#also there are all of the sex parts but that is secondary!! that's why it's 24/7 d/s it's about everything else not just the bedroom...

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 3/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. Hangster AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

Updating ~weekly (longer chapters).

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001)

2002

                The summer break is short. He doesn’t know how it’s been swung, but he fully suspects that Ice has something to do with it. Maverick has the three weeks off, leave timed perfectly with the weeks that Bradley is home. Ice has taken actual vacation time, apparently timed to coincide with his daughter’s summer vacation, but Bradley knows better, knows the coincidence of them all being together, in the same city, is too much for him to pass up and wants them all together. Sarah and Melissa take the opportunity to actually go away for a week just the two of them and the girls stay with Ice, Bradley and Maverick moving in to ostensibly help with the girls.

                He works out and runs, Mav and Ice taking turns to join him so that one of them can stay behind with the girls. He sometimes goes for a run again later, Tamsin and Petra on their bikes, a little wobbly, but they go to the park nearby and play on the playground. They introduce Bradley to their friends as their brother, and he decides he likes that title best of all, lets it settle around his shoulders like a warm jacket after years of not knowing whether they were his cousins, siblings or even nieces because of the age difference. Brother he likes most of all.

                When he’s out running, or even in the playground he gets a few appreciative looks; he lets that feeling settle in his gut, pleasure that other people think he’s attractive. He doesn’t let himself think about it when he’s at Annapolis, too intent on his studies and learning everything they put in front of him. Right now though it’s his summer break and he can enjoy being looked at. Can enjoy looking back. Not that he finds the mom’s looking very attractive or interesting, but he can hope that what they find attractive is something that others will also find attractive.

                He takes Tamsin and Petra for ice cream. They both call Mav Papa, which is adorable but he also worries about what people might think if they overhear them. He has to force himself to not overthink or worry about it. He has enough to worry about around his presence at Annapolis, about how many people know that Mav is his stepfather, legal guardian and just Captain Peter Mitchell in general. Not to mention how Admiral Kazansky is his secondary emergency contact. He’s glad no-one sees his paperwork other than the admissions office and the higher ups if there is an emergency. Not that they don’t already know.

                He doesn’t need to mention to Maverick and Ice that he wants to go out, they seem to sense it and they both just silently nod when he informs them he’s going out. None of them mention the box of condoms and little sachets of lube that mysteriously appeared in his bedroom both at Mav’s place and also at Ice’s his first couple of days home. He’s not going to raise it, simply takes it as acknowledgement that they know he’s sexually active and want him to be safe. At least, he’s hoping to be sexually active, even as his gut churns with nerves.

                All in all it’s pretty lackluster and he doesn’t know exactly why people would seek this out over and over. Part of him wants to ask Mav or Ice about it, but they’ve never been exactly open about their relationship, and he knows that’s partly because they have to keep it hidden, but Mav had taken him through the safe sex talk and said to come to him if he had any questions. Asking whether sex is meant to be good or not… well, he’s pretty sure it’s meant to be better then that.

                His nineteenth birthday arrives and when they all head out to an airstrip his eyes go wide. There’s a Beechcraft sitting on the tarmac and he turns to Mav and Ice, eyes wide.

                “Are you kidding me?”

                “Called in a couple of favors…”

                “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Oh my god. Are you serious right now?”

                “Language…” Ice says, voice tired and Bradley shoots him a quick apologetic look.

                “You’re only allowed to sit in the back, and it’s only a pop-up, but thought you’d like it.”

                “Does make the phone I got you seem a bit boring,” Ice says wryly, handing him a tidily wrapped package and Bradley can’t wipe the grin off his face.

                “God I love you guys,” Bradley says, wrapping them both in hugs.

                The flight morphs from what was likely meant to be a quick pop-up to something a bit longer and he whoops with delight as Mav does some shit that Ice will no-doubt tell him off for later but he loves every second of it, feels like if he gets to do this for a job then every second an boat school will be worth it. He gets out, his body still vibrating with the rush of adrenaline and he wants to immediately turn around and go back up, the look on Maverick’s face telling him he’d probably take him, but there are a couple of other people approaching, shaking Ice’s hand and then turning to Maverick, wishing him happy birthday and he thanks them profusely.

                “Only a pop-up huh?” Ice says, voice dry and the grin Maverick gives him is wide and unapologetic and Bradley can’t help the laugh that escapes.

                “Oh my god, flying is so much better than sex!”

                Mav and Ice look at each other before they’re both laughing and Bradley frowns.

                “What? What’s funny?”

                “Well. I’m just remembering my teenage fumblings and I’d have to rate flying above them too. But sex generally gets better with practice.”

                “Like most things,” Ice says, staring up at the sky so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with anyone and Bradley’s grateful. It also answers his unasked questions about sex, not all of them obviously, but okay, it’ll probably get better. No. It will get better, he just needs to practice. Of course, practicing having sex is a lot more difficult than working on his running times. Anyway, he’ll find a way, because obviously Mav and Ice figured it ou.

                He hasn’t really ever given their relationship much thought, other than knowing that they have one and that they’re together. They’re not physically demonstrative with each other, he’s never even seem them kiss, and he gets that maybe they’re hyper-careful because Tamsin and Petra are young and have loose lips, but not even in front of him. They’re obviously solid though, seem to communicate without talking and he definitely notices more now that he’s older. The silent communication with quirks of eyebrows, little smiles and eyerolls all seeped in affection. If he’s looking for it. Of course, there’s also yelling, which he doesn’t need to look for because he hears it and often, although it’s always short-lived.

                It makes him watch Sarah and Melissa, and they’re like the complete opposite of Ice and Maverick, physically demonstrative as well as verbally telling each other they love each other all the time. It makes him feel a little uncomfortable sometimes, like maybe he’s seeing something they don’t want him to, but they never seem to give him any mind and Tamsin and Petra are both equally physically demonstrative, wanting hugs and cuddles and he likes that. It’s probably good for them to see their parents like that.

                Thinking about parents has him digging, unearthing old home videos and he watches the videos of his parents, and it’s weird, seeing something almost twenty years old, and what he guesses is the only straight relationship he has as an example, and it’s more of a dream than something he sees everyday. Judging from the videos his dad loved his mom and wasn’t afraid of letting the world know about it. He wonders what he’d be doing if both his parents were still alive. Wonders what he’d be doing if his mom was alive, if he’d have listened to her wish to not become a pilot if it had been made to him from her directly. He’s so glad that Mav and Ice have supported him.

                As his time at home comes to an end he isn’t expecting the round-the-table family discussion, with even Sarah and Melissa present. Tamsin and Petra are distracted with cartoons, and he wonders what they’re about to lay in front of him. He’s not prepared for them saying how much they all missed him. Even Melissa is nodding, and her job as an emergency doctor means she’s had the least to do with Bradley, but she ruffles his hair, tells him he’s part of their family and his heart swells.

                “So the last year sucked, not getting to see you at all.”

                “There will be enough times in the future when visiting you won’t be an option, you’ll be deployed for months at a time.”

                “We want to make the most of the fact that we can visit you while you’re at USNA. We promise that it won’t be often, but we do want to see you.”

                “We’ve maybe come up with a way to visit you more often.”

                Their voices all overlap and he listens as they explain, how they’ll look at his liberty leave schedule, how they’ll plan just a few hours of visiting, to have dinner, for the girls to see him and for him to see the girls. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve a family like this, although a cynical part of him reminds him that he’s an orphan, and that maybe this is the universe’s way of making up for all the loss he’s had to suffer. If it means he gets to have Maverick and Ice, Sarah and Melissa, Tamsin and Petra… well. Of course he’d like his parents to be alive and to know what they think of him and his decisions. But his family is what he makes it and he’s so grateful he has what he has with the people in this house right now.

                So they hammer out a plan. He comes home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Spring break, what weird simile the USNA has, he can spend with his friends, even if he protests that he’d rather see them. They plan to drop him off again, even though it’s really not needed. It’s a long way to travel for a few more hours but none of them let his arguments be heard.

                The year back at Annapolis starts and god it’s good not to be a Plebe anymore. The familiar routine settles around him and it feels great, knowing what is expected of him and how to meet and exceed those expectations. He gets a few approving nods from his tutors and physical instructors when it becomes apparent to them that he’s continued to work on his fitness over the summer, leaving the vast majority of his class in the dust. There is one other that keeps up with him, almost effortlessly, although her eyes are narrowed.

                “Trace.”

                “Bradshaw.”

                She nods and slaps his shoulder so hard it hurts and he grins, thinks he might like her if she actually lets him get to know her, her own lips as tightly sealed as his own when other people are asking questions. It’s not until a couple of weeks in, they’re sharing a table in silence and a photo of Tamsin and Petra slips out of his address book and hits the floor, sliding under the table and coming to a stop beneath Trace’s chair. Then Trace is picking it up, glancing at the picture of him in his jean shorts and white tank, eating ice cream with Tamsin and Petra pressed in on each side also eating ice cream.

                “Your… kids?” Trace asks, sliding the photo across the table to him and he shakes his head sharply.

                “No. Sisters.”

                “That makes more sense.”

                “Yeah. I miss them. Tamsin and Petra.”

                “I miss my family too,” Trace admits, and it’s the first time she’s even admitted she had family so he just smiles and nods. He highlights every liberty leave weekend and folds the schedule into an envelope meant for Sarah and Melissa. He knows that Ice likely already has access to it with all his connections but he knows Sarah and Melissa won’t, that they’ll want to plan it all out and he feels the warmth suffuse through him that his family want to go out of their way to see him. He writes letters to Tamsin and Petra, invites Trace to also draw pictures with his box of crayons to send and she turns out to be far more talented than him.

                It changes something between them after that, Trace seeking him out at mealtimes, asking him if he wants to study with her. He knows there are rumors about them sleeping together, but that’s all they are, rumors, and he knows he can’t get in trouble even if they were having sex, as long as they’re never caught. Which isn’t a problem considering it’s never going to happen.

                His first liberty afternoon he’s not getting visitors, but decides to head off campus just so it’s part of his routine, so he can meet his family off-base in the future without raising eyebrows over out of the ordinary behavior. He takes some course work and finds a coffee shop several blocks away. It’s a Saturday afternoon so he has his customary call with Mav, talks about how he’s joined the drum and bugle corps as well as the glee club. He says he plays the piano when he can, but he’s nowhere good enough for the instrumental club, but he’s still got plenty of music in his life, which he knows makes Mav think of his dad, but he can’t help that it’s something he genuinely enjoys himself.

                “Anyone sitting here?”

                He looks up and the guy asking is a bit older and Bradley glances around the busy coffee shop, there are other seats available, but none at empty tables, so he’d have to be asking someone if he wanted to sit down.

                “Uh, no. Please. Have a seat”

                “Thanks.”

                The guy doesn’t say anything, reads a book and sips his coffee and Bradley does the same, reading over course work and when his ankle is bumped he looks up to find the guy looking at him, his foot still resting against his ankle. Oh. He blushes and looks away, goes back to studying and shifts his foot away slightly. The guys foots doesn’t follow, but when he glances up it’s to find he’s being watched. Okay then.

                “My name’s Kevin.”

                “Uh. Bradley.”

                “Nice to meet you Bradley.”

                “And you.”

                He shifts his feet a little further away and goes back to studying, tries to ignore the fluttering nerves. After a while he looks up and Kevin is closing his book, drawing back, but he’s sliding a piece of paper across the table and it’s got a phone number on it. He knocks his knuckle against it and gives Bradley a wink and then leaves.

                He stares at the number and wonders how it would even work. He sure as hell won’t be using it, he’s far too close to the USNA to be comfortable hooking up with anyone, and it’s not like he can seriously consider a relationship, not with DADT. Not that he thinks that was in any way shape or form an invitation to start a relationship. Huh. He wonders if that’s all he’s destined to have for a while, meaningless hookups which aren’t even that great.

                He throws the piece of paper in the next trash can he sees.

…             …             …

                Classes continue and he does get to see his family, his favorite time is when Tamsin and Petra visit and he gets to show them around the places that he’d tried to draw pictures of. He goes home for Thanksgiving, enjoys the time and goes out on the Friday night, determined to hook up and try and have a decent sexual experience. It’s definitely an improvement on summer, and he wonders if he was just more nervous before. He comes back to a book sitting on his bed, The Joy of Gay Sex and he knows it’s Pete’s way of showing support and love. He supposes he should be grateful that he’s not having to have actual conversations about it.

                Of course that’s when he realizes at Christmas that he wants to go somewhere for spring break. Somewhere he can hook up without worrying at all, maybe have sex in a bed. Maybe with the same person more than once, although that might be pushing it. He just feels an itch that he wants to scratch, and he needs to scratch it in such a specific way that he knows he’s going to have to ask either Mav or Ice about it. The more he thinks about it the more he leans towards asking Ice, feels like he’ll get considered answers that weigh up pros and cons and potential consequences, rather than throwing a dart at a map and hoping for the best, which is totally what he can envision Mav doing.

                “Hey Ice…”

                “Bradley. You okay?”

                “Yeah. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?”

                “Of course. What is it?”

                “Uh, Okay. You know how we were saying I could go and hang out with friends for spring break?”

                “Yes.”

                “Well, I don’t particularly want to hang out with friends, but I wouldn’t be averse to, uh. God this is going to sound awful. But I want to go somewhere I can hook up and just… not have to care. You know?”

                Ice lets out a short huff of breath and looks at the ceiling, like he’s steeling himself.

                “Yeah. I know.”

                “I know I could come back and visit, but just the thing you said about it getting better with practice, and I can’t during semester time. I just can’t.”

                “Bradley. Stop. It’s fine. Trust me. I understand,” Ice says. “New York is good. And close enough that travel costs would be low. Because you’re going to need the money for a motel room.”

                “New York.”

                “Yeah. Lots of people. Good scene where you’d be anonymous. It’s lower risk, but there is still risk.”

                “Did you do this?”

                “Yeah, this was back in a 70s though and I hope you’re sure as hell safer than I was.”

                “Yeah, of course. Gee that’s a long time ago.”

                “I don’t need you pointing that out to me thank you.”

                Bradley grins. Ice smiles back but it looks a bit painful.

…             …             …

                Tom isn’t quite sure whether he should repeat the conversation he had with Bradley with Mav. Just because Bradley didn’t ask him to keep it to himself doesn’t mean he should then share it. He helps Bradley book and pay for a motel, picking one he’s familiar enough with that he knows the neighborhood isn’t dangerous, but neither will anyone look twice at two men together. He sends Bradley a letter a few weeks before his spring break, a carefully itemized list of places he could consider visiting when he goes to New York, all numbered. Then he sends a message on his phone, tells him that all addresses associated to the prime numbers are nightclubs he might be interested in checking out. He knows Bradley will read between the lines.

                The Saturday afternoon phone call that Bradley has with Maverick, that Tom shoehorns himself into whenever they’re close by, is due anytime and it’s become much easier to have since he gave Bradley the phone for his birthday. The ability to not have to wait for a free phone is so convenient, even if he hates having to carry one himself for work. He listens as Pete talks, asks Bradley what he thinks of Statue of Liberty and several other sights and Tom wonders how much of the city Bradley actually managed to see, or if he simply now has a deeper appreciation of the gay clubs in New York and all he saw really was the inside of his motel room. He holds his hand out for the phone when it sounds like Pete is winding up.

                “Oh wait, Ice wants to talk to you.”

                “Yeah. Love you too. Have a good week.”

                “Hello,” Tom greets, taking the phone and holding it to his ear, watches as Maverick walks off after giving him a quick kiss and he follows him with his eyes.

                “Hi Uncle Tom.”

                “Did you have a good spring break?”

                The pause and then the burst of laughter has his lips twitching.

                “Oh my god. Yeah. Good and then some.”

                “Better than flying?” Tom asks, amusement in his tone.

                “Sometimes. Yeah.”

                “Good. I’m glad.”

                “You, uh, didn’t tell Mav about what I was doing.”

                “No. Did think about it. Decided I’d leave that to you if you wanted or needed to share that with him.”

                “Thanks Uncle Tom.”

                “Anytime.”

…             …             …

                “MIdshipman Bradshaw!”

                “Sir, yes sir.”

                “Your presence has been requested in Admiral Naughton’s office. Better get along there.”

                “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

                He’s never been called to the Superintendent’s office before, and he knows that’s a good thing, but of course he’s having to go there now and he’s racking his brain for anything he’s potentially done that might warrant being called to the office of the USNA Superintendent. It’s been a couple of months since spring break, he only has a few weeks before the end of the academic year. He’s been looking forward to having three weeks at home before starting his six weeks at sea, having passed on the SEAL and Marine Crops joint-operation option. He knows where he wants to be.

                He knocks on the door and hears the instruction to enter, opens the door and steps inside, closing it behind him. The tightness in his stomach immediately eases as he recognizes the profile of Tom. Probably not in trouble then. Doesn’t explain what Tom is doing here exactly, but he also needs to remember to not call him Tom. Or Ice. He’s in his uniform, so potentially been nearby for work and of everyone it’s been Ice he hasn’t seen much of, his work keeping him busy, and his spare time spent with Tamsin and Petra, his young kids even if he is divorced.

                “Admiral Naughton sir. You wanted to see me?”

                “At ease Midshipman Bradshaw. Sorry for the potential scare, however Tom asked if he could maybe see you and it was too easy a request to deny. I’ll let you two catch up.”

                Bradley blinks, because this is odd. Out of the ordinary even for Tom, although he guesses if Tom wanted to see him he’s not going to refuse. He hugs him, and he knows he must have grown more, because Tom feels a bit smaller than usual, although no less solid. He’s getting hugged back hard, firm slaps to the shoulder and getting looked at with pride and he feels so good when either Ice or Mav look at him like that.

                “You’re still growing, Mav’s going to be able to fit under your chin when you come home.”

                Bradley laughs.

                “It’s so good to see you. And yeah, think I’m doing growing upwards, just building on the strength now. Be able to leave you in the dust when I come home.”

                “Like you didn’t already last summer. But about coming home, I wanted to come and tell you in person, because of what you went through with your mom –”

                Oh god no.

                His whole world stops.

                He doesn’t need Tom to say any more, feels his knees buckle a little before he catches himself.

                “How long?”

                “A week.”

                “What? A week?”

                “Shit. No. Not left to live. Fuck. Bradley. Stop filling in the blanks and let me finish.”

                He hardly ever hears Tom swear, and he just sucks in a breath and nods.

                “In a week I’m getting an operation to remove a tumor. It’s in my throat. Then some directed radiotherapy and drug cocktail. I just wanted to let you know I potentially won’t be up for much when you come home for summer. No work outs for me.”

                “God Ice, like I care about what we do. So the prognosis is… good?”

                “Yeah. It’s not terminal, just Stage One they think. Sarah and Melissa, mainly Melissa, kept on at me until I went in and got checked out. It’s been caught early they think.”

                “Yeah well, Melissa is smart. I’m glad you listened to her.”

                “So am I. She also forced Mav to get a full check. He’s as healthy as a horse.”

                “Of course he is. Is this why you came to see me?”

                “Well, I had business in Washington. I was offered a promotion and had to decline it. For now.”

                “You declined it?”

                Tom winces then, and Bradley knows it must have hurt, but also with the restriction on the number of Vice Admirals allowed it makes sense.

                “What was the position?”

                “Director of the DLA. Also involved a relocation to Virginia.”

                “Oh. Leaving Sarah and the girls.”

                “Yes.”

                “So multiple reasons to politely decline.”

                “Yes. I just have to hope it doesn’t impede future promotional opportunities.”

                Bradley nods, because this is another proper adult conversation they’re having, and he feels very adult all of a sudden while also feeling like a little kid. It’s weird for so many reasons but he also likes it he thinks.

                “So when you say you had business in Washington you had to politely tell the president thanks but no thanks.”

                “Yes I did. Nice summation.”

                Bradley laughs and hugs him again.

                “Would you like a tour of your old stomping grounds?”

                “Sure, why not. Show me around.”

