what is your opinion on the situation?

I've been at work all day so I haven't been able to sit down with stuff fully, it also seems like Caiti is planning to release a statement later today with more information I think? So I'd like to get her response there, but based on what I've seen so far I think I fall more on the side of "people made some dumb choices and should learn from them" than anything else.

Consent is messy and it gets messier when people start lying or are drunk. In this case, both Caiti and George were drunk. From what I understand, either Caiti had a 21+ wristband from the vidcon party, or her friend group did and assumed since she was drinking with them, she was also 21+.

Honestly, when it comes to the matter of underage drinking, I don't think it's even remotely fair to place blame on Dream/George for that. The blame there lies with Caiti deciding to drink while under 21, and on her friends, Ghostie and the other person present who were both over 21. Unlike Dream/George, both of them knew Caiti and knew exactly how old she was and were letting her drink. They were also letting her drink with no one sober and no one making sure she got home.

Now, Caiti is 18 and also I'm not a goddamn square, I'm not gonna stand here and be like "oh no drinking at 18 clutch my pearls" but like, if people are going to blame other people for that situation, that very much lies with Caiti's friends who knew they had an underage person drinking with them. I feel like people are weirdly assigning blame to Dream/George for not like, iding every person they hang out with (particularly if she had a 21+ bracelet at vidcon, which would mean she already got IDed). While completely avoiding placing any blame on the people who 100% knew they were taking an 18 year old drinking without a doubt.

Putting that aside, from my understanding George's side is he believed at the time that she was having fun, and the most they did was cuddle on a couch with other people there. He believed at the time that everything was cool, and that she later decided she was uncomfortable with what happened.

Honestly, I don't really think that's an unfair reading. At this same party, her best friend was there and from Ghostie's own words, she also didn't realize Caiti was uncomfortable until several months later when Caiti told her. If her best friend didn't notice she was uncomfortable or see anything wrong, then I find it hard to think anyone else would pick up on it.

There's certainly risks taken here that I wouldn't have taken. I think that George needs to do better with checking for consent and maybe vetting the people you're hanging out with. Although I also understand that doing a full background check on everyone you ever meet is an absurd requirement and if, at the time, they trusted the person that they actually invited, I get how that shit happens. Per consent, given that he was also drunk, I get how it may've appeared to him that he had consent. I do think it's still something to work on, but I'm also perfectly aware that in real life, people are often going off vibes and social cues, and sometimes those don't mash.

I also think that Caiti's friends have been pretty shitty throughout this. They take no responsibility for having let an 18 year old drink and then ditching her. They are absolutely milking drama out of this shit and they have a weird obsession with blaming Dream for shit he had no fault in.

As for Dream, I don't think he did anything wrong here. Full stop. If Caiti's best friend didn't notice that she was uncomfortable or unhappy, it's insanely unreasonable to expect Dream to have managed that. He was also drunk and hanging out with people, and he had no way of knowing Caiti was underage. None of that shit was his fault, and his statement seems very measured and reasonable. People are trying to blame him for things that he had absolutely no part in, and the UK group are absolutely trying to pull that shit.

Overall, sounds like several people involved made dumb choices, I hope they learn and grow. Otherwise all of this honestly sounds like shit that should've been talked out privately and not tossed to the internet for speculation. Human beings are messy and will fuck up sometimes. This feels like a case of miscommunication and people making risky choices that left people with some hurt.

Again, I may change my mind with further evidence presented, but that's how it feels to me.

Heyo! How would the Obey Me brothers react to MC being a teenager/younger gen Z? Like, the paper-work got mixed up somehow, and said they were like 26, when they were actually like 16? Also (you don't have to include this), what if the teen MC was actually really interested in demons and angles before coming to devildom, so they're really nervous, but also really excited? If you don't wanna do it, that's fine tho :) Have a great day/night!

I love this prompt! Have a great day too,love🖤

Brothers reaction to MC being a Gen Z teen. (Platonic)

✒Lucifer.

He can already picture himself struggling with you.

Six brothers to take care of + a TEEN? Man is about to loose it.

If you are an introverted he will like you automatically and feel relieved that you will not always get into his brothers shenanigans.

If you are an extroverted (or just a curious one tbh) he will keep an eye on you 24/7 so you won't get into Mammon schemes or Satan's nerves and get yourself in trouble.

Really amused if you like demons and angels, will curse himself for misreading but will not hate himself too much since you are not that scared.

Gets tired of you quickly if you make too many questions and will always send you to ask Mammon or if it's something that he doesn't know himself he will ask Diavolo and tell you later but he will (of course) act all high and mighty as if he already knew the answer to such question.

Will practically adopt you and spoil you a lot because hes is big brother.

Overprotective. Oh you met a lesser demon and you want to go on a date with them? Haha he won't let you.

You will be the only person who gets in trouble and leaves with just a warning.

Also you are totally his soft spot. Man can't resist your sad face and will do anything to make you happy even if he doesn't like to admit that.

Totally lost when it comes to TikTok/memes references and will ask about it a lot.

✒Mammon

He is amazing. Not only does whatever you ask him to but also has the best ways to get you out of boredom.

He will teach you how to scam people and how to be a good thief even if you don't need it or want it.

Teaches you about demons and angels without even knowing. Sometimes he drops random facts but it's not until he realizes you write down what he says that he stops doing it just to hear you ask him things so he can act all smug and smart.

If someone breaks your heart he will be ready to throw hands,no one hurts their little siblings.

Like Lucifer,he adopted you and always claims to be "the one you choose to be with you first" making sure his brothers hear him.

He will help you make your homework. Even if he doesn't understand he will try his best.

Please refer to him sometimes as "big brother" he will die.

When he saves your ass from getting killed by lesser demons he will be ready to receive the biggest hug ever and is absolutely ready to be praised.

If he saves you and you say "thanks,big brother" now you have a problem. He will brag about it for a week (at least).

Will steal things from you to keep them with him when he is going thru an episode. It reminds him that someone thinks of him as worthy and love deserving.

Will die for you,you are not only family now but his favorite person.

Will compliment you in the best brotherhood way he can "looking good today,kid", "your hair looks nice,brat" and "You are the best looking sibling after me of course" are his go to compliments. Mostly does it because you compliment him back and because he knows his comments make you feel closer to him and boy loves it.

✒Levi

If you are an introvert like him you can expect him to go out of his room more often just to see you or talk to you.

If you are not he will try to make you an indoors person but if he can't he is might be willing to take a risk and go out once a week but just to the manga store and back,don't expect more,normie.

If you like any thing he likes he will try to test you and prove he is better than you,he doesn't give a fuck you are practically a child he can't loose.

If he wins he will be very happy and more open to you to open up with some things.

If he doesn't win he will cry when he is alone and call himself an ugly unworthy idiot who can't even be considered an otaku but relax my dude,MC will go to you and reassure you you know better than them and that they will love to hear what you have to say (even if they don't mean it,they love you and will love to see you happy again).

Knows the basics about demons and angels so he is not the best to go to if you have too many questions. That's the only time he will let his envy go away and tell you to go to Satan or Lucifer since they know more than him.

He does not takes his duty as a big brother as something serious since Lucifer is always there but if you call him "big brother" he is going to take that role serious but for you and you only.

Will 100% find siblings cosplays and gets you to do it with him.

If you ever said something like "I'm lucky that my big brother is also my best friend" he might tear up a little since he has never been considered someone's best friend ever.

If any of his brothers try to get you to call him "big brother" he will go on a rampage unless it's Lucifer. Boy is envious not dumb.

If it was Lucifer he will go to him later and ask you if he can stop trying to get you to call him that way because that's they way you call him and it makes him feel special. Lucifer will probably agree because he knows Levi doesn't feel special often so he might give in; if he doesn't Levi will start an argument and won't stop until Lucifer cuts him off or agrees.

Keep calling him big brother, he adores it.

✒Satan

As grumpy as he is,he loves to have yo by his side. Not because he loves company but because he likes to be able to answer all your questions.

Ask him anything about demons or angels and he knows it,fuck he is smart.

Will get you a notebook so you can write what he says and will give you books to read as "extra homework" it's kind of a bad deal if you think of it but it's his way to show love.

The only person who calls him "big brother" often is Asmo and got used to it coming from him and him only. If he hears you calling him that way he will probably jump out of happiness when he is alone but for know he will just answer to that name name and act like nothing happened.

You don't want to do your homework? Fine you can copy mine but just this once.

If you struggle with anything he will solve it for you,no cap.

He will get you cat themed items like pencils, notebooks,necklaces or rings.

Matching is a must. Not because he likes the concept of being associated with a part of someone but because he will love to brag with his brothers obviously.

Will definitely get mad if you ask any type of demon/angel related thing to others.

Names a cat after you but it's the cats middle name so he won't get mocked. Won't tell you tho.

Very very protective but good at hiding it. He might be following you down the street but you wouldn't even know. Kinda creepy? Yes. Have you ever got eaten? Nope.

✒Asmo

Yes! Exactly what he was waiting for.

You are part of his experiments. You don't like makeup? Well now you do. What type of clothes do you have? Do you have an aesthetic? No? Well now you do.

He is always there when you need him to. Best of them all to give advise when needed.

Definitely will be annoyed by all of your questions but will try to be as gentle as possible to tell you that.

Can help you to become really good at comebacks,believe him he knows best than anyone.

He is the one making sure you are educated when comes to sex. Simple but worthy lessons such as "sex is about experimenting and finding what you really like but you always need your partners consent" or "always have a safe word,even when you have vanilla type of sex" or the best one yet "if they want to fuck with you that's fine but always remember to use protection because I will not like to see you having a child so young or having an abortion" because yeah that's what big brothers do.

If you hit him with the "you are the best,big brother" he will jump into your arms and say that he knows he is the best but that hearing that was way too magical,do it again!

He is very aware of insecurities and will try to be the shoulder you cry on if you need to,he is always there to wipe of your tears (or wipe off the ones who hurt you).

Not as protective as the others but keeps an eye on you because your curiosity might hurt you.

Will be crushed if he sees you suffering from the most minimal thing. That lipstick does not fit your skin color? Fuck that lipstick! We are getting new ones,go get Lucifers card!

Spoils you way more than any other because he wants to create a brat. He needs to have someone like you who will cling into Lucifer and beg him to let you do dumb things because you know Lucifer can't say no to you. He needs your power and is not afraid to tell you that

Constant reassurance. He always calls you by cute nicknames and as long as you call him "my beautiful big brother" every time he is amused.

✒Beel

Baby is ready to give you life lessons. Don't stab anyone,drink enough water and be patient with the ones you love.

Yes,he learned the "don't stab anyone" from talking to Belphie.

Is very lost when it comes to you being so interested in demons and angels because he is not used to be the one answering the questions but making them. Bare with him, he is trying to get a good answer.

Will ask for advice on how to answer you, probably goes to Lucifer but mostly Belphie.

Soon you two start doing things together that involve learning from humans and angels. Maybe you are walking down the street working out and when you both start chatting about demon life and suddenly everything stops.

Beel is clueless when it comes to comforting someone about an insecuritie since he was the one being comforted most of the times but will give you space if you need to or do whatever you feel comfy with.

If you call him "big brother" he will hug you like no one has ever hugged you before. Teddy bear hugs are a must now.

Will die for you and is not afraid of telling you such. "MC I will die for you" "whAt?" "As your big brother I may protect you with my life" "Please don't."

Tells you how much he wants you to be happy and constantly asks if you have any type of dreams or goals.

If you do have goals or dreams he will encourage you to go get it. Beel is there to support you no matter what.

✒Belphie.

Absolutely fucking not.

Why is everyone spoiling this stupid brat and not me? I hate them.

But hold on there,he doesn't completely hates you he just hates the attention you get.

If you go to him with a soft attitude and ask him if you can nap together he will say yes and will enjoy the moment a lot .

He has never been someone's big brother so it kinda hits him if you call him like that and will try to act confident and smug about it but it's kinda terrified.

What if he doesn't catch up on the big brother thing and fucks up? He doesn't want to disappoint you or make you feel awkward. So he copies his big brother and tries his best,believe me he does.

You need help with something? Ugh well I will help but you owe me one (you don't owe him anything really,he just doesn't wants to be seen as soft for you). Oh did someone caused you problems? No biggie,I will take care of it.

Spoiler alert: he is very overprotective with you,he doesn't want to lose you.

I recently asked reddit for some LGBT history from countries other than the US. Here’s what I got:

Germany

The Weimar Republic was surprisingly accepting of "alternative lifestyles."

During the Weimar Republic, Germany had a pretty active LGBTQ scene, with some major films and songs being produced, despite it still being illegal at the time. However, there was also a push to decriminalize homosexual behavior which sadly wasn't passed as the Nazis came to power.

This was based of two factors: after WW1 the authoritarian culture of Prussia sorta received a long overdue pushback. People were kinda sick of it, especially since these losers led them into a seemingly pointless war to begin with. Second: A LOT of men died in WW1 - and the army did not exactly prefer LGBT people. So with a lot of regular folks dead, the percentages of the total populace was sorta shifted. This also pushed the women's rights movements at the time for a similar reason.

Magnus Hirschfeld was helping trans people transition, crossdressers get crossdressing 'licenses', and generally advocating for and helping the LGBT community in the early 1900s in Germany. Nazis ended up raiding and burning down his research institute.

Hirschfeld was a gay polyamorous man. He was one of the first advocates for trans and gay rights but his work was destroyed by the Nazis.

The institute he headed even did the first modern gender affirming surgeries. The institute was destroyed and many people who were there (including the first known person to undergo complete MtF surgery) were killed by the nazis and the place was little more than bombed out ruins at the end of the war.

More information on the institute

Pre Nazi interwar Germany (Weimar Republic)  was pretty open when it came to not only sexuality, but also gender identity. The Nazis put a stop to that & tried to destroy any & all research into either, but, for a brief moment, it was there.

