#there’s goods ones (canon and non-canon) don’t get me wrong

[steviewashere]

Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It’s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one. 

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I’d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw referenced rape/non-con #read the content warnings #asexual steve harrington

[tommykinard6]

I don't mean to pile onto your bad day but I've been seeing a lot of creators on tiktok complain/compare the bucktommy and henren tags/fic count on ao3 because there's almost more bucktommy fics then there are henren fics. The number one claim is always that bucktommy writers are racist because we don't write for henren. But like, that's not correct at all? People can write fanfiction for whatever they want to. If they want to see more henren stuff then they can write it on their own.

We can coexist without fighting each other. I'm just tired of people screaming about how bucktommy is anti this or anti that, when we're just vibing by ourselves and don't want the drama but the drama finds us anyway because Sucky People are loud and get heard the most.

You’re good, anon. It actually gave me something to think about during work.

As a quick disclaimer, before we begin, I’m not a POC. I am not speaking for anyone in the Black community and am not attempting to speak over them. My following thoughts are as a queer woman-ish who is also a writer.

I think it must be noted that Hen and Karen have been overlooked since day one. The fact that Buck coming out made it the “gay firefighter show” when we’ve had a beautiful canonical lesbian couple since the very beginning? Is only proof. Is this proof of racism in the fandom? Maybe. Quite possibly. I would argue that it comes from a misogynistic point as well.

If you look in any fandom, regardless of the color of their skin, any wlw ship is horribly overlooked. I’ve done some tag searching on ao3. Straight and mlm ships battle for dominance while there are canonical and fanonical wlw ships that have a drastic difference in numbers. This isn’t a good thing. But it’s an experience that spans fandoms.

I find it sad that BuckTommy has almost more fics, with only two episodes under their belt, than Henren with 7 seasons. However, this isn’t a reason to hate on BuckTommy. The ship didn’t do anything wrong. Comparison is the thief of joy and it’s also rage bait. I think that some creators simply are using anything they can to hate on BuckTommy. Which that makes it sadder, that they aren’t concerned about Henren other than pushing their own agenda.

This isn’t to say all creators who are speaking about this are doing this, but I guarantee some are.

Now, let me speak as a writer.

As someone with 62 published fics on ao3, I write almost exclusively mlm ships. This isn’t because I hate women. And as a queer woman-ish, don’t even start about homophobia. But for some reason, I find it so much easier to write men than I do to write women. This is true for straight and wlw ships and also just in general. I love Henren, but I don’t have the faintest idea about how to write them.

It’s hard enough to write as it is and I’m already writing on ships that are easy for me. I try to write women and it just hasn’t come out right. I want to challenge myself, branch out, and maybe I’ll write for Henren to do that. But I say all this to point out that for some people like me, writing some ships and demographics of ships are just a little more difficult.

That leads me into something else.

I, as a white person, worry about accidentally writing non-white characters wrong. And this was reinforced not too long ago when we had that whole thing on ao3 with deliberate racism in 9-1-1 fics. If anyone has resources or advice for writing non-white characters, I would love to hear that! The last thing I want to do is cause any harm.

I feel like I’ve spoken a lot about me, but that’s because I can’t really speak for anyone else. I can only speak from my experience.

We already have a ship war between BuckTommy and Buddie. We don’t need to pit more people against each other. I think we can love BuckTommy while agreeing that Henren needs to be seen and appreciated and treated equally.

End note to say: I tried to speak as delicately and as sensitively as I could, but if anything came out wrong, please feel free to point it out (kindly). Again, I speak for no one but my very little section of the world. I’m interested to hear what people of other backgrounds have to add!

#911 abc #911 show #9-1-1 #tommy kinard #bucktommy #evan buckley #lou ferrigno jr #911 season 7 #tk6 answers #oliver stark #henren #henrietta wilson #hen wilson #karen wilson

[mama-qwerty]

The Knuckles Series - Review

Okay. So.

Finished the series.

I have thoughts.

First of all, it was fun. I view it as kinda filler episode material, that if someone watched just the movies they wouldn’t miss much. I watched it with my family and there were times we were all laughing and cheering and just enjoying the ride. It was silly and fun and Knuckles was adorable in every scene he was in.

That said, was it perfect?

No. No, it was not.

Here’s my take on some problems.

~ Setup felt rushed

We had the barest glimpse into Knux’s difficulty adjusting to a life on Earth, which, honestly, just made it look like he wasn’t being challenged enough. He can’t go from being on the run and fighting for his life at every turn to just sitting around playing VR and goofing off. That’s just not who he is.

Not to mention, his interpersonal skills are practically non-existent. He fought his whole childhood away. Presumably, anyone who came near him either wanted to exploit him, use him, or fight him. So he’s used to just doing things on his own, with no one to answer to, or take into consideration. That’s what I saw at the beginning—and honestly, it may have been easily handled had Maddie sat down with him and actually tried to get to know and understand him a little better.

~ Maddie

I felt for her, I really did. And I get that she was frustrated. Tom’s off who-knows-where, and she’s left at home trying to get the damage to the house fixed, while keeping tabs on three super powered alien kids, one of whom is actively attacking handymen, dragging a ton of dirt and sharpened sticks into the living room to make a warrior fighting pit, and dismantling the car to build himself an Iron Throne in the dining room.

She’s frustrated, and doing everything she can to keep herself from snapping. She didn’t sign up for this, but now has to learn on the fly how to deal with three very different, and very special needs kiddos.

But her referring to Knuckles as “our little red barbarian friend” kinda rubbed me the wrong way. He’s not a barbarian. He’s a warrior. He’s a traumatized kid who feels like the honor of his entire tribe rests on his shoulders. He’s struggling with this change and instead of trying to sit down and talk to the kid to explain how things are done on Earth, and see if there was some kind of agreement they could reach to keep them both happy, she just kinda gives up and walks away. Not very understanding, and doesn’t make her come off looking very good.

~ Pachacamac

Okay, this is just weird. Pachacamac, for those who don’t know, in the games is the warmongering echidna tribe chief who led the warriors in an assault to take the Master Emerald’s power for themselves. In the process, they enraged Chaos, the God of Destruction, who all but wiped out the Knuckles clan.

I know, I know, game and movie universes are different. The movie team has taken liberties before with certain aspects of Sonic lore, so this shouldn’t be any different.

Except it is. Canonically, Pachacamac is not a good guy. He’s not even a morally gray character. He is not an honored chief, who trained Knuckles and is now his wise spirit guide. He was the cause of the fall of Knuckles’ entire tribe, thanks to his greed and lust for power.

Making Pachacamac essentially Yoda is like changing Robotnik into a kindly grandfather figure. I mean, what??

The only thing I can think this harkens back to is Longclaw’s little hologram message from the second movie, in which she gives Sonic a quest to find the Master Emerald before Knuckles does. Which, okay, it’s a lost loved one giving a final message to help direct the character on a new path.

Except, Pachacamac isn’t a lost loved one for Knuckles. We did not see any interaction between Knux and Pach. We did see interaction between Knuckles and his father, who would have been a much better choice to send his son on a new path.

(I did, however, see this post that makes SOOOOO much sense in why Pachy appears to Knux, and instructs him to train Wade, specifically.)

~ The Master Emerald

Speaking of, WHERE IS IT? It was referenced numerous times, but never shown once. The absolute least the show could have done was show it well secured, with a Tails’ created security system in place. Show Knux meditating near it, or praying to his ancestors that they can rest easy knowing that the Emerald is safely back in the hands of the echidna once more.

The absolute lack of a presence of it is strange, considering the pursuit of it was what caused the near extinction of both the echidna and the owls. It was Knuckles’ focus for his entire life. Yet he simply leaves it behind without a second thought?

~ Wanda

OMG I hated Wade’s sister. Just, hated her. She was immature, abrasive, abusive, unnecessarily antagonistic with Wade (which seemed to be a life-long thing if the flashbacks are anything to go by) and just struck me as someone who was overcompensating for something. She’s a bully and it’s no wonder Wade is the way he is if he had to grow up with someone like her.

~ No Closure

We didn’t see them arrive back home, where Maddie would hand them their asses for just disappearing like that and not telling her. She was likely worried out of her mind the whole time. And I would have liked to have seen Sonic and Tails try to cover for Knux’s absence, in funny little brotherly shenanigans.

As I said above, I still found it fun. I loved Mother Whipple. I loved Knux’s interactions with her. I loved how Wade grew over their little trip. It was an enjoyable ride, and my whole family really had fun.

How would I have done it differently?

Well, that’s a different post.

#knuckles series review #knuckles series spoilers #knuckles the echidna #wade whipple

[hitwiththetmnt]

12 Donnie has some words for MM Leo if he’s gonna survive the writing room

#after thought to an after thought that I had to draw #the prophet-he speaks and you are not gonna like what he has to say #ah yes: the dangers of relationships in the tmnt shows #well if you could even consider the majority of ‘relationships’ real #there’s goods ones (canon and non-canon) don’t get me wrong #Donnie just needs to protect his lil bro from falling to the same wounds of the writers room #mm leo #12 donnie #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donnatello #tmnt mutant mayhem #tmnt mm #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt #tmnt fanart #my art #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt doodles

[devildom-moss]

October poll story

Barbatos - Monster kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (top!Barbatos / bottom!MC) (NSFW tags: monster!Barbatos - non-canon/enhanced demonic features including increased greed and lust, claws, sharp teeth, forked tongue that matches his tail, bigger tail, and bigger "tail"; sex involving magic; no specified sex organs for MC; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; tail penetration; double stuffed by one man - tail and penis penetration simultaneously; technically masturbation; mild bloodplay, mild primal play; begging; multiple orgasms; seriously judging myself at this point CNC - Somno; mild temperature play; implied being used as a human sex toy; no lube - but tail is naturally wet, so mostly no lube; no condom; overstim - receiving; creampie; mentions of very trusting sex)

(other tags: Plot heavy - in the first half, then it basically all erotica, everyone is annoyed with Solomon poor guy kinda?)

Word Count: +4,600 new longest fic for me?

When you heard that Diavolo was going on an overnight trip without Barbatos, you knew you had to go to the castle and get as much alone time as you could with your favorite butler. Considering that Diavolo was also being left in Lucifer’s very capable hands during the trip, you figured Barbatos wouldn’t be in the anxious state that typically overcame him when Lord Diavolo wasn’t under his close watch. So, when you turned up unannounced at the castle that morning only for Little D. no. 2 to answer the door, something seemed off. You tried not to worry, though. Barbatos was probably preoccupied with one of his many tasks.

“Well, if it isn’t Number 2, how are you doing today?” You smiled and patted his head.

“MC! I’m so happy to see you! Are you here to visit Mr. Barbatos? Ooh, I wonder if he’ll come out of his room for you. No one has seen him at all this morning, and when I knocked on his door to check for him, I heard this weird noise before he asked me to leave him alone. Can you believe that? Well, I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling good, so I brought him some tea – now, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the tea he makes, but when I brought it, he told me that it wasn’t necessary. I left it at the door, but guess what? When I checked back, the tea was cold and untouched. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to call anyone yet because that seems like something Mr. Barbatos would get mad at me for, but since you’re already here, maybe you could check on him and make sure he’s okay.” The monologue recounting this morning’s events spilled from Number 2’s mouth quickly and with no room for interruption.

Without much thought, you had followed Number 2 in the direction of Barbatos’s room – some attempt to physically follow along with his story as your brain processed the information. You let the words absorb into your mind, fishing for a relevant question. It was already past 10AM. Barbatos was always up and about by now. “Did he sound sick?”

“Can’t say. If not sick, he definitely sounded strange – like he was talking with his mouth half-full or something.” Number 2 hummed and tilted his head to the side. “Or, you know how when you bite your tongue or burn it on your soup because it smells too good not to eat it right away – even though Mr. Barbatos warned you to be careful and let it cool?”

“Sure.” You shook your head and stared down the hall. Barbatos’s room was just a few doors down.

“Anyway, I think something is wrong, so I’d really appreciate it if you could look out for Mr. Barbatos. If he really is sick, you’ll take care of him, right?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Great.” Little D. no. 2 stopped in front of Barbatos’s door and turned around to face you. “I’ll leave it to you. I’m sure the rest of us can find a way to keep the castle running while you tend to Mr. Barbatos, so don’t worry about anything else!”

“Thank you, Number 2. You’re so reliable.” You could tell how worried and eager to help he was. Number 2 nodded and left you outside of Barbatos’s door. You stood there silently for a second, listening for any strange noises or coughs, before gently knocking. “Barbatos, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“MC?” Your name was quiet and muffled.

“Barbatos? I’m going to enter, alright?”

“Wait. I –” he started to protest in an unusually slurred speech, but it was too late. You had already opened the door.

Barbatos’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of his bedroom. He had backed himself against the nearest wall. His typically gloved hands were bare, revealing sharp, claw-like nails. One of those hands shot up over his mouth. You heard his tail thump against the wall a few times before he grabbed it with his free hand, stilling its aggravated motions.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him cautiously. He looked different – more demonic than usual.

“Solomon,” Barbatos responded with his hand still over his mouth, only exacerbating his strange enunciation. He was frozen in place.

Of course. You sighed and shut your eyes. What did he do this time? You closed the door behind you and took a few steps into the room. Barbatos eyed you with every move – even as you reached into your pocket to pull out your D.D.D.

“I’ll call him, okay?”

You waited for the phone to ring once before you put it on speaker. Solomon picked up in seconds. “MC, my adorable apprentice, what can I do for you?”

“What the fuck did you do to Barbatos?” you asked him aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong with him, and he said it’s your fault.” Technically, that was a bit of a jump considering the facts you had at hand, but it was a logical conclusion.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s see, slightly glowing eyes and the sudden appearance of claws to start. And – if you don’t mind me adding, Barbatos – his tail looks bigger than before.”

“His tail . . .is bigger?”