#Saga of Solitude #IceMav #Hangster #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction

[hayisins]

# — oral ! 🕊️ (part two)

how : childe, neuvillette, kaveh, itto, + dottore give head ! find part one here ! ♡

disclaimers : you give neuvillette head too ! oh also he has two dicks. bottom!itto drabbles teehee !! medical play with dotto !

afab!reader, no pronouns used ! mdni 18+ ONLY ‼️

# 001 — CHILDE !

being in a sexual dynamic with childe was quite the wild card. things were always changing and the sex was never consistent — except for one thing.

ajax is obsessed with oral, he needs to give it to you even when you have no plans to have sex. he starts by trying to sweeten you up, kissing your neck and gently squeezing at your thighs until before you know it, his tongue is gliding against you.

he loves when you sit on his face, bright baby blue eyes watching your body intently while you use his face as your own personal object. he whimpers — whines pathetically under you. his cock is so hard it’s painful and leaking. his heart continues to race for you. ♡

— “more . . please — fuckin’ give me more.”

#002 — NEUVILLETTE !

the ludex is calm and collected . . unless it comes to you. usually, neuvillette was someone who always followed the rules, he’s the face of justice after all. due to his nature it was no suprise he attracted someone like you.

someone who was a rule breaker, someone who marched to the beat of their own drum. which is how he ended up with you under his desk, tongue licking all over the tip of his primary cock, hands happily stroking the secondary. the grip on his desk was intense as he listened to the conflict one of his dear assistants provided him with.

the longest ten minutes of his life went by before neuvillette was panting, chest heaving slightly as he motioned for you to come out from your hiding place. before you could even stand up properly you were shoved onto the same desk he just gripped his nails into. biting and nipping at your thighs he left sloppy desperate kisses against your hole. ♡

— “such a bold brat . . aren’t you ? my my . . a lesson you shall learn today, little étoile.”

#003 — KAVEH !

since he’s an artist, everything that kaveh does is meant to be an artistic expression. sometimes he doesn’t even realize it.

sometimes, kaveh will have you on the expensive 500,000 mora couch he has. he watches you struggle to stay still under his touch. he watches the way you drip onto said sofa in need. silently he drops to his knees, ruby eyes staring intently at your heat.

his tongue paints a beautiful and erotic picture. the architect takes his time gently running his tongue through every single fold and nerve he can find. his chest practically heaves when you grab his locks, shoving him in even further. ♡

— “fuck . . your taste — you’re so . . ethereal, my muse.”

#004 — ITTO !

big strong arms always keep you close. the oni treats you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever possessed. he would walk to the edge of the world and back if you told him to.

which is why him being the usual submissive in the bedroom was one of your favourite things. itto waited for every single order like a puppy eager to please it’s owner. the muzzle around his face made your much large boyfriend grunt in annoyance.

ittos face shoved right up to your cunt causing you to hiss from the feeling of the cold metal of the muzzle. itto had a problem with biting and marking you from head to toe, so you had to compromise. however he also just looked incredibly sexy while he whimpered — tilting his head in every way possible to get his tongue flat against your holes. sometimes he was successful! ♡

— “pleasepleaseplease !! come onnn sugar ~ just a little taste yeah? fuck . .”

#005 — DOTTORE !

the doctor is quite the tease when he’s not completely engrossed in his work. he wouldn’t ever admit it but you are one of his weaknesses.

so when you come to visit dottore during one of the periods where he’s completely locked himself in his laboratory it’s only a matter of seconds before your being lifted and spread against the cold metal lab table. all of his previous experiments had been disregarded as non important as his hands explored you.

silently he used black gloved fingers to poke and prod at the most delicate parts of you. sexual reactions was truly something dottore was interested in. he dips down, parting his lips to prod his tongue against you. he’s by no means gentle, using his razor sharp teeth to gently bite down on the skin. his free hands is taking messy notes on a clipboard. a skill he’d learned to do from each and every one of these meetings. ♡

— “interesting reactions . . every day i get closer to figuring out all your secrets, little dove.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #childe #tartaglia #neuvillette #kaveh #itto #dottore #childe smut #neuvillette smut #kaveh smut #itto smut #dottore smut #childe genshin impact #neuvilette genshin #genshin impact kaveh #genshin itto #dottore genshin #arataki itto #itto x reader #childe x reader #genshin kaveh #kaveh x reader #dottore x reader #neuvilette x reader

[greenfiend]

The Significance of Lover’s Lake and Byler (Theory) Part 2

Sequel to this post

(Warning: mentions of sex and drugs)

Okay so first of all, if you haven’t seen my previous post on my theory involving Lovers Lake and Byler, please read it first. I go over my theory and predictions for Byler and the heart shaped lake. This is a secondary post to it, outlining some VERY interesting details involving the owner of the lakeside house, the lakeside house itself, and all the romantic and sexual elements present. I’m saving the best for last here.

Let’s start with the owner of the lakeside house.

Reefer Rick

So I recently made a silly post arguing that the most queer coded character in Stranger Things is not Mike nor Will (nor Robin, Henry, Eddie etc), and I stand by this statement. The most queer coded character is: Reefer Rick. Now, I know we never see the guy, but literally all the information we have on him is either queer coding or drug references.

Synonyms of his name are literally f*g Dick, with a shared last name with the famous tea company founder who so happens to have been a homosexual: Lipton.

We know he doesn’t have a family, thus he’s a single man who occasionally has his buddy/fellow dealer Eddie stay over. Hm, not very heterosexual of him.

Then we have his movie list.

Now, as many of us know, the movie “Fast Times” is used within Stranger Things as a way to gage if someone is attracted to women or not. We have Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Vickie all confirmed to have enjoyed this movie… specifically for that shot at 53 minutes and 5 seconds. Sure, Reefer Rick rented the film, but why is it the only movie he rented that was returned on time? For context, he’s the only character who had films listed as “late” returns. So, he obviously enjoyed Cheech & Chong a lot more. Two guys doing drugs is more interesting to him than a sexy lady. Okay, noted.

Now, how is he perceived by the people of Hawkins?

Oooof. Okay. He’s not well liked it seems. He apparently is causing some fear and anger amongst the Hawkins residents. Kind of similar of a reaction these people would have towards an openly gay man during the 1980s.

Also I have to include @/conflictofthemind ‘s excellent point that injectable drug use and unprotected sex (specifically between two men) were both commonly associated with HIV/AIDS… a major epidemic during the 80s and a major subtextual theme within the show.

Now, where’s this guy live while outside of jail?

I don’t blame the guy for “hiding” when the town is not too fond of him. Of course he is a drug dealer so there’s that as well. But interesting they used the word “hide”, which has been associated with queerness within the show already (plus this line was said by Robin (featured in the middle of the shot!!!) who is queer herself).

(Both of these screenshots are from 1x02 interestingly enough.)

Wouldn’t it make sense for these two “hiders” to hide out in “a perfect place to hide” together? Seeking refuge in a fellow gay man’s secluded house?

I will say it’s also worth noting that he does not have any women featured on the walls within his house. Also, he has a phallic shaped bong (we’ll get back to that soon).

Phew okay so that’s Reefer Rick. Are you still with me? Hopefully I didn’t bore any of you with this. I promise you this all leads back to Byler.

So, moving on to his house.

So as @/therainscene kindly pointed out, this poster with the smiley face can be related to rave culture and ecstasy in the 1980s. So a drug reference, in a drug dealer’s house… shocker I know. But I gotta say, ecstasy is also a term often related to sex. I also have to add this little tidbit from one of our favourite directors of Stranger Things, Shawn Levy. Keep in mind, he knows what’ll happen in the next season… and he’s directing episodes after 3 and 4…

Interesting word choice, no?

So, back to the symbolism within (and near) the house.

Let’s talk about the phallic symbolism that appears in pairs in these shots. It’s a choice, isn’t it? With two males in each shot. We know the Duffers love details and foreshadowing… I doubt it’s a coincidence. Also, anyone else notice that phone in the background? Just had to mention it, since our boys are frequently associated with phones and calls.

Then, of course, I gotta bring back this shot.

The bed. Blue meets yellow. You know it! We all heard it a thousand times by now. Let’s look at what else is in the shot. A closed closet. Another reference to our boys. To the right, you’ll see a toilet paper roll. Now, if you have a brother, you might see the same thing in his room. Sure it can be used as a tissue for your nose but let’s just say there’s usually another use for it. I’ll call it “self love”. So, basically, another sexual reference.

To sum up this house: lake/water, drugs, and ecstasy/smiley face. Now, let’s go back to a scene featuring our boys with all these elements in the background.

Makes you wonder doesn’t it?

I must also point out the “Paris” poster in the background. City of love, anyone? Plus the fireworks. They’re really trying to tell us something here.

Also, @/foodiewithdahoodie pointed out how Paris specifically was one of the first places to decriminalize sodomy.

You know, I also wouldn’t rule out every aspect of Murray’s prediction here.

Shout out to the Hylers out there!

Perhaps after a lot of stressful days of fighting interdimentional demons, these boys want to wind down and de-stress in their hiding spot. I can see Reefer Rick as a fellow Nintendo player, leaving his console behind, as well as his weed, for our boys to use. I also wouldn't be surprised if Eddie left a few of his beers behind. I mean… Murray has a pretty good track record for predictions. This would also really double down on the message that Mike and Will “aren’t kids anymore.”

Also, wouldn’t it be fun to look back at Murray’s predictions and realize that they’ve all come to be?

Okay, now let’s finally get to the romance elements!

First thing I want to start with is this shot:

So… they had to show us a mailbox, didn’t they? With that name “Lipton” which as I mentioned in my previous post… is associated with Thomas Lipton who had a lover named William Love.

1 point for #lettergate

And…

“Hope Our Love Lives/Lasts And Never Dies”

WWII solders used the acronym H.O.L.L.A.N.D. to convey a love message in a letter. The whole love letters association with Mike and Will never end, do they?

2 points for #lettergate!

As for the “2121”, I think it’s possible that it’s referencing multiple things… number references are tricky like that in my opinion. But I will say that @/thestrangestthing89 brought up the fact that “2121” could be a reference to “Twin Flames” which is yet another reference to romance.

Continuing on with the romance…

Let’s return back to the scene where Reefer Rick is first mentioned. After Max mentioned him, we are cut to Steve talking about a movie.

A movie filled with action and romance, you say?

So… Doctor Zhivago.

Basically a tale of two people in love during a difficult time (Russian Revolution) being separated, with other people, then finally reunited. Not completely unlike our boys. Notice how the “adult” sign is noticeable in the background. Not kids anymore.

He mentions action, which I’m sure there will be some of as well at the famous lake.

Okay enough with the silly details, let’s stop and look at the bigger picture.

Our beloved lake. Look how gorgeous it truly is. Plus the fact that it’s a literal heart? You can’t get more “on the nose” than that.

Now, who else is known as a heart? (Tough question I know…)

This boy is, without a doubt, narratively tied to the lake. He is “the heart”… he is THE LAKE (symbolically).

Thank you to @/everaster for bringing attention to the fact that after Mike was pushed to deliver that monologue to El by Will, Max “died”, then the gates opened WIDE. One of those gates, as we know, is located within Lover’s Lake… known was “watergate” (term coined by Dustin).

So, as of now in this story… Lover’s Lake is literally broken in two. A broken heart in need of mending.

Who better to accomplish that task than the boy who has known him for a decade and loves him completely and selflessly?

💌📬❤️‍🩹

Hope you enjoyed these posts as much as I enjoyed making them! It’s honestly so much fun looking for evidence and finding such interesting stuff. Some of it may be reaching, and that’s okay because it’s all in good fun! That’s what fandoms are all about.

The level of attention to detail in this show never ceases to amaze me! There’s so much depth and clues to look for and play around with. I hope to have sparked some inspiration and creativity for some people! 💛💙💚

As always, would love to know your thoughts!

#Byler #loverslakegate #lovers lake #stranger things #stranger things 5 #Mike wheeler #Will Byers #byler theory

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧"

Today I'm thinking about Tom Bennett not giving up on making you his and how badly he wants you...

Tw: Talk of: Smut, Oral Sex (f receiving), virginity loss

Next Part >>

Word Count: 819

Struggling to process how badly Tom wants you.

You've been Miss Goody Two Shoes since primary and he couldn't stand you then yet somehow you currently plague his thoughts and mind. Every thought, moment and breath is for you.

It all started for him when you came back to town. Moving back in with your parents across from his place. You left school early to help take care of your dad who had gotten very badly sick and the weight of bills was stressing your mum. Not to mention the breakup you were going through at your Uni. It would be nice to not see your cunt of an ex every day.

Tom's breath caught in his throat as he saw you leave that car. You looked...different. Whatever you were doing was working. You moved with confidence now versus the uncertainty you did during secondary.

Tom had walked over and helped you bring your stuff upstairs. He had tried to make a small move on you a couple days later in a pub but you quickly turned him down.

"Still a good girl are we?" That was the only thing he said to your rejection before walking away with a stupid grin on his face.

From then on Tom was everywhere. Walking you home after work, helping you carry groceries. If anything was broken in the house he would come over and fix it. Tom quite literally glued himself to your side.

"You aren't getting rid of me, love. So just give in." The truth was you had a crush on Tom a long time ago. Back in primary and secondary, he tormented your brain. Your diaries were all full of "Mrs Bennett" and hearts. But as he got older and started getting in trouble with the law you knew it would only lead to heartbreak. And to hurt you more he had flirted with almost every girl in your year except you.

If Tom didn't want you then why would he now? You already had an answer drawn up in your head: he's bored. Everyone has moved on and gotten older and Tom is still here, he won't want you long-term. He just wants a pastime.

So you didn't give in. You chased him off whenever he made a move but internally screamed at yourself. You wanted him so badly. You touched yourself to the thought of Tom Bennett. His long and slender fingers, how they would reach spots that are too high up for you. Or how you saw the print of his dick print through his pants one day and knew it was big.

Tom also did the same. He imagined his hand was your warm cunt and how it would feel for you to be all wet over him. He imagined taking your virginity more times than he could count. Since you had arrived back he often woke up with a boner and had to stroke himself off to the mental sounds of your voice moaning his name.

His hand quickened and his hips bucked upwards. He imagined you bouncing on his dick, your tits moving with the rhythm. How he could feel you clenching down on him. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he fucks you so good. Your nipples in his mouth and ass in his palms.

His thighs flexed as his thoughts grew more lewd and vulgar. You'd fit against him like a puzzle piece. He'd love to have you on your side, his arm hooked under your leg as your head rests against his other arm. He'd whisper words of how good you feel, and you take him so well. He loves the idea of you being able to do nothing about the pleasure. You just have to lie there and take whatever he gives you.

Fuck how would you taste? Your pussy would probably taste so fucking good. What he would do to have your wetness all over his lips and dribbling down his chin. Your legs shaking as he'd draw orgasm after orgasm out of you.

"Y-yes. Fuck!" Your name spilt off his tongue as he cummed all over his torso his dick laying against his stomach slowly softening. "This girl is gonna be the fucking death of me." He was always painfully hard, always horny. Just seeing you had his dick standing up.

Unbeknownst to you Tom liked you back in school. But you were a good girl, too good. He didn't want to be the one to soil you or ruin your innocence. He knew you liked him and yet did everything to avoid you. Got himself involved with all your friends and specifically not you. Stopped hanging around your house and stopped walking you home from school.

But now? Now you were back, and single. And Tom will be damned if he lets you slip out of his fingers this time.

"You can't run forever"

A/N: This was just something I wrote while in the library when I should be doing my University Essay 😀 😭

Let me know if I missed any other warnings. I def feel like I did.

Taglist: @thought--bubble , @valeskafics

#ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan mitchell fanfic #best fanfic #tom bennet fanfic #tom bennet fanfiction #tom bennet x reader #tom bennett

[sitp-recs]

hi, can you by any chance recommend any drarry fics where they're both professors?

Absolutely, anon! I hope you enjoy:

Professor Potter and his Magical Menagerie by @dracogotgame (T, 7.5k)

Harry Potter descends on Hogwarts with a horde of magical beasts. Professor Malfoy is not amused.

More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

Homecoming by November Snowflake (E, 27k)

Harry thinks spending two weeks as a guest lecturer at Hogwarts will offer the perfect chance to get away from his troubles. Then he meets his assigned faculty guide: Potions Master Draco Malfoy.

Phoenix in the Fire by @lqtraintracks (E, 28k)

Harry never expected to have a hot summer fling with Draco Malfoy when he agreed to mind the castle with him. He also never expected that it would all have to end on August thirty-first. What happens when casual sex with Harry’s ex-enemy turns not casual after all? And how the hell is he going to stop Draco from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by Femme and noeon (E, 39k)

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms.

Of Roses and Dragonfire by xErised (E, 53k)

Years after That Kiss, Potter (and his new pet snake) appears again, this time as Hogwarts's Quidditch and Muggle Games instructor (what are Muggle Games anyway? Is this why Potter is swimming in the Great Lake wearing such a tiny pair of pants?), disrupting Draco's peaceful life as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

A Lick and a Promise by @tackytigerfic (E, 55k)

Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts! When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help. Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover—as DADA Professor, naturally. He’s going to need the help of the Ministry’s foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he’s not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea.

Finely Drawn Lines by @the-sinking-ship (E, 61k)

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

Lessons in Humility by playout (E, 86k)

After the dissolution of his marriage and a good bit of soul-searching, Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new Defense teacher. Go figure, it happens to be the same year Draco takes over the role of Potions Master. Neither man is happy about this turn of events. Will they be able to set aside their differences and learn a thing or two about trust and humility on the way?

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #hogwarts professors

[jaennwrites]

Little things | Captain John Price x f!reader

feels like I'm the only person obsessed with this man, so I'm doing a service to all the Captain Price lovers fr.

summary: an eventful morning with Price :) cw: established relationship, smut, size kink (kinda), unprotected sex, praise, slight violence, aftercare, L-bombs (i think that's all of them or at least the major ones) word count: 2,615

ofc reblogs and comments much appreciated :)

You woke up to the sun gently warming your face although causing major obstruction to your vision. Lazily using your arm to shield your eyes from the sun but it only helped so much so you opted to just turn away, only to be reminded of the man you were sharing a bed with.

John Price…your captain.

You couldn’t specifically remember the first time you both slept together but the pattern eagerly ensued almost every time you both got the chance. 

It was indeed a privilege to be able to see the captain so relaxed, you seemed to always wake up before him so you would always have the chance to examine his face and it was as if you always found something new. 

Today was the prominent stubble growth, typically Price had always made an effort to shave his uniquely styled beard that you had a crazy infatuation with, but he has been really busy recently. Last night was the first time in 3 weeks that you guys had the chance to sleep together, you will admit that he made sure you knew that he was sorry.

You halted all movements as John stirred in his sleep but he soon calmed down and was quietly sleeping again. You noticed he always slept on his back as well, maybe that's why his face was so perfect.

You contemplated the risky move you were going to take but took it not caring if John awoke. You carefully pulled the blanket off of him, stopping a few times so as to not wake him. Soon enough his entire bare torso was visible allowing you to view one of your favorite things about John.

His scars.

Your favorite being a medium slash on his right arm that he got on a mission with you. You two had been running away after being overwhelmed by a cartel you can’t bother to remember the name of and he had found a fence that led to an abandoned part of the town. You urged him to go first but he firmly denied, he pulled the fence open and pushed you through first, but that’s not how he got the scar.

There were multiple enemies following behind you two and you hadn’t thought that they would be able to catch up in time but they did, but instead of Price allowing you to help him fight, he zip tied the fence closed knowing you had lost your knife in an earlier fight. 

He pushed you away and demanded you run towards an abandoned house, promising that he would meet you there. You ran hesitantly at his request and of course he met back up with you, rewarding you with a kiss on the top of your head but also with the scar that you’ve grown to love. 

“You’re a creep” A deep accented voice spoke ripping you from your silent trip down memory lane 

“No” You poorly defended resting your head on his chest as you looked up at him 

“Oh?” He hummed looking down at you 

“Oh” You repeated in an answering tone 

“I could’ve sworn I fell asleep with the blanket over my chest” He teased 

“Bad memory” You smiled 

The way John looked at you was intoxicating but this morning the look was different, it seemed somewhat sad in your opinion.

