more normal life you keep me grounded and I think you are the prettiest girl in the world" Jude replied

"Then why are you never home and why do you never compliment me anymore?" I asked

"I-I'm sorry babe you're right I haven't been home much but I will change that I will come home after training and I will invite you to more things and believe me I could sit here for hours and compliment you and I'll do that if I need to" he said

Jude did exactly what he said he started listing all the things he loves about me while giving me kisses. It felt so good to have his attention again it felt like we were back to how we were before I came to Madrid. After he complimented every single part of me he asked if I'd like to go out on a date like a proper date outside where people could see us and I didn't hesitate to say yes. Even if people see us who cares it's about time that we went public with our relationship then the rumours can be true for once. We have talked about going public a few times but now feels like the right time just so we can stop the media getting too far out of control

I got all dressed up in a pretty dress and my makeup and hair all done for once I actually felt really pretty. When Jude walked in he had a white shirt and some black trousers on which he looked so good in. He stopped as soon as he saw me and I think his jaw actually hit the floor which made me blush and that was before he started complimenting me. The entire drive Jude didn't stop telling me how beautiful I looked which honestly made me feel so good about myself.

At the restaurant there was people taking pictures of us walking in which Jude tried to protect me from a bit but we wanted to be seen together. It was weird being in front of so many cameras as I've spent years trying to avoid all of this but now I'm happily letting them all take pictures and stare at me trying to work out who I am so they can get their exclusive headline. The people in the restaurant were lovely though they showed us to our table then left us alone as much as possible which was nice as we were able to have a proper date night together. As we finished dessert Jude showed me all the pictures all over Instagram and Twitter then he showed me a post he had drafted to tell everyone about our relationship and put an end to everything. He had a beautiful caption written which nearly made me cry and all the pictures he had I hadn't seen before as they were ones he took secretly but they were all so cute. He let me click post so that it was my decision to go public then he took my phone and turned it off so we could enjoy the rest of our evening together without having to see what everyone has to say.

#jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #football imagine

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onskepa · 3 days

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Hi, could I get a fic where the Sully kids + Spider learn through Norm what a wedding is so they organize one for Jake and Neytiri? Thanks in advance.

Ask and you shall recieve! This is such a cuuuuuuuuuuute idea~!! Hope you and everyone likes it! Enjoy~!!

P.S: Cover was done by none other than @jakexneytiri check her page out! Thank you darling for giving me permission to use your art!

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A wedding? A wedding!!!

Tuk sighs dreamily as she twirls and admires a flower kiri picked for her. Admiring the pretty color as how the sunlight reflects it. It somehow reminds her of her parents' love story, how they met and how they mated. In na’vi standards, it was not ideal but to tuk, it was perfect. Forbidden love? How tragic and romantic!

Of course she has seen a few small handful of na’vi courting, and heard stories of her friends' parents' romantic paths. Yet she cannot help but wonder, do humans court the way na’vi do? Or is it different? Only one way to find out!

“Tuk, for the last time, I may be human, but that doesnt mean I know every human custom” spider patiently explains to a happy little tuk. Her tail sways in hopes she can gather as much information as possible. Even with spider’s lack of knowledge, she doesn't give up!

“What about uncle norm? He is from Earth, maybe he knows” tuk suggests.

Spider nods in wonder, slightly agreeing. But then he turns back to her, “why are you interested in human customs all of a sudden?” he asks. Tuk isn't one to search for anything human related, she is fine with what little she is exposed to.

With a happy smile, all too pleased to be asked that question.

“I know all about na’vi courting, but I wanna know about human courting! Mom and dad didn't do either, so I wanna know!”

Shrugging, spider seems to see her point of view.

“Alright, lets go ask uncle norm”

“I'm busy” Norman says without looking at the kids. They give him an unimpressed look.

“Reading star wars comics for the millionth time doesnt count uncle norm” lo’ak says deadpanned. Norman stayed silent for a few seconds before putting his comic away.

“What did spider or tuk eat this time?” he asks with a tired sigh. Both spider and tuk gave him a rather offended/surprised expression.

“WOW, you really take us for a couple of skxawngs?” spider asks, putting his hands on his hips.

“Sharing jake’s single braincell, yes”

“Whatever, we didn't eat anything mysterious, yet, but, tuk wanted to ask you something and now we all wanna know” spider defends while slightly pushing tuk forward.

Having norm’s full attention, tuk finally asks “How do humans court each other?”

norm ‘s shoulders deflated a bit, “of all people to ask, you had to choose the most single, and lonely human”

“Wedding? And the females wear white while the males wear black?” tuk asks as she sees some wedding photos lended by scientists who were married. Norm nods, “thats right. Of course not all weddings are like that, it is traditional but many choose other colors for their weddings” he adds.

Tuk looks at the various photos of brides, many in odd looking clothing. But all were so beautiful. Different long dresses, each unique to their own. Various flowers tuk has never seen before, and the grooms were also handsome. Wearing similar outfits but also in different styles. The more tuk learned about the concept of weddings, the more she began to form an idea.

“So, man and woman plan a wedding, woman finds a pretty dress to wear, walks down the tiny path to meet her mate, they kiss and marry right?” she reviews, norm nods again. Sensing something is up.

“Yes….”

“What are you thinking about tuktuk?” Kiri asks.

A mischievous little grin forms on tuk’s face. Her eyes sparkling with a devious glow. The expression reminds norm of the Grinch when he has a grand scheme.

Taking the day easy, jake and neytiri hold hands happily as they make their way to the village. They had a rare free day to themselves. No duties to attend to, no training, no meetings, no chasing their kids from death related troubles. None. They were free to do as they like.

And what they wanted to do for now was stroll in the village, perhaps collect a bit of fruit. Maybe later hunt for a delicious dinner neytiri has in mind. So many possibilities.

But….

“Woa, is it just me or are the people acting strange?” Jake asks, He and neytiri notice the odd behavior of the people. Many give them happy smiles, way too excited greetings, some even offer special gifts!

“Is there something we missed?” Jake wonders. Neytiri tries to remember but nothing seems to remind her.

As they walk further, there was a huddle of na’vi, all their eyes and ears facing the same direction. Jake and neytiri make their way through, and see someone giving them instructions….

“And look for white flowers! Anything will do, oh and those beads will do so nicely! Yes yes, and take the woven clothes over there! That path must be super pretty!”

It was tuk.

And she was giving directions to everyone like a tiny, cute boss.

“Tuk?” Neytiri calls out in confusion.

Her little one heard her, smiling, tuk makes her way to her parents with a happy squeal.

“Hey babygirl, what's going on?” Jake asks as he picks her up in his arms. Tuk just giggles and snuggles up to him.

“Planning your wedding! Duh!” she responds as if that was the most obvious thing.

“Wedding? What?” There were a lot of things going through his mind.

Neytiri was just as confused.

“What is a wedding?” she asks. But before tuk can happily answer, the rest of their children returns. With arms full of things.

“Ok tuk, took us forever but we got what you needed” lo’ak said with a tired sigh. He, neteyam, kiri and spider were holding flowers, beads, baskets full of white colored cloths, and black paint.

“Kids, what is going on?” Jake asks, more eager to know the answer. Because nothing is making any sense to him.

“Tuk wants to make a special wedding for you guys” kiri replies as she shows tuk her findings, who nods in approval.

“What is a wedding??” Neytiri asks a bit loudly.

Tuk clears her voice, “a wedding is a special mating ceremony for humans. They decorate everything so pretty in white! The female wears a special gown called a wedding dress, and she walks down a flower covered path to meet her mate at the end. Where someone who holds spiritual power blesses them, the mates speak their vows and promises and kiss! Uncle norm showed me!”