“Longer. Thicker. Girthier. Do you need more adjectives?”

“Just his tail?”

“For fucks sake. I didn’t strip him down and give him a full body exam.”

Solomon hummed. “Anything else?”

“He sounds weird – like he has a lisp.” You glanced over at Barbatos, whose cheeks had grown pinker since the beginning of the call. He dropped his hand slowly and opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that looked like his tail. A shiver shot down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath before adding, “that’s new.”

“What’s new?” Solomon asked, unable to disguise his intrigue.

“Sharp teeth and a forked tongue.”

You heard a breezy laugh on the other end of the line. “So, good news: I figured out what happened. I accidentally swapped the magical tea blend I made for Barbatos with the one I made for Asmodeus. Oops.”

“Oops?” You sighed while Barbatos let out a low, guttural growl.

“Asmo asked me for a tea to enhance some of his more demonic features for a photoshoot. It seems Barbatos got Asmo’s tea, so Asmo – oh, speak of the devil. He’s calling.”

“Add him to our call.” You looked over at Barbatos, wishing you could apologize for Solomon’s behavior silently.

“What gives, Solomon? Your tea was a total flop. I tested it as soon as I got up this morning. I wanted to check out my enhanced demon features before the shoot tomorrow – maybe indulge in them a bit on my own. Nothing has happened. You promised quick results. I’m still my same, gorgeous self, and all your stupid potion did was give me the urge to organize all of my make-up and tidy half of my closet. I was really depending on you to come through for me here.” Asmo complained, clearly annoyed by Solomon’s failure.

“You basically made Adderall tea for Barbatos?” you asked, staring between Barbatos and your phone.

“Barbatos?” Asmo questioned. “Also, hey, MC~! Are you calling to yell at Solomon, too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded.

“Can I speak?” Solomon added quickly, coming to his own defense since no one else was going to. “First, Barbatos asked for something to soothe him and enhance productivity so he could make good use of his day without Diavolo. Second, we had a little mix up, Asmo –”

“ – we?” you interrupted.

“Okay, I had a mix up. You have the blend I made for Barbatos. Barbatos took some of yours. MC is with him now.”

“Ooh. Enhanced demon form Barbatos sounds sexy. Does he look sexy, MC?” Asmo cooed.

“Focus, Asmo,” you responded, too embarrassed to admit the truth. Well, the truth other than that Solomon clearly sucked at making magical Adderall.

“Asmo. I have plenty of the magical blend I made for you left over. I’ll bring it by in a bit, alright? Will that resolve everything on your end?” Solomon’s voice sounded sweet, but there was a grave calmness to it.

“Yes.”

“Then hang up and wait for me, please.” Asmo did as Solomon asked, leaving the sorcerer to clean up the rest of his mess. “As for you and Barbatos, MC, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to reverse the effects. Depending on how much he drank, it should wear off anywhere within a few minutes to a full day. Until then, I suggest you leave Barbatos alone. All of his demonic senses are heightened – that includes his urges. He may be dangerous to be around until the effects clear up.”

You looked at Barbatos. His glowing eyes were wide and damp, and his gaze hadn’t left you once during the entire call; even when you looked away, you could feel him staring. His knuckles were white from gripping his tail so tightly. He was even trembling slightly. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that. He looks miserable like this. I’m not leaving him. It’ll be fine, just trust me.”

“MC.” Solomon wanted to warn you against it again, but there was no use in arguing with you. “Be careful and call me if you need me.”

“Alright, and Solomon? Learn how to label your shit.” You said it sweetly, but he knew you were livid.

“Sorry! Don’t be mad.”

You hung up the phone and returned your attention to Barbatos. He backed away, pressing his shoulders flush against the wall, as you approached him. It was hard to believe that this was a more demonic version of Barbatos. He seemed so timid and scared. Slowly, you reached your hand out to smooth his hair down. His low growl echoed off the walls like there was thunder muffled inside his chest.

Barbatos gulped and opened his mouth to speak, showing you a glimpse of those magic-sharpened teeth and that tongue – now forked and dyed black and aqua. Overcome by a sudden shyness about his new state, Barbatos covered his mouth again to speak. His breath was unsteady, and his words were quiet. “You should go.”

“But you look miserable. Isn’t there something I can do to help?”

Barbatos dropped his hand, and his gaze followed, landing on the floor. “Help? Please don’t tempt me when I’m like this. I’ve been holding back since you walked into that door – since I first caught your scent from down the hall, if I’m honest.”

You inched closer, testing the waters – testing his control before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and searched his face. When you finally caught his gaze, you realized up-close how unusually terrified he was. You’d never seen him like this, and it only made you want to protect him more – to soothe the fear this spell had pulled from him. Barbatos bit his lip, and for a second you worried he might draw blood, but he didn’t.

“Please,” Barbatos begged with a shaky exhale. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, hoping to ease his mind. “Don’t touch me any further. I’ll only want more. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Greed. That was his innate sin. You knew that, and it had never been a concern – even when he lost control. There was always a spark of fear – worry on the lighter days – in his eyes when you caused his composure to faulter. It flashed like lightning. Sometimes, you had to wonder if you had seen anything at all or if your eyes – if his eyes – were playing tricks on you.

The love Barbatos offered was a love that said, “I would like to cherish you always. I will treat you sweetly, and if I must be rough, it will be thoughtful and restrained.” He had never pushed your limits – never even toed the line – unless you asked him to. Now, he was warning you that he did not know his own limits. A dark, selfish, possessive need in him threatened to take everything you would offer him and then some. Barbatos was pleading with you to turn him down, to not indulge him. This was your last chance, and you knew it. All his willpower, reduced into one last-ditch effort to dissuade your trust in him – a final, feeble, “please.”

When you brought your lips to his, it was over. Until that potion wore off, he could indulge his greed until he was sick and bursting with sin; until every ounce of it had spilled over into you, you had committed to take it.

Barbatos wasted no time deepening the kiss. His forked tongue slithered into your mouth, wet and oddly cool compared to the heat of his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, you felt a slight shame in how erotic you found this strange new sensation. His tongue entwined with yours like it had never done before. Barbatos also found himself aroused by his new abilities – even more so when you moaned for him. Eager to explore further, Barbatos plunged his tongue deeper down your throat until you could barely breathe. You felt seconds – millimeters – away from gagging on him and pressed against his chest, trying to break the kiss.

Barbatos pulled away, allowing your lungs to recover, but the desperation on his face was worse than ever. Panting and ravenous, he spoke in half-growls: “More. I need more.”

His impatience displayed itself in the way he stripped you of your clothes – reckless with buttons and balling the fabric up tightly in his hands. All the restraint he had went towards refraining from tearing your clothes to shreds. He needed access to more of your body, and with every bit of skin he revealed, Barbatos licked, sucked, and bit part of your exposed flesh.

The feeling of his cool tongue gliding up your forearm made you shiver. Barbatos sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder, breaking the skin and sending a tingling pain through your body. He soothed it by running his soft tongue over the bite mark in slow circles before he licked a trail up your neck, paving a path for him to place hickeys along. Time was lost to you between Barbatos sucking your neck and pawing at your naked body. The sensation of his claws gently scraping along your lower back left you arching into him.

When Barbatos was satisfied with his assault on your neck, he dropped to your chest, marking you and teasing your nipples between the prongs of his tongue. For someone who claimed to be unable to control himself, he sure was taking his sweet time building up your pleasure. If he hadn’t dipped between your legs when he did, you might have found yourself reduced to begging for him.

Barbatos took in the sight of how aroused he had gotten you. His breathing was labored, causing his chest and shoulders to heave. He had waited long enough. You felt his tail wrap around your thigh and pull you closer until you were right in front of his face. His warm breath primed your body for that first, slow, tender lick. Followed by another. Then, one more before his tongue was swirling circles around you. He sucked and licked you ravenously, moaning repeatedly into your body. Barbatos’s moaning was peppered with the occasional growl – reminding you, lest the lust caused you to forget, that Barbatos was an untethered beast.

He clawed up your thighs in the same ravenous manner. Claws sank into the flesh of your ass and thighs, scratching you and pulling you back against him whenever you had squirmed too far away for his liking. You couldn’t escape the constant barrage of stimulation and pleasure. Barbatos refused to stop until he pulled an orgasm out of you. Even then, he overstimulated your sensitive skin with a few teasing licks, cleaning up some of the mess he had made of you. Your knees buckled, but Barbatos got to his feet and pulled you close to support you.

You had not even caught your breath nor come down from your high before Barbatos was kissing you again. He slipped his cum-stained tongue back down your throat, ensuring that you tasted yourself. A low growl rumbled deep in Barbatos’s chest that shook you to your core. The storm had not passed. You weren’t even in the eye of it yet.

As Barbatos continued to kiss you, the familiar sensation of his tail wrapping around your thigh caught your attention. This time, instead of pulling you close, he pulled your legs apart. Had he not been holding you tight, you would have stumbled with the sudden jolt. The silky tips of his forked-tendril-like tail teased between your legs in gentle alternating strokes, occasionally lingering to cup you for a few seconds before the pressure slipped away. Barbatos was building you up all over again. You gripped his shoulders, simultaneously trying to ground and support yourself.

Despite the cloud of lust disorienting him, Barbatos recognized the signs of your weakness and dragged you towards his bed. Even as he pulled you across the room, his tail refused to stop teasing you and preparing you for what was to come. Barbatos had no sooner finally stopped kissing you when your back hit his mattress with a soft thud. Staring up at him, you saw a distorted image of the demon you adored. Maybe it was the enhanced demonic features and those glowing green eyes, or maybe it was the look on his face that told you he was not quite the same Barbatos. His hunger for you had never been this strong – perhaps it would never be this primal and ferocious again. Repressing any fear or hesitation, you wanted to revel in his uninhibited lust.

Fortunately, Barbatos’s tail had a natural wetness to it that aided in the insertion. He lacked the clarity and patience to apply lube before the tips of his tail squirmed into your body. Barbatos delighted in the way your face contorted in pleasure – how you bit your lip to hold back a moan. The prongs of his tail felt cool and soft as they stretched you out, applying pressure to the most sensitive places inside of you. You writhed under him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to touch you more.

Barbatos scratched his claws gently down your ribs and towards your navel. He fucked deeper into you with his tail and applied slight pressure to your pelvis with his palm, stretching his fingers out above your stomach. Those claws loomed threateningly above your skin while his tail pumped in and out of you. You thought his tail had looked bigger than before, but now you could feel just how much thicker he was. However, you only had a few seconds to dwell on the size before the threat of claws came to fruition and dug into your stomach. The outermost layer of skin split for him, and five distinct pink marks appeared on your stomach; he nearly drew blood. You whined at the pain, but the way your back arched and your muscles tightened told Barbatos that you were in more pleasure than pain.

A brief flash of normalcy came when you heard Barbatos chuckle and saw his lips tug into a wicked smile. “Are you cumming again?”

The noises you were making as another wave of intense pleasure overtook you were the only response Barbatos needed. He was kind enough to slow the movements of his tail as you tried to bring yourself down. It wasn’t fair. Barbatos was making you feel incredible. You were supposed to be the one taking care of him, but there you were, stripped and writhing on your back. All the while, Barbatos was still fully clothed – barring the lack of his standard gloves which had already been removed prior to your arrival. You wanted to make him feel good too.

You reached out for his pants, trying to undo them so you could at least touch him, but Barbatos took hold of your hands and stopped you. “Please, let me focus on you for a bit longer. Please?”

There was no sweetness in his begging – only desperation. It was less of a plea and more of a demand. Refusal seemed off the table, even if you chose it, but you couldn’t. You could hardly refuse Barbatos when he said “please” under normal circumstances – and even less so when he stared at you with such wanton desire.

Barbatos entwined his fingers with yours and held your hands while he watched you come apart on his tail. The way you rolled your hips to get him to press the spot that left your mouth agape was so cute. If he had been gifted with more patience and less greed, Barbatos would have relished in the sight of you fucking yourself on his tail and using him – especially in the exhausted, fucked-out state you were in. Did you realize how flushed you were? Could you feel how hot your skin had become? Were you aware that you had scarcely stopped whimpering and moaning for him in the last few minutes?

“You’re taking it so well,” Barbatos cooed. His affectionate gaze held your attention, even as he pulled another intense wave of pleasure from you. Something about the dim glow of his eyes captivated you. “You’re doing such a good job for me, but can you keep it up?”

Barbatos slid his tail half-way out of you as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was trying to go back down on you, but with no opportunity to recover, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You tugged his hair and stopped his lips and tongue from overstimulating you, earning a whine from him.

“Barbatos, I need you to fuck me now,” you demanded. You couldn’t take another round without at least making him cum once.

Barbatos savored that desperation in you – even if it was just a fraction of his own. He nuzzled your inner thigh playfully. “Just one more taste?”

“No.” You pulled his hair again and made him look at you. “I need it now.”

“Very well.” Barbatos pulled his tail out of you completely and got to his feet. For a second, the way he spoke was so calm that you believed the tea must have been wearing off. Those shining green eyes stayed fixed on your body as he removed his clothes, tossing them into a dark corner of the room. Perhaps the storm was showing signs of passing.

When Barbatos dropped his pants, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his underwear and the damp stain, but he didn’t stay contained for long. He stripped fully, finally releasing his cock. He was so hard, and he dripped precum onto the floor. Your mouth watered. Well, if Solomon asked again, it wasn’t just Barbatos’s tail that was bigger than usual. However, you had already taken his tail; you could take this, too. You wanted it.

Your eyes glanced back up at Barbatos’s face as he aligned himself, rubbing his dick against your entrance. Those glowing eyes caught yours, stalling your breath. Even in the dim lighting, those eyes now seemed to be the darkest thing in the room. A low, satisfied growl escaped Barbatos – the last warning from a predator closing in on his prey. The storm was not over, you had merely found yourself in the eye of it for one brief, relenting moment.