“I don’t like that look” You joked wrapping your legs with his so you could be closer 

“What look?” He questioned closing his eyes 

“Like a high school boy about to break up with his girlfriend before they start college” You joked 

“Secondary school” John teased 

You rolled your eyes playfully before sighing knowing that Price would never tell what was so clearly bothering him, you were just hoping it wasn’t you. You went to get up from his bed but his arms stayed tightly wrapped around you.

“Am I not allowed to leave?” You teased 

“Last night was the first time in weeks that you slept in my bed…” “You’re not getting away so quickly” He spoke with his eyes still closed 

You let out another sigh before turning your attention to the resting man, hell if he wasn’t going to let you go, you might as well keep “creeping”.

You stared at his closed eyes trying to remember the vibrant blue that continued to surpass your memories every time he opened his eyes. If you were an idiot you would admit that you were practically in love with the man, oftentimes you found yourself wishing he’d randomly come up to you and say that he loved you too. 

“What?” John questioned sweetly as one of his eyes peeled open to meet yours

“I’m not even doing anything” You defended with a small laugh 

You playfully huffed making another attempt to escape Price’s arms but once again his hold remained tight. He pulled you on top of him before placing a soft kiss on your lips giving you a smile after.

“Can you stop being so eager to get away from me?”  “Breaking my heart” He joked 

“Let me get on you then” You teased sitting up

“That sounds nice” John spoke as a smirk creeped onto his face 

His hands trailed from your hips slowly, simultaneously pulling off his oversized shirt you wore. You breathed in deeply at the feeling over cold air on your now bare torso.

John was a major “boob” man, the infatuation he had with your breast could entertain you for centuries. You couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face as you watched his large hands go to your chest like magnets. 

You let out a sigh of contempt as you relaxed into the feeling of his rough hands massaging your chest. He used a hand to guide you down before happily taking turns sucking your nipples and leaving hickies on the soft skin of your breast. 

John always opted for hickies on your chest or just about anywhere that wasn’t visible, he wanted you to remember him but professionalism still needed to be maintained, he was still your captain.

“You’re obsessed” You teased prying his mouth off of your chest 

“You have perfect tis, what can I say” He defended moving his kisses to your mouth once again 

Your hands cupped his face with a slight smile forming as you felt all his facial hair. Your hips slowly grinded on his; filled with excitement for what was inevitably about to come.

“Fucking hell (british ppl talk tee hee)” John groaned placing his large hands on your rocking hips

“Captain” You teased sitting up knowing John went crazy for your little “performances” 

You smiled at your success to get the Brit so riled up as he wrapped an arm around your waist before flipping you over so that he was now hovering over you.

“I hate when you tease me” He defended 

“Liar” You hummed 

Price often had a funny habit of dropping most of his weight on top of you, whether you were just joking with each other in bed or he was ramming into you, he loved doing it and to be honest you didn’t really mind.

“Fuck you” You joked hoarsely as he dropped his body weight onto you 

He smiled propping himself up, freeing you of his weight, but he just stared down at you, once again with that somber look you noted before.

“What is it?” You asked searching his eyes as if to find an answer 

“I love you” John spoke 

He loves you.

“What?” You asked in disbelief but only for the best reasons

Captain John Price…loved you, you knew he cared about more than he’d ever admit, but this reserved man who always pushed you forward first, always questioned your comfortability, praised you ability…of course he loved you.

“I don’t want to scare you off” “I love you, and I want you to know that I care for you, all that sappy stuff” He joked placing a gentle kiss on your lips 

“I love you too John” You smiled

Price smiled down at you before kissing you again, you felt his hand descend under the blanket you two laid under, he pushed your legs open before fitting himself into the space he had made. A soft moan escaped your mouth as you felt his hard bulge prod at your exposed wet slit.

“Tell me” “Tell me you want it” He teased covering your neck with wet kisses 

“I want you” “Please” You begged shamelessly 

Price placed a kiss on your lips before freeing his leaking erection from his boxers. He looked at you amusingly as his large tip prodded your entrance. 

He was big all around, in every aspect of the word, whether it was his height, his general build, or wickedly enough, his dick. 

“Ready?” He asked covering his tip in your wetness

You nodded eagerly which made him laugh a bit but soon enough your eyes were fluttering closed as Price pressed into you with a deep groan. You placed one hand on the side of his face as you kissed him to remedy the fiery sensation of him stretching you out. 

“I love you” You moaned into his mouth 

Price smiled down at you taking in the sight of you, the marks on your tits, the way they bounced which each of his thrusts, the way your free hand gripped the bed sheets, everything about you was arousing, even when he wasn’t pounding into you.

The burning hunger that overtook his body when he saw you simply holster your gun, when you put on a mask, when you waked, hell even when you spoke to him. Everything about you always made him want to tear your clothes off and sink his dick into you.

Your legs involuntarily closed as John sat up making his thrust harder and faster, this was a common occurrence and every time your body began to tap out, he took it as a challenge to push you over the edge of stimulation.

“Open them”  “Or I’ll make it worse” He teased stopping his motion

“Just…” You began but just like every other time you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t want a break, you didn’t want him to stop…you just didn’t know 

“You know the safeword” John spoke placing his hands on your knees that were still shut 

When you and Price first hooked up, you saw the above average size of him which resulted in the agreement of a safeword and you were sure of the decision after having sex with him. You both decided on just saying his call sign ‘Bravo Six”, there was already a serious connotation attached to the words so it made sense to use it for a serious situation.

You obliged and opened your legs with instant regret as you saw the familiar smirk of a man who was about to drop half his weight on you.

“Stop” You warned attempting to be serious but the smile creeping up on your face assured Price that you were not.

His pace began again and you paid no attention to the shenanigans that Price planned on pulling, because you loved when he fucked you like this. When his face was so close to yours, his forehead resting on yours, being able to feel the vibrations of his groans on your face.

“Fuck” You moaned as Price’s heavy body pressed down onto you 

“I love you” “You’re mine” “I’ll fucking kill armies for you” He groaned before placing a rough kiss on your parted lips 

John lifted up his body allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist as your body scoured for more of him which he was glad to give you. 

You could feel the pit in your stomach building, it weirdly felt like a good stomach ache almost, you were close to cumming and John knew it. The way your breath got ragged as if your body was starting to panic, the way your legs were locking around Price’s torso, but his favorite thing was the eyes you gave him. The way they got low, the way you could barely keep them open, the faint dampness of your lashes from when your eyes watered when he first put his dick in you. 

“You wanna cum?” He teased 

“Yes” You moaned shamelessly

Price slowed his pace but his slow place was just as potent as his fast one, his thrust became deep and taunting forcing loud moans out of you everytime he sunk himself back into you. 

“Oh my god” You moaned loudly as your orgasm overtook you 

“That’s my girl” He praised clearly amused by your unfolding

It was a domino effect when you came and one thing John made sure was that you came before him because if you didn’t then he couldn’t. He loved the way you began to tremble under the pleasure, the sensitivity of each part of you, that’s what he looked forward to with each of your “encounters”. 

Your body shivered as Price peppered kisses on your neck and collarbones and picked up his pace once again, other than your hand that was gripping his, your body was practically just spasms now as his tip kissed your cervix with each hard, fast, deep thrust. 

“Is my beautiful girl, all cock drunk” He teased 

John began to focus on achieving his orgasm seeing that if he didn’t stop now you wouldn’t be able to get up for the day. He let go of your hand to your dismay, he used his now free hand to prop up your hips as he got rougher than you ever could imagine. 

“Please” You moaned loudly not even sure of what you were begging for 

“I love you so much” He groaned loudly pressing so deep into you that his pelvis smacked your clit

Price watched amusingly as some of his cum seeped out the sides of the “seal” you both created. He finally pulled out and made his way to the bathroom to run you a bath. John took full responsibility for his rough demeanor during sex and so he always made sure to make up for it after. 

You groaned at the soreness you felt as you sat yourself up; you loved sex with John but my god did it take a toll on your body after. 

“Stop trying to be independent” He playfully scolded before picking you up bridal style

He placed you in the tub before getting in behind you; he placed small kisses on your now wet shoulder. You laid your head back onto Price’s chest allowing him to wrap his arms around you peppering kisses on the top of your head.

“Why do you always kiss the top of my head?” You asked examining his hands 

“Cause I like to” He defended with a smile you could hear in his voice 

“Seriously” You spoke playfully slapping his knee

“I like the smell of your hair”  “And I love you” “That’s how I show it” He shrugged 

You craned your head back smiling at your upside down view of the handsome British man, you reflected on all the times even before your first hookup that Price had his face buried in the top of your head.

He always fixed any headgear you had on, always taking something out of your hair, and  patting down your flyaways. You sat yourself up turning your body to face him because it finally hit you. 

Captain John Price had been in love with you long before you two even had sex.

“I love you” You smiled

#call of duty #john price #captain john price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #i crave this man like a drug addict #smut #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #captain john price x reader

[shiorimakibawrites]

Cat Man Do - Part I (Daredevil Fan Fic)

This started out as a one-shot but has just kept growing. It will be at least two parts long now.

Cat Man Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Secondary Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 9600 Summary: Matt Murdock is having a bad night. He has been turned into a cat with a blizzard is coming in. Lucky for him, you came walking by. And you love cats. Warnings: Animal transformation, idiots in love, unresolved sexual tension, spicy dream (voyeurism kink, office sex, fingering, dirty talk), referenced sexual acts (female receiving oral sex, , fingering, female masturbation, hand-job, PIV sex, office sex) General Masterlist Matt Murdock Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @bellaxgiornata, @flynnethenerd Also posted on AO3

Part 1

Nothing about the situation seemed all that unusual. Man putting his hands where they were very much not wanted. Victim’s tearful pleading only being met with a slap and a harshly whispered demand to shut up. Sour odor of fear. Coopery scent of blood through it didn’t smell like human blood. Herbs, both familiar ones used in cooking but a few that he didn’t recognize. The only peculiarity was the scent of ozone clinging to the man.

Matt yanked the man away from his victim who, rather sensibly, took the opportunity to flee. At first, he thought that the fight would be short. Very short. The man obviously didn’t know how to fight. He heard the distinctive cracking of bone, then the man desperately shouted something. The smell of ozone increased and suddenly there was . . . something between him and the man. Something he didn’t recognized – hitting it felt like the oddest combination of a pillow, cling film and static electricity. Whatever it was softened his punches to the point that he doubted the man was even feeling them.

Before he could puzzle that mystery out, the man began to speak again. Matt didn’t recognize the language but he recognized the cadence of a chant, the anticipatory menace. The sharp scent of ozone began to rise again. Pressure not unlike the air right before a lightning strike raised the hair on his body. Instinct screamed danger, threat. He couldn’t say why but he just knew that he couldn’t let this man finish whatever he was saying . . .

The man’s inexperience with fighting came back to bit him. Whatever he was doing to protect his torso, it didn’t extend down to his legs. Matt dropped down to use a low kick to sweep his legs out from under him. The follow-up throw kick to his head showed that he was also too stupid to protect his head. The man hit the ground hard and didn’t move.

Matt listened, then nodded to himself. Unconscious. Good. He opened a pouch on his belt and removed some zip ties. He secured the man, then send off a quick call to 911. He scaled the fire escape of the closest building and started putting some distance between himself and those approaching sirens.

He decided to call it a night. It was after one in the morning. He had work tomorrow. Besides there had been very little crime tonight. Probably too cold. And a big snowstorm had been predicted. When they closed up the office, Foggy said sky was completely covered with heavy dark clouds that made the twilight almost as dark as nighttime. Which matched with the shifts in pressure that he associated with oncoming storms. The smell of snow had been building all night. It hadn’t started snowing yet but it would any minute now.

But before he turned in, he would do a loop to make sure his people were safe and sound. One by one, he checked off the list. Maggie and the others at St. Agnes, Brett, Foggy and Marci, Jessica, and Karen. All good. Last but certainly not least was you, the assistant that he and Foggy had hired so Karen could concentrate on law school, by the virtue that your apartment being rather close to his own.

Matt had almost forgotten about the oddities of his last encounter when he started feeling . . . off. Lightheaded, dizzy, like he had gotten clocked in the head without his helmet on. Except he hadn’t, not tonight. Or other time recently. At first the feeling was mild, easily shrugged off. But soon it could no longer be ignored. When his world on fire dangerously flickered and he misjudged the distance between two buildings, he decided that maybe walking on the ground would be safer.

It was in the sense that he was no longer at risk of falling six or more stories. But he was so dizzy, it felt like the ground was swaying under his feet. It was nauseating. Worse, his world on fire was flickering dangerously. It was hard to tell where he was, where the buildings were, where the sidewalk ended . . . He took out his billy clubs, extended and snapped them together. It was too short to really substitute for his cane but it would do until he could get somewhere safer.

It took far longer than he was comfortable with but he managed to orient himself. He knew where he is. It was the faint odor of old smoke that helped clue him in. That building that was torched this summer. Not far from his apartment but another wave of dizziness warned him that he wouldn’t make it that far. But your apartment was very close. There was only one building between his location and your building. He would probably make it before he passed out.

This was not at all how he wanted to tell you about Daredevil but there was nothing he could do about that.

Placing his hand on the burnt building to help keep him oriented, he walked toward. He had just reached the corner when a new sensation arose. Sudden, burning pain. He bit down on his lip, trying not to scream. He collapsed, letting out a scream as he felt his bones start to bent and twist like he was doll being pulled apart by an angry child. Then everything went still and silent . . .

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You were walking home. It was later than you preferred to be out. Much later. Especially when you had to work the next day. But your best friend’s boyfriend had broken up with her. Via Twitter. So she needed someone to bring over the ice cream and the booze. So you ignored the weather reports of the big snowstorm and headed out. First to the store, then to her place.

You held her while she cried. You listened and nodded while she vented and swore off men. You both ate way too much ice cream. You didn’t ended up drinking much. Mostly because you’d rather not be hangover at work. But also because the store hadn’t much selection in the booze department – apparently the delivery truck hadn’t shown up. So said booze was limited to one six-pack of wine coolers and a good-sized bottle of peppermint schnapps.

Which wasn’t ideal. Especially since your bestie didn’t really like peppermint schnapps. Said it always tasted too much like mouthwash for her. Which was fair. But after downing three of the wine coolers to your one, she decided to give the schnapps another chance . . . it might be the wine coolers and the wine she finished earlier talking but she said it wasn’t half bad.

You had a little but found peppermint too strong of a flavor all on its own. The mint-chocolate chip ice cream was more your speed.

You loved your bestie but you were glad that she had finally fallen asleep. She had offered to let you stay at her place. But she snoozed like a chainsaw when she was drunk. Also you had tried sleeping on that couch before. It had been uncomfortable. There was a broken something or other in the middle that had poked you in the kidneys all night. So you appreciated the offer but no thank you.

You were walking as fast as you could. Which wasn’t very fast. The sidewalk was rather precarious right now. It had snowed last week. Almost all of the snow had turned into gray slush but it was cold enough that several patches had frozen into near-invisible puddles. Puddles that were very slick.

You had slipped and fallen several times this week. You had started carrying clean, dry clothes in your work bag so you didn’t have to sit in wet clothes all day. Your poor butt had more than one bruise. It would have more bruises but if your boss was nearby when you slipped, he caught you.

Your very hot boss Matt. Not that your other boss, Foggy, wasn’t pretty. He was. Just in a totally different way. But the big factor was that Foggy was engaged, to someone he very obviously loved dearly. You weren’t that kind of girl. But Matt was single. Therefore you were free to admire his good looks and daydream about him all you wanted.

Which you did. Often. Maybe too much. You were pretty sure, with the exception of Matt himself, that everyone who frequented the office had caught you checking out his ass. It wasn’t your fault. He had the best looking ass in the tri-state area. Every suit he wore flattered that ass. He also, quite unfairly, bought shirts that were a size too small. The buttons strained to contain those big muscles . . .

‘Stop it,’ you scolded yourself. Walking at one in the morning was not the time to start daydreaming about your boss and speculating that he could hold you up against the wall while he . . .

You shook your head, feeling yourself flush despite the cold pinching your cheeks. You needed to keep your mind on the here and now, eyes and ears alert for any signs of trouble. You might be only a short distance from home. This might be Hell’s Kitchen where the Devil prowled nighttime streets for nefarious characters but . . . that didn’t mean you should act recklessly. Something could still happen. And while being saved by Daredevil sounded very exciting, it also sounded really scary.

A cry pierced the night air. It sent your heart racing, hands gripping the strap of your backpack while your eyes frantically darted around trying to locate the source of the cry. You couldn’t see anything. The street was eerily deserted for Manhattan, even for this time of night. Maybe it was too cold. The whistling wind was biting, even in your thick winter coat. Even when the air was still, it was beyond frigid. If it was above freezing, you’d eat your hat. Without mustard.

You kept looking but it was so dark. There had been some kind of problem with the streetlights on your block this week. The news said something about a short. You hadn’t really been listening. But the end result was that at least half the streetlights weren’t working. The building that had gutted by a fire was black and silent, looming over the street like giant gargoyle. Many of the windows in the surrounding buildings were dark. The few that were lit did very little to illuminate the darkness.

Then you heard it again. But this time you recognized the noise. It was cat making that distressed yowl. And it sounded like it was coming from the side of that burned building. While the building gave you all of the creeps, you loved animals. Better than you liked most people. You couldn’t just leave it here. Out here in the freezing cold with a blizzard on the way at best. Hurt or trapped at worst.

But to find that poor animal, you needed more light.

You reached into your bag and took out your phone. Dead. The battery was so low that the phone didn’t even try to turn on. You had forgotten to charge it. Again. What were you going to do . . . then you remembered the little flashlight on your key-chain. Something your mom had gotten you when she learn you were moving to big, scary New York City. It was a nice gesture but the cheap thing wasn’t very bright. But some light was better than no light. You pulled your keys out of your pocket and gripped the flashlight in your hand. With a soft click, it turned on.

As expected, it didn’t do much to pierce the gloom. But you walked toward the building anyway. The building looked even creepier and emptier up close. The crack-crunch of your boots on the thin sheets of ice and salt felt inordinately loud to you. Which only made your heart beat faster. You were starting to feel like you were in a horror movie. One of the dumb girls who ignores all the obvious signs of danger and gets chopped into pieces with an ax or something. Or one of the those people in the cold opening in an episode of Supernatural, going into creepy building blithely unaware that they just made themselves dinner . . .

Something crashed to the ground with a loud metal clang. You shrieked, wildly swinging around your flashlight. What . . . then you saw it. A rat messing with a can below a window with a row of similar cans on the still . . . You squinted, cans of food. The kind that wasn’t particularly tasty but cheap and filling. Both of which was more important than flavor if you didn’t have much money. And infinitely better than no food at all.

“It’s just a rat,” you told yourself. “Calm down.”

As if in answer, the cat meowed again. It sounded close. You looked around . . . garbage bags that had been torn open and their contents scattered, piled up frozen slush, a dumpster. Wait, there was a flicker of movement on the other side of the dumpster. Giving a silent prayer that it wasn’t another rat (or something worse), you walked over. As you got closer, your nose wrinkled. The smell wasn’t nearly as ripe as it would be during the summer but it was by no means a pleasant aroma.

By your efforts were rewarded. On the other side and slightly behind the dumpster was a cat. You crouched down, not wanting to loom over the animal and scare it. It didn’t look very frightened right now – it wasn’t puffed up, it’s ears were perked up, or hissing at you. But you’d like to keep it that way. In your experience, a scared cat was a biting cat.

You looked over the cat as best you could. It didn’t look hurt. Just cold and a little wet. Probably wouldn’t need a vet tonight. Beautiful cat, it looked a lot like a Havana Brown with a thick-looking coat of brown fur and that muscular little body. Smaller ears through you were used to seeing. All the Havanas you had seen had those adorably large ears like a Siamese.

The cat remained calm during this inspection, just sitting on something leathery and dark red lying on the ground.

“Hello there,” you said, your voice soft and low. Animals might not understand words but they did understand tone. You carefully extended your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to scratch me.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to touch it. You ran your hands over the cat. It didn’t react like your searching hands had found anything tender. Still you frowned.

This cat looked cared for. Had obviously been socialized from a young age. Healthy coat and well-fed all added up to beloved pet. If it . . . he, you corrected after another look, was a stray, he hadn’t been one for very long.

“Did you get lost?” you asked the cat. “Or did someone abandon you out here in the cold?”