The little smiled so proudly of this knowledge being shared.

Jake inwardly groans. Damn norm.

“Tuk, sweetie, is that why are you doing this?” he asks another question. Tuk just rapidly nods.

“A wedding….” Neytiri repeats, still trying to wrap her head around the idea.

The sully family returned to their home in need of a family meeting.

“Why…?” she asks.

Tuk plays with her fingers, feeling more nervous by the second.

“Well…..you and daddy tell your love story all the time. How you guys met and stuff. But you never really did any courting like everyone else. Grandma says that courting is very important, to see if the relationship is possible. I thought a wedding would be nice for you two….cause you never courted…” she explained her reason.

Neteyam was sitting behind her, rubbing her back to sooth her.

There were many things to go over of what she said. Jake brings tuk over to his lap, releasing a deep sigh.

“Am I in trouble” Tuk asks worriedly. Both of her parents shake their heads.

“No baby girl, but you can't do things like this without telling us. Or even asking, how are you sure we wanted this?” Jake pointed out as gently as he could.

Neytiri turns her head towards her oldest four, “and all of you for not stopping her”.

“We also thought it was a good idea…” neteyam answers while scratching the back of his head.

“When uncle norm taught us how humans courted, tuk wasn't the only one to like the idea. And it is true what she says mom. You two never really had the chance to do it right. Why not now?” Kiri tries with calmness in her voice. Knowing her mother is very short tempered when it comes to anything human related.

Neytiri and jake look at each other, a special communication between them.

“You did take me straight to the tree after my trials were finished….” jake reasoned. Neytiri rolls her eyes but fondly remembers that night. Yes, she did, she was not going to let him slip away now could she?

And there really was no room for courting since the war started literally the next day.

Going over her options, Neytiri turns to tuk and jake.

“How does human courting work…?”

Whatever pace the people were working at, doubled. By either prayers, or some miracle of Eywa, neytiri accepted to wed in the human custom. Tuk wasted no time and needed back up from the help of uncle norm. Who became her second in command in all of the organization.

Her siblings become her little servants, repeating her orders to the people.

And someone had a big role to play.

“Come ma’ite, we must get you fitted” mo’at say with a bright smile on her face. Gently she tugs neytiri to her hut, kiri and other fellow na’vi woman takes her away.

“Fitted for what?” neytiri asks, feeling a bit excited for whatever is to come.

“For your wedding dress mom” kiri replies. Closing the flaps of the hut, the ladies began to work their magic.

While on the other side, jake was being taken to a different hut, being led by his three sons.

“Seriously?” jake says while raising an eyebrow.

“Tuk’s orders” lo’ak grins a bit smugly.

A few handful of Jake's friends entered the hut with him, with preparations of getting him ready.

“Oh, and dont forget to write your vows!” spider reminds as he snaps fingers in remembering what tuk told him.

“My vows?”

“This is going to take awhile”

“Oh yeah, its all coming together” tuk says, pride grows in her little heart as the wedding decorations and the set up is nearly completed.

Norm was beside her, whistling impressed. “Gotta hand it to you tuk, you do know how to design” he compliments. This makes little tuk humph with glee.

They were at the spirit tree, white veils, flowers, the Atokrinia’s floating around elegantly. Her image displayed ever so perfectly.

“Ok, it's all set tuk!” lo’ak says as he with kiri, spider and neteyam arrive.

“Good! So we are good to go!”

“Almost” kiri teases.

“We just need one more thing” neteyam smiles, but tuk was panicking a little.

“Did we forget something? It's the bells, isn't it? Dang it I should have-” she was interrupted mid sentence when she felt something land on her head.

Looking at what it was, it was a flower crown.

“A wedding isn't complete without a flower girl” spider says. Gasping in happiness and surprised, tuk shouts in great joy.

“Come on, we still got time!” the three siblings drag tuk away to have her be the prettiest flower girl pandora has ever seen!

The flutes began to play, releasing harmonic sounds as the notes echoed to the people’s ears. Ninat taking the lead of the melodious choir, her voice and the others balance with the instruments. In tune to perfection.

The Atokirina floating all around, giving the path a heavenly glow.

The people sat anxiously, all in rows as they respectfully cleared one long path.

A path the tuk carefully walks through as she delicately lays flower petals. A flower crown on her head, wearing the cutest light pink loin cloth and pearl like bead top. Tuk truly looked like a flower girl. Behind her was the bride. Her beautiful mother, The one where all eyes go to see.

Neytiri walks gracefully on the path her daughter leads. Wearing an all white outfit, her loincloth, her top, her head piece, and the veil she wears. All white. Her hair braided loosely behind, flowers decorated on her hair as well. Neytiri never felt more beautiful than she did at this moment. With a bouquet of flowers she holds tightly, her eyes search for her mate. The love of her life, Jake.

At the alter, at the root base of the spirit tree was Jake. In all of his might glower, wearing a black loin cloth as his warrior armor at the waist, his hair braided in the similar fashion he wore during the war. Feather and bead amended to the braids, and small black paint to enhance his handsomeness. Jake looked so good it made neytiri want to run towards his arms.

As they reached the altar, tuk took her place beside kiri who was wearing a style similar to tuk. Neteyam, spider and lo’ak beside their father as they admire their mother.

Jake offers his hand to which neytiri happily accepts. Removing the veil to reveal her beautiful face, jake could help but mutter “beautiful” in awe. Together they both turn to face mo’at who smiles with heavenly joy.

“Welcome everyone. Today, we gather in great celebration to bring these two wonderful people into union. Through trials and tribulations, these two souls have been challenged time and time again. But their love has pulled them through. Proving to us all that love truly conquers all. That being with your true one, anything can be accomplished”

mo’at gestures to Neytiri and Jake that it was time to say their vows.

But as they speak, tuk listened as best as she could. Hearing her parents story over and over never waivered with time. If anything it only sounded better each time. And hearing their vows right before her big eyes, it was adding a whole new perspective.

Yes, tuk is a sucker for romantic things. Even if her siblings tease her, tuk won't stop. And seeing this made her love romance even more.

“And by the great blessing of our great mother Eywa, I can now happily announce, Jake and neytiri as husband and wife! You may now-”

Neytiri didnt let her mother finish as she dragged Jake down to kiss him like her life depended on it. Jake happily reciprocates.

The na’vi cheered in celebration. Applause, screeches, everything was heard.

Tuk sighs dreamily as she sees her parents kiss.

“I can't wait to get married”

Kiri: “never”

Spider: "nope"

Lo’ak: “not gonna happen”

Neteyam: “over my dead body”

Okie so this kinda became a tuk main story but I like it how it turned out. What do you guys think? Until next time! See ya!

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sevensoulmates · 3 days

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Hi I just wanted to say I was on twitter and saw someone discussing and sharing your meta posts and I was genuinely intrigued and curious because you guys are obviously so devoted to the buddie couple and it's really endearing. And I was just really interesed about this perception of the couple you guys seem to have because is so different to the other side of the fandom I'm actively interacting with. I'm obviously a B/T shipper and only got into the fandom because of them but I'm really loving the show (currently I'm on season 5). I'm just curious about how is it that you guys see buddie as romantic when I think their interactions are clearly platonic, they obviously have a deep relationship, an intimate friendship but no more that that.

Again, I'm not trying to hate I just wanted to ask because it looks like the buddie shippers are settling themselves for disappointment just waiting for them to go canon. You all are obviously loyal fans and I think that's lovely but I honestly just don't see the show writing Eddie as queer now and I really think Tommy is here to stay (I think there's too many signs pointing to this fact like the buck actually episode and the old guy named Thomas). Again I'm not here trying to hate because I think you guys love the ship genuinely but I just wonder how is it that after all the things the shows portrays you guys are still rooting for buddie. Please feel free to ignore my question if I'm annoying you, I really don't want to come off as rude I was just really interesed in the topic.