He rocked his hips into you, relying on precum and the combined fluids from you and his tail to lubricate himself as he slowly pushed every inch he could get into you. You gasped. The sensation was so different from his tail – so much warmer, pulsating and throbbing inside of you. That initial slow thrust was for your benefit, but it was not intended to set his pace. Barbatos quickly picked up speed, transitioning into rapid, shallow thrusts that repeatedly rubbed against your walls. Still, he seemed to be focusing on maximizing your pleasure.

“I need more,” Barbatos warned you, but you were drowning in too much pleasure, moaning and panting beneath him, to register his warning.

Instead, you whimpered at the shock of Barbatos slipping his tail inside of you. The forked ends swirled around Barbatos’s cock as he continued fucking you, stimulating you both at the same time. It felt like thick, cool, squirming ridges around a hot, throbbing core. Not even an advanced toy could do this to you. But it wasn’t enough for him. Barbatos reached down between your legs to stimulate you further – somehow lucid enough to take care not to scratch you. His touch was light and gentle, contrasting his other insatiable actions, and making your head spin. It was all too much for you. You came again, tightening around Barbatos as you did. He kept fucking you through it.

A pleased moan escaped Barbatos, signaling that he was close. His hands slid up your body slowly, and then, without warning, he clawed down your sides and grabbed your hips. A stinging sensation immediately followed. He gripped your hips so firmly that his claws broke the skin as he forced himself so deep into you that it almost ached. Barbatos gave you a few more deep thrusts before he bottomed out and held you in place. He pumped his cum into the deepest parts of you, filling you up.

Barbatos lolled his head back with a sigh and a smirk. His chest heaved. It took you squirming against his pelvis for Barbatos to realize that he was still holding your hips up against him. He slid his cock out of you, released his tail’s grip around himself, and gently laid you back down.

You looked so blissful and exhausted, but Barbatos had just gotten started. Simply looking at your flushed face and heaving chest was making him hard again. He caressed your cheek; some of the blood he had drawn from clawing at your hips smeared onto your skin. Barbatos leaned down and licked up the mess. When your cheek was clean once more, Barbatos whispered into your ear, “I’m so sorry, lovely. I’m not done. Do I have your permission to keep going?”

His words floated around your hazy mind. You smiled at him affectionately with your eyes half-lidded and reached up to stroke his cheek. Exhaustion was overcoming you. “Yes. Take whatever you need until you feel better.”

“Even if you fall asleep?” Barbatos asked with some of the timidness from earlier.

“Even if I pass out. Even if it hurts. Even if I cry. Be as greedy as you have to be with me.” Maybe you were cum-drunk. Or maybe you just wanted to make Barbatos feel better. Either way, you resigned yourself to being used for the next few minutes or hours or days.

“Thank you, my love.” Barbatos kissed your cheek sweetly.

You watched the dim glow of his eyes dreamily, focusing on them until the rest of the room began to disappear. With your body spent, all you could do was whimper as you felt Barbatos enter you again. Even the pleasure began to dull as you let yourself slip further into the haze. His deep growls and panting were the last thing you heard as your mind fell silent.

Your last thought before a sweet dream swept over you was that, without a doubt, Barbatos would be a mix of grateful and apologetic when you woke up again.

In the morning, Barbatos would ensure you were hydrated, well-fed, and tended to. He would be an affectionate, doting butler for you. And then, someone would have a hefty price to pay.

A/N: I did not think this was going to end up so long, but please enjoy. I am worried I got a little too carried away here. . . but this was still the less deranged Barbatos monster kink idea. Anyway, requests are open and will be until the end of Nov. 5th. And I hope this one does something for some of you.

#moss poll fic #barbatos #gn!mc #spice tier #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbatos smut #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #obey me smut #this one is for the monsterfuckers #especially the ones who love the you're a monster but I trust you dynamic #also not me using a storm motif because the pattern on his tail is lightning-like

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Caretaker

Castiel & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You get to meet everyone’s favorite Angel, and the two of you become besties.

Warnings: kinda strays from canon in places, I don’t have the episodes memorized guys.

“You take care of her, ok?”

Up to this point, Castiel hadn’t taken much notice of the youngest Winchester; she wasn’t one of the vessels, so she was in no danger, and of little importance.

But at Dean’s words, Cas finally seemed to see you. You were just a kid, growing up around so much danger. And now Dean was placing you in his care.

“I will,” he promised both Dean and himself.

You didn’t say a word as Dean and Sam left. You understood why they had to go, and you had to stay; they were trying to hide from Michael and Lucifer long enough to formulate a plan, but if they were found, you would be a liability. You knew Castiel was the most capable being to protect you, but seeing as you didn’t know Cas very well, you weren’t exactly comfortable with this arrangement.

You didn’t know when you would see your big brothers again; aside from hell and Stanford, rarely had a day gone by where you weren’t with Sam and Dean.

“So what now?” You asked finally, and Castiel seemed to snap out of his daze.

“Now I take you somewhere safe.”

…

The day passed uneventfully, which Cas took as a good sign. What wasn’t a good sign was the fact that Cas couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you, and he could tell the silence was making you antsy. Well, that and the fact that your brothers were on the run from two archangels.

He found a motel in the middle of nowhere to stop at, and he waited rather impatiently while you got some sleep. The further he could get you from Sam and Dean, the safer you would be, but Dean had decided non-angelic modes of travel were safer, as archangels weren’t that familiar with backroads and crappy motels.

Cas woke you up early, surprised when you seemed exhausted—wasn’t four hours enough? That’s what Dean claimed he got. You followed Cas regardless, although your eyes were drooping before he even started the car.

For the next several hours, Cas couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. He kept doing a mental checklist—he had you, you’d slept, you’d showered, you had your phone, you had extra clothes—but it did nothing to rid him of the feeling. The last thing he wanted was to mess this up, the boys had been so reluctant to part from you. What was he doing wrong?

“Castiel?”

Cas turned his head to look at you when you spoke. He had barely heard you, as you spoke slightly above a whisper, your voice timid and hesitant. Were you scared of him?

“What is it?” He asked.

“I—um…I-I know we’re in a hurry, but, um…could we get some food?”

Oh no.

“I knew I forgot something,” Cas hissed under his breath, sighing in annoyance. You, who hadn’t been able to make out his words and only saw the annoyance, instantly backed off.

“I-I mean if there isn’t time I-“

“No, no,” Cas insisted. “Of course we have time, you need to eat. I’m sorry, I forgot.” A thought crossed Cas’s mind. “Did you eat yesterday?”

“Um…no,” you replied, still timid.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I-I didn’t want…um, I know that you’re-you’re trying to help me get away so-so I, um…”

You seemed unable to form full sentences, and Cas once again wondered what he was doing wrong to make you so nervous.

“If you need anything, I want you to ask,” Cas interrupted.

You just nodded and went back to looking out the window. Once Cas got you fed and back on the road, he made himself a promise. He had to do better, even though it was awkward and he had no clue how to talk to you. Clearly the silence of the last two days had made you nervous, so intimidated by the angel protecting you that you didn’t even want to communicate basic needs.

“I’m sure we’ll have you back to your brothers in no time,” Cas began.

You smiled weakly at him. “Yeah. And you can get back to your angel stuff.” You ducked your head suddenly. “I’m-I’m sorry you got stuck babysitting. I know you’d rather be finding a way to defeat Lucifer and Michael with Sam and Dean.”

Cas was silent for a few seconds.

“Well, it’s true I would like to help them. But keeping you safe is more important.”

You scoffed, “Me? Why?”

Cas was surprised. “We all care about you. We don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

“And why would an Angel care what happens to me?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

That brought you up short.

“I…I am?”

“Of course.”

“I-I thought…” again you were unable to look at Cas. “I-I just kinda thought that you agreed to this to placate Sam and Dean…be-because you need them on your side.”

Cas wasn’t sure whether to feel bad for you or be offended. “You thought that?” He could tell that his hurt was bleeding into his tone. You noticed it too.

“I-I mean you’re an angel,” you quickly explained. “You have way more important things to worry about than me.”

“So…so you thought that I didn’t care about you…and you didn’t blame me for it?”

You just shrugged.

Cas didn’t know what to say. He most certainly couldn’t just fix your self image issues, he wasn’t equipped for that, but he could at least assure you of one thing.

“Well it’s not true. I do care about you, and that’s why I’m here. I want you to be safe.”

You didn’t respond, but Cas could see the smile you were trying to hide.

…

Something clicked after that. Cas didn’t know what it was, or how it happened, but suddenly the awkward silence between the two of you disappeared, replaced by non-stop conversation.

He told you all about heaven and some angels that had been his friends, you told him all about your human experience, and explained to him some general human things that he still hadn’t managed to grasp.

“So…tweeting is no longer just about birds?”

“Nope, now it’s an internet thing. I don’t think we should get you into that, though.”

“That’s probably wise,” Castiel agreed.

…

All too soon, things changed again. After a couple of weeks on the run, you again became withdrawn and quiet. A whole day went by without a single word spoken before Cas finally decided to address the issue.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah.”

When it became clear that this was the only answer Cas would get, he persisted.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m worried,” you sighed. “And I…I miss Sam and Dean.” Cas heard the strain in your voice when you mentioned your brothers.

“They’re fine, they called just last night. I’m sure you’ll see them again soon.”

“It’s been weeks, Cas, and we’re no closer to an answer. It’s starting to seem like…like we’re just gonna run until we burn out.”

“You can’t think like that,” Cas said.

“Why not, if it’s true?”

“It’s not,” Cas insisted. “We have to have faith.”

“In what?”

“In Sam and Dean. We—you have to trust that they’ll to anything—anything—to get back to you. They’ll find a way, and you’ll see them again soon.” Cas promised as he pulled the car into yet another motel. He stepped out, and you with him. You were quiet for a minute before—

“Hey…hey Cas?”

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, staring at the angel for a moment before making a decision. You lunged forwards, wrapping your arms around your new best friend.

“Thanks.”

Castiel smiled as he brought his arms around you, holding you as though he could hug away all your worries and loneliness.

“Of course, little one.”

#castiel #spn cas #spn Castiel #castiel & reader #castiel x reader #castiel x winchester!reader #Castiel & Winchester reader #castiel & winchester!reader #castiel Novak #supernatural #dean winchester #dean and sam #supernatural dean #the winchesters #sam winchester #winchesters x sister

[offside-the-lines]

🥶 A (Kinda Weird) Hockey-ish Ask Game 🥶

Happy new year folks! To kick off 2024, I came up with an ask game mildly inspired by ‘every’ NHL team. Not every question is hockey related. It’s a little different. It’s a little weird. It’s quite fun. Start the year by getting to know your moots.

🦆 If I were to make a summoning circle for you, what food could I summon you with?

🐺 Build a NHL starting line up (3F, 2D, 1G) based on a really weird criteria for comedic effect (e.g. guys with names that sound like Dylan).

🧸 Do you have any object that you like a little too much or can’t seem to get rid of? What is it and why?

⚔️ What is goaltender interference? (Wrong answers only).

🔥 Give me an unpopular opinion on hockey. Preferably Hot Takes (not serious).

🌪️ What’s something that's been on your mind for a long time that you just can’t seem to shake?

❄️ What is your most and least favorite thing about winter?

🏔️ What is an obstacle you have overcome that you are proud of?

💣 Blow it up: pick one NHL team. Change its name, mascot, logo/colors. Tell me why you chose the new elements.

🌟 What are your five favorite things about yourself? Come on, don’t be shy. Give me 5.

🪽 Name a NHL player whom you would: Sacrifice to the Gods, Do Hard Crimes With, and Save the World With.

⛽️ What snacks would you pick up at the gas station for a road trip?

🐀 What is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard a hockey player say?

👑 If you could add an award to the NHL awards, what would it be and who would be its inaugural recipient?

🌲What is a place that gives you a sense of peace?

🔔 Who is an NHL player you are convinced you can best in a physical altercation?

🐯 What movie villain or creature do you think people should love more?

😈 What is your weirdest head canon about an NHL player?

🍹 If I were to make a summoning circle for you, what drink could I summon you with (cocktail or coffee order, alcoholic or nonalcoholic)?

🗽What’s a gift that you didn’t think you wanted but turned out to be useful or great?

🏛️ Here, have a soap box. What is one thing you feel really strongly about that you think everyone should know?

🦧 What cryptid do you think is real? Why? (If you don’t have one, make one up).

🐧 Show me a good rock. (You can also paint me a word picture).

🦈 What type of shark would you be?

🦑 Vampires and werewolves. Give me the pros and cons.

🎶 What would your goal song be and why?

⚡️ Describe yourself like a rainstorm.

🍁 Using a scale of one leaf to five leaves, how much maple syrup do you put on pancakes/waffles/french toast?

🏒What was your first impression of hockey? Why? Has it changed? If so, why?

🎰 What is a gamble/risky decision you have made recently that has paid off?

🦅 For Americans & Non-Americans alike, what’s the most *American* thing you’ve ever done?

✈️ What is a place you long to see?

#so i didn’t actually include the unnamed franchise and used a generalized snowflake emoji #hockey #nhl #ask game #colorado avalanche #dallas stars #new jersey devils #new york islanders #pittsburgh penguins #Seattle kraken #toronto maple leafs #philadelphia flyers #my creations

[torialefay]

🗝️ Sun in Scorpio ♠️

minho as your boyfriend!!! (pt. 1)

(based on astrology) 🔞

✨minho x reader (f); possessive fluff, slightly suggestive at the end

✨take a look into lee know’s natal chart to see what type of boyfriend he would be! in this post, i will be talking about his sun in scorpio. this is a series!!! so follow up later if u want more <3

✨i will give a brief synopsis of what each chart placement means (for all my non-astrology friends out there <3) and how that would affect minho in a relationship :)

✨word count: ~2k

✨ author’s notes:

★★ (1) i do do brief astrological compatibility readings if anyone wants one! if you’re interested, message me your birth date, time, and location OR lmk your placements. i’m gonna limit the reading to include you x 1 skz member only! just specify who you’d like.