Despite your best efforts to avoid, you couldn’t keep the anger out of your voice at that second possibility. Nights this cold could easily be fatal, even more so with that blizzard rolling in. especially for a pet that was used to warm shelter during harsh weather. You just couldn’t understand the sheer cruelty of doing something like that. If someone didn’t want a cat anymore, fine. There were far more humane options than abandoning them to die in the winter streets.

Well lost or abandoned, you weren’t leaving this little beauty out here to freeze. “It’s awfully cold out here, kitty cat. Did you want to come home with me? At least for the night?”

Of course, your only answer was more meows. But they sounded positive so you decided to take them as a yes. You didn’t have a carrier with you. But your backpack would work as substitute. You opened up your coat just enough to remove your scarf which you piled into the bottom. Your previous fur babies liked something soft to snuggle into when transported like this. It would get your scarf dirty but it was washable.

But when you placed the cat in the backpack and tried to zip it, the cat jumped out. It didn’t run away. Just went over and sat on the red thing. After this happened two more times, you let out an exasperated sigh. Looking down at the cat, looking up at you from its apparently beloved red thing. Maybe you should purrito him . . . then you did a double-take. Blinked. Rubbed your eyes. But it didn’t change.

You had only ever seen it in grainy photos on the news or in the papers. But you still recognized it. The red leather armor of Daredevil. You supposed it could be a replica. Every hero in this city had fans who did cosplay. Daredevil was no different. But if this was a costume, someone had spent a lot of time and money making it.

Your earlier frown returned. No fan who had gone to all that effort would leave this by a dumpster to get ruined. And if it wasn’t a replica but the real thing . . . you couldn’t think of why Daredevil would leave his suit by a dumpster either. Like the costume, leaving it outside in this wet weather could severely damage it.

“Curious and curiousier,” you murmured to yourself. A look uncovered the horned helmet, gloves, and armed boots nearby. Not the sticks, however. There was a holster on leg where they ought to be. You cast your flashlight around and spied something red laying a short distant away. You went there and discovered the missing sticks.

Or rather a staff since it seemed to be be only one. It looked rather long for that thigh holster and you could have sworn there was supposed to be two . . . but maybe you were wrong. You never actually seen him. Just pictures. And Daredevil didn’t exactly stand still in excellent lighting to be photographed with a high-quality camera.

You picked it up and frowned. The staff seemed rather heavy. It wasn’t so heavy that you couldn’t swing it around easily but it was weighty. A person could do some real damage with this. It was not a prop. It was a real weapon.

“Holy shit,” you said, staring at the staff with more than a little awe. Because as crazy as it sounded, you were starting to think this was really Daredevil’s staff and that was really his suit back there. But you had little time to bask in that wonder. Because a big flake of snow landed on the stick. Followed by another and another. You looked up.

It had started snowing. You hurried back over to the suit, carrying the staff. You pulled your scarf out of your backpack, looping it around your neck for the moment. You picked up the suit and started getting into your pack. Assuming he didn’t leave it here in purpose, Daredevil was going to want this back and probably would appreciate not having it damaged by the wet weather.

How you were going to get to him was a problem for Future You.

Also it seemed like the cat wasn’t coming without the suit. Why he was so obsessed with it was another mystery for Future You to untangle. When you weren’t outside in a blizzard. You managed to fit most of it into your pack, which was a little tricky since you couldn’t put down the flashlight but you managed. You zipped it closed, glad that you had grabbed your hiking pack earlier. You’d never be able to fit this much of the suit in your regular pack. The staff didn’t fit. You’d have to carry it. Hopefully you wouldn’t run into anyone before reaching your apartment.

You propped the stick against the side of the dumpster before swing the pack onto your shoulders. You left the hip belt undone. Daredevil’s suit wasn’t anywhere near as heavy as the full pack for a long hike.

“Okay, Trouble,” you said, reaching for the cat. “Let’s go.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to pick him up and place him against your chest. His front paws rested on your shoulder while you supported his body with your arm. The hand was still holding your key-chain flashlight. Which would make holding onto him if he got squirmy difficult. You gave him a stern look. “No jumping out of my arms or being a wiggle worm, Trouble. Or I will purrito you with my scarf.”

He meowed again. It sounded like an objection.

“Don’t meow me, mister. You are clearly trouble, trouble, trouble,” you said, almost singing those last words. You blamed your best friend. I Knew You Were Trouble was one of her favorite songs. Therefore you had heard it several times tonight and the lyrics were kinda stuck in your head.

The cat made a grumpy noise but stayed where he was and didn’t scratch. So you just laughed as you collected the staff and headed toward home.

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Carried in your arms, Matt suppressed an irritated huff. He wasn’t upset with you. He was upset about the situation.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had been turned into cat. He had an idea. That scumbag he left knocked out and left tied up for the police. Even if the only explanation for that thing that shielded the man from his blows and turning him into a cat was magic. Danny had sworn up and down that magic was real. His heart had been steady as drum but Matt hadn’t entirely believed him.

Or rather he didn’t want to believe him. People developing random powers – sometimes from exposure to chemicals or radiation – and aliens was enough weirdness for one planet. Earth didn’t need magic to be real too.

But Matt tried not ignore reality when it smacked him in the face. Someone had spoke some words and now he was cat. Magic was real. He would accept that and hope that other stuff straight out of a fantasy or horror novels weren’t also real. The last thing he needed running around his city was vampires. Or dinosaurs. Or something equally ridiculous.

He also had no idea how he was going to get himself back to being a human. His only working theory was that maybe, just maybe, Danny could do something. Or would know someone who could do something about it. It was long shot but he was the only one that Matt knew who knew anything about magic.

Assuming he could get in contact with Danny in the first place. Rather big assumption there. Until and unless he could, his only other option was wait and see if the spell wore off on its own. Matt didn’t like this plan. For one, he had absolutely no idea if the spell would wear off at all. Or if does, how long that would take.

A few hours would be ideal but when was Matt ever that lucky?

No, it was much more likely that he would be stuck like this for days. If not longer. Foggy was going to worry. And when he couldn’t find or contact Matt, he was going to get scared. And when he checked Matt’s apartment and found the suit gone along with Matt, he was going to assume the worst.

He hated the thought of putting Foggy through that. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t turn himself back. He couldn’t talk. These paws couldn’t hold a paw. He might be able to type but unless you had a braille keyboard or a refreshable braille display, he couldn’t tell what keys he was pushing. Randomly hitting keys was unlikely to produce a coherent message that would clue you into the fact he wasn’t a cat.

The only semi-positive he could find about this situation was that you had been walking near enough to the dumpster he had collapsed behind to hear his meowing. Through Matt couldn’t say he was thrilled that you were out this late. It was dangerous. Granted, most criminals had seemingly opted not to be out in the freezing cold but not all.

His heart had lodged in his throat when you had shrieked. His mind racing how he had missed someone beside you being outside and nearby. What was he going to do, he couldn’t protect you like this . . .

It was immense relief to discover it was just a rat.

But despite his desire to get yourself somewhere warmer and safer, he was unwilling to leave his suit behind. One person impersonating him and slaughtering innocent people was already one too many for his tastes.

Furthermore replacing it would be a headache. Jacobson wouldn’t be happy to learn the suit he had designed and made for Matt had been left behind a dumpster. Which was fair. He wouldn’t like someone treating his work in such a chevalier matter either. He might fix or replace it but in the meantime, Matt would be back to the black suit.

Which tended to make Claire and Foggy unhappy. They preferred he fight crime wearing something more protective. Which Matt couldn’t really argue with. Nor that the red suit was warmer than the black. Which was nice this time of year but not so nice in August.

He had felt a little silly hopping in and out of your backpack like that but it accomplished his goal. The suit hadn’t been left behind.

You had recognized the suit, of course. And seemed to realize that it was the real thing, not one of the costumes his fans made. Well, Foggy claimed he had fans who dressed up like him for something called Super Con. He hadn’t been lying but . . . why? Didn’t people find him scary? Too violent? Why not someone nicer? Like Spider-Man? Sure, he was snarky and a smartass kid but otherwise he oozed friendliness . . .

Warm air hitting his fur startled him but not as much as realizing that he was coated in snow. He hadn’t even noticed. Had he really been that much in his head? Apparently.

“No jumping down yet, Trouble,” you said to him, the arm holding him shifting a little. “We’re not quite home yet. I will still purrito you.”

Purrito? That was second time you had said that word. He didn’t know what it meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

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Closing and locking your door behind you was a relief. Besides the fact that you were carrying was likely the real Daredevil suit (which was probably illegal in some fashion), the snow was really coming down. Even the distance between the dumpster and your building was very short, it was getting close to whiteout conditions by the time you arrived.

You propped the staff against the wall before kneeling down to let the cat go. He didn’t go far. Curious. Cats often hide when in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people. Despite the fact he left you carry him without any trouble, you still kinda expected the cat to make a beeline for under your couch. Or your bed. But nope, just sat at the edge of entrance way, in a growing puddle of melting snow.

You quickly took off your pack and winter gear. The pack, the coat, and gloves were both waterproof so they were more or less fine. But your scarf and hat were just as wet as the cat. You’d have to hang them up in the bathroom to drip dry. Later. First, you needed to get the cat dry. Then get both of you warm.

After taking off your boots, you went and grabbed a towel from the stack still sitting on the coffee table. You had been in the middle of putting away your laundry – something along with folding it that you often procrastinated – when your best friend had called crying. You checked but the cat still hadn’t moved from his spot. You walked over to him and knelt down.

“Let’s get you dry,” you said and started towel-drying him. He was remarkably tolerate of this process. Marshmallow (may she rest in peace) would have been singing you the song of her people. Despite the fact, as a Persian, she had been groomed literally her entire life. Pumpkin or Oreo (may they rest in peace) would have tried to fight with the towel.

You had long ago developed the habit of talking to your cats. It made your apartment feel less lonely. So you didn’t think anything of telling him how much better behaved he was compared to those three of your previous fur babies.

“Trying to prove you aren’t trouble, trouble, trouble?” you asked. The cat meowed as if in answer. You laughed and checked on his coat. It was as dry as you could get it without using a blow dryer. But with the exception of Marshmallow, you had yet to meet a cat who didn’t try to run away from the thing making the scary, painfully loud noise.

And that was because Marshmallow couldn’t hear the scary noise. To her, it just warm air blowing on her which she had seemed to find wonderful.

Despite all that drama, you missed Marshmallow, Pumpkin and Oreo. Maybe it was time for new furry friend. Maybe this one, you thought, petting the cat’s fur. It was soft as velvet. In the better light of your apartment, you could see the reddish tones to the over dark brown color.

“If you don’t already have a home,” you said, thinking out loud. “Maybe I should call you Cinnamon. It matches with the color of your coat. But Trouble is so just perfect . . .”

The newly dubbed Trouble meowed. You laughed again. You couldn’t help it. He sounded so grumpy.

After another moment of consideration, you decided against the blow dryer. Thanks to the thickness of his coat, he hadn’t gotten wet down to the skin. He probably wouldn’t get matted if you let him air dry for the rest.

You mopped up the puddle on the floor with the same towel, then hung it up in the bathroom along with your hat and scarf. You walked deeper into the apartment, into your bedroom. There you retrieved your heating pad, the comforter from your bed, and one of the extra blankets from the top of the closet. It was time for part two – getting warmed up.

You carried the load out to the living room. The comforter was sat on one cushion but you made a little nest with the heating pad and blanket on the adjoining seat. Trouble seemed pretty comfortable being close to you but you couldn’t assume that he was a lap cat. You turned on the pad and went back to him

He still hadn’t moved very away from the entrance. Peculiar. You’d think a cat this confident would have started exploring. Cats are curious. Maybe he was more nervous than you thought. Through you’d think a nervous cat would be hiding somewhere. But Trouble wasn’t hiding and he didn’t run away from you. And you picked him up, his body wasn’t stiff. No tension in the muscles. He didn’t go limp like a Ragdoll but was still relaxed in your hands.

Hmmm . . . maybe his (previous) home was one where he regularly met strangers? Like he was a shop cat or something like that. Or his (previous) owner worked somewhere that allowed people to bring in their pets as long as they didn’t cause a disruption? Or traveled regularly like a show cat. He was pretty enough for a show cat. Any of those might explain why Trouble seemed so comfortable with a stranger in a strange place.

Or maybe he was just a people cat. Each cat was an individual after all.

You placed Trouble down in the nest. He didn’t immediately jump off. Which had been a possibility. Cats often didn’t like things that weren’t their idea. But this cat seemed willing to explore the nest instead of rejecting it outright. Giving everything a sniff, feeling the blanket under his paws. Not quite making biscuits but close.

Judging by the purring, Trouble seemed to be enjoying himself.

You would have loved to keep watching but you wanted something hot to drink. Normally you’d make coffee but it was already stupid late. Not the time to start drinking something with caffeine. So herbal tea it was. While the water heated, you remembered that you needed to charge your phone. But after that brief detour, you started shifting through your tin of herbal teas . . . what sounded good . . . you picked out the one calling itself Apple Spice.

You poured the water over the tea bag and enjoyed the rising aroma as the tea seeped. You couldn’t remember which spices were supposed to be in this tea. But it smelled like apple pie so you’d guess mostly cinnamon and nutmeg. Tasted more like apple cider than pie but you still enjoyed it. You carried your mug over the couch.

You sat the mug down on the coffee table for a moment so you could wrap yourself in the comforter and sit down. You pulled your legs up onto the couch under the comforter, shifting until you were sitting cross-legged. You leaned toward and grabbed the mug.

You had only taken a few sips before you felt paws on your leg. You looked down at Trouble. He was looking up at you beseechingly.

You smiled and lifted the edge of the comforter. “Come here, Trouble.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled onto your lap, circling a few times before settling down. The low purr only got louder when your hand couldn’t resist the urge to pet. And scratch him behind the ears and under the chin. Despite the name you had given him, Trouble really was such a sweetheart. How could anyone abandon him on the streets to die? You just couldn’t imagine it . . .

‘Maybe,’ you thought. ‘It wasn’t on purpose. Maybe something happened to his humans . . .’

You yawned. You still didn’t know how Daredevil tied into this abandoned (or lost) cat. It was possible that was just a coincidence. That both Trouble and the suit just happened to be in the same place. But maybe the suit smelled familiar to the cat . . . maybe this was Daredevil’s cat . . .

.

“What would Daredevil name a cat?” you murmured to yourself. “Lucy Fur? Holy Terror? The Lord of Felines? Hiss the Devil-Cat?

A soft meow jerked you back to alertness before you could spill tea on yourself. But if you were falling asleep sitting up, you should put that mug down. You had drunk most of it. It was fine. You sat down the mug, leaned your head against the back of the couch. You just needed to rest your eyes. In a few minutes you’d tidy up, start unraveling those mysteries . . .

Just a few minutes . . .

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Matt listened as you fell into a deep sleep and contemplated life’s little ironies. When he had pictured laying on your lap, this was not the scenario he had in mind. It had been more like using your lap as a pillow while your hands ran through his hair. Sometimes the fantasy was a lazy afternoon where you two were wearing comfortable clothes and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes the fantasy turned dirty. One where the only clothing you were wearing was a shirt and panties. And he was unable to resist being so close to your core. Kissing and touching until you were squirming and his nose was filled with the scent of your arousal. Then he’d slide off the couch, then peeled off those panties hiding his prize. He’d kneel between your spread thighs and . . .

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. It was never going to happen. Before, he would have had a chance. You were attracted to him. More over, he had once (unintentionally) overheard you telling your friends that you liked him. In more ways in one. One of those was the ‘I want him to fuck me on his desk’ way. Your words, not his. And Matt would be liar if he said he hadn’t thought about exactly the same thing. Imagined your soft skin under his hands and your pretty moans in his ear while he buried himself deep inside you . . .

‘Never going to happen,’ he reminded himself. Even through you had also made it clear in that talk with your friends that you always dreamed being with him like (again quoting) ‘one of those disgusting adorable couples who snuggle every chance they get and give each other forehead kisses.’

But in his experience, people either interested in Matt Murdock or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Not both. Never both. He didn’t expect you to be any different. Not once you knew that mild-mannered blind attorney Matt Murdock was Daredevil.

You were going to find out. You were too intelligent not to figure out that something was going on with your boss. You probably already had some questions. He knew you hadn’t missed those days when he had injuries that couldn’t be hidden by his day suit. Even when his injuries were completely hidden, you had noticed that he was moving wrong and asked if he was alright. So far you hadn’t questioned his excuses but he didn’t think you entirely believed them either.

Sooner or later, you weren’t going to placated by those (he was told rather flimsy) excuses. You’d want the truth. Perhaps you would draw your own conclusions about what was going on with him. Become worried about addiction or abuse. Perhaps you would confronted him about it – you were rather shy but concern for others seemed to bring out your courage.

This incident would drop all kinds of clues into your hands. Especially if you got the chance to inspect his suit more closely. He didn’t have his name sewn into the collar or anything as obvious as that. But his burner phone was in one of the pouches. Finding Foggy and Karen in the contacts was going to give you all kinds of questions.

He doubted you would make the leap that the cat you had rescued was Daredevil, rather than his pet cat or something. Which was understandable. If he was in your shoes, it certainly wouldn’t be his first theory. Or his second. He was living it and he was having difficulty believing it.

At least this time he had time to prepare for the upcoming conversation. Judging from past history, it was going to be unpleasant – yelling, tears, suspicions that he was more or less faking his disability. Followed by new distrust warring with previous affection. If he was lucky, enough of that affection would survive. And if that luck continued, you would accept his nature and agree to remain friends.

If he was unlucky . . .

And if he was very lucky, you’d break the pattern. You’d accept him for who he was, man and devil. The discovery of his darkness wouldn’t kill your attraction to him. You’d say yes when he asked you out, the first date of many . . .

Through Foggy claimed he was already dating you. Which no, he wasn’t. He would know if he had asked you out and you had agreed. And you would have kissed, at least, by now if you were dating. Foggy had rolled his eyes and muttered something along the lines of ‘Oh great, both of them are idiots.’

That aside . . . Matt knew he would never be that lucky. It was a beautiful dream. But that’s all it was. A dream. It was far more likely that he was going to be stuck as a cat for the rest of his life.

‘Through,’ he thought as he started to fall asleep. ‘Being your cat wouldn’t be so bad . . .’

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You let out a frustrated whine.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, his deep voice rich as honey. “You don’t want anyone to walk in and see you like this, do you?”

Like this meaning on your boss’s lap with your skirt hiked up around your waist, your legs splayed wide so anyone who walked in that door would get a good look at your panties. That wasn’t only thing they’d get an eyeful of. Your blouse was unbuttoned, the cups of your bra pushed down to expose your breasts. One of your boss’s large hands was fondling a breast, rolling the taut nipple between his fingers. His other hand was teasing your covered cunt, pressing far too gentle and fleeting touches to yourclit.

“Or is that exactly what you want? For someone to see you like this? Did you want everyone to know? That I’m touching you like this?”

You squirmed, feeling your face flush worse than it already was. The hand on your breast gave it one last squeeze before sliding down to grip your opposite hip.

“I think you do. You want someone to see how wet you are. For them to know how eager this pussy is for my cock.”

He pushed himself upward, a pale mimicryof thrusting you craved. But it did remind you of the hard, eager cock pressed tightly against your ass. It would be so easy. Just take off your underwear and let him get his pants off. Or at least enough of his pants off to free that cock. Your cunt clenched desperately. You didn’t care if he fucked you in this chair or on his desk. Just as long as he was inside you . . .

“Or even just my fingers.”

Fingers hooked around panties, pulled them away from your cunt. A single finger ran through your folds, coating itself in your slick. Tracing the entrance before the tip dipped inside. But rather than sinking deeper, it withdrew. Before you could protest, it dipped back in. Then back out. Again. And again. Always just the tip of his finger. Nothing more. You needed more. You tried to thrust up. But the muscular arm across your torso with its hand gripping your hip kept you pinned against him. All you could do was squirm . . .

“Matt,” you moaned, burying your burning face against his neck. “Please . . .”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You jolted upright. You were trying to get to your feet before what had woken you even registered. Unfortunately for your dignity, your comforter had gotten twisted around your legs so your attempt only resulted in you falling on the floor. More fortunate you managed to avoid smacking your head against the coffee table. As you tried to get yourself loose of your own comforter, you sleepily wondered why you were sleeping in the living room.