There are a boatload of reasons why I and many other people ship Buddie. Most of them are far too long to get to in one ask like this because Buddie have had 6 years worth of material to sort through and it would just take far too long.

Long story short: in the same way that Buck was confirmed bisexual over the course of a single episode after years of many people saying Buck could never be anything other than straight, Buddie could be made canon in one single episode and it would be accepted just as easily even though it's been years and a lot of people are still saying they could never be together.

It's TV. The writers can do whatever they want. The second they decide to start bringing in more explicitly romantic things, people will suddenly start "getting" it.

To be more precise: I think it's easy for people to see a ship like Bucktommy and latch onto it because it's very clearly, explicitly queer. It's a lot harder for people to believe in or "see" ships where a queer couple hasn't done anything explicitly romantic like kiss or hold hands, etc. It's unfortunately due to heternomativity and the sad death of the slow burn. I can't really do anything about either of those things.

For me, the primary reason I ship buddie is because of the deep special bond and obvious family they've built over the years that feels different from every single other relationship they've had with literally anyone else on the show. That includes Tommy, Shannon, Abby, etc. You can view it as platonic if you want, that's anyone's subjective opinion.

You seem like a sweet person, but you're also coming into the show with a bias towards Bucktommy, which is fine. They're what brought you to the show, they're the ones who initially intrigued you, and they're also the only ones currently explicitly queer. I get it.

I am going to be so honest with you: I think the show has been writing both Buck and Eddie as queer men for many many years. But just like how Buck was only allowed to confirm it this most recent season, they haven't been able to confirm it for Eddie just yet. I could write essays and essays about how Eddie is so obviously deep deep in compulsory heterosexuality and has been almost since the beginning, but it would take too long. There's plenty of posts I and others have made all over tumblr and on my blog.

Slow queer burns featuring characters that aren't introduced in the first 5 seconds as queer are almost non-existent, they very rarely happen in popular media, and because of that it's almost impossible to ship something without someone coming at you saying "they don't see it". Fact of the matter is that Buddie is one of the easiest ships to "see", if you were looking at a man and a woman, but they're not. I can't really convince people to see what they don't want to see.

If you're curious about the specifics, I'd encourage you to go through my blog/meta or other buddie-positive blogs on tumblr to find many talented and intelligent individuals who will have a lot to say on why they believe in buddie.

When it comes down to it, I don't think the fandom at large is ever gonna believe it until they see it. That's kinda just human nature and the state of how we all consume media right now.

But once the show does go there, they're gonna be like damn can't believe I didn't see that until now while the rest of us sit here like "we've been trying to tell you this whole time."

In the meantime, I'm enjoying Bucktommy for what it is, for however long it lasts, and I'm gonna enjoy buddie just the same, regardless of if they go canon or not, or how long it takes.

#911 abc #speculation

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wifeofwandamaximoff · 3 days

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Fine...

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update I just didn't really have the motivation also I usually don't proofread my work so I do apologize. Also I wanted to update as quick as I can while making this so its a bit smaller then I would've preferred but ill try to make a longer part next time! Also thank you Max for the tips!

"Come in." Weems said from the other side of the doors. Oh how her voice was so raspy and soft. It's like whenever she talks her words are coated in love spider webs.

I step into her office, mentally preparing myself to see her. Once i'm in her office I instantly see her red plump lips that look so inviting. I quickly shake my head slightly to get out of my trance.

"Im here for our art lesson." I said with my stoic expression, my voice sounding like a hundred freshly made blades.

"Ah yes Miss Addams, I apologize I lost track of time." She said apologetically. Which I stared at her. The air in the room wasn't awkward but it wasn't comfortable either. She then decided to interrupt the silence.

"Follow me to the art studio then, this is where we will meet up instead of you coming to my office just like today." She smiled while standing up and walking around her desk.

She opened the door for me, I then step out of her office and wait for her to lead the way. When she was walking on her way to walk in front of me our hand's gently grazed each other. Making me feel spiders crawl in my stomach.

"Here we go Miss Addams." She smiled sweetly while opening a door. Inside there were a bunch of blank canvases, art supplies, etc. Basically any art supplies that some artist wished to have is right here in this very room.

I scan the room to see two canvases set up for the both of us and two stools. I look back at her to see her smiling at me with that soft smile that could make even an Addams's heart melt.

"Lets begin Miss Addams." She smiled, gesturing towards the stools. I stay quiet and go sit on one of the stools. She then goes to occupy the other one.

"Now Miss Addams what do you already know about art?" She asks me. I look at her, thinking if I should answer her or not. Eventually I decided to.

"About how to make art or what is art?" I asked in my icy cold tone. I see her a shiver a bit from that tone making my lips twitch in a small smirk. I quickly turn away, hoping she didn't see it.

"Well I suppose I should be more specific, what is art Miss Addams?" She said while clearing her throat. I see her starting to take off her gloves to reveal her soft porcelain skin.

Seeing her pale skin makes me shiver, but of course my skin was paler. "Art is a way of communicating with your thoughts and feelings, but thats the deeper meaning. Art is an object that is expressed with skill and imagination." I said while getting some acrylic paint out.

Weems just looks at me with a soft smile. "You think outside the box Miss Addams." She compliments. "Your first assignment is to paint what you have on your mind right now. Now this may take a couple of sessions to complete but do not rush."

I then think for a moment, I then look around the room. My eyes then look at her. In that moment I then decided what I was gonna paint.

----

The next day I was roaming the halls when Enid came up to me.

"Bell! The Poe Cup is soon and I was wondering if you could join us? Wednesday said she'll go if you go so please say yes!" Enid squealed. Shaking my shoulders making my tempted to cut off her fingers and stack them right in front of her.

"Ill think about it now please don't ever touch me again." I said before pushing her away. Not too hard but not to soft either.

I then walk to the quad, up from above I see Weems with her binoculars looking down at all the students. Our eyes then lock making her put her binoculars down and smile at me. Making a bowl of spiders crawl in my stomach. Which was definitely a feeling I was unaware of. I then turn away, walking to the art room since it was my free period and deciding to work on my painting for a while.

I peeked back a bit to see Weems with a sad expression before going back into her office.

I walked into the art room and looked over at Weems's painting. It seemed like a painting of black rose. My favorite rose...

"Lets play 21 questions hm? I think its only right since we will be giving these paintings to each other." Weems smiled at me. I just nodded.

"You will got first Weems." I said flatly while giving her my usual glare. She just nodded before thinking for a bit.

"Why did you decide to come to Nevermore?" She asked me after a few minutes. I think about my answer for a bit.

"Because I was in a boarding school in France before. I was there for a few years and I decided I wanted a change of scenery and Wednesday has expressed how much she wanted me to come back through our letters to each other." I said while starting to paint the background. Some clouds with hues of pale yellow.

"A boarding school in France? Wednesday told you she missed you?" Weems said, firing questions at me.

"Wednesday and I are very close. We always did everything with each other and for the question about me going to France for school. I needed to get away from mother and father. They were too affectionate and over-protective." I said while creating soft stroked on my canvas. I look over to see Weems with a bit of a sad look.

"Too affectionate?" She said in a bit of a sad tone which she tried to hide but I caught on right away.

"Yes too affectionate, they would smother me in hugs and kisses and always made sure to know where I was going." I said a bit softer then usual.