(2) i am wanting to get better at using neutral-gendered pronouns so more people can feel included in my posts. i’m really struggling since i use phrases like “my girl” a lot. anyone who has some good alternatives or tips, please message and lmk! i really want to be able to start cranking out more gn options!

(3) the aspects in this reading are based solely on my opinions and interpretations! nothing about a person is set in stone simply because of astrology. please don’t use anything i say as canon :)

(4) i will not be going into ascendant or house placements because lee know’s birth time has not been confirmed for AM or PM

✨warnings: some explicit language

✨ tl/dr: minho as your boyfriend will spoil the shit out of you and charm you until you can’t help but live and breathe him. he’s got to keep a grasp on you at all times- literally AND figuratively.

Sun in Scorpio: Sun signs are all about personality- the face you show the world! It is also the lens through which you usually see yourself and how friends would describe you.

• Scorpio has two planetary rulers- Mars and Pluto. Mars is the ruler of action and aggression, while Pluto is the ruler of transformation and rebirth. Scorpio is an amazing mixture of the two, as it embodies strong desires, innate control, and deep mental and supraphysical understanding.

• Scorpios encapsulate passion. They tend to have a deep understanding of others and can utilize this power to their advantage. They are able to influence others to do as they wish. Scorpios have a deep understanding of beauty and admire things that could be seen as dark, different, or strange to others.

• Scorpios have a tendency to become obsessive, controlling even, if not careful. They get fully engrossed into who other people are and want others to fully engross themselves in them as well.

• Scorpios are known for their creative and expressive nature- something that comes naturally to them. Because of this, they can really shine in areas such as art or drama, historian or detective, intuitive research or psychology, and are amazing for dabbling in the occult.

As your boyfriend:

• He is super protective over you. He’s always watching behind you as you do something to make sure you’re okay and no one is bothering you… And to be honest, I don’t think many people WOULD bother you, knowing you were the person with a psycho boyfriend (in a good way <3).

• He would bring you lunch any chance he got. If you were at work/school and he knew you hadn’t brought lunch or hadn’t had lunch that day, he’d definitely bring you something- whether he picked it up or made it himself. It also gives him an excuse to see you and check on you during the day.

• He knows when you are having a bad day. And he knows exactly how you need him to act in order to help you deal with it. When he senses something is wrong, he will pull you onto his lap in a hug and tell you to talk to him about it.

• Other people think he’s cold, but he’s definitely not with you. He loves you and nurtures you. He takes pride in knowing every part of you. He loves that there is a side of him that is specifically for you and not for the rest of the world. He’d like it if you were the same.

• He loves when the both of you have a chance to get dressed up. To look good for one another and just enjoy the other’s company.

• He loves nice dates, ones where he can make a grand gesture to make you feel loved and special.

• That’s why it was no surprise when he’d texted you earlier to dress up pretty for him and he’d be at your apartment to pick you up at 8.

• This was a monthly occurrence. Him surprising you with a nice date- and when I say nice, I mean NICE.

• Yes, you went on smaller dates a lot too, but he made it a priority to spoil you with something bigger at least once a month.

• So here you were, all dressed up in your favorite dark blue satin dress. It looked absolutely enchanting with it’s spaghetti strap and cowl neck top with a deep slit running up the side.

• You made sure to do your hair his favorite way- loose curls all brought to one side.

• You gave yourself one final look in the mirror, swiping on a glossy coat over your lip stain before heading out the door. Minho was already waiting on you downstairs.

• When he saw you like this, he always smirked.

• ‘Looking so beautiful all for me,’ he thought.

• Once you got to him, he just smiled at you, taking your hand in his.

• “Now, are you going to tell me where we’re off to?” you asked.

• “Shhh, you’ll see,” he kissed your hand, leading you out to the car.

• He always made sure to open the car door for you and make sure you were buckled before you took off.

• And of course he always had to rest one hand in his favorite spot- gripping onto one of your thighs. It was harder when you had a dress on, but he’d never let that stop him. He needed to always have a hold on you.

• Arriving at your destination, it was a quaint building you didn’t recognize. You’d never been here before, but it seemed to be a small restaurant with only a few (very nice) cars in the parking lot.

• The valet rushed to the car to speak with Minho and grab the keys.

• You smiled up at your boyfriend as he walked around to your side of the car, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his to help you stand.

• As you made your way toward the restaurant, he made sure to hold tightly to the one hand, while the other stabilized on your hip, making sure you were safe while ascending the few steps in front of you.

• “Hello, can I get your name please?” the host of the restaurant asked as you stepped inside. It was a beautiful restaurant- dark and sensual. There was very minimal lighting, but what they did have gave a beautiful warm glow. The sleek bar to the right shined bright from the sparkly crystal bottles aligning each of the shelves- luxury liquor only.

• “Lee,” he said, matter of factly, only taking a brief moment to look at the host. Tonight, his eyes were only on you.

• The host presented a big smile before stepping to the side and motioning for you to follow him. “Great, Mr. Lee. Right this way.”

• Minho let you walk just slightly in front of him, always watching your back to make sure he had a full view of you. One hand continued to rest on your hip. It was like it was glued there. He never wanted to lose contact with you.

• The host led you down one of the dimly-lit aisles and to the back of the building. Off to itself, he rounded a corner to lead to a beautiful, private, screened-in room in the back. It sat adjacent to a huge lake, which could be seen through the mesh netting of the “walls” that enclosed you. With the moon shining bright over the water and the stars on full display, it was a captivating view.

• Minho pulled your seat out for you to sit before pushing you in towards the table. You allowed yourself this moment to look around the beautiful secluded room. It was still dark like the interior of the building, with the nice, warm lighting. But there was an even more bewitching feeling to it through the beautiful scenery and soft music that was emanating from afar. It was absolutely breathtaking.

• If there was anything Minho knew how to do, it was how to wine and dine you. He made sure to start the evening with ordering a full bottle of your favorite reserve red wine. He loved the way you looked and smiled at him after a glass or two- how lovey dovey you got for him and how you began to try and charm him, getting all giggly, before the night was over with.

• He encouraged you to get whatever you wanted off the menu- even if it was the most expensive thing by far, he wanted you to have it. He was never going to let you pay anyways.

• Once you decided what you wanted, he always wanted you to tell him so that he could order for you. It wasn’t that he thought you were incapable of ordering for yourself, but he wanted you to know that you would always be taken care of when he was there. He didn’t want you to have to take your attention off of him for one second.

• Your heart always swelled as you watched him order- for some odd reason. And he never ordered just what the two of you wanted. No way. He made sure to always order at least 3 or so dishes so that you could share with each other and sample everything. He would make sure to have something on the table that his baby loved.

• Even if you were absolutely stuffed, if he noticed there was still wine in your glass, he would always order a dessert for the two of you to share. And although he wouldn’t admit it, this was also a way to extend his time out with you.

• He’d make sure to do all the gross romantic stuff with you, like feeding you a bite of the crème brulèe straight from his spoon. He definitely didn’t want to overdo it though and would NOT do it unless you two were in private.

• At the end of the evening, after your head felt light and bubbly from the wine and your stomach was full, he made sure to tip the waiter very generously. You loved that about him. That’s why the restaurant owners and workers always loved to see the two of you back.

• Taking the last sip of your whine, you leaned in with a smile, half-whispering “thank you for dinner, jagi.”

• “Thank you for being here with me, love,” he said back. Slowly, he stood from his chair, so naturally you waited in yours as he always requested, so that he could again pull your chair out before you stood.

• He made his way over as usual, but he didn’t put his hands on the chair.

• Instead, he placed one hand on the nape of your neck, bending down to plant a soft kiss to your shoulder and then to the side of you neck.

• You let out a giggle as you started to blush. “Stop itttt, you know we can’t do that here.”

• “I know, but I had to at least get a little bit out,” he smiled smugly.

• Suddenly, you saw his hands both in front of you and a cold sensation on your chest. You looked down to see a beautiful silver pendant resting just between your collar bones.

• “What’s this?” you asked, as you felt his hands secure the latch at the back of your neck.

• He walked to your side so that he could see your face and bent down, resting one knee on the ground.

• “Why don’t you look at it and tell me?”

• You picked the small-ish pendant up to examine it. On the front, in dainty cursive font read “LMH”. Lee Min Ho.

• The back had a single, small diamond implanted in it. Around it’s edges, it had a Latin phrase inscription. You read it aloud. “Aut viam inveniam aut faciam?” You tried to make the words out, looking to your boyfriend for confirmation.

• “That’s right jagi. ‘I will either find a way or make one’. For you.” He smiled up at you, as your looked at him with eyes of endearment. The love you had for this man was unbearable. You could hardly stand the emotions that he made you feel.

• He gently reached out for your hand, planting a gentle kiss to it, before standing up and motioning for you to do the same.

• Once you were upright on your feet, he leaned in next to your ear. “It looks beautiful on you, by the way,” he whispered seductively.

• You smirked, the boldness of the wine starting to manifest out of you. “I’ll keep it on for you later. Everything else is coming off,” you winked.

• His eyes grew large for a split second before turning himself so that he body was right up against yours. He swiftly let his hands wonder to your waist, then hips, then grab lightly at your ass.

• “That sounds perfect,” he planted a small, sweet kiss to your lips. “But that necklace is never coming off of you. Promise me. Promise me you’ll wear it at all times, and I’ll always be with you.” He looked at you, his face full of sincerity and genuine lust.

• “Anything for you,” you gave in to him before leaning in for another slow kiss.

• You knew that’s exactly what he wanted. For you to give yourself fully to him. You’d play around with him later, but for now, you would give yourself up. He knew you were his.

———————————————————————————————————

✨ author’s note: lowkey thinking this man put a tracker in the necklace lol. he just wants to know you’re safe and also wants to be able to know where you are at all times. but it’s up to you what you want to think 🤷‍♀️

✨ if you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging <3

#lee minho #lee know skz #lee know fanfic #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #minho x reader #minho imagines #stray kids minho #skz minho #minho stray kids #stray kids astrology #skz astrology

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way Master List

Gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Spotify Playlist

Inspiration came from @toxicanonymity and her fantastic Raider!Joel.

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also refered to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Unknown chapters at this point but heres a starter

Chapter 1: Joel takes you away from everything you know

Chapter 2: Joel takes what he wants, Tommy tries to make things easier

Bonus Chapter: Tommy takes Little One's virginity

Chapter 3: Joel softens up, and readers learns her roll in all this

Chapter 4: Little One is getting cocky, and finds herself in trouble, but Tommy and Joel are there for her

Chapter 5: Joel and Tommy don’t feel good

Suggested drabble: Period sex

Chapter 6: Things change with Tommy, and Joel shows a more vunerable side during a near disaster.

Chapter 7: Little One and Lorenzo spend some time together, and Lorenzo drops a bomb on Little One.

Chapter 8: For 6 months of Little One's pregnancy her relationship with Joel and Lorenzo shifts and changes.

Suggested Drabble: Brotherhood

Chapter 9: The aftermath.

Suggested Drabble: “It Wasn’t Always Like This”

Chapter 10: The escape does not go as planned.

Alternate ending: a happier end

Canon Sequel Mini Series, Ghost of You

Follow Ellie's life sifting through to lies to discover the truth of her creation.

Dark Ending Timeline: Going Under

Going Under: Chapter 1:

Going Under: Chapter 2:

Going Under: Chapter 2.5:

Going Under: Chapter 3

Going Under: June and Tommy

Going Under: Chapter 4

Going Under: Finale

Suggested drabbles to see how the uncles are doing after the canon ending: Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy, and Better Than Revenge

If neither ending satisfied you or if there was something you wanted to see but didn’t, if you wanna write something in universe will be happy to link it to my masterlist!

Art by @melodymakesart

Drabbles, One Shots, Thots

Period Sex: Period sex with Joel makes Little One more confused than ever at what she is to Joel

Well, That’s Alright Because I Like The Way It Hurts: Joel is gone for longer than expected and you worry about him. When he comes back, you let him take his frustration out on your body

Brotherhood: Tommy and Joel reflect on their relationship as brothers.

“It Wasn’t Always Like This”: In Tommy’s arms, Little One thinks over her year with Joel

Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy: Lorenzo is slowly recovering, meets his niece for the first time

Better than Revenge: Lorenzo and Tommy can’t get revenge on Joel, but they can get revenge on the one who started it all

Zach and Lorenzo’s Wedding

Gateaway Car by Taylor Swift, thoughts by @fandxmslxt69

Art by @k-ra

Joel and Lorenzo by @fen-is-unwell

If this sort of thing doesn't interest you or triggers you, hide dub con and non con from your tags as I will be tagging any fics like that as such

Main Blog (filled with more normal fics lol): @romanarose

This is absolutely not anything anyone needs to do bc ur lovely comments are enough but if anyone makes a book board, art, a fic or anything based off this series, you absolutely can! I know some creators aren’t for it but I love when people do that, and I’ve written a few fics for a few series myself. If you are so inclined and are okay with it, I’ll attach them to this master list (that includes if you don’t like my endings you can make your own 😂)

But as always, nice comments mean the world. I know with this sort of content you may not want to Reblog it on your page, but if you leave a comment or send an anon, that means the world and keeps me writing!

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #tw rape #dub con #non con #dark joel miller #romana after dark #dark!Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller reader #joel miller reade smut #dark joel miller reader #tommy miller fem reader #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fem!reader #the wrong way fic #the wrong way series

[voidaspects]

A rambling defense of Makuta Spiriah('s design)!

Here’s a very long winded post about a bionicle side character that I suddenly have a lot to say about

I had no strong opinions of this like an hour ago and I suddenly have a massive rant to go on!