Russia

Pretty sure all Russian LGBT history was erased before we even had a written language, but Russia almost got gay marriage legalized in the first soviet constitution (didn’t happen bc Stalin)

The early soviet period (pre-Stalin) is sometimes called “the first sexual revolution” as opposed to America’s “sexual Revolution” of the 60’s. Broad women’s suffrage, female employment and education, parental leave, advancement of GSM rights & decriminalization of abortion. This unfortunately did not stand the test of time & reactionary sentiment.

Additional Source

UK/ Britain/ England 

The lead singer of Judas Priest is gay. The commenter’s father thought it was kinda funny because it didn’t match with his biker aesthetic, but the commenter doesn’t think he considered how much leather he wears on a daily basis

Hell bent for Leather was a track off Killing Machine. It was written by lead guitarist Glenn Tipton (who is straight), but it's fun to find alternative meanings in Priest songs. A second commenter likes to pretend a lot of the lyrics Halford sings are gayer than they actually are.

A couple people mentioned how uncomfortable it was seeing Ru Paul interact with British drag queens because he barely knows anything about British culture.

Ru Paul got angry that a British drag queen hasn’t seen the Golden Girls because “it’s gay culture” and then not five minutes later someone had to explain to him who Alan Turing was.

Alan Turing, who was an incredibly noteworthy figure (He made the Enigma codebreaker machine, which broke the code that was used by Nazis during the war and basically sped up the war by a significant margin. He also set the foundations for artificial intelligence, one achievement he was named for: the Turing Test), was homosexual and prosecuted multiple times because of it

Shakespeare was probably bisexual (some of his sonnets had homoerotic subtext/were sent to a younger man). Plus, Hamlet is gay as fuck. 

Sonnet 46 was very gay. Here’s a link!

King James 1st was corrupt and used his position to promote his gay lover to higher positions than he should've gotten. 

The 13 year old king James 6th of Scotland and 1st of England fell in love with a 37 year old catholic Franco Scottish man. The king gave the older man so much free shit that other lords started getting salty and his lover ended up converting to Presbyterianism out of loyalty to his young lover. He also fell in love with a man who ''was noted for his handsome appearance as well as his limited intelligence.'' 

Clearly James was into himbos, and women too.

He had a secret tunnel connecting his bedroom to George Villiers’s bedroom.

His relationship with Villiers was basically common knowledge and a source of much amusement and mockery. He also once said that his relationship with Villiers was equivalent to the relationship that Christ had with John the Baptist

Much more recently, there's obviously JKR and the banning of puberty blockers and Margaret Thatcher opposing LGBTQ+ rights by passing a law meaning you couldn't 'promote homosexuality'. 

Prince Philip was a racist twat (and probably a huge homophobe knowing him).

Gay marriage only became legal in 2014.

The Wolfenden Report was published in 1957, and it recommended the decriminalization of homosexual acts between consenting adults. It was a huge topic of public debate, and ultimately led to the Sexual Offences act of 1967, which legalized sexual acts between consenting men aged 21 or over in England and Wales (sexual acts between women were never explicitly criminalized). Scotland decriminalized sex between men in 1980, and Northern Ireland in 1982. 

For a totally batshit real-life bit of gay history, check out the show A Very English Scandal. It's about a politician, Jeremy Thorpe, who put a hit out on his former lover who was threatening to go public with the fact they had had a relationship. 

Austria

Gay marriage was legalized in Austria about 3 years ago. The worst thing is that it'd have staid illegal if the Supreme Court wouldn't have jumped in and declare it to be unconstitutional.

Austria did have something called "partnership" which was where gay couples could officially register with the state as couples but not receive any of the benefits of married het people

They still have super backwards Transphobic laws requiring for example "real life experience" to get even diagnosed. Basically you're forced to be and live as feminine/masc as possible and a doctor them judges if you're femme or masc enough. It's torture

Australia had widespread, over 60% approval of gay marriage for well over a decade before the government legalized it. The governments were actually going against the people for a very long time by denying it.

Taiwan/ Hong Kong/ Mainland China

When Taiwan recently legalized gay marriage, their official statement was something along the lines that they were casting off Western-imposed values and returning to their own traditional values and the entire western lgbt community ridiculed them in a "if that's what you need to tell yourself" sort of way but it's actually the truth. 

Prior to western colonization, the Imperial Chinese attitude toward sexuality was not dissimilar to Greco-Roman attitudes in that a man must marry a woman to beget legitimate heirs but whatever else he does on the side is his own business. It wasn't until Victorian colonizers came along and imposed homophobic attitudes on China that China started treating gays like abominations. In Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Mainland China, as indeed most of the world, homophobia is a western value imposed by colonizers.

Bonus history: there is an actual saying in Arabic that was in widespread use across the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years from classical antiquity until European colonization. The saying goes "Women are for babies, [young men] are for fun."

The commenter specifies that this means “college-aged twinks,” not children

Another commenter speculates about when homophobia arose in China and how. They also add that in Rome, bottoms were stigmatized. 

There’s a story of Emperor Ai of the Han dynasty & him cutting off his sleeve for his boyfriend

There is also a god worshipped in Taiwan, the Rabbit God Tu'er Shen, whose domain is managing love and sex between same-sex attracted people. He is meant to be the incarnation of a soldier from the 17th century, who fell in love with an imperial inspector and spied on him bathing, and was tortured and killed by that official because he was offended by the spying. A villager from the soldier's hometown dreamed that Tu'er Shen appeared to him and said that because his crime had been love, he had been appointed to manage the affairs of gay people. The villagers erected a secret temple to the soldier, and people have been praying to him ever since.

South Africa

South Africa became the first nation in the world to explicitly prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation in its constitution. It was also first country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2006. What really set them back for so long was apartheid.

There is some speculation that that Shaka Zulu was gay since he never took any wives

South Africa's post Apartheid constitution was the first in the world to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation in 1996.

South Africa was also the 5th country in the world and only country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2005.

Even before that the Constitutional Court ruled that sexual orientation was not relevant when deciding child custody in 2002.

Transgender folks have been allowed to change their sex in the population registry since 2003.

Conversion therapy is not illegal yet and public opinion still needs some work.

Spain

In Spain gay marriage was legalized in 2005, now they are considered one of de gay-friendliest countries in the world. The commenter is a lesbian and has never been closeted or directly experienced discrimination for being a lesbian.

In July 2005, Spain became the third country in the world to explicitly legalize gay marriage, after a thirty-year struggle following the fall of Franco's dictatorship, during which most activism was carried clandestinely (as it was illegal).

From 2007 onwards, Spanish [binary] trans people can legally correct the name and sex fields of their IDs and currently, there's a push for a law that would allow for legal recognition of non-binary Spaniards.

Despite the dictatorship in the 60s, there were cinemas that specialized in gay meet ups. Trans women also had ways to get passports so they could go to the US for surgery.

Ireland

In Northern Ireland, same sex marriage only became legal in 2020 and the leader of the most popular party is homophobic transphobic racist and sexist af. In fact, the majority of the party are but some of the quotes from the biggest party leader are depressing.

Same-sex marriage was only legalized in Ireland in 2015. Homosexuality was decriminalized in 1993. 

When Ireland legalized same sex marriage by popular vote in 2015, it was still something you got horribly bullied for in schools if you were out. Queer people got an apology from the Taoiseach in 2018, for the suffering and discrimination we faced from the State prior to the legalization of homosexuality.

In the case of trans rights, in 2015 the Gender Recognition Act was signed into law. It allows legal gender changes without the requirement of medical intervention or assessment by the state as long as you are over the age of 18. 

Ireland has fines and jail time for anyone found guilty of attempting conversation therapy. 

Ireland has seen a lot of progress in LGBT rights in the last 6 years but even up to the 2000s, citizens left their family members and friends to rot for being LGBT+. It still happens all over the country, especially in circles that are still fanatically Catholic. As the Catholic Church has lost the iron grip on the country, people have become more accepting of the LGBT+.

India

The Kamasutra(ancient text on sexuality etc.) has an entire chapter dedicated to homosexuality

The Arthashastra, a 2nd century BCE Indian treatise on statecraft, mentions a wide variety of sexual practices which, whether performed with a man or a woman, were sought to be punished with the lowest grade of fine. While homosexual intercourse was not sanctioned, it was treated as a very minor offence, and several kinds of heterosexual intercourse were punished more severely.

Sex between non-virgin women incurred a small fine, while homosexual intercourse between men could be made up for merely with a bath with one's clothes on, and a penance of "eating the five products of the cow and keeping a one-night fast"

Milk, curd (cheese), ghi (clarified butter), urine, and dung are the five products of a cow

The commenter adds that this is not a terrible punishment.

The Mughal Empire mandated a common set of punishments for homosexuality, which could include 50 lashes for a slave, 100 for a free infidel, or death by stoning for a Muslim

On 6 September 2018 the Supreme Court of India invalidated part of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code making homosexuality legal in India

Prior to the British colonization of India homosexuality was not all that looked down upon when compared to what happened when the British took over and instituted anti gay laws.

The Hijra (literally means third gender) were seen as normal and have been accepted since long before Christ, as evidenced by the Karma Sutra. The British took videos of them to take back to demonstrate how the Desi were “barbaric”.

Bonsia

In Bosnia, there was a one pride parade that ended with religious extremists ruining it and the police not doing anything. It was supposed to be 5 maybe 3 days long but ended in like 1 or 2.

The Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe mapped out the entire night sky with only his eyes. It laid the foundations of many later scientists, such as Isaac Newton. He was a very rich nobleman, so much so that he owned 1% of Denmark's money. He had a pet dwarf that apparently could see the future, which sounds pretty gay. He was also part of the Elefant Ordning, which consisted of rich and strong Danish men.

Philippines 

Despite many attempts to legalize same-sex marriage, the Philippines still didn't budge. Being gay in itself is legal, but same-sex marriage still isn't.

Philippines ,the most Catholic Country in Southeast Asia, has held the largest Pride Parade in Southeast Asia.

Serbia

Serbia didn't have history from about 16th century to 1800's when the 1st revolt happened and failed till 1813's... Then yet another in 1830's for semi independence from Turks, and full in 1836

During the last lingering Ottoman rule over autonomous Serbia, Serbia was one of the very first few countries to have legal mostly everything... it then got removed with like 3 constitution changes and then it didn't move forward for a looong time

Switzerland

Would you have thought that small, conservative Switzerland was a center of the international gay community during the mid-20th century? The magazine "Der Kreis"- the circle - was the only queer magazine in the world that kept publishing during WWII. It was edited in Zurich and distributed internationally, which often meant illegal smuggling, even into nazi Germany. The magazine's annual ball was attended by hundreds of gay men from all over Europe each year. The whole thing was kept strictly secret from the public, though it was known and tolerated by the police.

The Kreis club disbanded in 1967, as repressions grew heavier after a number of murders in the scene had caught the public's attention. By then, other European and American groups took its place, publishing their own magazines.

They made a movie about it.

More info about Der Kreis

As of today, Switzerland doesn't allow gay marriage. A country-wide referendum will be held this fall on gay marriage.

The commenter speculates that gay marriage will be legalized.

A few people expressed surprise that Switerland is socially conservative and several people explained that women’s right to vote was only place in the 70s.

There’s a movie about it

Turkey

A Muslim Persian (born in modern day Turkey) philosopher/mysticist named Mewlana who is known for his sayings on acceptance and love for one another was gay! He had exchanged letters with his instructor Shams and wrote homoerotic poems to him! In Turkey this is ignored by many due to the country's stance on homosexuality

More information

Norway

The commenter’s hometown and the neighboring town arranged their first pride parade/event in 2017, which is a big deal for a small place and one of the local priests went livid and went straight to the newspaper and social media to condemn it. A local rapper wrote a short and to the point article in the newspaper calling him out for all kinds of things which was a great read. Then to top it off, the priest arranged for a "Jesus Parade" in protest to be held the day before the pride parade. Only like five people walked in it, not including the priest of course because he happened to be on vacation in Spain that week. The pride parade itself was a success though! It's become an annual event. Covid has put some breaks on it though, but they're making a documentary this year about the pride celebrations.

Hungary

Hungary has no same sex marriage or transition rights

Police are unkind to protestors

During “commie times,” being queer was illegal so queer people went to the gulag

Belgium

Same sex marriage was legalized in Belgium in 2003 (right after the NL who were the first in the world). The commenter says that same-sex marriage has always felt possible and she is confused about other countries’ actions.

Poland

Polish president on public assembly: 'LGBT is not people, this is ideology'.

Denmark

WHO took their sweet time declassifying being transgender as a mental illness, so Denmark got sick of waiting and became the first country to stop classifying it as an illness.

Australia

In Australia same-sex marriage wasn't legal until 2017.

Portugal

Portugal is know for having one of the most (if not THE most) peaceful revolutions in history back in the 60's, with only 4 deaths total.

Canada

Operation Soap.

Mexico

To learn more, watch Dance of the 41 on Netflix.

Netherlands

NL was one of the first countries to legalize gay marriage in 2001

Sweden

In Sweden they used to classify Homosexuality as a disease during the 20th century so in protest people would call in too gay to work.

New Zealand

When same sex marriage was legalized, the parliament broke into song.

The song

Other

Homosexuality is illegal in 73 countries, some by death or life in prison.

Only one country in Asia has legalized same-sex marriage: Taiwan

FNAF is older than same-sex marriage in the US

Condor Operation

I think this is some important stuff so please reblog so more people can see! And, if you would like to add to or correct anything here, feel free to do so!

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there’s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

Prepping for a Ritual

So since I am doing these things as we speak I thought I would go through some ritual things that I find useful, for anyone that feels overwhelmed or unprepared for ritual work. I know tumblr and tiktok have pushed a lot of easy jar spells on us, but there really is something more to a ritual setting, even a simple one. And as it goes without saying, this is my personal idea of a guide and everyone is entitled to their own opinion and practice.