She just nodded which I thought was a bit strange but I brushed it off. I then started to think of what I should ask her.

"Do you think angels are good?" I asked. She looked at me perplexed since this was a strange question for me to ask her. She then thought for a bit.

"I do believe angels are good Miss Addams. They are supernatural beings that have many tales about their good deeds and what they have done for humans in the past." She said. I then see her finally starting to pain.

"Yes but only of their good deeds, they must have committed something down right sinful at least once." I said while starting to paint some golden gates. The gate ways to heaven hell. As I believed she was sent from heaven hell.

"What's your favorite flower Miss Addams?" She asked with a smile.

"A black rose." I said with ease. One of the easiest questions that could she could ask from me.

"It represents elegance and mystery." I said while glancing over at her. I see her get out black, grey, and white paint. I then quickly assume she will be painting my flower which made the corner of my lips turn up a bit before I shook that odd pleasant feeling down.

I then quickly return back to the present. Though I felt a strange feeling when I realized she was painting my favorite flower.Even though I already knew that it still made spiders crawl in my stomach. Basking myself in joy despair.

I then hear Enid calling my name which me roll my eyes. I then hear her open the door to the art room to see me which made her grin widely.

"Bella! Can you participate in the Poe Cup this year please?" Enid asked with puppy eyes which didn't prove effective on me.

"No." I stated plainly before going back to painting.

"Please Bella? I know I already asked today but please??" She pouted which made me roll my eyes before sighing.

"Fine." I said, finally relenting to join this silly event.

"Really?" Enid said happily, about to go in for a hug before I glared at her. Signaling to not do that.

"Oh Principal Weems will be so happy that you'll join! I told her how I wanted you to join the team today and she hoped that you would join and you did! I have to go thank her!" Enid smiled excitedly.

"Oh and we'll build the boat this week!" Enid smiled before walking out.

I sighed, already regretting my decision to join the Poe Cup. But I then thought about how Weems would be happy to see me play which made it kind of worth it.

I snap out of my daze, looking back at my painting of an angel. As I saw Larissa Weems as an angel. I mentally conflicted with myself if I should use Weems's face but decided against it since it would seem weird. I decided to put a mask on the angel. The identity hidden.

I then feel something crawl on my shoulder to see Thing. I glare at Thing, mentally saying to get off my shoulder.

Thing decided to stay on my shoulder which irritates me.

"What do you need Thing?" I asked while starting to paint the mask of the angel. Thing quickly starts doing signals which makes me look at him.

"You want me to help Enid build the boat?" I said asking him. Which makes him sign a yes. I sigh, looking back at my painting before starting to clean up.

"I suppose." I said setting Thing down on the floor. Thing then starts to lead the way to where our team was building the boat.

In the distance I see the blonde werewolf and my sister. I get closer and seem them both trying to paint a black cat which makes me sigh. I then decide to paint the other side.

"Leave the painting to me you fools." I said starting to paint. Enid looks surprised that I was helping out since Wednesday probably told her I wouldn't. It seems that Wednesday was surprised to. I just glare at them making them both quickly go back to painting the other side.

"Thing tie my hair up." I ordered which makes him do so obediently. He ties my hair making my raven hair into a ponytail. My hair shining a deep purple in the sun.

After about an hour of painting I am halfway done with my side. I look over to see the two gone. I then feel three sets of eyes looking at me. I turn around to see Enid and Wednesday looking at me paint. But there were only two people behind me. I drag my eyes around my vicinity to see no one us but us three. Weird...

I decide to ignore it and go back to painting my cat for our team.

After about another hour I finish my painting, going back a few steps to marvel at my work. I see Enid come closer, inspecting it before turning to me and smiling.

"Oh Bella it looks amazing! Thank you!" She said happily, about to go in for a hug which makes me step back immediately. Like second nature.

I see Wednesday right next to me, shoulder to shoulder. I see Enid looking at us excitedly before pulling out her brain sucking device.

"We should take a picture and make memories!" She said excitedly before snapping a picture of me and Wednesday making me a bit mad but I suppose it was okay. Just one photo...

After Enid took our photo I demanded to see it. Conflicting with myself if I could delete it or not. I take the phone and look at the picture. Me and Wednesday standing shoulder to shoulder, Enid in the corner of the picture. A failed part on hers of trying to include herself in the selfie. I then examine the photo.

But in the background I see a shadow...A shadow of a large figure. The tree right next to the shadow has three claw marks...

I then look back to see the shadow gone but the marks still there...

Taglist:

@poorwritingandstalecoffee @maxfanartfan @a-goblin-named-cherry

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local-queer-disappointment · 7 hours

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Fuck's a pro shipper?

We've got a new one boys try not to scare em off /j

Okay but seriously, I'm more than happy to explain. I assume that if you're asking this question you're not aware of the proshipper vs antishipper, uh, "conflict", I guess. So, here is what both of those terms mean, to the best of my descriptive abilities:

Antishipper (often just "anti"): someone who vaguely believes that consuming problematic fiction (usually specifically problematic sexual fiction like lolicon or incest) is either a true reflection of them as a person or a corrupting force that will cause them to play out these desires in real life, onto real people. Basically, if you read age gap, you touch real kids in real life or secretly want to.

Proshipper (sometimes "profic"): someone who does not believe the above, and believes that fiction is not the same as reality because it doesn't harm anyone and therefore people should be left alone as long as you have no reason to believe that they would ever do something like that irl. Often hand in hand with things like anti censorship, kink positive, etc, though being a proshipper does not necessarily mean you have a problematic ship or kink yourself (example: me).

You're probably asking this question because you saw me day in my bio that I am a proshipper. I've tried to stay neutral in this initial description, but obviously I probably didn't manage to be completely unbiased considering that I believe myself to be right (most people do) so if you want to ask further questions after this that's perfectly fine. That being said:

Why am I a proshipper?

So, to understand this, let's first look over the issues within both communities— every group has issues, after all.

What problems do proshippers have?:

- sometimes 4chan assholes co-opt the label "proshipper" just because they're lolicons, even though there's good evidence to suggest that they would do or even have done criminal sexual acts in real life, or that they possess actual csam (child sexual abuse material, a term being used in favor of "cp" these days as porn implies consent). Proshipping has nothing to do with the harmful idea that you should be allowed to exploit and abuse real children.

- there are still many gray areas which proshippers themselves don't agree on. For example: I've seen a bunch of arguments about if writing fanfiction of live action shows or movies changes the equation. The general consensus of proshippers is that writing fanfiction of a character played by a child actor is definitely a more delicate situation and should not be sexual as it's inextricably tied to the image of a real child, but there are others who believe differently.

- I'm genuinely struggling to come up with more of these. Um, sometimes lolicons are really shitty people, like in point 1. This isn't SUPER relevant though cause in reality the overlap between predominantly queer or female proshippers and Reddit incels who just wanna jerk off to a petite anime girl is pretty small, though I'm sure it exists somewhere .

Now, what problems do antis have? (Fair warning, this is gonna sound even more "biased" but I hope my logic is still sound from the outside :p):

- I don't have any statistics on this (haven't exactly been many research papers on fandom drama), so you're going to have to trust me when I say that antis are absolutely NOTORIOUS for extreme harassment campaigns. The first time I was exposed to the word "antishipper", it was attached to a story of a former animator committing suicide because antis had gotten them fired by "exposing" their porn alt on Twitter and they could no longer afford medication for their disability. So, hell of an intro!

- their opinions are, in pretty basic ways, not backed by science or even practical common sense. The human brain can distinguish between fiction and reality after around age four or five

and people certainly aren't trying to hand nsfw content to children that age so I think it's safe to say that the people who are reading these things won't be "confused" by them or whatever. Also, even just using your brain and talking to these people, you find out most of them project onto the YOUNGER character.