Then everything came flooding back. The visit . . . the cat . . . the suit . . . the dream . . . you felt your face flush. Then you realized what had woken you up. Your phone was ringing. As you got yourself to your feet, you muttered unkind things about the phone. It had shattered the dream just as it was getting really good. And the place between your legs throbbing with need. It was tempting to ignore your phone in favor of slipping your hand inside your underwear . . .

But in the end, responsibility won and you got your phone. It had gone to voice mail before you got to it. You unlocked it and checked the phone ID. Foggy. Why would Foggy be calling you . . . then the time registered.

Your heart almost stopped. The office had opened two hours ago. You were late! Your fingers frantically hit the call back, praying that you hadn’t just gotten fired. You needed this job . . .

Foggy’s cheerful hello was a promising start.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” you started before Foggy interrupted you.

“No, you aren’t. The office is closed today.”

“Huh?” You said, trying to remember Foggy or Matt saying anything about that yesterday. You couldn’t remember . . . but your brain didn’t exactly work before its’ morning caffeine hit. And thinking about Matt only made you think about the dream. Which made the wet heat between your legs even worse. “Why?”

“Because there is roughly three feet of snow? With more still coming down? And high winds that have already knocked out power in parts of Manhattan and might do the same here any minute now?”

You immediately went to the window and peered out. You didn’t have the best view but it was as Foggy reported. Snow piled high on the streets below while more swirled across the window, day not looking not much brighter than twilight despite already being mid-morning . . . “Wow, you aren’t kidding about the weather.”

“I never kid about the weather,” Foggy said with mock seriousness. “The city powers that be don’t recommend going out in that mess. And even if they did, I’m not walking in that for anything less than a life or death emergency. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said.

“I called you earlier but you didn’t answer and didn’t call back. I just wanted to make sure that you knew not to come today. Probably tomorrow too. More depends on how long this storm last and how long it takes to get things running again.”

And to check that you were alright. Both of your bosses were worry-warts. Matt was worse than Foggy in that regard. Always got that worried furrow in his brow when you were going to be walking home alone, right before he offered to walk with you. Often you accepted. Mostly because it gave you an excuse to spent more time with him.

And he knew all these little hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the most amazing food . . . Through whenever you talked about those little side-trips, everyone – your friends, Foggy, Karen, your mom – always asked you if you were sure that Matt wasn’t your boyfriend . . .

Yes, you were sure. Those weren’t dates. If they had been, you would have been kissing Matt. And you definitely wouldn’t have been able to resist having sex with him this long if you were dating. So they were just a side-trip taken with your friend and employer.

“Okay,” you said, shuffling away from the window and toward your small kitchen. “Thanks for checking on me. Everyone else okay?”

“No problem,” he said. “Karen’s bunkered down with . . . er . . . a friend. Matt hasn’t call me back yet. I was just about to ring him again.”

You didn’t know Karen had a boyfriend. Odd that she had never brought him to Josie’s with the rest of the group . . . but then the second part of that statement caught your brain.

“Matt hasn’t called you back?”

“No,” Foggy said. “But I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just didn’t hear his phone ring. Matt sleeps like the dead sometimes.”

Not hearing something didn’t sound like the Matt you knew. Who seemed to hear everything. No matter how quietly you moved, he always knew you were there. But Foggy knew him better than you did. And he had lived Matt for years. If Foggy said Matt was a heavy sleeper, then he was a heavy sleeper.

Still his voice sounded odd. Like maybe he was worried but trying not to show it. But maybe you were just protecting your own worries onto Foggy.

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to that. Bye, Foggy,” you said, trying to keep those worries out of your voice. ‘They were unnecessary,’ you reminded yourself silently. Matt was blind but he was also a grown man. He could care of himself. He was fine.

“Bye.”

You tucked your phone in your pocket. Ugh . . . you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Your work clothes since you hadn’t changed before getting that tearful phone call. You had wanted to get that laundry finally put away before you found another excuse to avoid doing it. You needed a shower. Especially since the power might go out – who knows when you’d get the chance for another one?

You put on coffee and tried not to worry about Matt.

“Matt doesn’t need you fussing over him. Even if he does come in looking like he got into a bar fight sometimes,” you told yourself sternly. Like last Friday, he had been sporting a set of spectacular set of bruises across the right side of his face. Which he said was the result of missing a curb and tripping. Which sounded rather peculiar to you. Yes, he couldn’t see the curb but he seemed pretty skilled with that cane of his . . . and Matt moved with the cat-like elegance of a dancer.

Maybe even graceful blind men had trouble with two left feet sometimes.

Speaking of trouble . . . where was that cat? You hadn’t seen him since you woke up.

“Trouble,” you called out. “Where are you? Here kitty, kitty,”

You heard a meow. Not close by. But the coffee was on so you could look around. It took several minutes and more meows to find him. Trouble was in your bedroom closet, on the shelf above the clothing rod. You weren’t sure how he he managed to get up there but cats were like that. It was amazing the places they managed to climb up or squeeze themselves into. It seemed he had started exploring while you were sleeping.

Looking at Trouble, you frowned. Something was . . . off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what . . . no, wait. You raised up your phone. You had been using the flashlight app to look in shadowy places like under furniture. You ran the light across the cat’s face, watching closely. Once, then twice to make sure you were really seeing what you were seeing. But you were. His eyes weren’t reacting to the light.

You raised one finger, then moved it back and forth in front of Trouble’s face. He wasn’t tracking the motion through his whiskers tilted forward, his little nose twitching. He was paying attention, his ears were up and pointed toward you. But his eyes . . .

“Are you blind, Trouble?” you asked, reaching back up to pet the cat. It was impossible to resist that sinfully soft fur.

He gave a soft meow as if answering your question.

Well, Trouble being blind didn’t change your plans. You were still going to adopt him if he didn’t already have a home. You made a mental note to have the vet check your theory about his vision when you took him in to make sure he was healthy as he looked. You were tempted to get Trouble down from his perch. You were pretty sure that he could back down without hurting himself. Without making a mess by accidentally pulling something down with him . . . that was another kettle of fish. And while most of what on the shelf was soft, some wasn’t and that stuff could hurt Trouble if it got knocked off while he tried to get down.

On the other hand, getting a cat out of a hiding spot could be tricky. Trouble hadn’t been aggressive with his claws even once but he might make an exception for getting grabbed and pulled out of somewhere he was hiding. Normally you’d purrito him but that high shelf wasn’t the easiest location to purrito a cat . . . the beep of the coffee maker interrupted your train of thought.

You decided to have some coffee, then consider how to get Trouble down from there. But halfway through that first mug, you heard a thump. One that wasn’t, thankfully, followed by any crashing noises. Just Trouble strolling into the kitchen, very casual. He stopped a few feet away from you, head turned you – ears alert, upright tail curled into a question mark.

“Yes, Trouble?” you said. Then thought about it for a minute. “You hungry? Breakfast?”

Another answering meow. But then you had another problem. You didn’t have any cat food. You had given the last of Oreo’s special food to a friend whose cat had the same dietary restrictions. But you did have some baked chicken. That should work. Cats usually liked chicken. Fingers-crossed that it wouldn’t upset his tummy. Or make him very sick because he needed a special diet.

You cup up the chicken and put some of it into a small bowl. You sat it down in front of the cat along with a second dish with water. After giving both bowls a very thorough inspection with his nose, the cat seemed to accept the offering and started eating the chicken. You put the rest away and made a mental note to set up the litter box. You might not always have cat food on hand but you had encountered enough unexpected cat acquisition to keep cat litter in the house. Muddling through a night without cat food was one thing. Without cat litter was something else and not an experience that bears repeating.

You drank your coffee and considered your own breakfast. You didn’t really feel like making anything complicated right now. Maybe scrambled eggs? With toast? That would be quick and easy. You nodded and made yourself breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast didn’t take long and soon you were seated at your little kitchen table, listening to one of your regular podcasts while you ate and made plans.

First, your shower. Get yourself clean and put on some clean clothes. Something comfortable since you weren’t going anywhere and there wasn’t anyone to impress. At the very least, fresh underwear since your current pair was uncomfortably damp. Along with your thighs. You were alone but the thought still made your face feel warm. Maybe, while you were in the there, you should take care of the still almost-painful ache between your legs . . .

Tidy up your apartment. Pull your emergency kit from under your bed. The Daredevil suit and all its mysteries . . . your fork scrapped the plate. The sound this produced made Trouble flinch.

“Sorry Trouble,” you said. You had been so in your head, you hadn’t realized that you already eaten all of your eggs. You moved the plate to the sink, left your mug by the coffee pot – you’d drink more when you were done with your shower – and headed toward your bedroom.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Matt might actually be in hell.

He thought it was bad earlier, when you started dreaming and his nose was filled your heavenly aroma. And when he heard you moan out his name, begging him for something. Something he couldn’t give. Not while he was like this. He had scurried out of the comforter and hidden himself before he did something . . . rash.

But this? Listening to you touching yourself? It was worse. Far worse. When there was nowhere in your small apartment where he couldn’t hear the beautiful sounds you were making. Couldn’t smell the mouth-watering scent of your arousal. Couldn’t escape the knowledge that it was always his name being moaned out.

It was torture. Pure torture.

He wanted so badly to be himself again and in that shower. Holding your naked body against his own, fingers pumping into your cunt and toying with your clit until you begged him for release. After you shattered under his hands, would he fuck you against the shower wall? Or would you turn the tables on him? Push him against the tile and start working his cock with your hands until he was the one begging?

Would that be enough to satisfy you both? Or just the beginning?

He buried himself further into the pile of blanket and comforter in a futile attempt to muffle your gasping recitation of his name as you chased your release . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You walked out the bathroom feeling refreshed.

Your eyes searched for Trouble. You didn’t worry when you didn’t immediately find him. There were a lot of places in your apartment for a cat to hide. And when you went to collect last-night’s tea mug, you found him.

Or rather you found his tail. He had apparently attempt to hide himself in the pile of blankets but his tail was sticking out. You giggled as you reached out and tickled his tail. He meowed, squirmed around in the blanket until the tail disappeared into the depths.

“Not planning to come out of there, Trouble?”

The responding meow was loud, like a very firm no. which only made you giggle harder. But you left him in his blanket cocoon. He wasn’t harming anyone. If he wanted to hide for a while, you’d let him. At least he wasn’t trying to ‘help.’

TO BE CONTINUED . . . in Part 2

NOTES

The kick combination that Matt uses against the magic user is from capoeira, which is an Afro-Brazilian cultural practice that is both a martial arts and a dance. The movements require great bodily dexterity. It’s very cool.

Purrito means wrapping a cat in a towel, small blanket, or similar like they were burrito. It’s way of holding the cat without getting scratched since the paws are all inside in the burrito. Some cats find it calming as they like the gentle pressure all around them like a hug. But some don’t.

Havana brown is a cat breed developed from mixing the Siamese with brown domestic short-haired cats. They are brown to reddish-brown – right down to their whiskers – with green eyes. Very pretty cats.

Jacobson is Luke Jacobson, the fashion designer from She-Hulk. In this story, Matt saved him one night when he was in New York. He was appealed by Matt’s homemade supersuit. He demanded to make him a better one as a thank you for saving his life. And wouldn’t take no for answer.

Melvin Potter, his old suit guy, Matt has been representing as a way of apology for the trouble Melvin experienced during Season 3. Matt might introduce Melvin to Jacobson who is curious about his other red suit.

#fan fiction #fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #part 1 of 2 #cat man do #a03 link

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

kinda fucked up for you to see a gender non conforming woman (samsus) and automatically make them trans. you get what i mean about how thats just reinforcing gender stereotypes (that cis women are feminine and would never commit genocide even a little while transwomen would do masculine evil things like shoot gun (because they’ve kept their man vibes) or whatever

yeah

I can’t tell if this is like a shitpost or a really poorly worded commentary because I have no idea who you are. Frankly I would normally assume the worst block you, buuuuut since I like talking about it I’d love to explain why Samus Aran is extremely transgender.

Tbh I am still tempted to block you but the terrible grammar, spelling error, and nonsensical nature of the ask almost make it seem like a shitpost

First of all Samus being trans-coded was very core to her character from the very beginning. Regardless of the reasons they did it, the original Metroid was intentionally made and marketed to have people assume she was a man. This isn’t even just because people would see a person in a power suit and assume they were a man, the games manual explicitly refers to Samus with he/him pronouns. The immediate assumption that she’s a man because she’s tall, broad shouldered, badass, and wears a power suit that obscures her feminine features until the big reveal is inherently a trans theme. Taking that away makes her a less compelling character. It’s also continued in that Metroid media has continually joked that a lot of the Galaxy assumes that Samus Aran, the greatest bounty hunter in the Galaxy, is a man.

Secondly there was that one Metroid dev who said in an interview that Samus was transgender. The terminology used was outdated and it was explicitly a transphobic joke, but it’s too late she’s ours now.

Thirdly she is (was) built like one of us. That is, prior to the later zero suit designs trying way too hard to be sexy. Like seriously when I first found this image a few years ago I was the same height and weight as her. I miss the big buff broad shouldered Samus design so much and her later redesigns are honestly kinda pathetic by comparison

Fourth, Samus was raised by the Chozo and trained to become a powerful warrior. Part of what they did to make her strong was body modification via Chozo DNA splicing to make her stronger and more agile than a normal human. This is a sci-fi setting where she was raised by an extremely advanced alien race who could change her very DNA, acting like she couldn’t look like she does and be a trans woman is simply not even an argument.

Now, of course, you could refute all this by saying “but Cordelia, we know what Samus looked like as a kid from Metroid Zero Mission and the manga and she was clearly a little girl not a boy.” Now even without addressing the fact that it’s very possible for people to realize they are transgender as children and that children don’t even really have secondary sex characteristics to make it easy to tell what their gender is, this what Samus actually looked as a child:

The combination of all of this gives us trans women a lot of good reasons to believe she is transgender. But also, literally none of this is necessary for me to headcanon a character as trans. Trans women come in all shapes and sizes with all different stories and not a single thing in Metroid canon even remotely suggests that Samus Aran has to be cisgender. And if you try to say “but Samus has no bulge in canonical zero suit Samus depictions!” you’d have to be intentionally dense. Samus Aran is a chimera with a cocktail of human, Chozo, and Metroid DNA and, again, was raised by a race of super advanced aliens. Not only could they have easily given her bottom surgery, but they could’ve even changed her fucking sex chromosomes if she wanted them to. There is literally nothing in Metroid canon that even remotely gives me a reason not to insist that she’s transgender. To be honest, there is more evidence for her being trans than against.

To anyway anyone who actually read this far, I hope you understand the truth. Nintendo’s redesigns are too afraid to show us, but you and I both know that her cock is huge

#Samus aran #Samus #Metroid #trans samus

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic finder

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1. I'm looking for a fic that's during the Cloud Recesses study arc where, WWX I think, found out Wen Chao couldn't read and started teaching him. I think a couple of the other kids started helping him, MianMian maybe? I can't remember much but they definitely helped him learn how to read and became friends. TIA

FOUND? Wei Wuxian’s Super Special Super Secret Book Club by Anonyma (T, 31k, WWX & WC & LQY, WangXian, Canon Divergence)

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2. hello!! All good? I'm looking for a collection of one shots, and I can't find it, I read it a little while ago but I remember a one shot, where Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying were discussing the fact that Wei Ying had saved the heirs of the sects in cave and Jin Ling was listening and Wei Ying was saying that if he hadn't saved the heirs Jin Ling wouldn't exist and Jiang Cheng said something like, Whatever.... Honestly, I don't even remember the tags, but Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying realizing that Jin Ling had heard, Wei Ying asks what Jin Ling wants. @sweettiebah

FOUND! 🔒 Chapter 11: Careless Words of Short Prompts by Vrishchika (JL POV - Not JC Friendly - WWX loses his patience)

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3. Hello !! Ive read this fanfic a while ago and I have multiple ss of it since i like to save memorable parts of the fic but now i cant remember it anymore </3 i dont remember the synopsis but there was a scene where Lwj and Wwx were in an inn while out night hunting, and wwx suspected the person serving them to have poisoned lwj, wwx got really angry and threatened the guy to the max

quote:

Wei Wuxian slammed him against the wall again, cutting off his rapid ramblings and jostling his fractured arm. "Your stories bore me," he spoke lowly, peering his head around slightly so as to almost look into Heng She's face. He still had yet to acknowledge Lan Wangji's presence. "Tell me why you poisoned the tea, or I will hang you in the street by your intestines, ripped open to let the crows feed on your liver." @jingyisbff

FOUND! let me sing to you by greybird_crookedbranch (T, 61k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, adorable Juniors, Minor Original Character(s)for plot purposes, Minor Violence, Demonic Cultivation, resentful energy, Trauma, Guilt, Protectiveness, BAMF WWX, Hurt wwx, Protective WWX, Protective LWJ, Baby Lans, Mental Instability, Possession, it's a case fic but the case is for the hurts, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV LWJ, a tasteful seasoning of Yunmeng Bros Reconcilliation, CQL canon except LWJ is not chief cultivator, Nightmares)

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4. Hello! T__T I have my focus mode on so my distracting apps like twitter (x) are paused. I took a 5 minutes break and opened it. I saw a threadfic of Bottomji/Topxian (Omegaverse) They already have 3 kids (Yuan, Twins) but they are all alphas. lwj wants a daughter (or an omega son). He rode wwx that night then let him knot him for 3x. They were on a date and lwj bought some robes for a girl the confronts wwx that he wants a daughter.... Thats all Ive read. I want to read the whole thread but my app closed. 💔 Can you guys help me with it? I cant find it anymore.

FOUND! sounds like this twt threadfic by @/omegawangji

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5. Hi, I need help finding a fic I’m pretty sure I’ve seen recommended on here a couple years ago.

I don’t remember the title or the author. It was on AO3. It was an Alternative Universe fic where WWX is an art student (and lived in a dorm with the Wen siblings) and LWJ has a very active but discreet sex life. WangXian know each other but they’re not together. Eventually they start sleeping with each other (WWX doesn’t realize LWJ actually likes him and he’s not just another hookup). There is also a secondary plot about one of LWJ’s past hookups stalking and tormenting them at a club or party at some point? T

his is all I can remember, unfortunately. I hope to reach someone who knows which fic this is by asking on here. WangXian nation, do your thing! 🙏

FOUND? show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending) It doesn't match exactly but some details do

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6. For fic finder, a fic I read a good while back.

It was one of those “jgs magically spies on the burial mounds to get people to hate wwx and the remnants” but in this one wwx and lwj did the “a-yuan is birthed from wwx” thing and the people spying believe it. Lqr passes out for a bit and lxc and jc start planning a wedding since lwj apparently deflowered wwx. I think it was completed

FOUND! Assumptions by draechaeli (T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, not mpreg, Not Established Relationship, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, gender non-conforming titles)

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7. Hello! Here's one I've read a dozen times and would swear I have bookmarked, but now I can't find it. Basically, LZ is a courtesan/assassin who's sent by JGS to seduce and kill the powerful Yiling Patriarch. Meng Yao is working with LZ, although he has his own plans against JGS, of course. WWX later realizes LZ's brother is alive and looking for him, so he brings them together. (By the way, are you thinking of adding a Courtesan compilation? There are plenty of good ones to rec!) Thank you! @ladysalieri (we don't have a courtesan au specific comp but we do have a royalty one that includes a few! ^^ - Mod C)

FOUND! out to get you (to get you) by iliacquer (E, 41k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, switching, top/bottom LWJ, top/bottom WWX, power play, courtesan LWJ, assassin LWJ, dark lord WWX, bondage, happy ending, past slavery)

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8. Hello i am looking for a fic where modern lwj time travels to the canon era and becomes original lwj, in the fic he is betrothed to yilling patriarch wy who sends him letters, and wy becomes more desperate and insane because lwj doesn't answers his letters. @ahiku-chan

FOUND? if this is a dream, i pray to never wake up by dangodangomilk (M, 27k, WangXian, Marriage, Weddings, Engagement, Canon Divergence, Parallel Universes, YLLZ WWX, false amnesia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Content)

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9. hello! i'm looking for a fic from lwj's pov. he runs into wwx (dark) in yiling i think, after burial mounds but before his new body. lwj is horrified by how bad he looks and convinces him to go to an inn (wwx mean), they have sex. during this lwj realizes that wwx's bones are all broken from his fall in the burial mounds and he is holding them stable with resentful energy. he can't heal them, but the resentful energy is working as a stopgap. possibly of it's own volition? bittersweet? thx! @saydams

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10. Hello!! I love this blog, where I find fics to read!! A few days ago, I asked someone to find me a fic, but I'm here again because I remembered med and another fic that I loved reading, but currently can't find.