Okay, so, Makuta Spiriah, the 2008 bionicle combo model, is regarded as one of the ugliest combo models made for the series, from what I can see. It’s hard to deny that his model is pretty ugly and unremarkable, when you first see it. The colours clash, the construction is weird, and there’s a weird extra not-matoran guy included randomly? I won’t lie, I didn’t have a very good opinion of him either.

However

As of now, this past hour, I have built this figure, and felt compelled to make a defense of his design, because we’ve been far too harsh.

So, makuta spiriah is a pretty obscure character in the wider bionicle storyline, and would probably have just been a footnote in the story, were it not for the “Federation of Fear” story serial, in which he was a prominent member of the team. I probably wouldn’t have had an interest in building him, were it not for me wanting to collect every member. With all of the component sets for spiriah collected, my team is now completed (pic at the end). And I was immediately struck by how much better he looked in person? Like, don’t get me wrong, he’s still weird and janky, and his colour scheme is somewhat hard to adjust to, and all of the things you’d expect on initial glance (botar this is not) but I fully expected him to be ugly as hell, and instead he’s a pretty competent and cohesive model?

I think there’s a few reasons for this, but the biggest one in my opinion is actually the reason I felt the need to make this post, because it’s one of the main things I see people talking about with this model:

I am completely, intensely certain that the other model on his back is intended to be part of his construction, and it seems to just be accepted as a given that it isn’t for some reason?

So, the reason I feel so intensely about this is that pretty much every time this model is mentioned, without fail, there’s sort of a fun fact about how “Spiriah is canon, but the matoran-esque thing on him is non-canon”

This doesn’t seem to have a direct source, so much as it’s a conclusion drawn due to how this second model is perceived. Specifically, the conclusion is drawn from: “there appears to be a weird, slapped together matoran character on his back, to showcase the matoran fusion function from 2008” + “No such character exists in the story” = “this part of the model isn’t canon”

And see, this logic treats the interpretation that this is a separate character as a given. Like… it doesn’t seem to be questioned. And with this mindset, yeah, when you put the models beside each other as individual things, they both look awful:

You’re left with what seemingly appears to be a weirdly shaped antroz and some extra dude made from scraps. But in all honesty, I think this is just accepted as a fact due to spiriah already being accepted as an ugly model. I instead want to propose this as my first piece of evidence that this is not how this is intended to be seen. But my evidence doesn’t stop there.

For instance, another thing worth mentioning is the fact that there is not a single official depiction of the spiriah model that shows the two seperated, from what I can see. They are never once shown on their own in any capacity.

The one single exception to this is this part of the instructions, which tell you to construct the entirety of this second model as it’s own thing, before inserting it onto spiriah. However, this leads us to an additional point, being that this step is in the middle of spiriah’s construction, before you’ve even attached his arms. If this was intended to be a seperate model, why would it be attached during his body construction?

My final piece of evidence I want to propose, relates to the notion of this second model being “an extra little thing you make from the scraps.” I think this idea is popular because of just how barebones it looks on it’s own. Like a weird afterthought. People rationalize this idea with the explanation that this was just to show the matoran fusion function that was being heavily advertised in 2008. They just wanted to insert the-matoran-on-his-back function and threw this extra thing together, right?

Except, having built this figure now… I don’t think you guys realize just how many extra pieces are left. Like, no, this wasn’t a bottom of the barrel little extra thing. They had three mask option and kept the head bare. There was so much to work with.

(Also, fun fact, the matoran-thing has asymmetrical weapon pieces, but both of the chosen weapons have a second version available that wasn’t used, meaning it was a conscious choice for some reason. I don’t have a point to make with that, I just think it’s kinda weird and worth mentioning lmao)

Anyway, my point is, I strongly believe there is NOT some weird non canon extra guy with spiriah. Spiriah is, instead, a model that integrated a full matoran build into it’s construction as an actual design element. It uses the motif of the matoran fusion function, but the matoran instead fills out his figure, bulking him up to look more cohesive and complex.

Now, whether this is intended to be just an abstract way to construct his design, or he’s actually intended to look like he has a person melded into him or something, overtly, I’ll leave up to you. The makuta are weird and mutated enough that it honestly could very well be the latter, though it’d be an awfully weird thing to go unmentioned. But who knows, maybe some poor matoran got shadow-absorbed nidihki and krehka style. Or something. Your call!

Anyway, I’ll finish off this weirdly specific rant by just saying that I think this really changed the way I look at some of these models. I think the vast amount of criticism I’ve seen of Spiriah is reflective of the fact that on a glance, he looks super unappealing, to the point that no one really wants to build him, and therefore people maintain these opinions without ever seeing him in person? Not to sound like I know better or anything, I would never have built him if it weren’t for my love of the Federation of Fear story, and up until this moment I firmly believed Spiriah was one of the worst models of the line. Jarringly coloured, weirdly proportioned. I’d have no reason to believe otherwise, had I not done this.

I just think that’s neat, and I also think it’s neat that I suddenly had so much to say immediately after building him. I still don’t think he’s anything special, granted. He could absolutely be improved. But as he is? He’s still pretty dang cool! Cooler than I think any of us have given him credit for! And I think that makes me appreciate him more!

So shout out to the biggest failure in bionicle history. At least someone thinks something about you is a success!

(Lariska model created by Gerou100 (unofficial fanon contest winning model) (it’s canon in my heart))

#bionicle #lego bionicle #toy collection #bionicle collection #bionicle lore #bionicle 2008 #makuta #federation of fear #bionicle federation of fear #bionicle makuta #spiriah #makuta spiriah #brutaka #bionicle brutaka

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

#our flag means death #ofmd #our flag turns 2 #pear watches ofmd #pear text

[mazzystar24]

Rewatching the hen begins and chimney begins episodes cos some people wanna pretend that Tommy has done nothing wrong ever:

•showed no support to hen or chim about dickhead captain

• threw his tools on the floor for hen to remove

• “New York bitchiness” comment

•”hey Eli you forget to tip the delivery guy?” When chimney walks in while they’re eating Chinese food

• actively ignored chimney trying to befriend him “if I thought about you at all honestly I probably wouldn’t (like him)” - while not attempting to know anything about him

• both had to “earn” his respect which just feels icky to me because it’s not regular earn respect as a rookie vibe it’s about non-white ppl and women having to work 2x harder to prove they belong there type thing

Now saying this I wanna point out this isn’t about buddie or anything like that before y’all jump on my throat, I’m not even saying he’s like this complete villain, in fact by the end of the ep he sorta apologised and it’s implied that he was one of the ppl that complained to the department about dickhead captain and praised hen to the higher ups BUT STOP GETTING MAD AT PEOPLE WHO POINT OUT THAT TOMMY HAS DONE SOME SHIT

Don’t y’all go and try to rewrite history cos that’s just irritating

Like ppl aren’t just making up stuff, this is CANON

I (like any non white woman) can tell you that the ppl who aren’t flat out bigots but just kinda stand in the sidelines hurt BAD, like if hen and chimney forgave him that’s great and if he’s a good guy and improved himself that’s great but he did do bad that’s just fact

I’m not saying he’s irredeemable I’m just saying growth and redemption doesn’t delete history those can coexist

Like I genuinely liked him this episode but I’m not gonna pretend he’s this flawless little angel who never did anything wrong just cos I like the ways he can be in the larger plot

#911 #buddie #911 fox #911 abc #911onfox #911 spoilers #not really??

[delicateflowerss]

Don't Worry, Darling: Three

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, eventual NON-CON, verbal/domestic abuse, dark!Rafe, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy/having kids, kook!reader, non-canon ages

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

“So, let’s go over that again. You left the office around 11:30, correct?”

Shoupe’s stare is set on Rafe, almost like he’s waiting for your husband to blink at him wrong, anything to show he isn’t telling the truth.

“It was around that time. I don’t remember exactly.”

You can tell Rafe is fighting the urge to tell the police to fuck off, given the heavy annoyance lacing his tone. You worry he might, his impulse control only lasting so long.

Their incessant questions don’t help, going over every detail of the night Rafe last saw Chase alive.

It’s a strong case of déjà vu for you, Shoupe and the same officer as last time, sitting in the exact same spot on your couch. Except, you can feel the gravity of the situation now. A man you know has been killed.

“And nothing struck you as odd about Chase that night? All he said was bye as he was leaving?”

“That’s all I remember. How many times do I have to tell you I barely saw him that night?”

Whatever Rafe was holding back, he isn’t anymore, his anger getting the best of him. It doesn’t sit right with either officer, their meaningful glances toward each other telling you more than they’ll ever say.

As your eyes rake over your husband, you don’t know why he seems nervous, unable to stop the shake in his leg.

You reach your hand out, the denim of his pants rough under your skin as you stop the uneasy movement.

“I think what Rafe is trying to say, is he’s answered all of your questions, more than once,” you placate. “You seem to be wanting an answer he just doesn’t have.”

Rafe watches you, an appreciation shining in his eyes that he wouldn’t know how to voice to you.

“We would love to help any way we can. But he’s told you everything he knows.”

Shoupe mulls over your words, seeming almost annoyed that you’re making a good point.

“Fine,” he concedes, looking over both you and Rafe. “But if there’s anything you could possibly think of, you know where to find us,” he adds, standing up.

 “Of course,” you reply, showing them the way out.

“It’s important to us you find whoever did this,” you say, giving Rafe a pointed look, motioning toward the officers, needing him to show his support.

When he spots this, he nods. “Catch this guy before something else happens. Don’t put our tax dollars to waste.”

He keeps his eyes on Shoupe, his mouth fighting a smirk.

You don’t understand the exchange between the two men, Shoupe’s stare also heavy.

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Shoupe finally retorts after a few tense moments. He’s the first one to look away, nodding toward you. “Have a good day, Mrs. Cameron.”

Once they’re gone, your eyes find your husband, brows pulled together.

“What was that about?” You ask, trying to find an explanation for his rude behavior.

“What?” Now his unpleasant mood is aimed at you, lips parted, brows matching yours, and you almost regret saying anything. “He’s wasting his time with me. He’s wasting my time. He could actually be out there, catching the person who did it.”

You take in his explanation, arms crossed, eyes glancing to the floor before meeting his.

“I get it. But they’re just doing their job,” you explain. “I mean Chase was murdered, Rafe. You know, the guy you used to see at work every day and liked to invite us over for dinner.”

You try to make it clear to him why he should think about someone besides himself.

He swallows at that, now it’s him who can’t meet your gaze.

You sigh, deciding it’s best to drop it. You know how Rafe is, how difficult it is for him to not only process his own emotions, but others as well.

You step closer, your hand finding his by his side, fingers threading together. You feel the cool touch of his gold, signet ring against your warm skin, along with his wedding ring.

He doesn’t move away, and you can’t help but think he looks like a scolded little boy as he finally looks up at you, hair failing into his eyes.

“I know this has been a lot for you,” you start. “You know you can always talk to me. About anything.”

You watch him, hoping he’ll finally open up to you about this whole situation.

Instead, he just nods, his hand falling from yours before he walks to the kitchen, finding his phone.

You have to stop yourself from sighing, showing your disappointment.

“I talked to my dad earlier,” he calls out, walking toward you with his phone in his hand. “He wants us over for dinner on Sunday. Something about wanting everyone together since Sarah’s back for the summer,” he mumbles the last part, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, that should be nice. We haven’t been over there in a while.” You keep your tone optimistic, hoping it will influence his own outlook.

But by the look on Rafe’s face, it’s not working. He seems more distracted than anything else.

“I gotta take this,” he holds his phone up, excusing himself to his office upstairs.

You’re more than aware of Rafe’s strained relationship with his family. Part of you wants to tell him to forget about his father, thinking it would be best for him to release himself from the shackles of desperately vying for his father’s approval.

But you also know that this house didn’t pay for itself. Even if the name Cameron holds weight in certain places, you’d be lying if you said Rafe could get a job anywhere, especially as good as the one he has now.

You thought Rafe having to work for his father could only help the relationship, and it does seem like they’re friendlier to each other, Ward seeing his son as somewhat competent. But the pressure still lies on Rafe to be good enough.

So, all you can do is keep the peace.

Maybe you have your own motives to keep things nice between Rafe and his family. Sometimes, they feel like the only family you have, even if it’s a bit dysfunctional.

You’re an only child, and your parents decided when you moved out that they were going to spend most of their time on vacation, seeing the world they didn’t get to when you were growing up.

Right now, they’re on a Caribbean cruise, the last time you saw them being your wedding.

You miss them, but you don’t really blame them. Maybe you’ll feel the same one day, when your own children are grown up and married.

They were always extremely supportive of your relationship with Rafe, never seeing any issues. Their happiness at the possibility of their daughter marrying into the Cameron’s blinded them.

You’re glad they didn’t see the things you saw because they might not have been as forgiving. You saw firsthand how hard Rafe worked to clean up his addiction, and to stop the tendency to get into fights with Pogues.

But you wonder if they had known, would they have even batted an eye?

JJ doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to sitting in your kitchen. He thinks you’re only pretending not to notice how much he stands out, because you never seem bothered by it. You just smile as you hand him an ice-cold drink. This time, it’s iced tea.

You were folding laundry when you heard JJ slip into the backyard. This time, he didn’t put up a fight, letting you invite him in.

“So,” you say, sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “I heard Sarah’s back for the summer. Is she still with John B?”

“I thought you were her sister-in-law or whatever, wouldn’t you know?” He asks, taking a long sip of his drink.

“Yeah, well, Rafe and Sarah don’t really talk.”

JJ raises his eyebrows, humming, an understanding washing over his face.

“They’re still together. She’s over at The Chateau almost every day now,” he answers.

You smile, nodding. “So, you still see your friends a lot?”

You were pretty removed from the people Sarah started hanging out with during her high school years. They were younger…and they were Pogues. But you cared about her enough to want to know about her friends.