Get your supplies ready the day before the ritual. ESPECIALLY if you are going outside/somewhere outside your home. Collect all the things you will need and put them together. This will give you a day to remember all the things you forgot before it's time, instead of in the middle of your ritual

Choose what you are going to wear the day before, too. Some people take aesthetic very seriously but others dont. Either way, give some thought to what you are wearing. Is that crystal necklace good for what you are doing? Are those pants comfortable enough to sit for 30 minutes in? Comfortability is just as important as presentation for ritual, so dont wear that corset that hurts you after 15 minutes. You will need to focus on more important things.

Foot wear is also super underrated. Are you hiking 10 minutes into the forest to find a ritual spot? Wear boots. Are you in your house and want to go barefoot? Make absolutely sure you are not going to step on a ritual tool and make yourself bleed, or curse to some gods about the existence of legos in the middle of your ritual

Make some stuff for a cleansing/power bath. I usually assemble ingredients and things day before, then go to bed, and do a quick ritual bath before the actual ritual. Steep a hair rinse or charm a fancy body wash before hand so you dont have to focus on that spell, too.

Do a tarot reading/your preferred divination, before bed the day before you do a ritual. It can be quick or extensive, it doesnt matter. But it can be good to get some guidance before you are gearing up for a spell or ritual, and have some time to think about it before you are minutes away from it.

Prepare food and water, once again especially if you are going outside. Rituals can take a lot out of you depending on what you are doing, and food and drink are very easy and quick ways to help ground yourself if you are shaky or need help coming back to a relaxed state. If you are struggling, boiling pasta or microwaving stuff is the last thing on your mind, or maybe even your ability. So have some fruit snacks or granola bars or cookies or something-- easy to take and easy to eat-- with you. Trust me, this is more important than a lot of people realize. It's a good after-ritual practice and one you should be ready for

Think about your intent and purpose. Set aside some time day-before to do this, maybe 30 min to 1 hr I would say. Maybe make an entry in your BOS if you are the journaling type. This serves 2 functions: one is to charge your intent before the spell. It will give you more oomph and precision in your spell casting, or more prepared behavior if you are speaking to gods. Think about what you want to ask them, what you want them to know, how much respect you should give them, or what they may ask of you. What are you willing to do for them, and what are you not?

The second function is that it gives you time to back out of something. Not all spells are meant to be cast, and especially not if you are in a high emotion before it. Give yourself a day to prepare, an hour to think over, why am I doing this? SHOULD I be doing this even? There is nothing wrong with changing your mind. Doing things impulsively in magic isn't typically beneficial to the caster most of the time. Think through potential consequences, too. How could it back fire? How could it go right but in the wrong way? Is there a better way to get what you want? Can you add a caveat, or a time limit on the spell? Are you using parts of a closed practice and not really thought about it before now?

If you are doing spell work in the out-of-your-house-space-land, even if it is just like, in your appartment parking lot, the park down the street or even your own backyard, make sure someone somewhere knows about it. I know not everyone is out of the broom closet, but even if you just have to tell your friends you are stargazing or something, make sure SOMEONE knows and has a check in time for you. There are creeps and terrible people everywhere, and not to spook anybody, but doing magic can often attract animals or any assortment of beings who want to watch/investigate you. I have been given a heart attack by a baby antelope at dawn before. I have also been given a heart attack by a forest spirit asking wtf I was doing there. I know it doesnt exactly feel witchy to have your cellphone crammed in your waistband, but trust me, better safe than sorry. Be it humans or otherwise, doing magic in the dark in total secret is just not realistic to your safety. Take someone with you and have them wait in the car or around the corner if you can. Once again, make sure someone, somewhere, has a set time to call or come get you in, incase you get kidnapped or fae-napped. Your wellbeing is a much higher priority than any magic spell.

Also familiarize yourself with nearby wildlife. Even if you are in the city, check out what raccoon eyes look like in flashlight, or maybe if your suburb is prone to stray cats or dogs. Check out a rabies registry as well, so you know what kind of risk you are looking at around such animals. Rabid animals are actually more prone to being unafraid of human contact and will readily let a person touch them. Do NOT interact with wild animals. No, they are not a sign or a gift from your god. Most animals are curious about magic in general, but that doesnt make them not wild. Do not interact. If you are in a less populated space, you should also check out what kind of wild life is native to your area and how dangerous they are. Deer will startle themselves into you like getting hit by a BMW and bears and cougars can be active day or night, as well as Bobcats, snakes, or coyotes. Check out your local wildlife center for advice on how to handle what lives in your area

(Last outdoors advice, I promise) also check out what kind of myths and legends existed on the land you are on, ESPECIALLY if you live in north america. Knowing who's land you are on should be important to your practice anyway, and knowing what kind of creatures may be out there may save you some distress later. Indigenous cultures should be respected, and their tales can tell you what's around your area. And I dont care where the hell you live, if you hear whistling in the darkness/forests, it is one of several things coming to get you and none of them are good. Get gone and DONT whistle back. Or at all. No whistling guys. Bad.

For indoor rituals, make sure you wont be disturbed. Much like meditation, rituals are very dependent on focus and intent. Interruptions can mess with your outcome.

More indoor advice, checkout your lighting and ventilation well before you do your ritual. For instance, my altar is in a walk in closet-- there is no way in hell I am burning 4 candles and an incense in that room. I would have to do it in my living room or bedroom where there are windows, or find a way to eliminate the candles. Is the room dark enough to fit your ritual? Is it light enough that you can read your notes? (also make notes/write up a copy of the spell, it helps so much) Make sure you have enough light to see what you are doing properly.

I am a big advocate of "do not over cleanse your life, stop over cleansing" however, if that is something you do a lot of, make sure all your tools and whatnot are cleansed and prepared day before. You can shave a 2hr ritual down to 30 min if you get all of your prep work done day before, which is nice. And it once again gives you time to say "shit I forgot that one thing I need to cleanse" an hour later and still not interrupt your ritual because it is day before.

If you are an of-legal-age type person and doing some drug/alcohol part of your magic, make double sure you have food, water, and a buddy system. You may not need a designated driver if you aren't going out of your house, but you still need a designated sober person to make sure you dont like, astral travel out of your body and get replaced with a pod person, or get hurt trying to cast a circle with a ritual knife while high. Know your limits well before you use them in ritual and, I cannot emphasize this enough, have a friend to keep you under scrutiny incase something goes wrong and you need help.

If you are having the OTHER kind of must-be-of-age type of ritual, be sure your partner is well informed. Maybe have a dress rehearsal so you are both on the same page about mechanics and consent. Speed run through the general timing and motions, and talk about what each of you expect to get out of the ritual. Is it for bonding? Or are you using the energy to try to charge something? Is it for fertility? Are you both good to have ritualized sex (I know that seems like an obvious question, but you would be surprised by how many partners clam up about sexual things to try to not disappoint their partner). If you are a witch and your partner is not, be sure they know what to expect, and that they 100% want to do it even though it's not necessarily their practice and not just to be a people pleaser. If you havent done anything like this before either, tell them that, too. Honestly is 100% required here

And lastly, keep your cool. It's easy to get over excited or over anxious about this kind of thing, but honestly with a little prep time you have a high change of doing awesome. And even if you dont? That's okay too. Everyone makes mistakes, we all learn from those mistakes, and every single experience you acquire will level you up until you are the best at being you. Do what feels right, trust your gut, do some reading, and keep calm and witchy on.

recs for someone new to omgcp

[February 2021.]

Reading, or not reading, OMGCP fics has come up in a couple of conversations I’ve had recently with artists newish to the fandom (ie. @jovishark; @decafffff), who are making OMGCP art (!!!) but haven’t started exploring fic -- but maybe want to? Which of course reminded me that I’ve never bothered to make an actual, concrete recs list for this fandom. So, I mean. Here is one.

The approach is, what do I think about when I think about OMGCP fanfic? What comes to mind, what stands out to me? I have excluded some very popular fics. Some of these I just don’t think are very good, and others I do think are good, and/or I enjoy them, but I don’t see why you’d need me, specifically, to recommend them. I am thinking of a story like maybe i’m waking up, which I discuss below because I link to a podfic of it. It has a lot of merits, to be sure, but it’s the second-most-read fic in this fandom by hits, and it’s got thousands of comments, and it’s by an author whose work is relatively widely praised and circulated. I am not sure what telling you more about this fic will add to the conversation; if you want to find and read it, you inevitably will. I’m happy to, say, answer asks about these kinds of fics, or talk more generally about them via DM or whatever. Feel free.

Also, I don’t think there’s a point to pretending to be objective about fanfic; this list has a perspective and that perspective is mine. In this fandom I largely read stories that navigate the tension around Jack, Bitty, and Parse, in various permutations. This is not to say that I’ve never read fic about the frogs, or that I have no interest at all in other pairings, but I am by no means an expert on Dex/Nursey and can really only speak to the one fic about them that sticks out to me because it goes beyond being merely Dex/Nursey and does something else. This is just to say that I am sure there are great and interesting fics about other things and ideas--but I’m not the person to hear about those from.

Likewise, I’m not super interested in stories that really reproduce that which is already in OMGCP. I like Zimbits--albeit maybe not in the ways or for the reasons most fans would--but I do not really need to see endless iterations of the same story about them falling in love and being cute together. I don’t think these stories are bad or they shouldn’t exist or that they have no merit by default. Still, I don’t need fanfic to give me more OMGCP. I need fanfic to complicate, to comment on, and to transform OMGCP. Many people don’t work like this! Totally okay! But I can’t rec you fics that do that.

What I have noticed, however, is that over time there appears to have been a shift in how people do write fic for this fandom. (Other than, you know, increases and decreases in activity pending the status of the comic, pairings going in and out of vogue, and so on.) Early on, say during Y1 and Y2, the comic was about the group of friends having a cool time at college together; about whether the burgeoning attraction between Jack and Bitty would manifest and, if so, how; and, especially, Jack’s past coming into fuller view for Bitty and how it would have to be dealt with in order for a relationship between them to work. YMMV on how great the comic executed there, but as Y3 went on these themes increasingly disappeared from the story. I think this means a lot of fic written over 2015-2016 or 2017 has one kind of tone, and was written mostly around these questions; after that, it feels like a new crop of writers and a new crop of ideas started circulating, that is, either embracing Jack and Bitty’s canon relationship and accepting its relative straightforwardness in text--or deconstructing it, imagining what readers aren’t seeing, or how problems not dealt with in the comic would manifest later. People who have read my fic know which of these I’m mainly interested in exploring.

All of which is to say, looking at what I’m reccing here, when the fics were posted or when I first read them probably has a lot to do with why they stick out to me so much. Because there’s no real culture of fanfic criticism--and I mean that in the positivist sense of broad evaluation not explicitly for fault and merit but rather, for context--I think it’s really hard to keep this in mind. But I’m obnoxious and I can’t just be easy about things.

Fic recs

In alphabetical order, somewhat unsorted; if a stand-alone fic has a summary I’ve included it, but in other cases I’ve recced a couple of conceptually related fics or series, which I’ve tried to just describe or explain as opposed to copying the summary off AO3.

There are so many more fanfics I think are great and worth reading! In an ideal world I’d come back and add more later, or create a secondary list that’s more along the lines of “if you like this, read these,” or whatever. But, being realistic, this is a starter kit. I’m open to talking about fanfic.

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7-0-2 by Idday; Friends in Low Places and Sorry for the Blood in Your Mouth; I Wish it was Mine by blue_rocket_frost | I’m not sure it would be correct to say that I don’t like Parse/Tater, or that I’m not interested in Parse/Tater. I’m not interested in Patater a priori; I think it could be interesting, with teeth. These fics stick out to me when I think about this pairing, because they feel different. Accusations of a preference for just linking any two white men who happen to be hanging around have validity, but because of what hockey is and how it works and who’s hanging around it, it’s not exactly a leap to imagine what kind of gritty spark the friction between two closeted NHL players would create. A little violence in your sex? A little sex in your violence.

A Sight Worth Seeing by sadtomato | A four-fic Jack/Bitty/Shitty/Lardo explicit BDSM series. Either you want that or you don’t. It’s nothing hardcore, and not properly a four-way, really; more properly a kind of voyeuristic round-robin. There’s a more open and egalitarian view of sex here than I really get from the characters in the back end of the comic. It’s an expansive, propulsive view of sex and relationships that’s really nice to see. I love Lardo's detached coolness, and Bitty as a smooth operator; if you’re looking for some kind of Dom/sub dynamics world, this really isn’t it, but it’s a lively exploration into the sexual dynamics in a group of friends that’s super close to the good-times vibe you get from Haus scenes in the first couple years of extras.

call me son (one more time) by Summerfrost, Verbyna, and blithelybonny | This is a series, incomplete, and you will love it or be massively put off by it. I mean that as a compliment. I love it. The premise is, Bob Zimmermann and Kent Parson have been having sex since Kent was, like, 19. Everyone in this story has been chewed up: by themselves, by each other, by hockey. Plainly, this is a pretty bleak view of what OMGCP, as a story, is supposedly offering. If you want fic that is dark and glamorous, treading the toxic melange of substance abuse, sex-as-sublimation, and so much money you can’t possibly throw all of it away without trying, this series has that sick-inducing shimmer to it. But, again, its strength is its examination of Kent Parson, textually and meta-textually, as someone to be projected onto. Bob, Alicia, Jack, and Bitty all impute certain feelings of their own onto him, displacing their own issues to a character who’s centralized in every fic but defies neat or total comprehension. Some critiques I’ve read of this series feel it’s too dark, and I’ve also seen it argued on FFA that an overwhelming amount of praise heaped onto these stories has made it tough for other writers to make headway in writing Bob/Kent fic. But I’m also not sure you could engage with Bob/Kent fic without going down this road at some point? I’m sure there are ways to scale it back, but ultimately it’s a story about how hockey’s violent, homophobic, old-guard gatekeeping has continued to set the terms for a younger and ostensibly less toxic culture. I fully embrace PWP fics that tread on the power dynamic without fully excavating it, but buried within any PWP is the fact that a 53-year-old man is ensnaring a 19-year-old, no matter how much the latter is, realistically, into it, and legally empowered to consent. Not to mention the dynamics of it being a 53-year-old man who is the father of the 19-year-old’s ex-boyfriend, and a 53-year-old man who is an eminence grise in the field the 19-year-old is trying to make a career in  The sexual element--the vaguely incestuous nature of it--is making textual the subtext of how hockey works, actually: objectification of teenage bodies as older men’s capital.