The things I remember: Wangxian has an spiritual connection, which is why the golden core transfer does not occur (and it is qing who informs Wei Ying of the connection, as Madam Yu knew and gave tea to undo the connection but it did not work ) and if I'm not mistaken Yanli is the one who told Wei Ying that the spiritual connection no longer exists (which is obviously wrong)

If you can't find it, I ask you to recommend something similar.

Thank you ❤💛🖤 @sweettiebah

FOUND! Half of my soul by Asphodel_Meadow (T, 8k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, 5+1 Things, kinda soul bond but with their golden cores, POV Outsider, POV Alternating)

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11. Hi, im looking for a fic where when Wei Wuxian was dead others tried to flirt with Lan Wangji. I remember one of the scenes where Shizui was walking to the jingshi and overherd someone (a cousin of Lan Jingyi?) trying to flirt with Lan Wangji. I think it was a 5+1 type of deal. No matter the way i word it, i cant find it. I`ve been looking on and off for months. @herebedragons02

FOUND? Criteria by incendir (T, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian) Criteria from the Resolutions series! I've reread ot enough to know that description on site

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12. I hope you don't mind me asking, i'm looking for a wangxian fic where there is a scene that takes place in the cloud recesses where jiang cheng injures nie huaisang and nie mingjue almost declares war on the jiang sect. Thats as much as i remember I hope it's enough to go on. If it helps any it was either a Jiang Cheng bashing fic or a Jiang Family bashing. / Hi i'm looking for a Jiang Cheng or Jiang Family Bashing fic (can't remember which it was) where Nie Huaisang gets severely injured by Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue almost declares war on the Jiang Sect. Thank you. @hanabichan2018

FOUND? Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, Not JIang Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

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13. Hello I’ve been looking for this fic but I cannot find it I remember seeing it before it’s where in order to survive the burial mounds WY exchanges his heart which changes how he acts and then at the end JC, JYL, LWJ and NH decide to go to the burial mounds to see what happened to WY

FOUND?🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, wangxian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

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14. Hi! For next fic finder, could you help me find a modern wangxian au with combination of arranged marriage, marriage of convenient (i think it is), and contract marriage. YZY arranged a marriage between WWX and LWJ for a bussiness cooperation. WWX agreed to that so he can get away from the Jiang (especially YZY) and to make his own carrier. Then LWJ and WWX make a contract to make the marriage last until 2 years and decided if they want to keep the marriage or not. I think LWJ playing his guqin and WWX is used to that and when 2 years almost up, WWX didnt want to get divorce. The fic is focused about them getting to know each other. I think thats all i can remember. I read that in 2021 so the detail is kinda patchy. If you dont know the fic at least a confirmation that im not the only one that ever read this. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

Hi, im #14. Unfortunately its not the fic that iam searching for. The one that iam serching for focused on wangxian, other characters barely appears. Even the jiangs only gets mentioned. Wwx didnt work for Jiang, i think he is graphic design freelancer? The agrement for divorce is between the two of them, their family didnt know about their agreement. They choose how long they stay together before divorce after they think that the project between their family is finished so their divorce wont effect the project. WWX even has a plan after their divorce to open his own office. If i remember corectly, WWX realize he didnt want to get divorced is a few days before the day of their divorce. Like he is in his room and thinking that after their divorce, he cant listening to LWJ playing his guqin and spend their days together and he didnt want that.

I really hope i didnt mix several fic together. Thank you!

NOT FOUND! you're the only thing i think i got right by sandustorms (lucianclouds) (M, 48k, wangxian, Arranged Marriage, Falling In Love, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic, Married Life, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, do you remember that fake reddit post abt the guy that fell for his husband, that he was arranged to be married to, that was kind of what inspired this, Happy Ending, Modern, Strangers to Lovers, Romance)

~*~

15. Hello Mods, hope you are having a good day (^ ω ^)

This is for the fic finder and I'm not quite sure about this so just to be safe I don't want to upset anyone so

Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning!

This is what I remember: WWX is roofied or SA'ed in the Cloud Recesses ( I don't remember if that is shown) and there's a lot about how he handle it (denial? minimizing? disassociation?), and LWJ is there, he didn't do it, he is good, and anti-victim-blaming? if that makes sense?

FOUND? obscura: ink stain by AvoOwO (M, 20k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Emotions, Heavy Angst, Painting, Temporary Amnesia, Drugs, Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drink Spiking, Victim Blaming, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Has a Crush, Soft wangxian, Holding Hands, Blood and Violence, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, WWX is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Protective LXC, Good Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Tries, OCs, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, WWX Needs a Hug, someone gets punched a lot, LWJ contemplates murder for a moment, JC almost gets it done, not quite about romance, as much as romance elements there, more so about the small things, LWJ loves how WWX smells, some nasty things are said, WWX def needs a nap, he gets one dw, LQR Gets Shit Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Scheming NHS)

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16. Hi! For fic finder, I am looking for a short-ish fic where Jin Ling learns that Wei Wuxian is the one who named him “Rulan.” Jin Ling then realizes he is named after the Lans, and he has a teenage meltdown about how he is named after his uncle’s crush. Does this sound familiar? Thank you, everyone, for all your help! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! three days gone by occultings (microcomets) (G, 4k, JL & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Bonding, Homophobic Language, Fluff) there may be a few fics that fit, is it maybe the one where jin ling and jiang cheng are reading sect letters together, and jin ling got mad about being called "rulan"? so far i found another fic, ig it's "similar" since jin ling's only mad for one sentence, but i thought to link it anyway

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17. Hi! I'm looking for a fic, but i only remember a specific scene from it: wwx and the wens on the horses and it's raining and lan zhan lets them go, but then i guess granny wen says go back and get him, and when they return, lan zhan is soaking wet and she says something along the lines of 'dramatic young people'. Thank you so much!

FOUND? Turn Around by mondengel (Not rated, <1k, wangxian, humor)

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18. Hi, I'm looking for an AU WIP fic where WWX has to wear a mask; nobody but family is allowed to see his face. He and LWJ have an arranged marriage, but LWJ still refuses to let him take his mask off, and doesn't make any effort in the marriage. Very soon after they are married, he takes Wen Qing as a concubine, without explaining anything to WWX. WWX moves to a house near Lotus Pier, and there is a bit about him adopting children, but I can't remember how that came about... Thank you! @godiva696

FOUND! Sounds like the deleted "A price to pay" by wangxianist.

Not FOUND! sounds sorta like shana's identity porn fic here on tumblr

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19. Hello! 😃 I hope you can help me find this fic that I have been looking for!

I only remember that Wei Wuxian gets reunited with the sect leader of the Yu sect,(she is basically his grandma I think) and he get very emotional, it is also at a discussion conference or something like that, it is a very sweet/happy scene.

thank you 😊

NOT FOUND!🔒补救; to remedy, to do something to correct or improve something that is wrong by ravenditefairylights (G, 21k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Healing, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Getting Together, Everybody Gets Their Shit Together, Family Feels, Teacher WWX, Soft WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Marriage Proposal, Assassination Attempt(s), Family Bonding, soup as a metaphor, Meishan as a metaphor, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Forgiveness, BAMF WWX, Assassin WWX) i'm not positive this is it, but has a scene like that

Not FOUND And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) has a wwx-Sect Leader Yu relationship a bit like that? They meet up in Meishan, though, it's not a conference

Not FOUND The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) has wwx summoned by an OC Yu cousin instead of mxy, so there is some wwx-Yu sect interactions in the story. I don't remember it being particularly sweet or happy, but the setting is a conference

Not FOUND Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, magical healing and how it fails, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed my, Families of Choice, Original Supporting characters, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) last suggestion, and this probably isn't it, but it has a lot of Yunmeng Trio & Yu sect interactions (mostly Jiang Cheng centric, but wwx is there too lol)

FOUND! Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) the reunion scene is on ch31

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20. Hello! I’m looking for a fic where during the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian was able to tame the Xuanwu, resulting in victory. However, he wasn’t fully able to control its bloodlust so it was sequestered onto an island in Lotus Pier.

However, he leaves one day for a brief visit to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, JGS paid a child to visit the island and the child is killed. This causes WWX to go with the Xuanwu into the water surrounding the island and he disappears for many years.

Later on, Jin Ling ends up trying to prove himself by going into the forest surrounding this island (which has since filled with resentful energy). And finds that WWX has come back and the Xuanwu has been purified.

I’m not sure if it’s been deleted??

FOUND? The Turtle Master by Gotcocomilk (M, 40k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Character Death Fix, shijie lives, Hurt/Comfort, OC Child death, zombie turtle!!, BAMF WWX, isnt he always, Fluff and Angst, first half is pain second half is soft)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

[puppetmaster13u]

Slowly rotating combining my cryptid omegaverse Gotham (where they can swap and switch between secondary sexes and if you stay in Gotham long enough your scent starts to disappear as well) and my Dragon Curse Gotham (Originally a DP crossover but probably wouldn't for the main AU) prompts. Into its own Au.

Where Gotham can change into dragons, and it's like the One thing they all keep secret from Outsiders. Everyone has three forms depending on the secondary sex they are at the time, while children have a form similar to a parent just, more stone-colored for camouflage. If that makes sense.

So normally I'd make world-building from scratch but I'm not drawing dragons from scratch for this. Like three for each character ever? Ehhh, sorry not happening lol. So I'll probably use Flight Rising or something similar to come up with things to base their dragon forms off of.

Anyway if you're here, hope you don't mind ramblings lol.

Everyone in the world is either Alpha/Beta/Omega/Delta but Gotham is cryptid-like in that they can change their secondary sex at will

The longer ones family has been in Gotham the quicker while newcomers might take months for a single shift 

Newcomers’ scents will also begin to disappear like a delta’s but continue to have a 2nd sex

Secondary sexes are a mixture of body parts, scents, and aura, almost akin to psychic bubbles around someone that shows mood and other information 

Most second-sex puberties come in around the age of twelve, though the semi-sexual half doesn’t come in until the age of seventeen on average 

It’s a well-kept secret of Gotham having a more benevolent curse of people becoming dragons

The form is influenced by whatever secondary gender they are at the time

Unless they are children in which case their form is similar to whatever their parents’ might be, but a solid gray-black color that camouflages with the Gotham streets 

Gotham also has several animals & plants similarly mutated well, everything

Reality warping is also canonically an issue with an entire street disappearing every week & gravity around certain places being odd on certain days

So if You're a Gothamite you get to have a third dragon puberty where you start getting your adult forms and colors and all that stuff

Secondary sexes are a mixture of body parts, scents, and aura, almost akin to psychic bubbles around someone that shows mood and other information

The longer ones family has been in Gotham the quicker they can shift between genders while newcomers might take months for a single shift

Deltas are: People with no secondary sex, usually due to a medical condition that is usually hereditary, but can also happen from large damage to glands as a young child before presentation Unless you are a Gothamite, as every person who stays there for extended periods of time becomes scentless or a combination of scents/auras even if they’re another sex Children are sometimes wrongly referred to as Deltas even though the proper term is Unpresented 

So in other words, Gotham is Really Fucking Weird to the rest of the world. Some people might and probably would use it to transition though, also helped by the fact that there's so many scholarships in Gotham. I mean, look at how many of the rogues have PHDs.

Now the Delta thing is semi-important because for example Clark, as an alien, doesn't have a scent. Which mean he's very much Noticed the first time he's sent by Perry to Gotham. He's kind of confused as to why he's so welcomed compared to all the other Daily Planet reporters, but he's not complaining. And it gives him an excuse for his scent, as it is known that Gotham is in fact Like That when it comes to scent disappearing and other such things.

I would continue rambling but I need sleep at some point lmao Will definitely add more later tho

#batman au #batman #dc #dcu #prompts #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #cryptid gotham #Gotham is just Like That #Gotham Says Fuck Binaries lol #No clue what to call this au #Dragon Curse Au #Omegaverse Au #Gotham Hoard Au #Some prefer one gender but others freely swap #There are identity shenanigans galore with the batfam #remind me to elaborate later #cryptid batfam

[jtargaryen18]

One Night With You ~ Pt 2

One Night With You ~ A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts

Masterlist

Read Part 1

Words: 3.1k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader

Warnings: A little language, references to the sound of people having sex, masturbation.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and any original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content in the third act. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I don’t consent to having my work reposted or translated.

Summary: For @iheartsebstan who was my very first follower here on Tumblr and one I adore. 💕 It’s all about a chance encounter and how it can make everything in your life so much better.

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

October 30th

You’d left work and darted into the market on the way home. Tomorrow was Halloween and you needed candy for that because they did trick-or-treat in your building each year. You also wanted to grab something for your dinner since you were on your own tonight. You grabbed a sub from the deli, a pint of ice cream. You were all set.

“Hey, there,” a familiar voice came from behind you.

You froze. Bucky.

“Hi,” you said turning around. Your heart sped up. “How are you?”

“Good,” he said, unleashing a smile on you. “How are you?”

You nodded, next in line for the cashier. Bucky followed the line of your gaze to the items on the counter next to you.

“Candy,” he said. “That’s a good idea. I remember getting a text about the trick-or-treat tomorrow night. Hang on.”

Bucky darted back into the store, way too quickly for your liking because the man’s ass and thighs were exquisite. He was back in a flash, carrying a huge bag of mixed candy and getting in line directly behind you. It had you grinning.

“What? Is it too much?” he asked, nodding to the candy, those stormy eyes warm.

“Better safe than sorry,” you told him. “I know what to do if I run out of candy.”

Why was he looking at you like that? Did he do this a lot? It was hard to put words together to form a sentence with him smiling at you.

Bucky nodded to your wrapped sub. “Is that dinner?”

You nodded.

“Invitation is still open,” he said. “I could make you dinner.”

Your heart fluttered at that and no way you were making the same mistake twice. Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay.”

His brows shot up, those stormy blue eyes widened. “Yes?”

“Yes,” you said.

“To dinner? Tonight?”

Did he have to be gorgeous and adorable?

“Yes,” you told him.

“Okay.” He looked like his mind was going a mile a minute. “Hold on.”

He grabbed a shopping basket and darted back into the store while the cashier checked you out. You’d just finishing paying for your groceries when he re-emerged, carrying the candy and a basket full of items.

You shook your head. “Don’t go to all this trouble for me, Bucky” you told him.

“It’s no trouble.” The cashier checked him out. She was really checking him out. Again, he carried a paper sack of groceries with his left arm and oddly, he wore a black glove on that hand. His other hand was bare.

The two of you were off, heading back to your apartment building. You went into your apartment to drop off your things and freshen up. You were just about to knock on his door when he pulled it open.

That smile. It froze you for a moment.

You followed him into his apartment to the kitchen table where he had a small metal device, a bottle of olive oil, and a shiny ball of yellow dough. He laughed at what must have been a look of confusion on your face.

“I’m making pasta,” he told you, grinning. “It’s not really something I make for myself.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you shook your head. “That’s why you asked me over, huh? To make pasta?” you teased.

“It goes better with someone to help,” Bucky explained. “You’ll see why.”

A few minutes later, you did see why. You were standing there while Bucky ran the dough through the pasta maker over and over again, making it thinner and longer. It had to be ten feet long now and you stood on the other side of the table, holding the slack up as he worked.

You loved watching him work. He’d removed his jacket and the dark flannel shirt he wore stretched across the muscled wall of his chest in a way that made it hard not to stare. The glossy locks of his dark hair just reached his shoulder. His right hand was bare. He wore a medical glove over the other one. You stopped yourself before you said anything. He probably lost his hand or arm in an accident and the last thing you wanted to do was make it awkward.

Once the pasta was to his liking, he collected it from you, motioning to a bottle of wine on the counter behind you. You opened it and poured each of you a glass while he proceeded to assemble mushroom ravioli like a Michelin-starred chef.

“Do you cook?” he finally asked as he worked at the stove on the filling.

“Not much,” you told him. “I can make a few simple things. I’ve never really tried going beyond that.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t cook for you?” Bucky asked as he continued. He wasn’t making eye contact as he finished the raviolis, so it was less intimidating.

“To be fair, I’ve never really had any guy cook me dinner,” you said. “Until now… And I don’t know that I’d call Denny a boyfriend. It’s more of a casual thing.”

Bucky did stop there to meet your gaze. “Are you happy?”

Don’t ask me that. Don’t look at me like that with those smoky blue eyes.

Taking a drink of your wine, you shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“You know I would have gotten you flowers,” he said with his back turned to you. “But you work at the flower shop so…”

You had to laugh at that. “You’re here making me dinner. And you thought about flowers?”

“That’s the way you should be treated,” he mused.

“Denny missed that memo.” The wine you drank on an empty stomach went to your head. “Maybe I should get an official boyfriend.”

“Do you want one?” He gazed at you over his shoulder, a slight grin there. His eyes were soft, sincere.

“Let me see how good the ravioli is first,” you told him with a smile.

Bucky had a light-hearted laugh that had your heart clenching in your chest.

You cleared the small kitchen table and set it for dinner, asking him where things were. His apartment wasn’t any nicer than yours. But it was warm, welcoming. Or maybe it was just him.

He peeled off the medical glove before putting the final touches on the dinner he made. You saw the dark metal hand under it, precise threads of gold adorned it.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Bucky held up the hand.

You shook your head. “Of course not. What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Surprise lit up those blue eyes. Were people normally rude to him about it?

“I was in the army,” he explained. “Lost it in an accident.”

You nodded. “Thank you for your service.”

Now that you were watching, you saw that hand wasn’t just a prosthetic. It seemed to function just like a regular hand. It had you wondering if he’d been a war hero to have something like that, so technologically advanced.

As he served you both and you took your seat, met his gaze squarely. “It doesn’t bother me.” You nodded to his hand.

The meal was delicious, and it had been fun helping him put it together. Unlike what you normally did with Denny, there was no TV on. Looking around, you didn’t see one. The two of you talked over dinner. Good conversation, good food. You talked about the flower shop and working there. He asked where you were from, about your family.

Bucky honestly made you feel seen, valued. It was different. The saying “if it seems too good to be true…” floated through your head a couple of times. What if he was too good? What if he was a serial killer or…

After dinner, you helped clear the table. You intended to do dishes; it was only fair. He cut you off, telling you to bring the wine to the living room. You took a seat on the couch, enjoying your second –third? —glass of wine. He joined you on the couch. You’d poured another glass for him, but his focus was on you.

“Was dinner okay?” he asked, grinning. He’d angled himself so he was facing you on the couch, his good arm draped over the back of the couch. After a moment, you realized he was carefully playing with the hoop earring you wore. His touch was delicate, nice.

“It was delicious,” you told him. And that was true. “I wish I could cook like that.”

“You can,” he said. “I could teach you a few things.”

The wine and your frustrated libido had your body taking the comment an entirely different way. Down, girl. He’s offering to teach you to cook.

But that would mean more time together, right?

Your phone hummed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a text from Denny. It was terse for him. He just cryptically said he was on his way to your place and that the two of you “needed to talk.”

What was this about?

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, drawing your attention back to him.

“Yes,” you told him, shoving your phone back in your pocket and rising from the couch.

“It’s him.” It wasn’t a question.

“It is.” And the evening had gone so well. Did Denny really need to fuck it up? I could just text back and tell him to fuck off. That’s what your head told you to do. Your heart was drumming out a guilty tune. “I’m so sorry to be leaving so quickly. I really am. He’s just on his way to my place and apparently, we need to talk. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Bucky rose from the couch, towering over you and only a few inches away. You could read the disappointment on his face. But he was still smiling, his good hand smoothed over your hair as you stood in the peaceful quiet of his living room.