You also knew them for other reasons, ones having to do with a dumb rivalry stemming from your husband’s hatred of Pogues.

You never got to know any of them, talking to John B the most out of all of them.

Until now.

“Yeah. Everyone’s doing their own thing now, but we get together all the time,” he casually says.

“I’m glad to hear that. I remember you all being so close.”

“Hm.” He stops, his brow furrowing. “You remember that before or after we would get the shit kicked out of us by Rafe?”

Your smile falters, eyes finding the surface of the table.

Before you can say anything, he continues, “but he’s different now. So, I should just forget about it.”

Sarcasm drips from his tone, using your own words against you. He raises his eyebrows again, taking another sip, making his point.

“I never said you should forget about it,” you scoff. “I know what Rafe did was wrong. Do you hold what he did against Sarah too?”

“You can’t choose your family,” he shrugs. “I mean she barely talks to him as it is. You married him.” He pauses, blue eyes staring into you. “That means you looked at all that, and thought, I want to be with this guy for the rest of my life.”

He immediately begins to feel bad when you frown. He sighs, realizing he took it too far.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He apologizes bluntly. “You seem nice and all, I just can’t trust someone who’s married to Rafe Cameron,” JJ explains.

“You don’t have to trust me,” you level with him. “And I can apologize for all of Rafe’s wrongdoings over and over again, because I am sorry. But is that really going to make you feel better?”

He looks to his lap, bottom lip between his teeth. He knows you’re being sincere, your eyes genuinely curious.

“You’re right, there’s no point in holding it against you,” he admits quietly.

You nod, taking a moment before saying, “Good, because I actually like talking to you, for some reason,” you add the last part with a smile on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me before,” he says with a smile, the same joking tone.

You’ve been to Tannyhill more times than you could count, and it never fails to impress you.

Rafe has told you more than once, usually when he has a few drinks in him, that one day it will be “ours.” You think it’s somewhat morbid that he’s waiting for the day his father can’t physically have it anymore. But you also can’t help but feel a glimmer of anticipation about being able to call it yours.

As you walk side by side, you can feel the nervousness radiating off of Rafe, even if he tries his hardest to stamp it down.

You say his name, stopping a few feet from the front door, turning toward him.

He looks at you, a question in his eyes.

Before he can say anything, you bring your hands to his firm chest, smoothing out the black polo shirt he’s wearing. You feel him let out a sigh.

“Babe-.”

You cut him off with a kiss, lashes fluttering against his cheek.

“I just wanted to do that before we went in there,” you quietly say against his lips when you break apart.

You get your satisfaction when his lips turn up into a smile.

But your attention is quickly moved when you hear the door creak open.

“Dad said to get the door,” Wheezie says timidly, eyes shifting around.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again, both of you hiding your laughs.

“Hi, Wheezie,” you greet, walking into the cool air of the house.

You hear Rafe say the same right behind you, shutting the door.

“Are you still taking me shopping before Midsummers?” She doesn’t waste a second to excitedly ask you. “Sarah’s too busy and I’d rather go with you than Rose.”

She grimaces at the mention of her stepmother.

“I’ve been looking forward to it. Why don’t we go sometime this week?”

You don’t notice how Rafe watches you make plans with his little sister, an indescribable emotion swimming in his blue eyes.

“We were wondering when you’d get here,” a booming voice announces.

Ward walks into the room with a grin on his face.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m doing good. Nice to see you, Ward,” you reply, still smiling.

As he steps away from you, you notice how Rafe shifts a little, standing up straighter.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Son,” is all Ward says, patting Rafe on the back, his smile more tight-lipped now.

They share a look, something wordless between them before Ward turns to you.

“Rose is in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. And Sarah should be down soon. I’m just going to borrow Rafe for a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind,” he checks with you, eyebrows raised.

“No, go ahead,” you nod, watching them head toward his office.

“I’ll go see what Sarah’s doing,” Wheezie says, also going upstairs, leaving you to wander into the kitchen.

It’s not uncommon for Ward to pull Rafe aside to have a conversation, usually about work. But the glance they gave each other was tense, a seriousness there that you don’t know the reason for.

“This looks delicious, Rose. You’ll have to give me the recipe,” you comment, staring at the sauce she’s stirring.

“My mother used to make this all the time. One of my favorites,” she remarks before being interrupted by Sarah barreling her way toward you.

“There’s my favorite sister-in-law,” she calls out, wrapping her arms around you.

“I’m your only sister-in-law,” you say, laughing, squeezing her back.

“Well, I still think if you really wanted to see me all the time, you didn’t have to marry Rafe to do it.” Amusement dances on her lips. “You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” she says, trying not to burst out laughing.

“What? You mean, I didn’t have to do that.” Your tone matches hers, and she’s the first one to laugh as you step away from the heat of the kitchen.

“So, tell me all about your first year at UNC?” You ask, eyes on her.

“It was good,” she says with a lack of truthfulness, her furrowed brow giving her away.

“Are you sure?”

She shakes her head, looking around to make sure she’s out of Rose’s earshot.

“I don’t know. I’m just not sure if college is for me,” Sarah says quietly. You nod and she continues, “I just would rather be doing something else with my life. Not being stuck in a classroom with a bunch of other rich kids who are just going to end up working for their fathers.”

You raise your eyebrows, the implication of her words not lost on you.

“Sorry,” she draws back. “That was harsh.”

“No, I get it. You want something different.”

“Yeah. And I want to be with people I actually like.”

“Like John B?”

An involuntary smile makes her lips twitch as she looks down, her cheeks turning rosy.

“Yes, like John B,” she admits, not fighting her smile anymore. “And before you say anything, I know what it sounds like,” she pauses, staring directly at you. “But I won’t be dropping out of college for a boy. It’s for a lot of reasons.”

“I mean, even if that were the case. I can’t really judge you, can I?” You ask, thinking of your own past, and how picking a school was completely dependent on Rafe. “I think you should do what makes you happy.”

“Can you explain that to my dad now?” She jokes, but her smile is appreciative, like it’s all she needed to hear.

Rafe didn’t say much by the time he came back from his dad’s office, just sitting down for dinner like everyone else. You want to ask him about it, but you know it’s best to let him tell you first.

You all eat under incandescent lighting from the chandelier, shining off the silverware and fine china. There has been slight small talk, but things shift when Ward clears his throat from the head of the table, setting down his fork.

“I just want to say, how grateful I am to have the whole family here, together. The year’s not even close to over, and I don’t know if I can express how proud I am.”

Emotion seeps through his words as his eyes rake over the table, everyone intently listens.

“Sarah just completed her first year at college, with straight A’s,” he adds, his smile only growing bigger. Sarah returns the expression, but you can see the slight insincerity to it.

“We also, officially, welcomed Y/N to the family. Of course, I would say she’s been part of this family for years.”

You sheepishly smile, catching Rafe’s eye.

“And Rafe,” he pauses, staring at his son. “Rafe has been working very hard in his position at Cameron Development. Harder than almost anyone, and I’m not just saying that.” He laughs a little. “That’s why, I’ve decided to make him Cameron Development’s new Chief Operating Officer.”

Your lips part with surprise, quickly turning into a smile as you put an arm around Rafe’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, catching the happiness in his eyes.

“I won’t let you down,” he tells his dad.

Wheezie smiles, thinking it must be a big deal, Sarah doesn’t look impressed, and Rose just casually sips her wine.

“Now, I’m not saying I’m expecting any, but maybe an announcement about a grandchild before the end of the year would be nice,” Ward says, half-jokingly.

Your first instinct is to tense up, even if you try not to, your arm moving so just your palm lies on Rafe’s back.

“I think that very well could happen,” Rafe practically promises.

Your face falls a little, trying to keep a sense of lightheartedness in your voice.

“Well, maybe not this year.”

Rafe turns to you at that, giving you a look only you can see. But he bites his tongue from saying anything.

Ward doesn’t push further, saying he’s happy as long as he gets a grandchild. But the damage is done, Rafe not meeting your eyes for the rest of dinner.

Another silent car ride, this time, you can feel the minutes pass by. Rafe doesn’t say a word to you, and honestly, you’re grateful, knowing you don’t want to argue while he’s behind the wheel.

You dread the moment you get home, but at this point, you should be angrier than he is.

He’s still not talking to you when you get home, setting his things down before going upstairs.

He’s almost casual in his actions, but you can tell by the tightness of his jaw and how he can’t look at you, that he’s upset.

You follow him upstairs, repeating his name.

“Rafe,” you call out. “You’re going to have to talk to me. You can’t just give me the silent treatment.”

You find him in the bedroom you two share, slipping off his shoes.

He finally looks at you, and his eyes are ablaze.

“Did you have to say that?” He bitterly asks.

“Say what? The truth?” Your tone matches his. “I just don’t understand why you’re mad. Do you really not want your family to know we’re waiting?”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“It’s embarrassing, Y/N,” he spits out.

“Embarrassing?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “It’s embarrassing that your wife gets to decide when she wants to have a baby?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head but doesn’t explain further.

“Then what do you mean?” You press.

“It-It’s embarrassing that it looks like we’re not on the same page,” he finally explains, flexing his fingers.

“I agree, Rafe. Then why did you say that? Why did you agree with him when you know I want to wait?”

“Exactly. You want to wait.”

You’re left speechless by his implication, lip almost trembling while you take in his words. This is the first time you’re hearing of this, but you realize certain comments you brushed off might have meant he wanted a baby sooner than later.

“Honestly, it sounds like you don’t want kids at all,” he continues. His face is twisted up, pacing back and forth away from you.

“What?” You ask, your brows knitted together. “I do, you know I do. I just want to be able to grow my career before we have any. You know that.”

“What career?”

You start to feel your chest getting tighter.

“What?”

“You sit at a computer a few times a week. How is that stopping you from having a baby?”

You can feel your eyes starting to sting, not being able to remember a time where Rafe said something so hurtful to you.

“Rafe…” You start.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It sounds like an excuse to me.”

You shake your head, eyes getting glassy.

“Just because you got promoted, doesn’t mean you get to tell me my job doesn’t mean anything.” Rage runs through your voice. “And I hate to say it, but you only have that job for one reason. At least I got my job through my own hard work.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, regret fills you.

Somehow his eyes harden even more as he steps closer to you.

“You mean the job you barely get any money from?” He asks, getting closer until you have no choice but to step back, your body hitting the wall behind you. “Remind me, who paid for this house? Or for your clothes? Or for-for that stupid soap you insist on ordering from France?”

He’s almost spitting in your face as you feel your shoulders dig into the wall.

“Who paid for all of that?” His voice is loud as he asks again, his fingers still flexing and unflexing as you look up at him with tearful eyes.

It feels like an eternity before you answer.

“Your father,” you rasp out.

You watch in fear as he takes a step back from you, his breathing getting rougher before his fist collides with the wall next to your head.

You flinch, moving your face away as you feel his arm almost graze you.

Tears fall freely from your eyes as he tries to steady his breathing, glancing at his red knuckles.

Finally, you see the realization hit him, his eyes softening at your cowering figure right next to the hole in the wall he made.

“Y/N-.” He begins, stepping closer to you.

“Don’t,” you yell, holding up a hand and stopping him.

He tries to say something, but you speak instead.

“Just go away,” you urge him, and after a moment, he does, leaving you at the scene of the crime.

Tags:

@fangirlwithlou @thebuttofcaptainamerica @lovedetlost @kkmstblog @whorefordrew @gillybear17 @alinaharlow @coriellesmarya

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist for this series!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader

[saintsenara]

How are you able to enjoy toxic/unhealthy/“problematic” ships/characters without feeling weird (for lack of a better word) about it?

I ask this because I want to be able to do this myself as it seems like a much more enjoyable way of engaging with fiction to me. I can get over some ships just being toxic and the characters not being good together and still enjoy their dynamic but I have trouble with the other ships that feel morally wrong. I know it’s just fiction but I can’t seem to get over the ick feeling I have when I think about those ships/characters. I feel like I’m being too puritanical about these things but I don’t know how to stop feeling like something is gross when I feel it’s gross…

Do you have any tips to stop jumping to moralizing ships/characters?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'm going to be upfront that this reflexive gross feeling isn't something i've ever really struggled with - both in fic and more broadly. this is due to various personal idiosyncrasies, above all the fact that i've got disengaged boomer parents who didn't police our media consumption [my favourite book when i was eleven? lolita...] and that i'm a doctor, which is a profession which requires you to develop a very high threshold for what you find disgusting. the human body - at all stages of its life-cycle and its cycle of decomposition - produces a lot of different fluids... and it's also the case that [just as if you can think of it, there's porn for it] if an inanimate object exists, somebody somewhere has got it stuck inside them...

and so the situation that i find myself in is that i consider it infinitely less weird that i enjoy the odd bit of hot tomarrymort action than that i actively enjoy cutting through bone with a saw...

but, obviously, "get a medical degree" isn't particularly helpful advice...

i am a ride-or-die fan of the concept of stepping outside of your comfort zone. this is why i'm such an avowed multishipper - i think it's good for us as fandom citizens to examine the potential of our faves in relationships [romantic or otherwise] which are either not their canon endgames or which aren't our preferred pairings, and in situations which don't align with their canon experiences [whether that means making them suffer or giving them full-on fluff]. it draws out the multiple aspects of a character to consider them from these different angles - and it prevents us from getting so stuck in one interpretation of a character or configuration of a ship which means that it puts our backs up to stumble across stories which approach things differently.

but stepping outside of your comfort zone doesn't mean that you have to go enormously far. it may be that a reader decides - having only ever read teen-rated fics where characters' sex lives don't extend beyond hand-holding and forehead kisses - to take the plunge into an explicit piece filled to the brim with watersports and age play. it may be that a reader decides - having only ever read teen-rated fics for one canon pairing - to read a teen-rated fic for a non-canon alternative. both of these are entirely valid approaches.