Coach Z by thistidalwave | Just before the 2009 NHL Entry Draft, tp prospect Jack Zimmermann overdoses on his anxiety medication and is admitted to rehab. His future turns from a clear-cut road to the top into an uncertain path filled with therapy appointments, ignored text messages, a group of boys who aren't there to teach him a lesson about himself, and, of course, hockey. | I keep reccing this fic because it has 360 comments on AO3 but nobody, as far as I can tell, has ever read it; it never appears on rec lists. This isn’t the kind of fanfic I usually go in for, but I can’t help being charmed by it. This is a character study in the truest sense, a kind of Mighty Ducks-but-better view on what Jack’s time coaching peewee hockey might have been like. I have no interest in kids and my own aesthetic is maybe a little darker than this, but I admire this story because it injects vibrancy into a period of Jack’s life that OMGCP has left largely unexplored, and so has the fandom. We know nothing about what made Jack want to go to college, nothing about how he spent his days in between juniors and Samwell. It posits a very sympathetic and patient Jack/Parse dynamic, showcasing the exact kind of ragged teenage push-and-pull that would have led to the circumstances we see in Parse I-III. The outside perspective Jack needs is largely present in an OFC who’s not a love interest. Super unique, somehow both engrossing and low-key.

#dirtbags by angularmomentum | A series that is a Kent Parson/Claude Giroux fuckfest with feelings. I’ve long suspected that Parse is popular in part because he is the character who most easily elides OMGCP with the actual NHL, or rather, NHL fandom; I think he made it appealing to write OMGCP fics where the NHL is a factor. Case in point, this series, which is basically “what if Kent Parson was a real hockey player and therefore part of NHL RPS”? I have only read some NHL RPS, so I’m not the person to assess accuracy, but what I do know is superstar IRL hockey players take turns here as the caricature fanfic versions of themselves, and since Kent Parson is already that, it’s great how seamlessly he integrates into their social fabric. Rambunctious energy peppered with regret and loss, but ultimately this series is farcical, and it doesn’t take its sentimental ending too seriously--which, good.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible | 5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth. | As a fic format, 5+1 doesn’t usually work for me, but this one isn’t just front-loaded with five too-knowing vignettes; it then wraps up by using its +1 better than you might expect. Sometimes I talk about economy of fic, and this one exemplifies it. A zero-waste fic.

go ahead and move along by originally | "Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again. Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop. | Kent Parson is trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario on the day of Epikegster. I’m sure you can imagine, just from that, what happens. And yet I think this fic is super entertaining, reserving some key surprises. What this story is doing is something a lot, and perhaps even the majority, of great Jack/Parse fic wants to do: digging into the question of just why this can’t work in comic canon. Most often this is approached from the past, by writing teenage Jack/Parse deep-dives that examine their lives mid-juniors, or by writing AUs where enough circumstances are shifted that it does work, or via future fics that posit enough growth has happened, and enough things have changed. But this fic makes Parse live the same bad day again and again, testing multiple theories about just how dependent on circumstance and incident real life actually is. Another day, another tone, 10 minutes sooner, not at all--you just can’t know why it didn’t work until you exhaust every possible variable. I worry that this rec has sucked the life out of the story, though--it’s so fun!

I Saw a Life and Strange Lovers by @bluegrasshole | Most AUs in this fandom seem to retell the story in a new setting or with some big detail change, following OMGCP’s rhythm beat-for-beat. I think of this as, “It’s the plot of Check, Please, but” -- they’re doing high school football? They’re acrobats? They’re a/b/o? They’re in a DIY punk band? And so on. These two stories are not that! They’re both 1950s AUs, each deeply felt, and yet hugely different from each other. I Saw a Life is about displacement and fragmentation, two sides of a similar but incongruent social critique; Strange Lovers is a finely wrought social drama about coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s, centered around historical events. I suppose a theme on this rec list is something like, “I don’t even like this, but” -- yes, okay, I don’t even like Dex/Nursey, but--! This fic is so overwhelmingly complete, the AU laid out so carefully that the story breathes with all the background details informing the writing that aren’t actually, in the story; you just know they’re below the surface. (With the exception of one investigation of Jack’s character in a short, separate fic.) I Saw a Life, meanwhile, really tests the limits of the notion that Jack and Bitty are soulmates--not by calling it into question but by asking, rather innovatively, how the setting and place of the comic itself activates that.

Les Hivers de mon enfance by staranise | What do you do when hockey is the language of prayer for your soul, and also the toxic thing that almost killed you? 2009: Jack Zimmermann takes a mental health year. God knows he needs it. | Here’s a fic by someone who’s no longer around so much, but she felt ubiquitous in 2016-2019 OMGCP fandom. Before any of that, though, she wrote this one lovely fic about Jack’s pre-Samwell recovery. The author is Canadian and really irritated by hockey culture, and I think this fic benefits greatly because she is clear-eyed about Jack’s being caught in an exploitative system; it’s hockey he’s in recovery for, in a way. There’s an epistolary element that works for me, too. I read this early on in my time in OMGCP fandom and it really stuck with me.

Lysistrata? I Hardly Know Her! (by which I mean everything) by @tomatowrites | It feels somehow like cheating to recommend OMGCP fanfics by my OMGCP BFF with whom I make an OMGCP podcast where we talk about OMGCP. You know the fics I really want to rec, like truly the ones that speak to some kind of shared depravity, are the ones where Jack is miserably mpreg for the second time and accidentally lets his kid see Kent Parson’s Long John Silver’s shrimp scampi promo spot, which obviously would get twisted into a self-hating three-way. How many times do I have to rec this fic? As many as I need to, is my feeling. If you don’t know, Long John Silver’s is an American fast-food chain that sells, like, fried pollock sandwiches; it is nautical-themed; I have never eaten there; I don’t know where there is one; I don’t eat fried fish. (Shrimp, on the other hand?) All of which is to say that it takes a real genius to investigate a premise that far out. And while a lot of people almost certainly will start reading this humanity’s depths-themed sex scene and back the fuck out, readers with refined taste will note that Kent, the point-of-view character, is right there with you, despairing that he can’t help himself. And so long as you’re in that story collection, honestly, you’ll love petite gems like Jack is transmasc, Jack and Shitty play hockey in 18th-century England, and oh, right, he’s from Georgia. Tomato holds the distinction of being probably the gamest author I know in this fandom, just really like fearless in her pursuit of any range of concept she’s pushed to. (I can push her to?) See, for example, a sublime bandom AU; Bitty is cancelled for buying a maybe-unethically exported Roman fragment of a youth’s torso; or, god, the masterwork that is this future fic series where Jack keeps relapsing and Bitty exiles him to their guesthouse. Do I think you need to read a fic where Bitty is snide about the teen prostitute whose baby they’re adopting? Yes, I mean, he would be snide, don’t tell me he wouldn’t. I could go on, but my main thing here is, if I have to pick just one, I’m going to pick this Lysistrata fic. The premise, literally, is that Bitty reads the Lysistrata and it gives him ideas. Like most of Tomato’s OMGCP fic, it’s a stripping away of the comic’s polite fiction that Jack and Bitty could possibly attain the ideal it reaches in the comic without some kind of messy, efflusive breakdown. Life is like that, you see! Tricky. Like a lot of people, although it’s tough to say precisely how many, I have always intuited that maybe Bitty is kind of a natural top? But obviously when you meet him, as a literal virgin, it’s hard to see how he’d go from zero to self-actualization so neatly. This fic floats a theory, and it has a fun little side plot for Whiskey, something I never thought about or needed before Tomato built it out herein. In conclusion, BONUS: Dex’s gay lobster novel.

only fools rush in and the light of all lights by decinq | This person wrote of the nature of the wound, one of the early, formative Jack/Bitty fics that was oft-recced when I was getting into the fandom in 2016. It forms part of a larger series that deals deeply with how Jack has been shaped by his struggles (? I hate this word) with homophobia and his own mental health. It’s a picture of the character as you might have imagined him much earlier in the comic’s run. The formatting is atrocious and he author’s flair is what Tomato would call “AO3 house style.” It’s a voice that works great for her writing. I think it’s at its best in these shorter fics; the former is about Parse and Shitty stumbling into a relationship almost accidentally; the latter, an eerie PBJ vampire fic. I had begun writing a fic where Parse is a vampire early on in this fandom, only to read this and immediately quit, because you only need one, and this one’s all I need. The Parse/Shitty rare pair fic shares its exuberance with hockey RPS when it’s good: here’s how fun it can be when you’re young, rich, and jocular. And I don’t even like accidental marriage AUs, they’re usually boring, so that says a lot. By all means, read the wound fic; read the entire series. But these are highly unusual.

OVERDOSE and Oomph and a little spin-o-rama by jedusaur | None of these are long, or plotty, and they’re all a little experimental. OVERDOSE is an AU set in a world where you know how you’ll die, but no details; Oomph, a little fic where Jack hears hockey pucks talking to him. This is the kind of stuff I used to think I’d find in fandom forever, coming out of Lotrips lurking in the 2000s: short, zany bursts of energy that surprise and delight. a little spin-o-rama peers at Kent’s character through the grim reality of being the hypertalented superstar stuck on a dead-last team. All three are sparse and stylish in a way that’s really smart, practically economical.

Sowing Season by @agrossunderstatement | Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. Kent Parson's life, from the Q, through his early years with the Aces, to Jack's senior year. Canon divergent. A story of love, loss, moving on, regressing, hockey, and found families of all kinds. | Effectively a novel, digging into Kent’s personal history, mostly concerning his life in juniors but expanding into his present, overlapping with the plot of OMGCP. I think there is room enough for endless speculations on what went down pre-canon; this one offers a fuller life for Kent than nearly any others, digging into him as a whole person rather than as a satellite to Jack or the plot of the comic. Which isn’t to say that the Kent/Jack stuff isn’t dealt with here; it explicitly is. But the fact of Kent Parson’s life, if we can begin to imagine it beyond mere text, would exist before, after, and alongside Jack; he gets to juniors without Jack, presumably, and he is the captain of a hockey team without Jack, and Pinkerton lays the foundation of Parse’s character within a junior hockey that Jack also inhabits, more so that Parse existing for Jack, so to speak. And I’m not implying this latter tactic is wrong; I have certainly employed it, and others have employed it to great impact and effect. But, still, the title of this series tells you what you ought to know: Kent and his story are the potentiality of OMGCP, up to a point; seeds being planted. Young hockey players, similarly. The question implied there is, what will be reaped? And the answer to the latter, in a sense, that reaping is a sort of violence. Which makes this series sound pretty heavy, but it’s not -- more like, realistic.

(tell everyone) you were a good wife by @queerofcups | The biggest problem with pretending that he doesn’t know that Kent Parson is fucking his husband is that Jack can’t tell Kent how grateful he is. | The ne plus ultra of PBJ triangulation; I’ve been squealing to the writer about how good it is since August, begging for behind-the-scenes insights, and I’d only do that if I really meant it. The precarious social fabric stretched across these three chapters is fraying before the reader’s eyes. The details are delicious, and I don’t want to spoil them, but they sing in chorus with the plot. My favorite OMGCP fics, honestly, remove the romance narrative guardrails that keep things in the comic itself humming along. I think Dann’s take is to ask who in this comic has power and what they would end up doing with it. (Or not doing, from another angle.) At one point, early on in its telling, OMGCP looked like it was going to be a story dealing with the compounded traumas of hockey’s discontents. Then, of course, it wasn’t. This is a fic that steps back and asks what the fallout of that oversight would be. But that’s just the moldering core of this fanfic; it’s actually embroidered, like I said, with glittering detail. The color of the suit Bitty wears to his wedding is burned into my brain. The gray manicure of a woman Jack knows. The ingredients in a cake. This is one of those fics I still haven’t reviewed because the thought of stacking everything I could say about it into mere AO3 comments is inadequate.

when you’re ready by megancrtr | The Aces’ director of communications gets the call at 3:13 a.m. Jack Zimmermann has withdrawn from the draft. | “What happened at the draft” is so mythological it gets asked in the comic proper, and I’ve never counted how many fics attempt to answer this question--from Kent’s point of view, even--but it’s gotta be, oh, hundreds. This story replays the situation from the perspective of an Aces staffer who just wants to do her job, and gets at the jarring discordance between the plot of OMGCP in its quest for social justice and the business of actual hockey. Important context is that this story was written around the time the comic was playing out the end of Y3 and start of Y4, and Bitty pointedly asked Jack the question, “why can’t we?” This story reframes the question as literal, rather than rhetorical. A sterling example of fanfic being a gloss on its source.

BONUS, podfics

hockeyed up | There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey. | A fic read aloud by its French-Canadian author. Also a relatively early OMGCP fanfic; composed while the first semester of Y2 was posting, the story suggests a version of OMGCP that was in some ways more and in other ways less complex than what it would turn into not long after. The real power of this podfic, however, is that it’s read by the writer, so you can hear the intended emphasis in every line. Also, because she’s French-Canadian, Sophie’s intonation is what I picture when I read or write dialogue for Jack.

maybe i’m waking up | It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It's the hardest thing he's ever done. What comes after is even harder.) | Don’t get too excited; this isn’t finished. A podfic of probably the best-known, most-recced fic in OMGCP fandom. Striking for its use of metatext woven into the story, this is one of several early longform Jack/Bitty fics that posits that maybe Jack has a lot more development to undergo before he can really, truly, be okay--or be okay enough to be with Bitty? To be honest, this story strikes me now as too long, but the parts in it that work are effective beyond that which fanfic demands. Meanwhile, this audio version only covers six chapters, but it’s so slick, so well-realized, so true to the story. Podfic as art.

my own dear friends | Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) | There’s previous little Jack/Shitty in this fandom and a lot less quality BDSM,

the city’s ours until the fall | Kent has been, historically, good at this—forgetting about things until suddenly he doesn’t, and then it’s like the scar has never been there in the first place, just the wound. (Or: Kent Parson lets himself be happy, after all this time.) | I’ve never read this fic and I never will. I cannot imagine how, no matter how good it is, it could compare to the version that lives in my head, with Kent’s voice so totally realized. Vocal fry and pathos, a languid energy that I still think about when I think about Parse.

the model home | It’s going to be better, and that’s great, but sometimes Jack thinks, why can’t it be good right now? | j/k j/k, this is a self-reminder to finally one day review this.