You really wanted to stay.

 “I’ve really enjoyed this evening,” he told you. “I’d love to do it again sometime.”

You’d been holding your breath, fully expecting to say something like “call me when you break up with your boyfriend.” But he didn’t.

“I would too,” you assured him. “Let me go deal with this.”

“So trick-or treat tomorrow?” Bucky offered, gaze down at you.

You nodded. You liked that idea.

“Thank you,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight.”

The line had been meant to mark your exit. He didn’t say anything until you got to the door.

“I’m here if you need anything,” he told you. “Okay?”

That had you smiling. “Okay.”

You’d just made it into your apartment when someone pounded on it, had you jumping where you stood. You were frustrated because you were having such a good evening and here was Denny all upset. Why? You had no idea.

When you opened the door, you found Denny there. If he hadn’t texted you with “we need to talk” you might have thought he had another fight with his sister. But this time, his source of tension appeared to be you.

“One of my friends saw you walking up the street with another guy.” He just got straight to the point.

“I was,” you admitted. “He’s my neighbor.”

Anger flashed in his dark eyes. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Denny, I should be allowed to talk to my neighbor,” you pointed out. “And it was your idea for us to be non-committal.” You put air quotes on non-committal. “I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

His ire seemed to fade at that, and he scrubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. “You didn’t tell me your fucking neighbor was the Winter Soldier.”

Wait. What?

Denny rolled his eyes at you. “Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend, world famous assassin. Ring any bells?”

You just stared at him as you considered what he was saying. You’d never heard the term “Winter Soldier” before. But Bucky Barnes? His metal hand. Now it all made sense.

I had dinner with Bucky Barnes? And he’s interested in me?

Denny knew you well enough to realize correctly that you didn’t know. Slowly, the tension in his face eased. Shaking his head, he smiled.

“You didn’t know,” he said. “Okay, because Derek said you walked in here together.” Denny looked around. “And he’s not here so…”

Yeah, he’d wanted a no-strings relationship but the minute he thought you were trading up for Bucky Barnes, he’s upset?

“No, he’s not here,” you told him. Angry.

You were pissed that Denny ruined what had possibly been the best date you’d ever had. And come to find out your neighbor was an Avenger with a past shrouded in mystery…

Blowing out an exhale, Denny smiled, moving closer. “Sorry, I lost my cool,” he said. “I just… never mind.”

When he started kissing you, you played along. He corralled you toward your bedroom. You went along but with the realization it was the very last time.

Tonight showed you two important things. One, after having dinner with Bucky next door, you realized you wanted a different type of relationship. You wanted to have dinners like you’d had this evening and to have the other person in the relationship actually talk to you like Bucky did, to want to know who you are.

And two, Denny was going to be so upset when you ended things in the morning. He’d accuse you of ending things to pursue Bucky Barnes. And you were.

If you ended things now, you’d be in for hours of fighting, and you had work the next morning. If you ended things on the way out, you had a good reason that you couldn’t stay and say more.

As Denny undressed you and urged you toward your bed, you weren’t thinking about sex with him. You were thinking about Bucky and hoping that you hadn’t allowed Denny to totally ruin your chances with him.

***

Bucky sat on his couch, his head in hands. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all.

Yeah, okay, he’d followed you from the flower shop and “accidentally” ran into you. Sam suggested it as a way to talk to you again without seeming too eager.

Honestly, Bucky didn’t care if he seemed eager. He was. He’d been on a few dates since he slowly got back into the world. None of them had been like you. It had been so easy with you.

Denny had texted you and ended the evening way sooner than he wanted. Bucky would have happily talked to you for hours. Instead, you got that text and went running back to your apartment. Back to him. He thought your cryptic mentions of Denny were a sign that you weren’t happy in that relationship. That maybe he had a chance.

Maybe you’d just been playing him.

Still, Bucky had been trained to read people. You were interested in him. It wasn’t artifice. He would have picked up on it. Something else was going on here.

Denny arrived and started shouting at you about walking with the “Winter Soldier,” the persona he was working so hard to bury. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that you hadn’t recognized him during dinner. Bucky was surprised but pleased. You didn’t have preconceived notions. He could tell you at the right time about who he was and who he had been.

But no. Denny ruined that. He ruined dinner. And now, the final insult, they were in there having sex and he got to listen to it fucking again. Had dinner with him been that bad? He thought he made a good impression, that you were as interested in him as he was you.

It was times like this when he wished he could drink to take the edge off.

While he wasn’t trying to listen, he did notice one thing. This time, he could hear your breathing, but you made no other sounds. No moans, no gasps of pleasure. Once again, no release.

What did you get out of that relationship?

Bucky went to bed early, hoping to escape into sleep. They were done by then and he was grateful. Still, he couldn’t fall asleep. His mind was going 70 miles an hour.

A few minutes later, he heard moving around. Your tread. You couldn’t sleep either. You went into the bathroom, running a bath for yourself. The sounds of water were soothing. Bucky loved long baths in the tub. What he wouldn’t give to be in the tub with you right now.

The vision in his mind of you in your tub, buried under piles of scented bubbles helped him relax. The sounds of water sloshing with your movements were pleasant.

Until he heard the water perpetually moving, a cadence that was increasing in speed.

Bucky huffed in frustration, dragging a hand through his hair.

You’ve got to be kidding.

You were pleasuring yourself in the tub, trying to find the release that the selfish bastard in your bed couldn’t be bothered to give you. Instantly, Bucky was hard as a rock. He slept naked so it was easy to slide his good hand under the covers to wrap around his aching cock.

Matching his rhythm to yours, he worked himself, picturing your small hand wrapped around him, your mouth, your pussy. Your pussy. Bucky gasped for breath. What would working himself into that be like? You were petite. How long would it take him to reach the end of you? Could you even take all of him?

The thought drove him insane as his movements sped up to match yours. You had to be getting close. Were you picturing him as you fought for release? Bucky hoped so.

It was that tiny moan you allowed to escape, it was a raw, authentic sound that had him shooting off, gasping as the white stream of his come spurted over his abs, his thighs. Bucky lost himself to it because it was good, coming with you…

Grabbing his discarded boxers from the floor, he cleaned himself, savoring the rare moment of pleasure, peace. It pushed his longing higher, his desire for you. You would be that good for him, he just knew it. And he could treat you right, the way a gorgeous young dame like you should be treated.

Bucky just hoped he still had a shot somehow.

It was quiet in your bathroom as he settled down, thinking he could sleep now. And he did. He fell into a deep enough sleep that he didn’t hear you crying in your bath.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96

#One Night With You #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x you #neighbor!Bucky #Halloween story

[totowlff]

chapter fourteen — even three, four, or five

➝ it's time to cassie and toto discover a little more about their 'little bean'

➝ word count: 3,9k

➝ warnings: mentions of medical procedures, christian horner

➝ author’s note: i know it took us too long, but cassie is finally back, and with news!

14 WEEKS Many moms-to-be begin to feel hungrier, more energetic and less nauseous as early pregnancy symptoms start to subside. Meanwhile, your baby's getting chubbier by the day, and may be starting to sprout some hair.

— Are you nervous? — Toto leaned over to ask Cassie, as they sat in adjoining chairs in the waiting room of the obstetrics clinic — Because I am.

— No, I wasn’t even thinking about it — Cassie said, dryly — I was trying to think of what to make for dinner later.

Toto’s expression turned to confusion as he turned his head to the left a bit to glance at the woman in the chair beside him.

— You can’t be serious…

Cassie sighed. 

— Of course I’m nervous, Toto. I’m trying not to be, but… I just keep thinking that something is wrong. I don’t know why. I hope I’m just being paranoid. Plus, I’m kind of hoping we… Find out the sex today.

Cassie put one of her hands on her belly. She was starting to show more clearly — it no longer looked like she had some bad gas or a big lunch. She had opted to start wearing leggings and long shirts to work, because her work trousers and jeans no longer fit. She hadn’t started shopping for maternity clothes, but was a bit hesitant about actually wearing them yet, at least until she disclosed the pregnancy. She hadn’t yet told her colleagues, resolving to do so after the 14th week scan that she and Toto were on their way to.

The pregnancy seemed to be arriving at the stages where Cassie felt undeniably pregnant, and not like she was experiencing a persistent mild flu. The morning sickness had stopped, but instead, Cassie felt ravenously hungry, and was experiencing a strange pain around her hips that her doctor said was apparently an expected symptom. She had started doing some gentle yoga to help relieve the pain, and had discovered the joy of a nightly warm bath.

They’d discussed the sex of their baby when the idea of pregnancy was just something theoretical — something they both wanted and were looking forward to, but not yet reality. 

Like most parents, their preference was for a healthy baby, and sex was a secondary matter. Still, it didn’t stop Cassie from daydreaming of a little girl. 

She’d never gotten along with boys, for the most part. She had always preferred to play with her sister over her brother, and until university, her brother was the only boy she’d spent a significant amount of time with. She’d gone to an all-girls school growing up and, even in the present day, she had a much better relationship with her sister than her brother. And, though it was anecdotal, she remembered her sister-in-law having a much easier time with her three girls than Helena had with Tommy. He was a sweet boy at age 4, but was somewhat of a terror when he was a baby. 

For Toto’s part, he was also hoping for a girl. His sister had three boys that Toto adored — and were very nice when Cassie had met them — but said he could more clearly envision a daughter than a son. Cassie also suspected that Toto was also probably a bit swayed by his mother remarking that she still wanted a granddaughter.

But, if it was their destiny to have a boy, so be it. Cassie just hoped the baby would get Toto’s dimples.

They had scheduled Cassie’s 14-week scan for an afternoon during a week with no races. Toto felt so horrible about being late for Cassie’s first ultrasound that he had his assistant block off his entire day after lunch, and they would be going to Cassie’s flat after the appointment to talk about their preparations for the baby while they had dinner together. 

Toto wanted to drive her, but Cassie insisted that they each take their own cars.

— What will people say if they see us leaving the factory together, in your car, and early?

— Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me — Toto said, shrugging. Seeing Cassie's incredulous expression, he continued — Really, it’s not anyone’s business.

But then, Cassie pointed out that driving separately would save them a trip back to the factory after their appointment to pick up her car

Toto left a few minutes ahead of Cassie, but waited for her in the clinic’s car park so that they could go in together. It felt nice, as did being back to an exam room as “Miss Aldersey and Mr. Wolff”. “If only it were Mr. and Mrs. Wolff”, Cassie’s mind supplied, unhelpfully. Cassie followed the now-familiar routine of lowering her pants and hiking up her shirt before her obstetrician, Dr. Reynolds, knocked on the door and walked in.

— Good afternoon, Miss Aldersey, Mr Wolff — she said, giving them each a handshake in greeting. As she washed her hands and prepared the ultrasound equipment, she asked Cassie about the progress of her pregnancy — Any excessive pain, or unusual bleeding?

— No — Cassie said, as the doctor turned off the lights. Cassie, then, felt Toto gently squeeze her hand. He was perched on a stool next to the exam table — Just the pain around my hips and belly that we talked about at my last appointment, but taking a warm bath helps when it gets really bad.

— Good — Dr. Reynolds said, as she started to smear Cassie’s belly with gel — All of those ligaments are starting to stretch and loosen as your body goes through so many changes. Some gentle stretching or yoga is also helpful. Now, let’s hope your baby is cooperative today so we can get some good images.

As the doctor was getting the transducer ready, Cassie caught sight of Toto out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were fixed directly on her belly, his expression inscrutable.

— Something wrong? — Cassie asked. 

— No, I just… I hadn’t realized how much you’re, um… Showing, until now — Toto said, quietly. He looked sheepish, and if the light in the room wasn’t so dim, Cassie would swear she could see him blushing — You’ve been wearing those bigger shirts and dresses lately at work, so this is the first time I’ve seen you like this. You look… Beautiful.

He brought the hand he was holding to his lips and gently kissed her fingers, and Cassie could feel herself blushing, but before she could say anything, the doctor had started the scan, and both of them turned their attention to the monitor. 

A grainy, pulsing, black-and-white image displayed on the screen as the doctor passed the transducer over Cassie’s belly.

— Okay, let’s see where we are…

The blurring resolved into a definite image, the profile of something that looked like the profile of a baby’s head appearing. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she thought she felt Toto’s gentle hold on her hand tighten. The last scan she had was too early in her pregnancy for anything to show other than something small, peculiar, and alien-looking, but now…

— It’s our baby — Toto whispered. Cassie smiled and took her eyes off the screen to look up at Toto. He was transfixed, a smile on his face as he watched the baby’s movements. After a moment, his eyes started shining, reflecting the light of the ultrasound screen in the darkness.

Cassie squeezed his hand. 

— Are you okay? — she whispered. But even as she asked, she knew exactly what he was feeling, because she felt it, too; the surreal enormity, the hope, the fear, all of it at once. Toto squeezed her hand back, and he glanced back down at Cassie. He tried to hide a sniffle, but it was unsuccessful.

The doctor took some measurements, and explained that, at least at first glance, everything looked to be going as expected.

— Now, you can’t always see it at this point in gestational development, but do you want to know the sex, if we can see it?

Cassie briefly glanced at Toto, each of them seeming to ask the other’s permission. 

— Yes, I think we both wanted to find out today, if we can — Cassie said, and Toto nodded. 

The doctor moved the transducer to the other side of Cassie’s belly, squinting at the screen once more. Cassie watched, feeling like she should know exactly what she was looking at, but all she saw were more blurry, undulating lines. 

— Let’s see… Ah, there we go. Now, again, it’s not always the most accurate at this point, and we’ll confirm when you’re further along, but — Dr. Reynolds said, pointing at something on the console screen. Cassie squinted to see what the doctor was pointing at, apparently seeing something specific in the monochrome mass of pulsating shapes — You can see the two legs here, and if you look at this bit here, you see how it’s parallel to the spine? That means, more than likely, you’ll be having a little girl.

Cassie felt her entire body flood with warmth, and felt Toto squeezing her hand, but after that, things barely registered for a few moments. She hadn’t dared to get her hopes up that her intuition had been correct. She had done some cursory searches online to see how people thought they could tell, and every method described seemed like an old wives’ tale, and that she’d have to try and summon the patience to simply wait.

After a moment, she thought to look at Toto to see what he thought. He’d also mentioned that he would want a girl if he had a choice — but, like Cassie, would simply be content with a healthy, happy baby — and his joy was plain to see in the expression on his face. Many would call Toto a difficult man to read, but Cassie never thought so, particularly when he was happy or excited about something. When he was genuinely happy, it seemed like his smile spread to every part of his face. The subtle dimples in his cheeks would emerge, and his nose would scrunch in a way that Cassie always thought made him look even more handsome. 

By the look on Toto’s face as he looked at Cassie, he was overjoyed. 

— Toto — Cassie said, feeling her voice starting to waver and her eyes start to fill with tears — We’re having a girl!

Dr. Reynolds smiled as she continued taking the last of the images she needed.

— Congratulations, mum and dad. I am guessing that was what you were hoping for?

Cassie opened her mouth to respond, but Toto got to it sooner.

— Yes, we discussed it a while ago. Of course, we’d be happy with a healthy baby of either sex, but — Toto turned to look down at Cassie again, the expression on his face so tender and happy that it made Cassie’s insides feel like jelly — I think from the start, both of us imagined having a little girl. And I have three nephews, so… The whole family was hoping for a girl.

Whatever Toto was telling the doctor after that point, Cassie wasn’t sure. She felt like she was floating from then on, even as Dr. Reynolds finished up the remainder of the appointment, gave her some instructions, and sent her to schedule her next ultrasound. 

As she and Toto left the clinic and walked to where they’d each parked their cars in the parking lot, she felt a strange electric frisson between them, no doubt caused by the way he kept a hand tenderly around her lower back as they walked along the sidewalk outside of the clinic, but she knew that it was just him being nice, playing his role as the good partner-but-not. She felt an almost desperate urge to envelop him in a hug, to reach up and kiss him right there, regardless of who would see, but she shoved it down. 

— So, um… Your place, right? — Toto said, as they got to where they’d parked next to each other.

— What? — Cassie said, blinking in surprise.

— I thought we were going to have dinner, and discuss, uh, logistics — Toto said, letting his hand go from Cassie’s lower back as he fumbled in his black cordura briefcase for his car keys. 

— Right. Yes, that’s right — Cassie said, shaking her head in an attempt to regain her wits. 

— Well, then, I’ll follow you — Toto said, smiling as he unlocked the door to his car and climbed in.

The entire drive back her flat was a blur in Cassie’s mind as it raced between dinner plans and baby plans, and by the time she unlocked the door to her flat and let Toto inside, her mind was a swirling mass of pink onesies, plush bunnies, and what to have with the chicken breasts that she left to thaw in the refrigerator for dinner.

In the end, she found some sweet potatoes in her pantry, and had some asparagus and tomatoes that needed to be used. She implored Toto to relax while she prepared dinner, not being used to having to contend with another person in the kitchen while she cooked, but Toto insisted on helping, so he chopped the vegetables while she set to work seasoning and baking the chicken.

Dinner came together quickly, and as they started eating, Toto was the first to cut through the silence.

— So, a little girl. Have you been thinking of any names, or did you want to wait to decide?

Cassie thought for a moment while she took a drink of water. 

— I haven’t given it too much thought, beyond what I told you before, that I didn’t really want to give her a classical name, you know, like my family would want. But it would be nice to give her a name, you know. I’ve just been thinking of it — she hesitated, before correcting herself — Her, I guess, as “the baby”.

— Well — Toto said — I wouldn’t mind giving her a Nordic name, like my family does. That way it would be unique, but not so much that she’s likely to be made fun of in school, or anything.

Cassie giggled.

— You say that like you have experience with that.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— I don’t dislike my name, but Torger isn’t a name that a lot of kids in Vienna come across very regularly. Let’s just say that my nickname was, um… How do you call it… Invented pretty early on in my school days.

— Well, alright. So, what kinds of names does that give us — Cassie said, picking up her phone. She paged through one of the dozens of pastel-colored websites open in her browser tabs that she’d been visiting over the past few weeks, before finding a naming dictionary she had particularly liked looking through — There’s the obvious ones, like Freya, Sif, and Astrid… No, those might have the same problem that your name gave you.

Toto laughed, and Cassie continued. 

— Elsa… No, people will just think we named her after that Disney movie… Edda… That sounds kind of, I don’t know, old lady-ish. Erika? No, I went to school with an Erika, I didn’t care for her. Juni is… That’s cute, I guess…

Toto pulled his chair closer to Cassie’s to look at the list of names with her, and Cassie angled the screen so he could get a better look. 

— Birgit? — Toto said — That’s a nice name, and not uncommon in Austria.

— Isn’t that what Niki Lauda’s wife is named? — Cassie said, turning her head to look at Toto. 

— Yes… And I think it’s a nice name.

— I know, but giving your child the name of someone you know feels odd, don’t you think? Plus, most English people would probably pronounce it incorrectly most of the time. And that leaves out Brigitta and Brigette, too. Asta? That one is nice.

— No, that reminds me of that sparkling wine — Toto said, crinkling his nose a bit — There’s Kirsten, but that one feels almost a bit too ordinary.

— Yes — Cassie sighed — And plus, she’d probably get called Kristen more often than not.

— Oh, what about… Ingrid? — Toto said, pointing at the name on Cassie’s phone screen — That’s a nice name. It’s easy enough in English, it’s a common enough name in German…

Cassie thought for a moment. She had a feeling like something snapped into place, like she had solved a complicated maths problem, or like she’d remembered a word that was on the tip of her tongue.

Almost involuntarily, her hand moved to her belly, cradling the growing swell of her abdomen.

— Ingrid. I like it. Ingrid — she repeated the name, like she was testing it out. She couldn’t help but feel like it was a good fit, that it felt right. 

— Ingrid Aldersey-Wolff — Toto said, a distinct note of pride in his voice.

— No… Just Ingrid Wolff — Cassie said, looking down at her belly. Her voice went quiet — It sounds nice, doesn’t it? We’ll need to come up with a middle name, but…

— You really don’t want her to have your surname too? — Toto asked, delicately.

— No. It wouldn’t feel right giving her something that I don’t even want — Cassie said, giving Toto a serious look. 