- they claim to support victims but often simply don't. I won't keep dragging threats into the spotlight because I know there are probably antis who aren't as violent, but it's honestly astonishing to me how often they jump straight to wishing death and terrible things on people, and this has included more than once telling a rape victim they hope they get assaulted again just because they're a proshipper. See, a lot of these "taboo" sexual fantasies like age gap and incest actually themselves stem from a traumatic experience, and any therapist will tell you that fiction is a much healthier way to explore intrusive thoughts and urges than more dangerous coping mechanisms like self harm or substance abuse. And when confronted with this, in my experience and many others', antis will simply ignore that fact or say that the therapist is some sort of evil enabler.

-the general cognitive dissonance of believing an incest fanfiction will make you "forget" that incest is bad vs being fine with horror movies and slashers speaks to a deeper and honestly kind of worrying anti-sex mindset. I'm not sure I'm qualified to tackle this particular topic, but I definitely agree that it's a thing; after all, I have no idea how else those two things could coexist.

Anyways, I'd like to close this off by saying not everyone is as crazy opinionated as I am, I'm just autistic and like talking lol. A lot of people who id as proshippers just have a sort of minding their own business, ship-and-let-ship mentality, and a lot of antis are unfortunately just teenagers who were told proshipper = evil pedophile groomer and thus they put "proship dni" in their bios just cause they don't know and don't really care what it means. It is undeniable that many antis are kids themselves, and that does worry me, because fandom drama (especially Twitter fandom drama) is dangerous and vitriolic and also they're putting extremely serious threats on their digital footprints at the tender age of 14! But whatever, I'm not their parents, that's just my worry. Sorry for rambling this long lol, I wouldn't blame you if you dropped out halfway through but this is basically my summary of this whole thing. Do with this knowledge what you will! Or, you know, don't! I'm not a cop!

#proship #proshipper safe #anti anti #proshipper

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 hours

Text

Haunted: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: This is Hotch's first case back since being stabbed by Foyet. As much as he says he's fine, he's not and he's letting his emotions affect the case in a negative way.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place." - Emily Dickinson

Spencer isn't used to not being able to do things on his own so helping him get ready for work is a challenge.

"Will you stay still?" you say and grab his pants.

"I can do it. Give it to me."

"Spencer Walter Reid. Stop moving and let me help you."

He freezes at the mention of his middle name. No one knows it but you, apparently.

"How did you...?"

"I've seen your driver's license. Now sit down and give me your leg."

Spencer sits on the edge of the bed and stretches his bad leg out to you so you can pull his pants on. It's been a month of recovering from both Hotch and Spencer. This is going to be his first day back since getting out of the hospital, and you're not sure how this is gonna go. It could either go horribly wrong and he'll need to take more time off or he'll be back on his feet. Emily wanted to pick Hotch up and drive him to the airport even though he'd been cleared to drive on his own.

With no unit chief in the office, you have a few minutes to yourself so you and Spencer head to Penelope's office to hang with her until Hotch comes in. Spencer hobbles into her office and she pulls up a chair for him.

"Thank you."

"Does it hurt?"

"It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time."

You place your hands on his shoulders from behind and massage his muscles gently.

"Don't worry, I've been very good at distracting him." Penelope laughs as Spencer looks at you with a smile on his face. You lean down and kiss him Spiderman-style. It's becoming one of your favorite positions to kiss him. When you pull away, you rake your fingers through his hair. "When are you gonna let me braid your hair?"

"Never," he says playfully and pushes you off him. Penelope has a box of cookies on the table, and he reaches to grab one but she slaps his hand away and slaps the lid on it. "Hey!"

"These are for Hotch," she says and puts a bucket of lollipops on top of them.

"I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies? You know he's gonna hate the attention," Spencer says and grabs a lollipop.

"It's cookies, not cake."

"He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened," you state.

"Well, it doesn't mean we have to."

"I think maybe we should."

"I don't roll that way."

"I've been thinking about the entire time I've known Hotch, I don't think I've ever seen him blink," Spencer says.

"I know. It's weird."

"It's classic alpha male behavior."

"Do you think he stared down Foyet?" Penelope asks fearfully.

"Yes. I saw it. He didn't go down without a fight, that's for sure."

"Do you think he stared the whole time, like with each stab?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?"

"I wouldn't be, but I'm a blinker," Spencer says, and you kiss the top of his head.

The door opens and JJ walks in with files in her hands.

"Spence, Y/N, there you two are. Grab your go bag."

"What's going on?"

"Turn on the news."

Penelope turns on one of the news channels that's talking about the most recent crime your team is going to investigate.

"Just after eight this morning, forty-year-old Darrin Call, a lifelong resident of Louisville, assaulted customers at the pharmacy on the corner of Main and Truxton Avenue. Eyewitnesses saw him walking east on Main Street minutes after the attack. He has not been seen since then. He was wearing a blue shirt, jeans, and a light-gray jacket. Within the hour, the Governor has called in all sources for a manhunt. Despite these statewide efforts, the suspect has eluded law enforcement. The body count is rising. Three are confirmed dead including an armed bank guard whose gun was used in the attack. Another two remain in critical condition. The assailant is still out there. We are going back to Eric Jennings who's been talking to residents of Louisville residents."

"We're going to Louisville."

"Alright. Bye, Pen."

You get up and escort Spencer out of her office over to his desk. You grab both yours and his bag since he can't carry his own and use his crutches, and you two head out with the team to the airplane. Spencer takes the couch to rest his leg while you take one of the chairs surrounding the small table.

"Our point person in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell," JJ says.

Just then, Hotch and Emily walk onto the plane, and you immediately feel anger coming off Hotch in waves. He has a stoic look on his face like always but the anger is stewing deep down inside him. It's a calm anger and it's all for Foyet.

"Good morning," Hotch greets.

"You look well, sir," Penelope says over video chat.

"Thank you. How long do you have that?" Hotch asks Spencer about his crutches.

"I'm not really sure. Welcome back."

"Thanks. Any other attacks?"

"No, not yet. Call's proven hard to track. He's never had a driver's license, so he's most likely still on foot or public transportation."

"No, he's not gonna take the bus. His face is everywhere," you shake your head.

"Has anyone found a stressor?"

"He just lost his job," Penelope explains. "He's worked at a factory since 1990 making appliances and not a single promotion."

"That's a long time to be bitter."

"Yeah, he's of the hermit variety. As far as I can tell, he's got no one. No wife, no kids, and no parents."

"Nothing to live for. Why hasn't he killed himself yet? Sprees usually end in suicide. If he's got nothing to live for, why hasn't he ended it?"

"He's not finished yet," Spencer answers Hotch. "We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim."

"The stock boy represents someone. We need to know who. Is he military?"

"No."

"He's lashing out for a reason. This guy's got anger, endless targets, and a gun. He's just getting started."

When the plane lands, you go off with Derek and Hotch to the crime scene at the pharmacy while Spencer and JJ head to the police station to get set up. Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell is waiting for them as soon as they walk in, and he's eager to get started. Before your team landed in Louisville, he created checkpoints on the state's lines at both the I-64 and I-65 and within a twenty-mile radius downtown. They think he's still on foot.

Take into consideration the average walking speed of two and a half miles per hour, and it's been just under three hours, then that adds up to an approximate eight-mile radius. First responders started a hard-target search of businesses and residences within that eight miles, and you're going to join them.