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part two

PART TWO: i’m in your head now, from every second now Series Masterlist Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Mature Featuring: Angst; Fluff; No Additional Warnings Words: 7894 Summary: So, you had sex with a co-worker under the influence of a super-powered aphrodisiac. What do you do now? A/N: First of all, BIG thank you to everyone who liked/replied/reblogged Part 1!! Honestly overwhelmed by how lovely you all are 🤗 Second of all, there is no smut in this part so if you wanna skip this one and catch up on Part 3 (which does have smut) I totally get it and you will receive no judgment from me!! Sorry for the wait on this one, Part 3 won’t take this long I promise! ________________________________________________________________

You sleep for a long time, deep and dreamless, and wake to the hot midday sun streaming in through your open curtains. You’d been so out of it the night before you hadn’t even bothered to shut them. For a moment or two it feels like a normal day, albeit a lazy one. Like sleeping in on Sunday and waking up easy and refreshed. You reach for your phone to check the time when recollection kicks in, reminding you exactly why you’re in bed at noon on a Friday, stripping away any feelings of peace or rest. You want to stay in bed, bury yourself under the covers until you die. Or at least until someone from the compound reaches out to you, but there’s too much nervous energy thrumming under your skin, making you restless and jittery and you finally give in and leave the warm cocoon of your blankets. You spend the day at home, stress-cleaning your entire apartment and stress-eating your entire fridge, vacillating between panic and calm. One minute you’re stuffing your face with week-old stir-fry and checking your phone with every mouthful; the next you’re elbow-deep in dishwater, resigned to your fate – whatever it may be. In worried moments, you can’t imagine how you can possibly go back to the compound after everything that’s happened. How can you discuss schedules and mission reports when everyone you work with knows you got railed by an Avenger on one of the jets they use to fly around saving the world? How can you face Bucky again? Even if he doesn’t blame you for what happened, he’s bound to have some negative feelings about the whole thing. About sleeping with you. It’s not like you’d been friends before. Not like he’s been harbouring secret romantic feelings like you have. If Bucky’s harbouring any secret feelings about you, they’re probably feelings of annoyance and dislike. What if every time he looks at you now he’s reminded of how you begged, needy and naked and pathetic, for him to fuck you? What if he’s disgusted by you? Somehow that’s the worst thought of all. That the first person – the only person – to have seen your body laid bare, to have touched you in the most intimate ways possible might be repulsed, not by what happened, but because it happened with you. It’s a thought you try not to dwell on for long, but you come back to it over and over throughout the day. Each time, shame and self-loathing and heartache flood your body until you force yourself to think about something else. To eat something else, clean something else. You remind yourself there’s no point worrying about things that might never happen. You’ll only have to endure the reactions from Bucky and the team if you actually go back to work, which might not be an option anymore. No one’s reached out to you all day – no calls, no emails, no texts – and the radio silence has you fearing the worst. That no one has reached out because they’re busy working on your termination paperwork. As the hours slip by, those moments of calm get fewer and further between. By the time you’ve eaten all there is to eat, cleaned all there is to clean, and paced what feels like a hundred miles across the length of your apartment it’s nearly midnight and the only messages you’ve gotten all day are promotional emails and a meme from one of your friends back home. You wish you could talk to her, tell her about everything and get another perspective, but the ironclad NDA you signed on your first day of work rules out telling pretty much anyone other than the Avengers and their support staff – none of whom you want to talk about this with. If nothing else, at least your nervous energy has burned off, leaving you drained and eager to sleep for another twelve – or twelve thousand – hours. But despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn’t come any easier than the night before. You toss and turn for hours it seems, and when you do sleep, it’s light and fitful. You wake early on Saturday morning, feeling no more relaxed than when you first shut your eyes. +++ After another morning alone in your apartment with no news, you think you’re going to go insane soon. You’ve drafted a dozen emails to Maria Hill, to the head of R&D, even one to Steve, but can’t bring yourself to hit send on any of them. Trying to find the line between professional concern and desperate pleading proves to be very difficult. You’ve just started yet another message to Maria – since she coordinates all Avengers operations (including the one that landed you in this situation) – when your phone rings. It’s such a surprise after the silence of the last two days that you’re frozen for a moment before you scramble for your phone, almost dropping it in a mug of lukewarm tea in your haste. A glance at the screen reveals it’s Maria herself on the line, as if summoned by all your unfinished emails. Knowing her background and capabilities, you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow has seen them… Brushing away that uncomfortable thought, you take a breath and answer the call, trying your best for a confident and casual, “Hello?” Characteristically brusque, Maria wastes no time getting straight to the point. “Can you come to the compound this afternoon? The research half of R&D has an update for you and I figured we should talk, too.” “Uh—” you start, wondering how to give a firm fuck no while still being agreeable and cooperative. Luckily, Maria picks up on the reason for your hesitance. “Right, that would probably be uncomfortable for you. We’ll come to you. Three o’clock?” she offers. “Three is good?” It’s not like you have anything else going on. “Great. I’m supposed to call Secretary Ross at three and I do not want to. See you then.” And with that, the line goes dead. Maria has very little patience for pleasantries, you’ve learned. +++ At three o’clock sharp there’s a knock at your door. You open it up to find Maria waiting outside with a middle-aged woman carrying a black medical bag. You vaguely remember seeing her face among the half dozen or so you saw during the debrief after the jet. Maria says hello and makes the necessary introductions. “This is Dr. Sakina Singh,” she says, face expressionless. “She’s from R&D. You might remember her from –” “The extremely intrusive round of questions I asked you two days ago,” Dr. Singh interjects with a grimace, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. This probably isn’t what she imagined she’d be doing when she accepted the offer to work with the Avengers. You laugh politely if a little awkwardly. “I remember. Nice to meet you, officially?” She smiles and you shake hands. “Can we come in?” Maria asks, reminding you they’re still standing in your open doorway while cold February air blows into your apartment. “Right! Sorry!” You bring them through to your kitchen, gesturing for them to sit at the table and making the obligatory offers of tea and coffee. Maria and Dr. Singh take one side of the table and it makes you feel a bit like you’re about to have the worst job interview of your life. The fact that Maria was actually at your last job interview doesn’t help. You start to fidget with your hands, relieved the table hides the worst of your nerves. Dr. Singh starts off the proceedings. “I mostly just wanted to check in and see if you’ve experienced any other symptoms, anything out of the ordinary, and to give you a bit of an update on what we’ve found out about the chemical you and Sergeant Barnes ingested,” she says, looking more at-ease now the small-talk portion of the conversation is over and she can focus on the science of it all. “I feel normal,” you reply quietly. “No symptoms since Thursday night.” She nods. “That’s good, and consistent with what Sergeant Barnes reported.” Even the mention of Bucky’s name is enough to have your face flooding with heat. Your hands clench, fingernails pressing crescents into your palms. She carries on, explaining what she and her team were able to determine about the chemical. It’s nothing ground-breaking or unexpected, not after having experienced its effects first-hand. A super-powered aphrodisiac with no discernable purpose beyond making people horny. Just the sort of thing you’d expect to uncover in some mad scientist’s underground lab. Why try curing cancer when you can make people fuck instead? “It provokes extreme sexual arousal while simultaneously decreasing inhibitions,” Dr. Singh explains. “It appears to be neutralized by the chemicals released during orgasm. More than that we don’t know. And since the only uncontaminated sample of the chemical was destroyed, it may be all we will know. But the good news is we don’t see there being any lingering physical impacts, though I would like to take another blood sample from you to be sure it’s completely out of your system.” You consent to the blood sample and she heads back to the compound after it’s done, leaving you and Maria alone at your kitchen table. She’s been nearly motionless this entire time, watching you and Dr. Singh converse, but offering nothing in the way of commentary or even acknowledgment. If you didn’t know better you’d think she wasn’t paying attention at all.  But you do know better, and you have no doubt she could repeat word-for-word everything that was said since you opened the door half an hour ago. Regardless, the stony-faced reticence is unsettling and gives you no clue as to how your conversation with her is going to go. And it’s this conversation you’re really worried about. After a moment of silence that feels endless, Maria lets out a big, heaving sigh, her shoulders dropping as she relaxes into her seat. “Well, that was awkward.” Oh. That’s how your conversation is going to go. It’s so not what you expected her to say and yet so completely like her that a shocked giggle forces its way out of your mouth. She grins at you across the table, but you feel your own smile fade. “God, Maria, I’m so sor—” “If you’re about to apologize, so help me God,” she says, with a look on her face that dares you to argue with her. “I apologize, sincerely, on behalf of myself and the entire Avengers organization. This shouldn’t have happened. We have a dangerous chemicals procedure for a reason, for fuck’s sake,” she adds, with a stormy expression that has you pitying the poor techs who loaded the jet. “I mean, it’s no one’s fault, really. I’m sure that case wasn’t purposely unlatched.” You don’t want anyone to get in trouble for this. You feel guilty enough already about Bucky. “Probably not,” Maria concedes. “But regardless, we’re not treating this as business as usual. This isn’t SHIELD. It won’t be swept under the rug and dismissed without investigation.” You’ve read a handful of the documents Natasha leaked during the fall of SHIELD. You can only imagine how many lab accidents were concealed; how many weren’t accidents at all. It’s a dark line of thinking with no end in sight so you change the subject, asking a question that’s been on your mind for a while. “I wanted to ask – who knows about what happened? I know you can’t hide it, obviously, but –” you shrug, wondering exactly how many people you’re going to have to avoid eye contact with in the halls, or around town even. Maria nods. “The Security Council has access to all our files and we have to report this as a safety incident, but no names or identifying details are recorded. And we didn’t say two staff members had intercourse on a quinjet,” she adds wryly. “Just that there was a chemical spill and two individuals were affected. The only people who know the details of what happened and to who are me, the Avengers, and Dr. Singh and her staff. And they’ve all been made very clear on what will happen if they breach confidentiality. Believe me, they won’t tell anyone.” You believe her. “Speaking of the Avengers… What’s the mood there? Am I totally fired?” Maria snorts. “Fired? Because of a costly mistake for which the organization takes full responsibility, resulting in you ingesting an unknown chemical compound? No. You’re not fired.” Okay, when she lays it out like that it makes your fears seem ridiculous. Still… “Seriously, Maria. Should I just quit? Or be reassigned? Somewhere I will never have to look at any of the Avengers ever again, maybe?” you ask, with a cringe. “Are you concerned it will be awkward for you, or them?” “Well, both. But obviously, their feelings would come first in this situation. They’re the Avengers. I'm a secretary.” Maria rolls her eyes at that comment but chooses not to address it. “Well I can’t do anything about your feelings, but I can assure you that you won’t be treated any differently because of this.” You gape at her. “Seriously?” How could they not treat you differently? Maria levels you with a look. “Do you really think this is the strangest thing that has ever happened on that team?” she says, with the distinct air of a woman who has seen and heard too much. You’re not convinced. “Stranger than two of them banging on a quinjet under the influence of a crazy sex drug?” You’re pretty sure if this were the Strange and Unusual Olympics, that would earn you at least a silver medal. Maria doesn’t seem to agree. She straightens her back and takes a breath. “Giant octopus monster in the Thames. That time a wizard transformed Steve into his pre-serum body for a week. Wanda, daily.” She looks at you, eyebrows raised. You have to admit she has a point. “But –” “Last month I walked in on Steve and Sam having sex in a conference room. A couple years ago Barton got wasted during a game of truth or dare and told everyone how much he enjoys getting slapped around by women in leather. There are multiple sex tapes of Tony on the internet.” She pauses, making sure she has your full attention. “Dealing with weird shit and knowing way too much about the people you work with? Pretty much the two things that bind the Avengers together. Welcome to the team.” Once again, she manages to make things seem so simple. You want to believe her. You almost do believe her. There’s just one thing… “What about Bucky? Maybe everyone else can brush it off, but this happened with him. He can’t possibly want to work with me anymore.” “Fair enough,” Maria says. “But I actually spoke to Barnes this morning. He made it very clear he did not want this to impact your employment in any way.” She shrugs. “Like I said. If it’s not a problem for you, it’s not a problem for them. They’re professionals. Well, mostly.” You nod. This conversation has been enlightening – in a few ways – and Maria’s given you a lot to think about. Also a lot to very purposely not think about (Clint! And presumably Laura!). Maria leans back in her seat, considering you for a long moment as you try to process what she’s told you and come up with some sort of response. The silence stretches on until finally, she speaks. “I’ve had a lot of weird, bad sex in my life.” You stare at her, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for a response. “I know what happened to you wasn’t just a shitty hookup and you have every right to feel however feel about it.” She says, for the first time looking less than perfectly at ease. She takes her time with her next words. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is it doesn’t have to count. Sex doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.” You nod dumbly, not sure what to say. You feel the sudden intense need to be alone for a while so you can sit with all the new thoughts running through your mind. Maria nods back, face settled again into cool composure. “Okay, no more feelings talk. The point is: you’re welcome to come back to work anytime. FRIDAY’s taking on as much as she can, but an AI is only capable of so much. Even that one. Think about it.” +++ You do think about it. You spend the rest of the day thinking about it. You go for a long walk in the crisp winter air, thinking about it. You journal, thinking about it. You Google “I slept with a co-worker, what now?” in various combinations and read several unhelpful articles, thinking about it. After hours of introspection, what you come up with is this: you love your job. You love your life. You’ve always been cautious, careful to a fault. Never a risk-taker. Until a few months ago, you lived in the same town you were born in. Happy enough, but not exactly satisfied. Until you applied for this job. Until you packed up your life, left behind everything you’d ever known to start over someplace new. And you’ve never regretted it. You finally felt like you had a place where you belonged. Over the time you’ve worked with the team, they’ve become friends, not just-workers and you love getting to know the real people behind the glossy media personas the rest of the world is familiar with. You love the sense of pride you feel, knowing the work you do matters, contributes – even in its own small way – to something as unfathomably huge and worthwhile as world peace. You don’t want to give that up. You can’t. The sex thing? Yeah, that sucks. You may not have dreamt of rose petals and scented candles, but you were pretty determined there’d be love and commitment involved. A partner, not just a person. But Maria is right. Sex doesn’t change who you are. Virginity is a goddamn social construct and this doesn’t have to matter unless you want it to. You had sex for the first time with someone you have feelings for, someone you respect. And maybe the circumstances (weird sex drug, floor of airplane) were less than perfect, but you can’t deny the sex itself felt good (amazing). Better than a random guy that couldn’t locate the clitoris with a GPS and flashing neon lights. You feel like you’ve been given permission to let this go. To let it be something that happened, but not something that defines you. Just one moment out of millions. You know it’s not that simple. That one illuminating conversation isn’t enough to silence the part of you that still feels ashamed, embarrassed, and heartbroken, but it's a start. A new perspective and one that has you feeling a hell of a lot better than you did just a few hours ago. There’s just one roadblock in this journey of self-enlightenment to being a mature, grown-ass woman who is handling this like a fucking champ – Bucky. But if what Maria said is true, and you have no reason to think she’d lie to you, then maybe that’s not such a roadblock after all? If everyone, even Bucky, can go on as usual (whatever that is with the Avengers), then you’re basically in the same place you were before all this: hiding your unrequited feelings for a man that doesn’t think about you at all. Just with the added aspect of remembering what his body felt like on top of you, inside you. How his tongue felt in your mouth, and on your… Anyway! You’ve decided. You’re going back to work and it’s going to be totally fine. You’re all going to be adults about this. Having drug-fueled sex on a plane is basically the Avengers equivalent of getting too drunk at the office Christmas party anyway, and many an administrative assistant before you has done that and come out the other side. You call Maria and inform her you’ll be back at the compound on Monday, and you can’t help but think there’s a little note of pride in her crisp acknowledgment.  +++ Sunday passes in a blur of nervous anticipation. By the end of the day, you’re nearly crawling out of your skin, desperate to get the embarrassing part over so you can move on with your life and dreading it at the same time. When you wake up Monday morning there’s a significant part of you that wants to call the whole thing off and stay in your apartment for the rest of your life. You remind yourself you did nothing wrong, that you have every right to your job and your life, but apprehension only grows as you get ready for work and begin the drive to the compound. As the heavy metal gates slide shut behind your car you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling you’ve made a terrible mistake. But after a brief almost-breakdown in the parking garage, you manage to pull yourself together and get out of the car. You make your way to your office in the Avengers’ private wing without running into anyone other than security and custodial staff. It is eight in the morning after all, and it’s not like the Avengers usually congregate outside your office like a welcoming committee, so you’re not sure why you felt like you’d be seeing them all at once. They might not even all be in the building – you’ll have to get Maria to update you on any new missions that have been assigned while you were off. You pass an hour or two catching up on emails and reaching out to a few different contacts around the compound, but no one on the team. The first person you see who knows why you really were off is Sam, making a smoothie in the kitchen when you come in for your morning tea. You steel yourself for the ensuing awkwardness, but it doesn’t come. Sam doesn’t behave any differently than he normally would, acknowledging you with a friendly smile tossed over his shoulder as he prepares ingredients. “Morning,” he greets, handing you a mug from the cupboard over his head as you fill up the electric kettle. “Thanks.” Sam nods, immediately launching into a story about his weekend that has you almost in tears from laughing so hard. “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” he scolds playfully. “I was stuck in that tree for like ten minutes while Tony took pictures, even though it's his fault I ended up there since he designed the damn wings. Anyway, how was your weekend?” he asks with an expression of exaggerated innocence. If it was anyone else it might feel rude or intrusive or even mean. But Sam, all easy charm and genuine warmth, has a way of making people take themselves less seriously, and you find you’re smiling despite yourself as his smirk splits into a cheeky grin. You manage to hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before you’re both laughing uncontrollably, the utter absurdity of the situation suddenly hitting you as actually kind of funny instead of completely tragic. “Yeah, it was alright. Just hung around the house, really,” you tease, catching your breath, and the conversation seamlessly turns to what you’ve both been watching on Netflix. You’re still smiling when you sit back down at your desk. You know there are bound to be awkward moments ahead, but the relief of knowing things can be normal, that the awkwardness will pass, has a tension leaving your body you’d been holding onto for days. Over the next couple days as you go about your normal tasks and routines you run into members of the team in ones and twos. Some are more uncomfortable than others – you and Bruce share a particularly stilted exchange until Tony barges into the room – but after the initial acknowledgment, almost everyone carries on like it never happened. Almost everyone, because by the middle of the week there’s still one person you haven’t seen or heard from. Bucky. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. Sure, you’re not exactly eager for that first – almost certainly uneasy – interaction. But at the same time, all you want is to move on and put this behind you and you don’t think you can do that until you’ve seen him. Until you’ve assured yourself he really is okay, and okay working together. The longer you go without seeing him, the more you begin to wonder if he’s really as fine with you being back as Maria said he was. If he truly wasn’t bothered, wouldn’t you have run into him before now? It’s not like Bucky was a social butterfly before, especially not with you, but you work with him in the building where he lives – it’s rare to go this long without at least seeing him in passing, outside of times he’s on a mission. And he isn’t on a mission – you checked. The sense of acceptance you’ve built around what happened on the jet is fragile, and relies almost entirely on knowing Bucky is alright, that he doesn’t blame you, or hate you, or feel disgusted by you. If none of that is true, you can’t move on. At least, not while continuing to work with the team. It wouldn’t be right. Each day, that acceptance weakens as it becomes clear Bucky is intentionally avoiding you. He must be. The agonizing waiting game finally ends on Thursday in a conference room. You’re tidying up after a meeting, gathering pens and water glasses, when Bucky turns the corner into the room, eyes glued to the tablet he holds in front of his face. At least, until he notices the room isn’t empty and his eyes snap to you. You’ve been imagining this moment for days now – seeing Bucky again for the first time. You’ve crafted and perfected so many scenarios of how it might play out – maybe you’ll be cool and aloof, brush it off like it’s no big deal, like you haven’t thought about it at all. Or maybe you’ll crack a joke like Sam would, and Bucky will laugh and tease you back and the tension will be broken and everything will be fine. In the moment, when it actually happens, all you can do is stare. Bucky looks – not well, really, and it squeezes something in your chest to see him this way. You’ve been around him before when he’s having a downswing and it’s not as bad as that, but there are dark circles under his eyes that speak to sleepless nights, and a stiffness in the way he holds himself, as though every muscle is tensed. It makes you want to hold him. To wrap him in your arms until that tension bleeds out of his body. But that’s the last thing Bucky would want, considering you’re likely the source of the tension. Your eyes find his and he holds your gaze for a moment – just a moment. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression, but he clearly doesn’t like it because his brows furrow as he turns on his heel and leaves the room. And just like that, you’re back on the quinjet, naked and trembling on the cold floor as Bucky bolts from the room without looking back. The rejection is clear, unmistakable. You’re fully clothed but you may as well be stark naked for how vulnerable you feel in that moment. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes and spill over as you stand there staring at the open door like an idiot. You roughly swipe a hand over your face to brush them away and make a hasty retreat to your office. The day passes in a fog as you try not to break down at your desk. The dam breaks the minute you step through your apartment door as the tears you’ve been holding back for hours come flooding out. You fall to your knees and you know you’re overreacting. You tell yourself it’s probably a misunderstanding. Bucky realized he’d forgotten something. Or maybe he was just surprised to see you, wasn’t ready to talk to you yet and had to leave, but not because he hates you. Your mind clings to the idea, latches onto it like a lifeline, even as your body continues to drown – sadness like physical pain in your chest, throat sore from deep, heaving sobs. You calm down eventually, mind winning out over body at last, but the crying has you feeling a little hollowed out. You fill the space with food and mindless media consumption, telling yourself you’ll feel better after a night of sleep. +++ You do feel better in the morning, thank God. You’ve successfully convinced yourself what happened yesterday had to be a misunderstanding. Maria wouldn’t lie to you about what Bucky said, and honestly, it’s self-centred to think just the sight of you is enough to scare the Winter Soldier out of a room! You head into the office feeling a little uneasy still, but mostly okay. That feeling lasts until lunchtime. You’re taking your lunch break in the common room, eating a sandwich and watching an episode of House Hunters with Natasha. She’s in the middle of a sentence, noting the lack of defensible positions and the overabundance of wood panelling in the mid-century bungalow on-screen when Steve and Bucky enter the room. They’ve clearly just come from the gym, likely looking for a post-workout snack. They amble into the room, playfully shoving at each other as they head for the kitchen. You can hear Alpine trotting in behind them, meowing for the treats she knows she’ll get if Bucky’s in the kitchen. Bucky’s hair is tied up in a messy, damp bun and his t-shirt clings to his torso with sweat, toned muscles on display. Steve’s there too. You see the moment Bucky realizes you’re there partly because you can’t look away from him – the shadows under his eyes are still dark, but his face is flushed and lively from the workout – and also because his step very noticeably falters and the teasing expression is wiped from his face, the colour quickly draining from his cheeks. If yesterday could be brushed off as a misunderstanding, this confirms you were right to fear the worst. Bucky was avoiding you, doesn’t want to be around you. He mumbles something back to Steve you aren’t able to discern and turns back the way he came. Instantly you feel your face heat with shame. Now Bucky can’t stand to even be in a room with you and other people? Exactly how uncomfortable do you make him? Does he think you’ll leap up from the couch and throw yourself at him? You catch Steve and Nat sharing a look out of the corner of your eye, but you have no idea what it means. You feel thoroughly wrong-footed, as though everyone in the room knows something you don’t. Something you probably don’t want to know. They make an effort to gloss over Bucky’s hasty exit, Natasha more successfully than Steve, but you just want to get back to the privacy of your office as quickly as possible so you can ruminate in peace. Or, if not in peace, at least in solitude. Choking down the rest of your lunch in record time, you make your escape – by a different route than Bucky, lest you accidentally cross paths again and he’s forced to jump out a window to escape you. TGIF, you think. +++ That weekend is rough. You journal, you pace, and you think and cry and eat and Google. Finally, you end up spilling your guts to an EAP counsellor (under the guise of a drunken hook-up between co-workers) and you come to the conclusion: fuck James Buchanan Barnes. Yeah, he’s smart and kind and strong and beautiful and maybe you’re a little in love with him, but he is just a man and you have cried over him enough. You didn’t ask for this! You didn’t mean for it to happen! And it’s not like you forced him to have sex with you. It’s not like he was cowering in the corner while you were throwing yourself at him. If anything, you were equally taken advantage of by each other – by that stupid fucking chemical and whatever mad scientist created it! He was the one who said he didn’t want your employment affected by what happened! As though running screaming from the room whenever he sees you doesn’t affect your employment. The least he could do is try to be a little more subtle in his distaste. Whether he finds you unattractive or not he should be able to treat you like a human being – not some sort of leper. And if he can’t do that, he can say it to your face! You don’t deserve this, no matter how Bucky feels about what happened. Which is exactly what you’re going to tell him when you see him on Monday. And you will see him. Bucky Barnes might be an internationally feared former assassin who evaded detection for over seventy years, but you manage his calendar. He’s got a meeting in the morning with PR and you’ll be waiting outside to catch him as soon as they’re done. On God, by noon on Monday, this will be resolved once and for all. +++ Ten a.m. sharp you’re standing outside the PR office suite, reminding yourself why your anger is justified and trying to hold onto the feeling itself. You’re more than a little afraid that the minute you see Bucky you’re going to forget all about confronting him and just start crying. But you didn’t spend hours curating a fuck you, girl power playlist and practicing speeches in the mirror to admit defeat so quickly. You’re standing directly opposite the glass doors, no opportunity for hiding – or for Bucky to hide from you – so you see each other the minute he approaches the door. There’s a flash of surprise on his face, quickly turned to grim resignation as he opens the door. He obviously knows you’re there to see him and he stops outside in front of you. “Hi,” he says, avoiding your eyes and staring at his feet instead. “Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?” He nods, gesturing down the hall and you follow him a few feet to a small seating area, out of view of any offices. He stands back and finally makes eye contact, looking a little like he’s staring down a firing squad instead of an unarmed civilian in a fuzzy pink cardigan. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts and remembering the plan. You ask him the big question. “Do you want me to quit?” Bucky shakes his head almost frantically. “No, I – no,” he says. You stare at him, wait for him to continue speaking but he just stands there, hands in his pockets looking miserable. ‘No.’ That’s all he can say? No? No! Something inside you snaps, your carefully prepared speech dissolving in your mouth like sugar as words start to pour out of you. “Really? Because Maria told me you didn’t want me to be reassigned so I thought we were good. But then you avoided me for days and the two times we did see each other you looked like you were going to be sick and practically ran out of the room, which makes me think you’re definitely not okay with me being here.” “I—” “And like, okay, that’s fine, but I wish you would have just said that? Because I get it, I do. This is super weird and obviously, you didn't want to sleep with me and I know I'm not like, a supermodel or even a JC Penny catalogue model, so yeah, you wish it could have been literally anyone else but you don't have to run away from me like I have some sort of flesh-eating disease, okay?” “That’s—” “Because that really sucks, Bucky. And not just because I’ve had a crush on you forever or because it was my first time but because I actually really just like and respect you as a person and I know you didn’t like me even before all this so maybe you don’t believe me, but I didn’t mean for this to happen. I promise. I would never try to take advantage of you – of anyone – like that and –” “What?” he interjects sharply. It cracks through the air like a whip, finally snapping you out of whatever insanity possessed you to say all that. To say all that. Oh, fuck. “What do you mean crush? Wait, first time?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and he’s staring intently at your face. Your own face burns and your hands shake as you try to come up with something – anything – to say. Thirty seconds ago you couldn’t shut up! The silence stretches unbearably long as Bucky stands there looking at you, waiting for you to answer him. It looks like he’s about to speak again when an alert sounds from both of your phones. “Oh, thank God,” you breathe. It’s the unmistakable tone that signals a drop-what-you’re-doing-and-Avengers-fucking-assemble emergency. You’ve never heard a sweeter sound in your life. Bucky holds your gaze for another moment before he swears and jogs off down the hallway, tossing you a conflicted look over his shoulder as he goes. +++ The emergency turns out to be a false alarm; some new system Tony was working on triggered it accidentally, so you got away from Bucky and nobody died. All in all, a pretty successful day. Except for the part where you confessed your feelings to the man you’ve been crushing on for months and told him he was the first person you’ve ever had sex with. During what was supposed to be a mature, adult conversation where you asserted yourself calmly and professionally instead of projectile word-vomiting like the girl from The Exorcist swallowed a dictionary and spat it back up. If there was ever a chance you and Bucky could move past what happened on the quinjet and co-exist in mutual agreement to never mention it again, it’s gone now. There’s no dramatic breakdown this time, no floods of tears or self-loathing or panic. The last week and a half has been an exhausting roller coaster of emotions and honestly, you just can’t anymore. It is what it is. It happened and there’s no going back. You can’t summon up the energy to freak out. Tomorrow you’ll go to Maria’s office and request a transfer. Maybe the UN has an opening for a secretary in Antarctica. But tonight you will wear flannel pyjamas, eat greasy pizza, and watch the Great British Bake Off, where everything is lovely and nothing hurts. Just as you’ve finished turning your couch into a cozy oasis, laying out your softest blankets and fluffiest pillows, there’s a knock at your door. Right on time. You grab your wallet and open the door, a polite smile on your face for your usual delivery man. But that’s not who’s standing on your porch. It’s Bucky. Pizza box balanced in one hand, the other fussing with his hair. “Hey,” he says, voice soft and almost hesitant. You step back, silently letting him inside and shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t realize you delivered for Ronzoni’s now,” you say, cringing immediately after. Bucky looks at the box in his hand like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh, uh, yeah, I got here the same time as the delivery guy.” “I see that.” He hands you the box and you lay it on the floor behind you. “Thanks,” you tell him awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor in front of you. “Look, Bucky, I’m really sor—” “I do like you,” he blurts and your eyes flash to his, wide in shock. “What?” Bucky shifts on his feet, stands a little straighter and nods, more to himself than to you it seems. Like he’s steeling himself to face something difficult. “I do like you. I’ve always liked you. Just took me a while to figure it out. It’s been a minute. Haven’t had a crush in about seventy years; I’m rusty,” he says with a sheepish smile, ducking his head and looking at you through his lashes. His smile fades. “And you’re always so nervous around me. I thought maybe you were scared of me. Or hated me, maybe, for everything I did when –” “Oh, Bucky, no,” you can’t help but interrupt, can’t let him finish that sentence. You haven’t really processed anything else he’s said, but you can’t bear the idea of him thinking you blamed him for being abused and controlled for decades. “Yeah, I was a fucking idiot,” he says with a humourless laugh. “I know you’d never – but I didn’t then.” His face softens as he looks at you. “And even though it was ‘cause you were scared of me, I still thought you were so cute when you’d start running at the mouth. Stumbling over your words and getting all embarrassed,” he says, with a fond little smile. You groan, hiding your face behind your hands, thinking of all the times you’ve looking like an idiot in front of him. Bucky chuckles warmly and tugs your hands down but doesn’t let them go, holding them in a loose grip. You can’t believe this is happening. He likes you. He likes you and has liked you for months. He likes you and he’s holding your hands and staring at you with an affection you couldn’t have captured in your wildest fantasies. Bucky’s smile turns a little wistful. “I was so jealous of everyone else. How easy you were with them. I wanted you to be like that with me, all happy and cheeky and –” he cuts himself off. “Then that fucking drug. If there was any doubt about how I felt about you that definitely made it clear. That was something else, doll.” His grip on your hands tightens before he lets them go. “You’re so – that shit you said about not being a model or whatever? I couldn’t care less. You’re perfect,” he says, voice intense. He shakes his head a little, like he’d gotten off track. “And then it hit me. This goddamn revelation for me was probably the worst moment of your life, and I fucking liked it. I felt like a creep, like a fucking monster. And that’s why I avoided you. I thought I was doing you a favour, staying away. It wasn’t ‘cause I hate you or I blame you or anything. Pretty much the opposite.” You laugh softly in disbelief, shaking your head at how wrong you were. How wrong you both were, all this time. “I thought maybe it reminded you of Hydra,” you tell him. “You know, losing control, being forced to do something you didn’t want to – not that I think what we did is the same as being forced to kill people, obviously. I just mean, the principle of it –” Bucky kindly cuts you off. “I know what you mean. But trust me,” he says. “That’s not how I feel. At all. I mean, yeah, that’s not really how I wanted things to go. I hate that that was your first time. I hate that it was my first time I can clearly remember. But I’m glad it was you. What Hydra did to me and what happened to us, what we did together – doesn’t even compare. I don’t regret it.” And finally, with those words, spoken with such undeniable sincerity, you feel the last piece of the puzzle fit into place. Even with everything he’s already said it still felt too good to be true. Like it could be a confession and a rejection at the same time. An acknowledgement that if you’d figured it out sooner you could have been together, but you got the pieces so mixed up that there’s no sorting them out. Better to throw them away and pick a new puzzle. “I don’t regret it either,” you tell him. “I wish it had happened differently, but I’m really, really happy it was you, Bucky.” He looks at you, soft and sweet and a little sad and you can’t help but throw yourself at him, finally giving in to an urge you’ve felt a hundred times, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hugs you back, holding you just as tightly as you hold him. You feel warm and bright and happy, bubbling over with joy that spills out of you with a giggle as you pull back just enough to look him in the face with a dopey grin. “So… you like me?” He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, doll, you been listening?” “I can’t believe you’ve had a crush on me for months. You never speak to me!” Bucky snorts. “Hey, we don’t all let our anxiety spill out our mouths like you.” You glare at him but he does have a point. “That’s fair,” you acknowledge, stepping out of the warm circle of his arms to give him a long look, crossing your arms. “So for months I thought you didn’t like me, and you thought I didn’t like you. And the whole time we were super into each other?” Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets, rocks on his heels, nodding. “Yep.” “Sounds like we’re pretty dumb, huh?” “Sounds like we’re perfect for each other,” he says, leaning in close with a grin. You get a sudden glimpse of the charmer Bucky must have been back in the day and it takes everything you have not to kiss him. “You wanna stay for a while?” you ask. You don’t want him to go yet, but you don’t want to keep standing up in front of your door either. “I’m watching Great British Bake Off. And you did pay for the pizza so it’s technically yours.” “You askin’ me on a date?” You think he means it to come out as flirty and confident, but he says it with a shy, boyish expression that’s somehow so much more attractive. You nod, smiling. “Yeah, I guess so. I wish I wasn’t wearing pyjamas, but…” “Hey, pizza and GBBO? I wish I was wearing pyjamas,” he counters, picking up the pizza and letting you lead the way to the living room where he sets the box down on the coffee table. You sit with Bucky on your couch, sharing a blanket and stuffing your faces as you talk about your favourite Bake Off contestants and it feels right. Feels like the start of something really, really good. And to think, you have an evil, horny scientist to thank for all your current happiness. Welcome to the Avengers. A/N: If you have made it to the end - thank you for reading! This is definitely the piece I struggled with most and I am very open to feedback! This part is so long and so sexless lol so I’m very interested to see how it reads re: pacing, interest, cohesiveness, etc. Feel free to like/comment/reblog and let me know! My ask box is also open to anons if you have feedback but you’re feeling shy! I definitely wanna hone the skill of series-writing as I have a loooooot of longer ideas. Part 3, which will be shorter (I think!) and definitely sexier, will be out in a few days 😚 