Toto pressed his mouth into a thin line, and nodded slightly.

— Ingrid Wolff.

According to the obstetrician, it was a bit too early in the pregnancy for Cassie to start feeling the baby kicking, but she thought she felt a distinct flutter from her belly. It may have been just her imagination, or something akin to nervous butterflies, but it felt like a sign, like the universe had given her at least one of the answers she was looking for. 

— Our little Ingrid — she said, feeling the warmth she’d felt earlier spreading through her body once more.

She and Toto finished eating in a more companionable silence, and Toto cleaned up the dishes once they were finished, at his insistence. After the dishes were in the dishwasher, they sat close together on the couch, scrolling through more parenting websites, discussing whatever came to mind.

— Oh, I forgot to tell you this, but I started this… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s sort of a visual scrapbook of things that you can save — she said, navigating to a website on her laptop. Toto peered over at the screen, his brow furrowing. She knew that Toto wasn’t tuned in to most social media websites, so she kept her explanation brief — But I made it mostly so we can gather ideas for how we want to decorate the nursery. I know it’s probably not, you know, a priority, but…

— No, I want to see. After all, it will be my daughter’s first bedroom.

Cassie almost couldn’t contain her joy at hearing Toto say the words “my daughter”, and given the smile that spread across Toto’s face near-immediately, it wasn’t easy for him, either.

For the next hour, they looked at pictures of nurseries online, saving the things that appealed to them. Both of them were in agreement about not wanting something stereotypically “girly” with everything in shades of pink.

— I like a minimalist look — Toto said — But…

— I know, I’ve seen your office — Cassie quipped. 

Toto shot her a knowing glance.

— But all of these gray or beige rooms that are supposed to be neutral, they’re awfully depressing for children, no?

— I know, but that’s what it’s fashion these days, from what I gather. But we don’t have to decide anything right now, we still have — Cassie paused, trying to do the mental calculation from the estimated due date that Dr. Reynolds gave them earlier — About 26 weeks before we have to worry about it.

— I know — Toto said, standing up from Cassie’s sofa — 26 weeks until we meet our daughter. Ingrid. Anyway, I think I should head home. Early day tomorrow, as always. And you should get your rest.

Cassie set her laptop on the coffee table, and stood up with him, following after him as he walked to the front door.

— Yes. Ingrid Wolff. Ingrid… And, like you said, we’ll need to think of a middle name.

— We will. We have 26 weeks — Toto said, carefully slipping his shoes on. 

— It will go by quickly though, so I’ve heard — Cassie said, giving Toto a small smile once he stood back up straight.

There was a slight pause before Toto opened his arms, prompting Cassie to step forward into a hug. It was soft and gentle, making Cassie feel the fluttering from deep down in her belly again as Toto pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead before he stepped back slightly.

— Do you mind if I…? — he said, pointing to Cassie’s belly. 

— Go ahead — Cassie said, feeling her face flush — She is… Ingrid is… Is your daughter, after all.

It was surreal seeing Toto bend over slightly and mutter something in German with only the words tochter and Ingrid clear to Cassie as he put his hand on the bump, but not in an unpleasant way, quite the contrary. 

As Toto said goodbye to her again and Cassie went about her bedtime routine, she realized that it was what made the pregnancy finally feel real, and concrete like nothing before had. Not the initial test results, not telling her sister and mother, not the episodes of morning sickness, not even telling Toto when he got back from Barcelona, but the fact that their daughter had a name, like she was already a person and not a hypothetical, not a “little bean” or the other corny euphemisms that the parenting websites used to refer to a baby while it was still in utero. 

The thrill hadn’t dissipated the next morning, either, and with a quick message to Toto to get his — not his approval, but to see if he had any objections — she set out to do something she’d been waiting to do for what felt like ages.

A few hours later, in the marketing team meeting, Victoria, her boss, asked the group if there were any new agenda items to discuss, and Cassie raised her hand.

— I know this isn’t really related to the business, but I have some personal news — she said. She could feel a quaver coming to her voice as she spoke.

— Go ahead — Victoria said, giving her a nod.

— I found out a few weeks ago, but… I’m pregnant.

There was a momentary silence in the room, and Cassie noticed the momentary collective confusion on her colleagues’ faces, until one of her colleagues, Imogen, clapped her hands together and practically squealed with joy.

— Oh, that’s wonderful, Cassie! Congratulations!

What followed seemed to be an avalanche of well-wishes and questions in equal measure.

— When are you due? — one of her other coworkers asked. 

— Have you found out the sex yet?

— I didn’t even know you were trying, that’s amazing — another said.

Cassie thought her colleagues looked a bit skeptical, and perhaps it was just her imagination. She certainly didn’t want to reveal the whole truth about the baby and her parentage, not when nobody else on the team knew about it, and her mind automatically slotted onto the story that she’d given her mother and sister a few weeks ago.

— Well, I met this guy named, er, Christian. He works in finance, and we met a few years ago… A friend set us up, and we fell in love… And we’ve both always wanted children, so we decided to start trying for a baby. We just found out yesterday that we’re having a little girl. 

— That’s wonderful, Cassie — Victoria said, beaming at her.

— When you said Christian, I was afraid you were going to follow it with ‘Horner’ for a moment — Dan, one of the content writers, said, which prompted a ripple of chuckles around the room, and a scowl from Victoria. 

Cassie laughed nervously, knowing that he wasn’t categorically wrong about the father of her baby being a team principal. 

— God, could you imagine? — she said, trying to play off her nerves — That would be a nightmare.

#toto wolff #wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #etlwlff

[nerdygaymormon]

You post a lot about trans things, how can you be so sure? What if you're wrong?

Trans, enby, genderqueer, and intersex individuals are part of humanity. I don't understand why recognizing the full spectrum of humanity is considered dangerous. Everyone deserves respect.

Unfortunately, because this seems new and foreign to people, many are uncomfortable and refuse to acknowledge pronouns and they vote for restrictive laws such as limiting health care or making special laws about bathroom usage. This serves to further marginalize these queer individuals and greatly diminishes their health and well-being.

This is not new or unique. Many indigenous cultures around the world recognize more than 2 genders.

Gender is about identity, roles, and societal expectations. For most people, it aligns with their biological sex which is about anatomy and chromosomes and so on, but gender and sex don't always align. Even biological sex isn't strictly a binary as evidenced by intersex individuals. There are variations in chromosomes, genitals, hormone levels, and secondary sex characteristics.

We have genderqueer, trans, and nonbinary people who share with us their reality of not fitting in the gender binary. There's also gender fluidity, where someone's gender identity and expression shifts over time. Learning from them about the reality of their lives is important and teaches us a lot about gender. Acknowledging their experiences and that a spectrum exists can significantly improve their mental health and well-being. Why would I not want that for a group of people?

Science is increasingly producing studies which support that gender is not binary. A modern biology textbook, or even listening to a science-based podcast episode about gender will make this point.

We already have seen such damage from trying to force queer people to fit into heteronormative cisgender lives. That is something our church and our society was wrong about because they refused to listen to queer people and their experiences. And the harm wasn't restricted to queer people but also affects others, like the spouses of all those gay people who were told to get married and it would make their gayness go away. You're asking me what if I'm wrong, what if YOU are wrong and trans people actually are speaking the truth about their lives and experiences?

For trans people, studies show the best outcomes for their mental health includes some form of transitioning. Letting people have the autonomy and agency to make the best choices for themselves is important.

[respectthepetty]

Following your last post. Are you able to summarise or explain why you love Taiwan BL so much?

I ask because I too love Taiwanese BLs but……I can’t pin point why. Is it because the first ones I watched was top tier?! (Loooking at you fighting Mr2nd and History4) or is there a different frame work that draws us in?

I don’t know and can’t seem to explain it so I has rushed here after your post and express my need for you to someone explain or put into words, WHY WE LOVE TAIWANESE GAYS?!?

Anon, I've listed a few times why I love Taiwanese BLs (like here and here), but I love them soooooo much, I will gladly do it again!

Strangely enough, I have an ask sitting patiently in my inbox requesting I rank the HIStory franchise, but since I love Taiwanese BLs, it's hard for me to pick between my favorites, which I had to do for Taiwanese BLs in general when I was asked to rank my top five. However, HIStory 4: Close to You rules above ALL BLs regardless of country. I love it! It is the best. I will fight people and their pets for it.

But you know I cannot keep things short, so . . .

10 Reasons I Love Taiwanese BLs

*presented in no particular order*

The shows are visually pleasing.

The cinematography especially the color editing and the lighting are good quality. As a color demon, I've noticed the emphasis on colors even in Taiwanese non-BL series I've watched. I'm superficial. They're pretty!

The men are visually pleasing.

Beyond the production aesthetics, the actors themselves are easy on the eyes. Every single main character is unexpectedly hiding a body-ody-ody under his clothes which he reveals in the most natural ways. The camera doesn't linger on the body. The bodies are just bodies. But they are oh-so-very pretty bodies.

The attraction is obvious.

Taiwanese BLs are high heat. The characters will flirt. They will stare longingly at each other. They will playfully touch each other. They will have sex. The characters want each other, physically, and we see that. And it won't be saved until the final episode. The attraction develops in a way that feels natural, and if there is hesitation regarding sex, once they figure out the mechanics, the characters embody the "practice makes perfect" motto.

The beds are used.

Domesticity is at the core of a Taiwanese BL. We see characters cooking in kitchens, often. We see them sleeping in beds without sex being involved. An entire scene can be focused around the characters doing household chores such as laundry, washing dishes, or mopping. The characters are building a home together as partners, and we constantly see that.

The families are caring.

For every shitty family member, there are three others who are determined to win a PFLAG award. We see characters' siblings, parents, and found family members being supportive of their relationship and fighting other family members who step out of line.

The secondary pairs deliver.

When the story isn't focusing on the main couple, I still care about the second (and sometimes third) pair. Their stories might not always be fully fleshed out, but they don't distract from the main couple nor make me want to skip over their parts. The secondary couples are also involved in the stories outside of their romance. They are connected to the overall story and help to push the narrative forward.

The couples are queer.

This seems like a given since we are dealing with BLs, but Taiwan has delivered very few high school and university BLs, and even when it does, they aren't presented as a coming-of-age story. Characters already know they are queer, or if they realize it, they don't panic. For example, in About Youth, both characters confessed they hadn't kissed anyone before, but it wasn't depicted as an "ah-I'm-gay" moment. Even in DNA Says Love You, the reveal wasn't cause for a crisis; it was a moment of relief. In my fave, HIStory 4, the main character realized he liked his friend, sat on that revelation, then licked his friend's mouth and told him he loved him. Very pro kissing-the-homies.

The couples are adults.

Because Taiwan hasn't produced many high school and university BLs, a majority of its shows are focused on adults, with jobs, and families, and baggage. As mentioned above, the main conflict is never a character understanding his queerness. It's usually him trying to balance his relationship with all the other issues life brings him like a work deadline, the mafia, or ghosts. You know, adult issues.

The couples are enemies-to-lovers, lite.

My favorite kind of couple dynamic is "I'll kill (for) him" and Taiwan knows how to deliver this. Even when couples move past the enemies stage, there are moments when they look at each other as if they could kill each other, and that warms my heart. The couples argue. They fight. They plot each other's murders. Then they eat dinner together and hold each other in bed. Love isn't all rainbows and sunshine in these BLs, and Taiwan shows that it's not just about who will fight with you, but who will fight for you that matters.

The country has marriage equality!

I'm going to get political - I don't even believe in the institution of marriage, but I'll throw hands for everyone's right to marriage equality. People deserve the right to get married, and Taiwan granted its people that right in 2019; then, this year, it made it legal for same-sex couples to jointly adopt a child. Taiwan has a tension-filled relationship with China due to disputes about Taiwan's independence, and we all know how China censors the homos. Therefore, I love Taiwanese BLs flexing its gay rights muscle all of the time. Other countries are fighting the good fight for their rights, but if it came down to my last little international dollar, I want to support the countries that support us and not those that are profiting off our community without investing in our community members' rights. So at the end of the day . . .

I love whatever Taiwan gives me.

So these are the reasons I know Kiseki: Dear to Me will be one of my favorites.

The show and the men are visually pleasing. It is giving us queer adult couples stacked on top of other queer adult couples then cameos of even more queer adult couples. We've gotten enemies-to-friendly roommates, where the attraction is obvious, so now we must wait for the lovers part even though they had already cooked, cleaned, and slept in the bed by the second episode. When we meet the families of these crazy little bastards, we are going to love them.

Oh, and there will be a proposal.

TAIWAN SUPREMACY!

#Taiwanese BLs #I love them because they are queer #Kiseki: Dear to Me WILL be a favorite #HIStory franchise needs to give me HIStory 6: Freed #RIGHT NOW! #Let my man be free

[laundrybiscuits]

Just curious and i like hearing your thoughts on this stuff. May i ask what aspect of steddie fanon you're referring to (which don't fit IRL queer culture so accurately)?

Ahaha...okay so. IMPORTANT NOTE: fandom is not that crucial, do whatever you want, run free through daisy fields of whatever headcanons and characterizations you please. Also, fic is not real life and that's okay!!

That being said, fandom can get slightly weird about sex, especially queer sexual cultures and especially historical queer sexual cultures. I mean, I get it! Our current hegemonic understanding of sexuality is actually pretty recent; I studied sexuality from a sociological perspective as part of my undergrad degree, focusing on moral panics (gosh I wonder why Eddie's character arc appeals to me! so mysterious!), and I know just enough to know that I don't know shit. So I certainly don't expect anyone to be doing paradigm-shifting sociohistorical research for a fic. That would be ridiculous.

All of this is leading up to say that based on 1) the relayed experiences of queer mentors who were in the scene in the 80s 2) the secondary sources I’ve researched 3) personally having many gay male friends who love oversharing through the last ~15 years, I believe that if canon-compliant gay Eddie Munson is a virgin, it’s largely by choice. 

I've seen it suggested that Eddie's poor academic performance and nerdy interests would be, essentially, a dick deterrent. And like...I enjoy Eddie’s weirdo loser vibe as much as the next fan. I fully support him not being in any way smooth or cool with boys. But even when I myself was in my late teens/early twenties, many of my closest friends were awkward nerdy twinks who absolutely managed to get laid every weekend because MSM* hookup culture is eternal. 

And in the early 80s, when Eddie would’ve been in his late teens, MSM hookup culture was at its peak. AIDS still wasn’t being taken that seriously, and transmission etc. wasn’t really understood because…well, you know this story. It’s not a good story. Fuck Reagan. 

In short, I really can’t emphasize enough how certain types of sexual contact were extremely available for men seeking sex with men. A pretty young thing like Eddie could have literally as much sex as he wanted. Nobody is asking him for a high school transcript or anything about his hobbies, they’re asking if he tops. 

Now, would Eddie actually participate in the hookup culture of the time? That's a more complicated and speculative question, and not actually what you asked, but I'm going to talk about it briefly anyway.

In the 'yes' column: he has his own vehicle**, zero supervision, and a penchant for risky behavior.

In the 'no' column: the boy has at least three extremely involved hobbies eating up his spare time and energy; he's also a not-so-secret romantic.

Personally, I can see the pseudo-intimacy appealing to Eddie's tendency to keep people at arm's length, and I think it’s very plausible for him to be curious and experimental enough to want to explore a bit. I tend to land on 'tried it a few times, doesn't make a habit of it' in my backstories. I also tend to hint at the softer, friendlier side of hookup culture in my fics, just because I don’t often see it represented. 

Of course it’s like any other scene, there are bad actors and generally shitty people/situations, and sometimes the MSM scene specifically can be a bit of a soul-draining meat market. (ETA, because I am not white and neither are the vast majority of my friends and I felt increasingly weird not mentioning it even though it's not relevant to Eddie's situation: the scene is often also super racist, among other things! But that's a whooole other complicated kettle of fish, and again, not relevant to Eddie's situation.)

But there’s also space for casual sex to be part of a friendly relationship, in a way that I don’t really see in hetero circles. It’s hard to explain. It’s one of those dynamics that basically never shows up in mainstream media at all, so I absolutely don’t blame fics that don’t show it either. It’s just one of those things.

This is a step to the left, but I recommend checking out Dykes To Watch Out For: it’s practically an anthropological document depicting dyke culture in the 80s, it’s often funny as hell, and it’s just a fantastically detailed and relatively accessible window into a particular way of life that doesn’t really exist anymore. 

*MSM = men who have sex with men. It’s a sociological designation; not everyone in this category identifies as gay, bi, queer, etc. It may be useful to think about sexuality as having three distinct components: behavior, identity, and desire. The term “MSM” puts focus on the behavioral aspect, because it’s most relevant in this context. 

**As someone who has experienced several other countries' driving cultures, I just want to emphasize to non-Americans how willing many Americans are to drive for multiple hours for basically any reason whatsoever.

#askbox #GOD this got long #I will absolutely delete this and go on a blocking spree with zero notice if it sparks any discourse whatsoever #I'm not even tagging it as meta #I just get so freaking paranoid when talking about sex/sexuality publicly on this hellsite #ETA new tag: #ST meta for TS

[bohemian-nights]

As a WOC, I will never be able to sympathize with Rhaenyra. She’s such an over privileged and lazy person. I just can’t bring myself to sympathize with her for getting usurped because I feel like that’s mainly her fault for being lazy and thinking she’s entitled to everything.

And then we have nettles. A girl who comes from nothing. She manages to claim a wild dragon, she fights for Rhaenyra’s cause and how does Rhaenyra repay her? By trying to murder her. How can anyone sympathize with Rhaenyra over nettles? This white woman’s trauma and paranoia do not excuse her trying to kill a black woman.

So many of her Stans like to pretend they have the moral high ground while also defending Rhaenyra trying to murder nettles.

Yeah, that’s my main complaint with her and why I get so frustrated when people think I’m being mean, petty, or overly critical about her character.

Yes, she is objectively a victim of the patriarchy, but she’s also a privileged white woman who tried to exercise her privilege by attempting to commit a racially motivated hate crime against a Black woman(Nettles).

And yes she’s a fictional character, but there have been so many women throughout history who have behaved in that same exact manner. Women who despite being discriminated against based on their sex still managed to punch down and ruin real lives, separated families, and got innocents killed all at their command.

I don’t know if this was GRRM's intention, but from my perspective as a Black woman, Rhaenyra is just another reflection of that painful history. She’s not someone I can project onto and see myself in even though she’s a woman. She’s still very much just a part of the machine(just in a feminine form).

Before anyone comes for me, it’s perfectly fine if you like Rhaenyra. Again she’s fictional, but not acknowledging what she represents and how she’s both oppressed and an oppressor means that you don’t acknowledge her victims or see the importance of characters like Nettles.

And if you have a hard time acknowledging and understanding how a fictional Black woman is being victimized by a white woman I doubt you’ll have a much easier time dealing with real life victims of racial violence.

Not to mention the fact that it’s incredibly offensive to see things like Nettles should be cut because there are five other Black-ish people in a mostly white cast and she’s unimportant and people only like her because she’s Black and yet have people swear up and down they don’t have a racist bone in their body.

This isn’t even getting into the people who have literally used the n-word compared Black characters to animals, and mocked Black hair and features. Just know you guys are the same cause racism isn’t limited to spewing out slurs.

Those statements(which are solely focused on her race) are very much rooted in anti-Blackness. Those statements are the epitome of reducing someone down to just their skin color and dismissing them because of that. Nettles may be fictional, but you are using racist tropes that have been pushed on Black(that we somehow aren’t deserving of our positions in life and are only where we are because of quotas and wokeness) to trash her character.

Nettles is an incredibly interesting character. Hell, even George finds her fascinating.

Of all the secondary characters in F&B she’s the one who he wanted to write a novella about. Her story has all the tropes that people usually like. Girl from nothing who despite all odds makes it and thrives. She’s there to teach a lesson, but they don’t see her worth because she’s Black. All they see is a Black face who they think doesn’t belong since she’s not a walking stereotype.

I’m not exactly shocked by this behavior, but it’s still stlrange asf to see people who scream up and down about misogyny(which is valid) then go on and perpetuate misogynoir without blinking an eye.

#bnasks #bnask #nettles #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti rhaenyra stans #fandom racism