The lieutenant dug up all he could on Darrin Call but didn't find much. Me and Rossi are at his apartment so they might be able to find something the police couldn't. The strategy in all of this is to determine where he's headed next in order to stop him. Most spree killers are outwardly aggressive, and Darrin isn't that. He's defensive even if the video doesn't immediately show it.

You watch the video of Darrin over and over again until you see it. Darrin isn't aggressive until someone touches him. That's what set him off. It happens before he stabs someone. He hates being touched which is a trigger for him.

He never meant to hurt these people, and he never went in there with a weapon. JJ is working with the media to inform them as soon as she possibly can. Darrin's apartment is a five-minute walking distance from the pharmacy but there is no sign at his apartment that he came back to wash off the blood, which means he's still bloody and walking around town like that.

Penelope says he doesn't have any family, so where is he going to go looking like that? He might be messy in the head and in his everyday life, but his apartment is really neat or maybe he's military or hospitalized which means he has the same routine every day.

However, today is different. He killed three people. Why did it change?

The energy left at the pharmacy is astounding. The energy is breaking off into different streams as if it's panicking. Darrin isn't right in the head and he is definitely going to hurt himself sooner rather than later. He's going to piss off the wrong person and get hurt.

"Hotch, he's losing his mind. His mind is tearing itself into pieces. This energy is being pulled apart." Hotch stares straight ahead without giving you any indication that he heard you. "Hotch, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," he nods and walks off.

Hotch isn't okay. Who would be after what he went through?

"Mr. Call was always so quiet. He's been coming here for years," a woman talking to Derek says.

She is the pharmacist responsible for giving out medications to people.

"Has he ever had a run-in with the stock boy?"

"I can't see why he would. John was new here. I waved him over. I didn't know what else to do. No one else was helping."

"He didn't turn violent until you gave him his prescription?" you ask.

"It wasn't his. It was somebody else's. I just wanted him to calm down."

"JJ's press conference is in five minutes," Hotch says when he joins the group.

"Hotch, we might have something else here. Why didn't you give him his own medication?" Derek asks the woman.

"He didn't have any refills left."

"For what?"

"Alprazolam, but he used to be on Thiothixene."

"He was on an antipsychotic?" Hotch asks.

"That's why I wanted him to calm down. He's been off his medications for about a month now."

"When were you gonna tell us this? He's armed and delusional. Who's his doctor?" Hotch asks angrily.

"I don't remember. My computer..."

You turn to see her computer had been damaged in the fight.

"Great," Hotch scoffs and walks off.

"I'm sorry."

You and Derek look at each other because Hotch is completely out of line for this.

"He's not listening to us. I've seen this kind of behavior before. He's not going to want to listen. Not until he catches Foyet." You two walk over to Hotch. "Hotch."

"Call JJ and tell her about the meds."

"This is not her fault and you know it."

"Morgan, he's in a psychotic break. It changes everything."

"Do you want to talk about this?"

"No! I want to find him!" Hotch sighs in frustration and pulls out his phone to call Penelope. "Garcia, he's been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't get his medical records yet, so--"

"Find them. Find everything."

"Yes, sir."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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fourfuckinghorsemen · 1 year

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@white-violins I'll be round to pick up Sir Maxwell soon. Thank you for taking care of him. I'm sorry your trip to Japan was ruined.

#I'd offer to show you around but I just want to get back.#Not that I know where 'back' is.#I didn't plan that far ahead.#You can stay or go if you want. I'm fine either way.#Tua rp #Tua rp blog

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youngks-smile · 2 months

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What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

#long covid #covid 19 #covid isn't over #pandemic

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joeloverture · 5 months

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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ishizizzle · 1 year

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My 19-yo manager got upset off someone else's energy and talked to me stupid. I cared for hours longer than I should but thankfully, I'm growing apathetic to the whole person

#it me #i really been journaling these thoughts out lately. I'll write it down and #watch my complaints get smaller and smaller because i already wrote i was mad about this or that #so the only logical step I can is forward but I'm mentally ill so logic is built like a crazy straw and I'm wearing stilettos #but i get the shit out and get it smaller and smaller until i can summarize it and get to the root issue. its nice. it saves a lot of words #i know I'm in the right but there's nothing wrong with humility. her being 19 wouldn't even matter if she didn't act so immature #but that's whoevers fault that is for hiring her in that position cuz i clocked her and the scene the moment it happened #i even tried having a conversation about because SHE was talking about it like it was something to talk about #and i told her it didn't seem fair to her to have a future in wherever she's supposed to be going and be stuck in #a position you don't have the skillset for like i said it normal but that was the point of my end of the discussion #and all she could say is how is it unfair if its something i choose and i shut up because fuck off I'm not explaining that to you #not only would she not care or understand the answer but I'm not her mama her friend or her sis that's not my business #they pay her more to tell other niggas what to do.to go up there and cheat on the bf she stay on the phone with. she doesnt clean #I'm like what does she do other than show up and make sandwiches that's the only reason they were impressed. she asked and they said yes #before either knew if the other understood what they were signing up for and now she's cracked #she was alreasy cracked but its like chill out damn this why ppl dont like teenagers bro #leave all that bullshit at home can you come to work to work please idgaf if you want work friends #lame ass kids in this emotionally mature positions dude it makes no fucking sense #if they were adult enough to handle it fine but these are clearly kids and who cares but like #can someone else babysit i already babysat in jr. high and them parents paid way more for less of my time please dont push me #all that to say i feel myself tired of thinking about it. I'm bored of it. its not even noteworthy cuz it wasn't even a beef #she only got mad bc her pick me signals went off and she always acts the same as the guys but like #when they get mad she is suddenly mad to you know? and its embarrassing #i guess second hand? like am i embarrassed for you or myself for making you think we were on the same level

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daycourtofficial · 13 days

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Cassian: the annoying brother

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 2.7k | warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, slight violence

Summary: You and Azriel are mates, but haven't told the rest of your family. Cassian is suspicious of the two of you and does whatever he can to try to rile up a newly mated Azriel or get you to accidentally let it slip.

Author's note: This has been in my drafts for AGES and I'm so glad you guys wanted it. Shout out to @lady-of-tearshed for the line about allergies.

“Azriel, you have to go.”

Your voice is soft as you lightly kick him, pushing him towards the edge of the bed. The house was still, the sky dark beyond your balcony doors. He grunts, wrapping his arms around you tight, his foot catching your bedpost, pushing against it to stay on the bed.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles, rolling over on top of you, his wings draping across the bed. His breath tickles your ear as he has you pinned beneath him, his arms and legs circling around you. You wiggle your hand up to poke him in the side repeatedly, “you have to get up, babe.”

He huffs in your ear, “I don’t have to do anything.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, his refusal to get out of bed worsening each day. “You agreed to train the Valkyries against magic wielders today.”

“That was the old me, the new me doesn’t care.”

“That was the you from a week ago.”

“I could kick his ass.”

“Not if you stay in this bed, you can’t.”

He moaned once more into your neck as he held tightly to you before pushing off, spinning you two so you were on top of him. He closes his eyes, his head falling back dramatically on the pillow.

“Oh no, looks like there’s something keeping me from getting up. Send Cassian my regards.”

You giggle, trying to push off of him but his grip won’t budge. “As if Cassian won’t come in here the second he can’t find you in your own room.”

“Your door has a lock.”

“I know for a fact he would fly outside and fly in through my balcony doors.”

He sighs, his grip on you loosening. “Fine. Will you at least be there for family dinner tonight?”

You nod your head against him and he rolls you off of himself, slowly climbing out of the bed. He shakes his wings, stretching them out before folding them back behind himself. He leans over the bed, reaching towards you. You shuffle enough across the bed to give him access to your forehead, where he plants a swift kiss.