But Don’t You Ever Let Me Go (3)

Primo Nizzuto/Majid Zamari Sugar Daddy Fic

Part 3/ ?

(Parts 1, 2)

Plus @ournextdoorneighbor has done several arts for #TrustTheWolf! Go check that AMAZING stuff out! :D

Majid wakes up at 10:58 am, completely well-rested. The evidence of his stale pleasure is glued to his body hair. The odd prickling promptly jump-starts his brain straight into freak-out mode. 

The car ride. Primo’s dulcet tones. The smell of him on his skin. The pleasure of release after so long without.

Majid leaps out of bed. 

Last night was a mistake. A weakness. One Majid is embarrassed to have committed in the first place. 

What’s shocked him most is the ferocity of his swift libido. Majid’s had fantasies before, lurid wet dreams inspired by exaggerated magazine spreads. Hot chicks in nothing but lingerie and ‘come hither’ stares. He used to go through bottles of lotion and boxes of tissues like crazy before he finally started having sex for real. 

Sex with women. 

Because Majid likes women. He isn’t gay! 

…Or, is he?

Fuck! Majid squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know anymore! That tame, midnight fantasy was nothing at all compared to all his previous raunchy escapades, but it was also the most intense orgasm of his life. Primo’s very masculine body, his very manly voice, his very alpha-male presence awakens a dark need inside Majid. Hell, it knocked him unconscious for hours after emptying his balls all over himself. 

Still, Majid is confused. 

It’s the weekend. He’s off from work and that means no surprise visits from certain Mafia Dons. Hopefully. Just thinking about Primo overwhelms Majid and sends him into a wild frenzy around his flat. He spends most of his afternoon laundering his bed sheets and clothes, cleaning himself thoroughly in the shower…and then scrubbing down the tiles when he strokes out another Primo-induced orgasm. 

It’s absurd, but Majid suspects one look at him and Primo will know his shame. His cock gives a valiant twitch at that. 

Is this real life? Is Majid going to spend the rest of the weekend wanking off to Primo? He groans, flopping down on his springy mattress and hanging his head. 

What exactly is it about Primo that awakens Majid’s sexual urges when nothing else has? Objectively speaking, Primo is a handsome-looking older man. Any fool with eyes, gay or straight, can see that plain as day. After the first few encounters with the man, Majid scoured old newspaper clippings from decades past. Desperate to understand the gravitas behind the notorious Primo Nizzuto.

Gone is the ridiculous pornstache and bell-bottoms of his youth, exchanged for modern (albeit still flamboyant) facial hair and fashion. The floppy hair and thick thighs remain, plus the addition of one pierced ear that came about during the 80’s. In fact, Majid once spent an entire lunch captivated by a single teardrop-shaped pearl earring that swayed in time with Primo’s conversation.

He appears to have aged like a fine wine, hale and healthy, time only adding to his magnetic elegance. All that country air and good food is a testament to the wonders of Italian longevity. 

Add to that his influential power--and Majid isn’t that dumb not to notice the excited thrill he feels whenever Primo exercises said power on Majid’s behalf. Small, insignificant Majid, a real nobody that Primo pulls out all the stops for. Majid likes people watching? With a wave of his hand, Primo gets them a table with a stunning view for lunch. The gallery too crowded for Majid? One word and suddenly it’s just the two of them gazing at dusty old paintings. Primo could have literally anyone in the world, but instead he chooses to fill his days with Majid. 

It’s hot. 

It wasn’t like this with Hakan, who pranced around pretending to be his mentor so long as Majid continued making him money. Who coddled him while simultaneously collaring him. 

Yeah, but Hakan didn’t want to fuck your brains out, either. 

Oh, he knows exactly what Primo wants. Who he wants. Question is, is Majid willing to give it to him? 

Primo is sexually charged and aimed at Majid, ready to fire whenever he’s given permission. That the ball is even in existence and firmly in Majid’s court is pleasantly reassuring. Despite all his carnal hunger, Primo will wait patiently for his enthusiastic consent. In some small measure, Majid can exert his own special power over the man. That in and of itself is attractive.

It’s exhilarating and dramatic, daunting and intimidating. Has Majid been playing it straight this whole time because it was expected of him? 

Living in Italy only makes it easier to remove himself from the trappings of his old life and examine the bigger picture. For the first time, he’s outside of the rigid confines of tradition that mandated he be hard-boiled and repressed. Finally, Majid can breathe easy and freely explore what makes his cock throb without shame. Try as he might to abhor this “perverted” behavior, Majid not-so-secretly delights from the adventures, the conversations…the pampering. Maybe it’s alright to admit kneeling, crawling, and kissing Primo’s signet ring is exactly what he desires. 

However, if Majid capitulates to Primo’s wants and needs, what’s in store for him when he inevitably fucks up? What security is there that he won’t end up beaten into another bloody pulp, or worse--dead? Honestly, it’s the punishment that scares Majid more than the sex. He’s racked with crippling anxiety--pins and needles in his fingers and toes, air freezing inside his lungs, the memory of bone splintering while someone he trusted sits indifferent to his suffering. 

Surviving Hakan? Pure dumb luck. Surviving Primo? Not likely. Every moment spent with Primo is like lighting a matchstick around a puddle of gasoline. One wrong move and everything goes up in flames. Every nerve in his body is telling him to run, far away from Primo Nizzuto’s reach. 

Everytime he gets the itch to move, those damn captivating green eyes lure him right back again. 

You’re an idiot, Zamari.

++++

“Boss wants you to have this,” the man in the dark suit says.