by which i mean, our comfort levels and our thresholds for discomfort are subjective, they're personal. if there are ships or themes or characters you don't want to read about because they don't feel good... you're not doing something wrong if you avoid them. exposing yourself to fics you expect to make you uncomfortable can be useful - and fiction is certainly a way to explore discomfort which gives you much more control over the experience than encountering it in real life - but it's not something you're obliged to do to be active in fandom.

the thing you are obliged to do to be active in fandom is to be nice to other people, no matter what their tastes in fiction. this means, at its fundamental level, that when you see people who ship pairings or like themes which make you think "ew"... you keep it to yourself/the group chat rather than putting it on the timeline.

but, once this is something you've got the hang of [which takes a bit of time! but practice makes perfect!], something i feel can be a really useful way of overcoming a tendency towards knee-jerk moralising reactions is to just vibe in the vicinity of people you know like the content you instinctively feel is gross.

this doesn't mean you have to read any of this content - but you'll learn just by hanging out near them that the people who do are just... normal. one minute they might reblog a rec for a pairing you think "absolutely not" about, the next they might reblog a cat picture which makes you squeal with delight. you'll like some of their content, but not all. you'll agree with some of it, but not all. you might like progressively more of it as you spend time in their orbit - maybe they'll explain why they like the pairing or character in question and you'll think "huh, i've never looked at it like that" - or you might not. this is absolutely fine.

all of us - at one time or other - have made a black-and-white moralising pronouncement: people who think x are gross; people who like y are fucked-up, you'd never catch me doing z. and these pronouncements are different from our wider, societally-influenced moral codes - which are good things, otherwise we'd live in the purge - in that they're fundamentally ways for us to feel good about ourselves and our families and our friends by defining ourselves as better than a faceless other. we say "you'd never catch me reading that, it's foul" when we know [or think we know] that the friend we're talking to would agree with the statement. we are far less likely to say it if we know that the friend - whom we see as a human being who is beautiful in their imperfection and inherently worthy of love simply by virtue of being alive - was reading and enjoying that just the other day.

and so the best way to train yourself out of reflexively moralising ships or characters or tropes is to put a face to the faceless other who likes them. be intentional in sharing a space with fans of the stuff you feel uncomfortable with and, eventually, it just becomes background noise. you'll scroll on tumblr, say "well there we are, jane's written some more of her sirius/harry piss kink fic - although i'm not interested in clicking on it" and go on with your day.

because the other thing i think it's really useful to do is to train yourself into reframing your disgust as disinterest. there are plenty of things which i don't seek out to read - and some of these topics are completely benign and some are darker [i don't enjoy reading explicit non-con, for example] - but this is because i try to frame it as that i don't think these things would interest me.

this is still the maintenance of a personal comfort zone, but thinking of the content outside this zone as something you are disinterested in turns it into something neutral. when you think of it as something to be disgusted or grossed out by, it naturally provokes a visceral response which makes you look through a moral lens. thinking in terms of disinterest, instead, gives you sufficient detachment from this visceral response to recognise, interrogate, contextualise, and control it.

and - in time - this neutral reframing may result in you feeling more interested in taking the plunge into the ships and characters and stories you currently don't vibe with, once you don't have an instinctive disgust response as a barrier.

or it may not. and this is absolutely fine.

#asks answered #on fandom

[cherienymphe]

The Less I Know The Better VIII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, jealousy, voyeurism, self harm, manipulation, underage drinking, drug use, mild unhealthy relationship, eventual violence, one sided kiara x jj, non canon ages, pogue!reader, I believe this is what therapists call a breakthrough 

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics​

➥ series masterlist

summary:  When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.

~

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

JJ closed his eyes, swallowing down a sigh and any other nastiness that threatened to come up. Kie’s voice was soft, but no less disappointed. The rest of the Pogues were around the fire, and JJ should’ve known that his solitude on the steps wasn’t going to last for long. Especially with one look at Kiara’s face.

“Y/N told me everything you said…”

That didn’t surprise him.

“She called me as soon as Rafe was asleep. She was a mess…and she was hurt, so I’m asking you again. What’s your problem?”

“Rafe-.”

“I thought you loved her more than you hated him. Or was that a lie?”

“It’s not,” he snapped, finally looking up at her.

Kie was angry, that much was obvious, but there was something else in her gaze that he couldn’t place. Something that made him feel so…wrong.

“You’re being an asshole, you know that, right?” she threw at him, arms folded over her chest. “The other night was supposed to be great for her...and you ruined it.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Now, JJ could feel himself getting angry. He had already beaten himself up enough for how he acted, and he didn’t need nor want to hear it from Kie too.

“…and for what? Because she had sex with her boyfriend, and had a little pregnancy scare?”

JJ felt his teeth grind together at the mention of what had started the fight in the first place. He didn’t miss Kie’s emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’, and he stared her down from beneath his lashes. Kie’s gaze was almost challenging, an eyebrow raised at him.

“You don’t think I’ve been in that same position before? You don’t think Sarah has?”

JJ exhaled, fighting the urge to tell her he didn’t care about them like he cared about you. You were everything to him, and seeing you with Rafe was one thing, but knowing that you were having sex with the guy was something else entirely. It made his skin crawl, and JJ pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. When he’d saw that lace monstrosity in your luggage, he had thought… Well, he had hoped that it was just a thought, an intent.

He hadn’t realized that his worst fears had been confirmed on that trip.

“He’s not good enough for her,” he finally said.

Kie heaved a frustrated sigh.

“I agree, but let’s not pretend that this is all about Rafe.”

JJ frowned at that, narrowing his eyes at her. What?

“What? Of course, it’s about Rafe. Kook king, asshole, the guy I’ve fought on more than one occasion. Remember him? I don’t think any of that’s changed just because she’s fucking him, now,” JJ sneered.

Kie’s lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile, but it wasn’t a friendly one. It was tense, filled with bitterness, and the look she gave JJ was cold.

“So, it’s all about Rafe… You’d be fine if it was anyone but Rafe.”

“Anyone who’s not some asshole from Figure 8,” he corrected.

“So, a Pogue…nice, I guess…”

“Doesn’t discriminate. I don’t think that’s too hard to ask for,” he added.

“Someone who can really relate to her life, right?”

“Yeah.”

“…even better if he knew her her whole life. Someone who wouldn’t ‘change’ her…?”

JJ blinked at Kie, not liking the look on her face and the slight scoff she let out.

“Someone like you?”

JJ blinked again, this time his lips parting in the process. He blinked again, rearing back a bit before letting out a humorless chuckle.

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be…”

He and Kie stared at each other for what felt like a long time, neither of them saying a word. Her brows were raised as she waited for him to say something. Only…JJ didn’t know what to say to that. Kie’s suggestion was crazy, and he laughed again, shaking his head. JJ was actually a little insulted that she thought that low of him, that she thought this was about anything other than his protectiveness over you.

“That’s not what this is about,” he quietly said, and now it was Kie’s turn to laugh.

It was so loud and sudden that it drew the attention of the others.

“Oh my God,” she cried, shaking her head. “It’s actually less funny now that I see how deep in denial you are.”

“Kie-.”

“You don’t even realize it,” she bitterly chuckled. “…and I don’t know what’s scarier.”

JJ was looking at her like she was crazy, but funnily enough, she was looking at him like he was the crazy one.

“The thought of you behaving like this with some kind of self-awareness…or the thought of you not.”

Again, he was at a loss for words, and her face suddenly fell. She looked serious, swiping her tongue along her lips as she stared him down.

“She’s really happy, JJ…”

He felt his heart sink at the seriousness in her tone.

“Do you get that?”

“I do-.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” she interrupted. “You’re not thinking about how great he makes her feel, or how much she likes being around him, or how happy she is.”

“I-.”

“You’re not thinking about any of that! You’re only thinking about the fact that you hate him, and he’s with her, and you hate her for it.”

“I don’t-.”

“Yes, you do,” she spat, and JJ was standing now, face tight as he stared at her. “You’re a shitty liar because it’s clear as day that part of you hates her for being with him.”

Her voice had attracted everyone’s attention, now, and Pope was nearing them.

“You hate her for liking Rafe. You hate her for enjoying his money, for being around his friends, and for willingly being a part of a lifestyle you’ve talked shit about your whole life.”

Pope was reaching for Kie’s arm, but she brushed him off, dark eyes focused on JJ.

“She’s your best friend, and part of you hates her…because you don’t think she chose the right guy.”

JJ swallowed, staring after Kie long after she’d walked away. Pope had sent him an apologetic look, but JJ had ignored it. His throat felt tight, chest even tighter, and they all opted to keep quiet when he left. He was so deep in thought that he swore he almost crashed his bike twice on the way to your house.

Kie wasn’t completely wrong.

He didn’t want to say it, let alone think it, but part of him did hate you. He’d been telling himself that Rafe was just that good, that he’d swindled his way into your heart. He was confident that you would realize Rafe hadn’t changed, at all, that you would see him exactly for who he was… But the truth was that you already knew who Rafe was, and you chose to see the good in him instead.

You weren’t some innocent and brainless little girl who got tricked into a relationship with the asshole next door. You chose Rafe. You looked him in the face, and chose him, and it tore JJ up inside. It made his whole body hurt…but mostly his heart. He was running his hands through his hair when you answered the door, eyes wide at the sight of him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

He watched the way your face fell, hurt flashing across your features, and he knew that he’d done that.

“I know. You…wrote that.”

“…but I wanted to tell you to your face.”

You took a deep breath, and JJ’s gaze was drawn to the movement, blue eyes watching the way your chest rose and fell. His gaze skimmed along the top of your shirt, lingering, and he blinked, lips parting as he lifted his gaze.

“You called me a Figure 8 slut,” you continued when he opened his mouth. “Compared me to one, whatever. Same difference, I guess. It hurt the same.”

JJ’s gaze found his feet, kicking at the dirt, and he sniffed. He could feel himself getting emotional, right now, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t been right since you told him you and Rafe were dating, but he swore he’d been on the verge of passing out since he found that empty box in your trash can. Even now, the thought of that night made him nauseous.

It was hard to describe how he felt when he recognized what it was. It’d felt like he’d been outside of his body as he watched himself reach down and grab it. He couldn’t tell you how long he’d been staring at it when you finally came in the bathroom. It had taken everything in him to even move, let alone speak.

All he kept picturing was you…and Rafe.

The box had confirmed his fear, and images of you and Rafe were taunting him. You and Rafe in a hotel, in his truck, in his room—in your room. He kept thinking about Rafe touching you, dragging his lips over your body, defiling you. It was ass backwards, he knew that. It was archaic and stupid, and he had no right, but the thought of Rafe inside of you had made him see red.

You treating it like it was no big deal had only made him angrier. He was so angry, that in that moment, JJ was confident he could’ve killed Rafe. He’d always thought he wanted to kill him before, but never like that. JJ had never had that burning almost paralyzing desire to put a bullet in his face, to make him swallow his teeth, to run him down like a dog in the street.

He wanted Rafe away from you.

“I’m sorry,” JJ choked out, blinking and realizing that his vision had gone blurry.

He sniffed again, still staring at his feet, blond strands hanging into his face.

“I don’t…I don’t think he’s good for you,” he forced out.

His voice was low, but you heard him all the same.

“That’s not your choice to make,” you whispered.

JJ looked up, eyes finding the arch of the doorway as he took a deep breath. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and Kie’s words were loud in his head.

“When I told you about us, you told me that you loved me more than you hated him.”

“I-.”

“That’s what you told me, and I thought you meant that.”

“I do!”

JJ could feel that desperation creeping up, fingers trembling and eyes widening. He felt like your friendship was at a tipping point, that it could go either way, and it was all his fault. He felt desperate to save it, to keep it, to keep you around. To keep you.

He stumbled inside, and you took a step back.

JJ was taking deep breaths, shoulders heaving and heart racing. He felt panicked, feeling like everything was out of control, and normally he liked that, but in this moment…he felt like he might die. You were looking at him like you were sad and disappointed and confused all in one. He had done that, and JJ hated himself for it.

He pulled you into a hug before you could protest, arms right around you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he tearfully mumbled, repeating it over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t even notice when you hugged him back, too caught up in making sure you knew how sorry he was. He kept blinking tears away, squeezing you tight as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You were shushing him, trying to calm him down, but he couldn't stop shaking. The thought of losing you made his knees weak.

“JJ, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t. You were saying that because you were good, and it was okay to you, now, but it wasn’t. He knew that if he didn’t get it together, he would lose you, and that made him hold you tighter. It made him squeeze his eyes shut…and it made him brush his lips over the skin of your neck.

“You don’t think Kie’s right…do you?”

Pope didn’t answer right away, a slight frown on his face when JJ rolled his head towards him. They were both on the dock, drinking way more than they should. JJ could tell by the look on his face what Pope was going to say.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear every word she said. You think she’s right?”

Pope let out a breath, looking away for a bit.

“I just think it’s weird for you,” he finally answered. “You’ve always been protective of Y/N, and this whole thing with Rafe…”

Pope shrugged.

“I sort of knew it would get worse before it got better.”

“So…you don’t think I have ulterior motives or whatever? Even without realizing it?”

The other guy’s head shook immediately, a scoff leaving him.

“You? Y/N? Nah,” he drawled. “You’ve never looked at her that way. I had to point it out to you that she’s a pretty girl, which is a little ridiculous if you ask me.”

JJ agreed.

He found that ridiculous, now, too…because you were beautiful. He felt a little silly for not seeing it before, but lately it was all he seemed to notice. The way the sun glinted off of your hair, the way your eyes would sparkle when you laughed, or how perfect your lips looked that night before Midsummers. As angry as he’d been, it wasn’t enough to make him forget how blown away he’d been when you opened the door.