“It’s too early for sneaking around,” he muses, checking to make sure he didn’t leave anything he might need during training. At least, that was the excuse he gave every morning. All of his training gear was in his room - he just wanted to linger in your presence for a few more minutes.

“You agreed we’d wait a few months because you didn’t want any of your family butting in.”

You sat up on your knees, wrapping the comforter around you as you did so. You leaned up, pushing your lips out and making obnoxious kissing sounds at him until he cooperated once more. He brought his head down to you, kissing you back. He pulled back just a few inches before diving his face onto yours once more, peppering kisses across your cheeks. Despite the rising sun, it felt unbelievably warm to be wrapped up in his arms, giggling about the day ahead.

“And I bet you’re going to throw it in my face that it was my idea, hmm?” He kisses you again, “much like you have done every time I complain about sneaking out of here before anyone wakes up.”

“You know me so well.”

Cassian was walking down the hallway past your bedroom, hurriedly on his way towards training when he stopped mid step at the scent that lingered around your door. He sniffed the air, detecting both yours and Azriel’s scents. The scent was so strong it stopped him in his tracks - so distinctive. It wasn’t just individual scents, it was another scent all together.

He looked utterly ridiculous dressed in his fighting leathers, his hair in a messy bun atop his head, spinning in circles as he sniffed the air. Something was lingering, much stronger than either scent. He paused, looking at your door, listening for any noises. He glanced up and down the hallway, and after finding it empty, he pressed his ear up to the door, listening for your breathing.

You were clearly asleep, the soft slow breathing of slumber coming from you. But Azriel’s scent was quite fresh - no way it was even half an hour old. He took another inhale, this time trying to really focus on that scent he couldn’t place. He found Azriel’s night-chilled mist and cedar scent, your scent of lilacs and fresh rain, but something else-

Gods dammit.

Cassian can’t help the range of emotions that go through him at the realization his brother had been lying to him. Joy and happiness for the two of you, excitement to tell Nesta. Excited to rub it in Rhys’s dumb face that he knew you two were up to something.

And he was absolutely, completely pissed off at Azriel for keeping this from him.

Cassian watched the two of you at dinner that night, his eyes assessing every movement between the two of you. Everything seemed normal. The two of you were acting normal - the bastards, both of you. He was starting to doubt himself - the scent was nowhere to be found anymore, the two of you were acting normal, sharing jokes, telling stories about the week, laughing at whatever joke was made.

It all made him sick.

He was clutching his fork a bit too tightly when he had his opening, his moment. Everyone was focused on something Rhysand was saying, so you and Az took a moment, one stolen moment, and Cassian knew he was right.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as you gingerly caressed the black eye he had given Azriel this morning during training. He couldn't help himself - the anger he felt at not knowing such a big thing in Azriel’s life culminated in him being much more aggressive than usual, leaving Azriel a bit bloodier and more bruised than normal. Azriel had chalked it up to Nesta being gone for a few days, taking Emerie and Gwyn to the Day Court to see the pegasi with a personal tour from Helion himself.

Watching the moment end for the both of you, your hand falling back to your lap was just what Cassian needed to get his mind off of Helion flirting with his mate: a rare opportunity to annoy the ever living shit out of his brother.

And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

“Good morning,” you chirp, walking into the foyer, smiling at Azriel and Feyre. The three of you and Cassian had plans to go shopping for Nesta, helping Cassian find the perfect gift for their mating anniversary. Nesta’s absence allowed Cassian ample time to shop for her, as well as ample time for you and Azriel to undoubtedly wrap her gift once Cassian comes to you both asking for help.

“Ah, we were just musing if any of Helion’s charms have worked on any of the Valkyries,” Feyre��s grin full of amusement at imagining her sister seeing Helion again. You quip, “I’m certain he very rarely ever hears the word ‘no’ so I’m sure he’s very happy to have Nesta so close by.”

Feyre giggles and is about to reply when Cassian’s boots can be heard stomping into the room. You turn to greet him, a snappy remark on your tongue, when he quickly bounds into the room and scoops you into his arms before turning to Azriel.

“Race ya,” is all Azriel and Feyre hear before he shoots off the balcony with you in his arms. He takes off incredibly quickly. Your hair was whipping around you - you were going to tie it back right before take off, but your inability to do so made it impossible for you to see. Cassian’s haphazard flying was making things worse - the shops in Velaris were a quick straight shot from the House of Wind, but by Cassian’s trajectory, you’d think you were following a winding river.

“Cass!” Your shouts are met with chuckles as he finally lands, a bit harsher than Azriel does, but he keeps you in his arms. Azriel and Feyre land next to you two, Azriel’s shadows crawling all over Cassian to get to you. Cassian kicks at them a little, and you swear you can almost hear a hissing sound in response.

You’re finally able to see, moving the strands of hair out of your face and coaxing some of the shadows out of the way for you to find Azriel glaring at his brother. Cassian takes no notice of his brother’s annoyance, patting your leg before gently setting you down.

You reach out trying to stabilize yourself, a bit woozy from the ridiculous flight. Azriel’s eyes roamed over you as his arm reached out so you could hold on. Feyre looks between the two brothers, unsure of what’s going on. You laugh to diffuse the tension, “that was a fun ride, Cassian.”

He winks, “I’m always a fun ride.”

Feyre laughs, slapping his bicep, but you feel Azriel go rigid beneath your hands. You send some soothing feelings down the bond, double checking that the both of you were still glamoured from anyone scenting it. Azriel breathes deeply, fighting every instinct in him to kill Cassian for putting you in such danger. His anger was on an incredibly tight tether, one he would have let erupt if it weren’t for the various bystanders around you four.

The rest of the afternoon was just as tense as the flight Cassian had taken you on. Well, Feyre and Azriel were tense. Cassian was living it up, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. In fact, Cassian seemed to be particularly chipper, and particularly touchy. Cassian strutted around the city with you tucked under his arm, and it was really difficult for you to keep the rage you were feeling through the bond to seep into your own mood.

The four of you meandered through: book stores, where Cassian completely ignored anything Azriel recommended, jewelry stores, where Cassian held up every piece he was considering up to you, saying “you have a similar neck to Nes.”

Azriel’s rage was palpable, almost like a fifth companion for this outing, but it became overbearing when your group headed into a bakery. Cassian would pick up the bite size cake samples and feed them to you, his fingers too close to your mouth for Azriel’s liking.

“This one’s divine,” Cassian’s voice rang out, but as he pushed the piece towards your mouth, Azriel yanked you away from him, muttering a piss poor excuse about having something important to do before flying off with you.

Dinner that night was just as atrocious as the earlier outing, despite your requests to Azriel to behave. Immediately Cassian sat in Azriel’s usual seat, and after Azriel growled at him to move, Cassian told him, “my butt’s already made a nice imprint on this chair. Do you want to sit in my butt imprint?”

Cassian knew he was being childish, but he couldn’t stop himself from wiggling into the seat further before sighing, “just the way I like it.”

Azriel began to turn before Cassian threw his arm around you, bringing you close, “besides, if I sit next to my favorite girl, maybe she’ll feed me instead.”

His wink after that almost lost him his arm. Azriel clenched his jaw, took some deep breaths like you told him to, and stalked over to Cassian’s usual seat across the table from you. He practically shook with rage the whole night, avoiding any and all conversation around the table in favor of watching Cassian continue to touch you and flirt with you all night.

He avoided Rhys and Feyre’s occasional mental taps to try to speak to him, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t you. He eventually tuned back into the conversation when Mor was discussing an atrocious outfit by one of the courtiers from Summer, stating no one could look good in such a ridiculous outfit.

“What are you talking about, I could pull it off - I look great in anything!” You laughed, eyes bright in amusement at the ridiculous description of the dress with feathers, tassels, and copious amounts of sequins.

“And nothing,” Cassian retorts, his smirk growing even larger at Azriel’s growl. You cough in a piss poor attempt to cover the noise, but everyone just looks between Azriel and Cassian, the latter staring down the former.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Your eyes widen at Azriel taking Cassian’s flirting as more than-

Oh.

“What’s wrong, Azzy?”

You start shaking your head no, trying to get Azriel to look at you, but his rage makes his focus narrow in too closely to Cassian to see the warning signs.

“Don’t you have a mate to flirt with?”

You quickly tug the bond, trying to get Azriel to look at you, but it was too late. Cassian smirks, having finally gotten the upper hand on Azriel. Cassian leans in closer to the table, his eyes on Azriel as he asks, “don’t you?”

Azriel pales, surprised at Cassian’s deception. The room is completely quiet as everyone waits for Azriel’s response, but only a second passes before he lunges across the table, throttling Cassian to the floor. Chairs scrape as everyone rushes to pull them apart, save for Amren remaining seated and sipping from her wine glass.

“After I kill you with my bare hands, I will ensure your grave will be covered in flowers so that your allergies will haunt you forever.”

“You bastard!”

The two are rolling around on the rug, throwing punches and insults at each other. Their wings made it impossible to know who was winning. The knocked over a few chairs, but eventually Rhys sees an opening and pulls Cassian off of Azriel. You and Feyre move to Azriel, keeping him from attacking again. Azriel is snarling in your arms, and Cassian keeps baring his teeth back at his brother.

“What is going on?”

You all still at the tone of his voice, a high lord making his dominance known. Cassian looks at Azriel, “tell them, you dumb dick.”

Azriel snarls at him, and you and Feyre quickly hold him back. His chest is heaving as he shrugs off Feyre’s hold on him but places one of his hands over yours.

“We’re-“ he looks at you, and you nod subtly, “mates. We’re mates and we kept it a secret and somehow Cassian found out.”

Azriel glares at Cassian, who glared right back.

“Why was it some secret you were keeping from me?”

“We kept it from everyone, Cass,” your soft voice did little to calm the Illyrians staring each other down.

“I thought I was your friend-“ he pointed at you, “and your brother.” He aggressively poked Azriel in the chest, and your mate deflated just a bit at how clearly hurt Cassian was. Cassian crossed his arms, looking away from you two before Azriel put a hand on his shoulder. “You know we do care about you, right?”

You step toward Cassian, wrapping him into a hug. “Cassie, we just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a bit, can you blame us? You would have gone shouting it from the rooftops as soon as we told you.”

He sighed, “I know. It just... hurt that you guys didn’t want me to know.”

You squeeze Cassian tighter before Azriel comes over, squishing you between the two of them.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Cass. It was nothing personal. Nobody knew.”

A beat passes, the warmth from being surrounded by the two Illyrians making your cheeks hot.

“How about this Cassian - if we ever want any of you guys in our bedroom, we’ll ask you first.”

Azriel growls at your joke, moving to pull away from the hug but Cassian holds on tighter.

“Deal.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #acotar fanfiction

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fox-guardian · 3 months

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[ID: An eight page digital comic featuring Sam, Celia, and Alice from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. The characters are all colored with a single color each. Sam is red, Celia is green, and Alice is pink. Sam is a fat Arab man with short curly dark hair, a mustache, and a small goatee, and he is wearing small black earrings, a cardigan, a turtleneck, trousers and loafers. Celia is a taller Korean woman with short dark hair and she is wearing rectangular glasses, piercings including an industrial piercing, an x-shaped earring, and snakebites, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a vest, trousers, and black wrist cuffs. Alice is an even taller white woman with long fluffy hair and crooked teeth, and she is wearing cat eye glasses, three pairs of earrings, snakebites, a flannel shirt, a hoodie tied around her waist, a patchwork skirt, bracelets, and a lanyard.

Sam and Celia are stood at a table covered in papers. Celia urgently turns to Sam. Celia: Alice is coming! She can't catch us researching, we need a diversion, QUICK! How can we make her think we're not doing what we're doing? Sam, shrugging really hard: UHHHH she thinks I have a crush on you?? Celia, sweating, turns back to where Alice is coming from, panicked, and turns back to Sam, shrugging and reaching for him. Celia smiling a bit manically: Yeah, that'll work, sure!

Sam, with Celia's hands grabbing his cardigan: Wait whaAAAA- He is pulled out of frame. Alice walks in: Hey Sam, working hard or hardly woOOOAA She leans on the doorframe as she holds a hand to her chest in shock.

The next panel is rendered with soft pink shadows and "shoujo sparkles" in the now pink background. Sam is sitting on the table holding onto Celia, whose face is buried in his neck as she wraps one arm around his back and the other holds up one of his legs under his knee. Neither of their faces are visible. The rest of the page fades back to gray from there. Sam and Celia look over at Alice, hair ruffled, Sam is now blushing. Sam: ALICE!! He pushes Celia away and they look at each other for a moment, panicked. Sam: It's- .... exactly what it looks like! Celia: Aw, you've caught us! He rests his hands on her shoulders and they both look in opposite directions as though embarrassed. Celia is also blushing lightly. There are red and green neon signs pointing to them reading "Totally Ham-Slammin'" and "GAY! (in an M/F way)" respectively.

Alice looks to be in shock with a vacant expression and a computer pop up over her forehead reading "Alice.exe has stopped responding". In the next panel she is fine again and back to smirking. Alice: WOW SAM, didn't know you had it in you! Now I'm no snitch, so I didn't see anything, BUT- you lovebirds should cut it out before Gwen catches you. Celia and Sam look at each other anxiously, cheeks pressed together as she speaks. Alice: You KNOW she'd tell Lena. Celia, pulling back and smoothing her hair out: Oh, for sure. Sam: Th-Thanks, Alice. Alice: Don't mention it! I'll give you crazy kids a minute to straighten up, TA-TA~ She waves as she leaves.

Sam and Celia listen to her steps fade before going "phew" and finally pulling away from each other, now holding hands at an arms distance. Celia: You alright? That was kinda sudden.... Sam: It's fine! Just a bit caught off guard. Celia: I can't believe she actually bought all of that! Sam: Me either! Works for me, though.

Celia: Did you want to get down- Sam, pulling away suddenly, blushing again: NO! He crosses his legs and looks away sheepishly, scratching his head. Sam: I wanna stay here another minute or so.... Celia, concerned: You sure you're alright? Sam: Yeah! Just, er.... Celia looks at him, confused. Sam, blushing increasingly harder: Ahem. (He folds his hands in his lap politely.) I am not immune to being thrown on a table. Celia, smiling and politely stepping away: AH! .... Noted~

She walks away casually, still smiling. Celia: I'll give you a minute to collect yourself. Sam, head down in his lap, embarrassed: Thanks.... He looks up after she leaves. Sam: Wait. He straightens up, slightly panicked, face entirely red. Sam: What do you mean by "NOTED"?!

end ID]

~~~~

i am SO glad this episode didn't entirely debunk the silly headcanon that birthed this comic. initially i wasn't convinced sam actually had a crush so i made this like "well if he didn't before, HE DOES NOW" so.... here's this silly comic thing <3 i just think they're neat <3

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #celia ripley #alice dyer #do sam and celia have a shipname yet. idk.#also i am REALLY proud of the expressions in this one #also also if you see inconsistencies no you don't <3 #also also also i hope the id is good!! still not used to doing comics and stuff but i hope it works!

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hairmetal666 · 3 months

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Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

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