That pink had looked great on you, and in that moment, you looked like his best friend instead of Rafe’s girlfriend. Where he normally would’ve cracked some joke, he’d only had the mind to tell you how beautiful you looked, tempted to reach out and touch you. You hadn’t even realized, turning away and talking to him like you weren’t a vision.

A vision that Rafe didn’t deserve.

JJ suddenly shook his head, feeling like the alcohol was getting to him.

“He’s just not good enough for her, you know?”

“Yeah,” Pope sighed. “We all know. Even Rafe knows, but…that’s up to her. You have to respect that.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, loathed to admit that Pope was right.

“You think they’ll break up?” he suddenly wondered, thinking out loud. “…because if they don’t…then…”

He couldn’t say it, didn’t even want to think it. If there ever came a time where you walked down the aisle with Rafe, JJ was positive that’d kill himself. It was either that or break up.

“They haven’t even been going out for half a year,” Pope assured him. “It’s a little too early to start wondering if they’ll get married. Bring it up again in two years if they’re still together.”

JJ nodded at that, a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of you and Rafe still together two years from now. He and Pope laid on the dock for what felt like hours, talking about any and everything, the conversation coming back to some girl Pope liked while JJ’s thoughts kept going back to you. He wondered what you were doing, and as if reading his mind, Pope mentioned something about you hanging out with Rafe tonight in passing.

“I gotta go.”

The words were out of JJ’s mouth before he could process them, and if Pope thought it was odd, he didn’t say anything. JJ was too drunk to think straight, unsure of what his goal even was, only knowing that he wanted to see you. He didn’t care if Rafe was there or not. You were his friend before you were Rafe’s girlfriend.

He could feel his blood bubbling at the thought of the other guy in your life, alcohol threatening to climb out of his throat. He wondered what you two were doing, if you were alone, and JJ could feel his hand reaching for the pocket knife in his jeans. It was sick, he knew that, his thoughts verging on concerning, but that didn’t stop himself from acting on them.

By the time he made it to your door, ignoring Rafe’s truck in your yard, he was sliding the knife back into his pocket. It took you a while to answer, and he couldn’t stop his heart from clenching at the thought of why it took you so long. When you swung the door open, you were surprised to see him, a tiny smile on your lips that quickly dropped.

“JJ,” you breathed, reaching for him.

He winced when your fingers brushed along the cut on his cheek, horrified eyes falling to the blood that had seeped through his shirt. You pulled him inside, breath shaky, and it was hard to ignore Rafe’s presence in the kitchen. The other blond was staring at him, JJ staring back as you fretted over him.

“Rafe, can you please get my first aid kit out of my bathroom?”

Your tone was thick with emotion, and Rafe stared at him for a few more moments before his gaze landed on you.

“Of course, babe.”

You forced JJ to sit down while Rafe disappeared, and you frantically blinked, trying to keep your tears at bay.

“What did-?”

“It’s nothing,” he hurried to say, throwing you a tense smile. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

You tilted your head at him, eyes sad before gently pushing his shirt up. JJ hissed, throwing his head back as you gasped, fingers hovering over the nasty cut along his abdomen. It burned like hell, but it was worth having you near, smelling you and hearing you worry over him. As you inspected the cut, he straightened, unable to take his eyes off of you.

The concern on your face made his shoulders ease, and JJ swallowed, drinking you in. With your gaze focused on wiping off the blood, JJ couldn’t stop himself from reaching up. His fingers grazed your hair, and his lips parted, softly exhaling as he studied the sight of it against his skin. He’d almost forgotten about Rafe entirely…until he looked up.

Your boyfriend was at the start of the hallway, just behind you and carrying the first aid kit. Only, his blue eyes weren’t on you. They were on JJ, narrowed and unreadable as he stared at him. JJ watched the way Rafe’s jaw clenched, and JJ licked his lips, slowly dropping his hand and leaning back.

“Thank you,” you said in relief, taking the kit from Rafe as he came near.

JJ could feel Rafe’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t care about your boyfriend, too focused on the way you were patching him up. Your fingers were cool against his skin, brushing over him and making his stomach clench. His fingers tingled, and he thought to himself how much he wanted to touch you again.

His heart soared when you told Rafe he would be sleeping on the couch…and his lips twitched when Rafe pulled you down the hall.

“Rafe, you don’t understand, okay?” your voice carried even though you were trying to whisper. “Things at home aren’t good for him. It’s-it’s really bad.”

He didn’t hear Rafe’s response, but he heard you sigh.

“You saw him,” he heard you cry. “I can’t let him go back there.”

The rest of the conversation was hushed, but JJ didn’t care.

There was some part of him that realized how sick his actions were. It was a new low he didn’t even think was possible for himself, but the part that just wanted to be here with you outweighed it. JJ just wanted to see you and have you worry over him like you always did, and Rafe’s presence wasn’t going to stop that.

“Is Rafe mad?” he wondered when you brought him another pillow.

Your smile was comforting, but he saw right through it.

“No,” you lied with a shake of your head. “He’s just a little frustrated.”

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t, and you shrugged.

“He knows that I’m not just going to let you go back there,” you told him. “It’ll be fine.”

When you made to move away, he reached for you, hand on your wrist. Your gaze was inquiring as you looked at him, and JJ swiped his tongue along his lips. He swallowed, tracing his thumb along your skin.

“I’m going to be better,” he told you. “I promise.”

Your smile widened at that, his words genuinely lifting your mood. You thanked him, and when you wished him a goodnight, JJ almost didn’t let go.

It was in the early hours of the morning when he heard it.

It was faint, so faint he’d almost missed it, but the voice belonged to you, and that made his ears perk up. Your parents had the kind of jobs where they were either out late or out early, sometimes both. The rest of the house was quiet, early rays of sunlight poking through curtains and windows. When he sat up, JJ winced, almost regretting his drunken impulsive actions last night.

He’d almost thought he imagined it…then he heard it again.

You, out of breath…and moaning.

JJ’s feet had a mind of their own as they carried him down the hall. The closer he got to your room, the clearer the noises became. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, out of breath as it raced in his chest. He kept telling himself to walk away, leave, but he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to.

Your door wasn’t closed all the way, and JJ took that as a sign.

His first reaction was anger, a rage filling him that he’d never felt before. Rafe was on top of you, too preoccupied to notice JJ standing in the crack of the doorway, peering in. The other blond was pressing kisses to your throat, just as naked as you were and lost in the feel of pushing himself into you again and again.

JJ wanted to pull him off of you, maybe even punch him in the face…then his gaze fell to you.

…and all of his anger was gone.

All of his breath left him, heart skipping a beat and mouth falling open at the sight of you beneath Rafe. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolling towards the ceiling while you wrapped your arms around him. You looked so desperate, so shameless as you grabbed at him and did everything you could to pull yourself closer.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist, hips lifting to meet his thrust for thrust. The sounds that left you made JJ swallow, his skin heating up and pants tightening. Your skin was dewy with sweat, voice choked and strained while Rafe fucked you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, obsessed with the way you looked as you begged Rafe to make you come.

JJ knew it was wrong. He shouldn’t be here, standing here and watching something so private, but he couldn’t leave. He was rooted in place by the sound of your moans, and the sight of your bare legs pulling him closer. You looked nothing like yourself…and everything like he knew you to be all at once.

You giggled the same way you did when Pope told a joke. You smiled in that soft way you always did when you thanked Kie for something. That desperation in you was the same desperation he’d always see whenever you were determined to snake a wave from John B. The excitement on your face was reminiscent of how excited you’d be to hang out with JJ.

…but there was something else in you that shocked him completely.

The way you dragged your nails over Rafe’s skin, leaving red marks in some places. The seductive laugh that left you when Rafe hissed, pressing your teeth into your lip. You were begging him to fuck you harder, to make you come.

“Baby, please,” you sighed into his mouth, gasping when he snapped his hips against yours.

JJ didn’t quite know what he was feeling in that moment.

He was angry at Rafe for doing what boyfriends do, for doing what he’d done so many times, just wishing that it wasn’t with you. He was entranced, completely lost in the sight of what you looked like in a setting he’d never taken the time to imagine you in before. He was hot, overwhelmingly hot and turned on and the hardest he’d ever been in his life. It was hard to separate all of his feelings as he watched you and Rafe in your bedroom, but one stood out above the rest.

You were kissing Rafe and opening your legs for him and moaning for him…and JJ wished that it were him instead.

#dark!jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron #jj maybank #jj maybanks #obx #outer banks fanfiction

[theresistanceneverquits]

List of small Garmadon details/moments in canon that I feel define his character, in approximate timeline order:

Garmadon attempted to be the voice of reason and didn’t want to disobey their father (“Never Trust a Human”)

When Wu’s sword was lost over the wall, Garmadon acted as the responsible older sibling to retrieve it (“Rise of the Snakes”)

His father and brother both speak of a “darkness” in Garmadon while he’s a teen, but this refers mostly to mood swings and impulsivity, and Garmadon felt as if there was nothing truly wrong with him (The Curse of the Cat-Eye Jewel)

“I know what it is to feel rejected by my father.” (The Curse of the Cat-Eye Jewel)

He is enthusiastic about traveling the world moreso than finding a “cure” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

Wu is uncertain whether Garmadon really is different, or if it is merely a placebo effect: “We can’t seem to agree on anything lately. Then again, Garmadon and I have never agreed on much!” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

“We make a great team!” “Yeah!” Garmadon agreed, but a flash of doubt clouded his brain. Does he really mean it? Wu hadn’t looked at me the same ever since that dumb snake bit me. And as for being a team…he’s always trying to tell me what to do. How is that teamwork?” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

Garmadon looks into a magic mirror and sees his future form, as well as “two figures in silhouette next to the terrifying figure, with their backs turned to him. One looked like a kid[…] Is my father right? Is there really evil inside me?[…] A feeling of utter loneliness and despair swept over him.” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

Had intrusive thoughts to abandon Wu in the maze, but went back for him after realizing those thoughts would lead to that horrible future (The Maze of the Sphinx)

“Somehow, he felt in his bones that he could not escape his destiny.” He gives up a wish to cure himself by saving their new ally, but keeps up the facade that he thinks he’s fine even though he now has doubts. “Besides, I keep telling you, I don’t need saving.” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

“I did the right thing, he told himself. That’s all that matters.” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

“Maybe I do need that tea. I just hope… I hope that when we find it, it’s not too late.” (The Maze of the Sphinx)

“I know he thanked me, but did he say anything about how good it was of me to save him? I mean, he and Father are convinced I’m turning evil. Would an evil guy bravely save his brother from plummeting into a deep abyss? Why doesn’t anybody give me credit for the non-evil stuff that I do?” (The Chroma’s Clutches)

Wu’s thoughts: “On that day in the monastery, years ago, when I lost my katana, I was too afraid to retrieve it. But Garmadon jumped over the wall to get it for me, and got bitten by the snake that may have infected him with evil, as Father expects. I often wonder what would have happened if I had been the one to get bitten that day…” (The Chroma’s Clutches)

Only Garmadon hears the hopeless voice of the Chroma in his head: “There is no hope[…] All is lost. There is no point in continuing your journey, because nothing will change[…] Nothing will change. You are who you are, Garmadon. Deep in his bones, Garmadon knew the Chroma was right. When he wasn’t pretending everything was fine, he could feel the evil inside him, like a poisonous ball in the pit of his stomach. No tea was going to cure him. He knew it. Wu had hope, but why? What was the point of—” (The Chroma’s Clutches)

Garmadon didn’t want to sign the letter Wu had written for Misako, only doing so when his eyes turned red and the Venom took over (“Spellbound”)

He left his training with Chen to help lead the Elemental Masters against the Serpentine War (“Spellbound”)

Garmadon resisted giving into the Venom for centuries before he caved and attempted to steal the Golden Weapons (“Battle Between Brothers”)

“I never wanted [Lloyd] to [be like me]” (“The Royal Blacksmiths”)

Garmadon, once corrupted, is happy to overtake the world, but all those thoughts leave his mind as soon as Lloyd is at risk (“The Royal Blacksmiths,” “The Green Ninja”)

Lloyd: “I’m gonna do everything in my power to stop you.” Garmadon: “I wouldn’t have it any other way[…] You're a good boy. Soon, you'll be a great man. Although we're now on opposite sides, I'm still very proud of you.” (“All of Nothing”)

“Lloyd doesn't want to fight—uh, I mean, so Lloyd doesn't want to fight? [Laughs]” (“The Last Hope”)

Became a pacifist and a teacher (“The Art of the Silent Fist”)

Takes responsibility for his harmful actions (“The Greatest Fear of All,” “The Corridor of Elders”)

“I yearned to make the world in my image. I never realized I already had, in you.” (“The Corridor of Elders”)

Oni Garmadon does not recognize his predecessor’s human form, and has zero memory of those times, but he remembers being married to Misako (“The Fall”/“Big Trouble, Little Ninjago”)

“People ask me: ‘Do you think Lord Garmadon is disappointed in Lloyd, like would he have wanted to see a chip off the old block?’ Well, I think Lloyd could very well have gone that route. We may never really know the exact nature of the disappointment that shaped Garmadon’s path. But I think that no matter what, even—even—in his most deranged state, Lord Garmadon still has abiding affection for his son. And you know that he would trade it all away if he had to safeguard Lloyd. So I think that there’s always going to be the embers of deep affection for his son, no matter what.” (Mark Oliver, “NINJAGO ZANE INTERVIEWS GARMADON part 2/3”)

Garmadon misremembers the incident of when he was bitten. Out of guilt and the weight of his fate being seemingly meaningless, he wishes that Wu had warned him of crossing the wall and he had simply acted defiantly. Regardless, he feels he was “destined for evil” (Garmadon #4)

The Overlord orchestrated the Great Devourer biting Garmadon so he could be the perfect puppet for the Overlord (“Dragon Form”)

#ninjago #Garmadon #lord garmadon #sensei garmadon #long post #spinjitzu brothers