It’s sunny as shit outside, enough that Majid squints an eye trying to adjust after spending so long in the auto shop. There’s a backdrop of power tools and air compressors whirring away behind him. In front, the Suit wears a thick pair of nondescript sunglasses over a neutral expression. He wiggles the package again.

Majid scrunches his face at the square box. It’s expertly wrapped in crimson paper that looks quite supple and expensive. It’s…a gift. A bloody gift, given the colour. Gulping, Majid wipes his hands off on a rag and clumsily accepts it. Suit goes absolutely nowhere, merely crosses his hands and waits patiently. Primo must have ordered him to witness Majid’s reaction and report back to him. Shit, Majid’s face burns hot and it isn’t from the sun.

The wrapping is just as buttery-soft as expected. It calms his initial, childlike instinct to rip and tear it open. Inside is a black box embossed with pale gold letters.

BVLGARI. 

Majid’s eyes widen comically. He stares at the box, then at Suit. 

Silence. Not even a shrug or head-tilt to acknowledge Majid’s turmoil. Nothing. Perfect, civil obedience. With his heart thumping loudly in his ears, Majid is almost envious of his observer’s detachment. His thumb edges the corners of the box and he immediately likens his situation to Pandora. What fresh hell is he inviting into this world by opening Primo’s gift? Just sign here on the bottom line...

Nestled on a cushion of creamy velvet is an all-black watch. The straps are a liquidy-soft metal of intertwining onyx teeth. The wide crystal face is ringed in matte black lettering (and fuck, it’s an actual Bvlgari) and tiny yellow-gold dials. Three perfect subdials catch a sunbeam and flare molten and golden, like miniature full moons in the midnight sky. 

Woof!

His brown eyes light up and dance at the superb craftsmanship. It’s edgy but sleek, confident and dangerous--whoever wears it will surely strike an intimidating figure.

Oh, who is he kidding? Majid is totally going to wear this. Already his wrist is heavy and itching with anticipation. It’s absolutely perfect and exactly to Majid’s tastes. It’s as if Primo saw inside his soul and plucked out all his wants and desires just to hand them back on a silver platter. A plume of heat rushes down his spine to settle in his extremities. 

Shivering, Majid reassembles the box and stares at the expectant Suit. He’s almost tempted to pass it back, refuse this precious (ludicrously expensive) gift, if only to gauge his reaction. The Suit wouldn’t mind, but he’d still have to deliver the news to the benevolent gifter. It’s already been well-established that Primo brushes off rejection like water off a duck. Or, in his case, a black swan. His first proffered gift was an entire damn vineyard. Dozens of meals and car rides later, a four-figure watch is innocent. 

His fingers trace the embossed logo. It’s such a thoughtful gift, too. 

“Please give Signor Nizzuto my sincerest,” apologies, “thanks.” Fuck. 

Suit nods stiffly, pivots on one polished heel, and returns to his nondescript car. 

Majid escapes the hot air outside and returns to the auto shop. The gift is tenderly tucked inside his personal locker, with the lock pulled twice just to verify it is indeed fastened. The rest of his work day is spent in a complete daze. Everything blends together--Majid can’t count how many car batteries and broken tail lights he replaces, his mind and eyes skittering back to bore holes into his locker. 

When he greets Primo outside his apartment for their usual Tuesday night dinner, Majid is clean of grease and clothed in his best black attire. There’s been an effort to tame his growing curls and trim his short beard. He looks handsome. 

The sallow streetlamp outside casts him all in shadow. Somewhere a dog barks.

This time, when the chauffeur opens the backseat door he lets Primo exit and meet Majid in the crisp night air. The two of them stand silently across from each other, only a scant few feet apart. Primo is dressed in a close-fitting red suit so dark it might as well be black. 

Beware, the devil wears red… 

Unabashed green eyes soak in his appearance, slow and sultry over all his edges and curves. Majid holds himself still, blazer tucked in the crook of his left arm. The purposeful posture highlights the gleaming watch adorning Majid’s wrist. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

Primo blinks once, tongue blatantly stroking along his bottom lip, “Do you like it, my boy?”

His husky words are a temptation, promising notes ringing in the air between them. Shuddering madly and unable to speak, all Majid does is nod. A smile carves its way onto Primo’s face, chiseling dimples in his cheeks. Those eyes of his are electric. He takes a step closer, bringing a cloud of that damn cologne with him--Majid inhales sharply--then promptly backing off to the side. A playful little dance that leaves Majid absolutely reeling. One gentlemanly sweep of his hand, Primo beckons him towards the belly of the rumbling car. 

…So tempt away, devil, Majid thinks carelessly and ducks inside. 

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 18

Chapters: 18/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

They cook, they feed him, they chat away about inane things. Their presence soothes Martin and their voices fill him with the warmth sucked away by his unexpected encounter.

Gerry helps him make tea after dinner, and they all sit at the table together, even the cats sleeping nearby, cuddled up into one big, grey and black fluff ball.

"I think," Martin begins, voice croaky, "That I would like to tell you now."

"We're ready to listen if you're ready to tell us." Jon offers softly. Gerry reaches over to take one of his hands, turning it over to kiss the palm sweetly.

Martin talks, voice quiet and even.

"In the beginning, it was just a normal relationship. Except for the fact that he was almost twenty years older than me, and about a million times richer. I didn't know that at first, of course. He was just a middle-aged man I met in a gay bar, who didn't seem to mind that I was trans. I felt secure in our relationship, if not exactly nurtured or adored. I had never felt very secure before, and it seemed like enough, you know?

"He took me out, brought me a few things in the beginning. He was very dominant, sexually, but I was a lot less sure of my own preferences back then and I thought it was fine. He never even blinked at my trashy flat or cheap clothes, and I didn't even realise just how much money he had for a long time. Maybe I just can't really comprehend that much money, even now.

"When I was twenty-two, my mother died, and…" He huffs out a shaky, emotional laugh. "Well, I was a real mess. I lost my job, and almost my flat. Peter started paying for things, my rent, clothes, meals. He said that I needed somewhere to live and had to eat and look presentable, and it was his pleasure to provide those things for me. It made me feel a bit gross, but I struggled to find another job, and so I accepted it."

Martin hesitates here, before continuing. "The problem started when I wasn't interested in sex one night."

"He forced you?" Gerry interrupts to ask dangerously, threat explicit in his quiet words. His eyes seem to glow faintly in the growing dark of the room, as the sun sets. He wishes, more than ever, that he had helped Jon kick the shit out of Peter Lukas, instead of stopping him.

Martin sighs, eyes pressed tight closed for a second. "Not exactly. He simply pointed out that he paid for me to exist. So I made myself interested."

Gerry's hands tighten into fists and he moves them under the table where Martin can't see them anymore. Jon suddenly looks very pale. They share a look, neither able to see much difference between 'forcing' and what sounds a lot like financial abuse to them.

Martin pulls his legs up to his chest, curling around them as he goes on. "Our relationship became a lot more transactional after that night. I disengaged whatever feelings I had left for him and simply drew all my emotions down deep into myself. I wasn't ashamed to be getting paid for sex, but I felt like I had lost my own consent in the matter. Peter honestly seemed like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. Money was nothing to him, and he had someone to take out on his arm or shag whenever he wanted, without the work of a real relationship, or the complications of unfortunate attachments.

"So, if I needed something, I told him. He set a date, took me out, fucked me. He gave me however much I needed."

Martin shrugs, looking down at his hands. "I honestly hated it. Not because of the prostitution itself, sex has always been very nurturing for me, and I sometimes caught the idea that it was only another way to care for people, and being paid for that is perfectly fine, if you're doing it for the right reasons. The real issue was Peter himself. He had this way of making me feel… bereft and hollow, even before the money came into it."

A few tears track down his face, although his face remains rather blank, in a numb way. It's only as he admits the next words that his voice breaks and the heartbreak works its way out again.

"I was very foolish. Looking back, I can see that I was still a child in a lot of ways. I put myself into a situation that damaged me, but I accept the consequences of those actions, both then and now. I- I-"

"Martin," Jon whispers, warm love clear in his voice. It's nothing but an offer of support, one that he desperately needs right now.

He presses his eyes shut, forcing away the stutter and the lump of tears. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to get out of it, even if I got a crap, minimum wage job that I was qualified for. So I started applying for any work that was available. I made every application exactly what they wanted, and I hoped for the best. When Elias offered me the job at Magnus, I took it happily. Since then I found out that Peter knows him, and probably arranged the job for me, but at the time I had no idea. Looking back, I know that it's a miracle that I got out of it at all. Peter could have chosen to make my life a living hell. Instead, he accepted the several firm rejections I offered him.

"He promised me that we weren't done, that I would be back, but he left me alone. I was done. I moved on with my life, even if I had to lie to do it." Martin sighs, shakes out his shoulders, the most difficult part over now.

"I had always planned to be open about it with my next relationships, but they were so fleeting that it never even came up. By the time I fell for Jon, it had become a secret, one I was loathed to dig up for a relationship I was convinced wouldn't last. I thought to myself, 'Why ruin something that makes me happy?' I assumed it would fall apart anyway, and it was easier to allow it to be in the past.

"But I am sorry. I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm sorry you had to find out from him. I'm sorry that we've been together for more than a year and we basically live together, and I've put you in this position. I love you both, very very much."

"When did you eventually decide that our relationship was going to last?" Jon queries, genuine curiosity in his voice.

There's a beat of hazy silence at the abrupt change in tone and topic.

"Oh, ah-" Martin stumbles over his words, unsure how blatantly honest to be. He chooses the real truth, no matter how unfortunate. "The day that I got Luna was the first time I really accepted that you both loved me."

Jon simply raises an eyebrow, completely unconcerned. "What about you, Gerry?"

"With you," Gerry responds easily, "at the hospital in Morden, when I was so panicked that I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill you or handcuff us together for the rest of our lives. With Martin-"

He breaks off with a laugh, colouring slightly. "It was the day we dyed my hair purple."

"The first time we had sex?" Martin asks, surprised at such a hedonistic answer.

He laughs again, more confidently this time. "No, actually, although that was spectacular. It was afterwards, when you braided my hair for the first time. That was the first time anyone had ever braided my hair. It made me feel so… So honoured. Like I was the most precious thing to you."

"Gerry, you are the most precious thing to me. You both are." Martin whispers, tears creeping back into his voice.

"Good, because the feeling is mutual, and we desperately need you around to keep us in line," Jon tells him, voice unusually firm and confident.

"What about you?" Martin remembers to ask him, at risk of floating away in his post confession haze. "When did you know?"

"With Gerry, it was when we were teenagers. I kissed him for the first time, and he laughed at me. I just knew he was my soulmate." Jon rolls his eyes at this, but his voice is full of blatant affection. "With you, Martin, it was- Well, to be quite honest with you, there was no one special moment. It was a million tiny moments, all of them special and perfect to me. Every cup of tea, every frown while you were writing poetry, glasses pushed haphazardly up into your lovely hair. The easy, glorious look on your face the day you met Gerry for the first time, as if you weren't even capable of not falling in love with him, just as I hadn't been. It was especially the days that I would come out of the library and find you waiting for me after work. This weight of total surety would fill my chest and leave me gasping, needing you."

Jon sighs, his own eyes a little bright. "I suppose it was really the night you kissed me in the rain, and every soft moment since then has only affirmed the way I knew you were it for me."

Jon smiles at Martin so beatifically that he forgets to breathe for a moment.

"We love you too, Martin," Gerry tells him, reaching out to grasp a hand. Jon takes the other. "And we wouldn't want you any other way."

***

The next morning, Martin wakes to find Jon eyeing his phone intently. Gerry is asleep on his other side, and he feels warmly cocooned between them. Gentle cloudy light fills the space, encouraging the comfortable cozy atmosphere of their bed.

"What's wrong, love?" Martin asks sleepily, snuggling into his side.

"I got-" Jon pauses, utterly flummoxed. "I got paid a bonus."

"What?" Equally perplexed, Martin takes his phone, squinting as he tries to read the screen.

The banking app is open, and there is indeed a deposit there, Jon's normal salary amount, but on completely the wrong date.

In the purpose box, it simply reads 'Entertainment Value'.

"You don't think," Jon starts, hesitant, "that Elias paid me…"

"For hitting Peter Lukas?" Martin finishes, "His own husband."

They blink at each other, bewildered.

"Does that seem… slightly cursed, to you?" Jon whispers as if Elias might hear him. Even worse if Elias could hear them, and would probably enjoy being accused of having a cursed relationship.

"Yes, completely cursed. What is up with those two?" Martin looks as if he's smelled something bad.

"We absolutely cannot spend this money, right?" Jon asks. "Lest we are cursed with their relationship dysfunction."

"Correct," Martin responds firmly, shuddering. "Can we donate it to the animal shelter?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Jon's relief at this resolution is palpable.

He does it straight away, as if even having the money in his bank account might ruin their lives.

They let out a simultaneous sigh as the transfer goes through.

"That is wild," Martin mutters as he snuggles back down.

Jon tosses his phone away, no longer interested in it. Instead, he wraps his arms around Martin, burying his nose in his lover's hair. It smells of bergamot and tea leaves and the ocean in winter, just like Martin himself, and Jon luxuriates in the moment.

"I love you, Martin K. Blackwood." He whispers into the soft air.

"Even if I don't actually have a middle name?" Martin whispers back.

"Especially because of that." Jon chuckles.

They lay together, the gentle moments of the morning flowing around them. Later, they get up and shower together. They drink tea in front of the big windows in the living space. Martin reads a book from Gerry's shelves, his own books still packed, and Jon wanders off to play his piano where it is randomly set up, right in the middle of Gerry's typical painting area.

Gerry himself appears downstairs, still sleepy and bleary-eyed. He curls up with his head in Martin's lap, listening to Jon fill the flat with gentle music.

It's the soft sort of moment that each of them had been wishing for all their lives, full of love, and family, and a home of their very own.

hi! I loved the last headcanons I requested so I'm sending more, hope u don't mind and sorry if this is late and if it is not Friday for u anymore. ☾, ■ and ♡ for Morvran (coz the one u wrote is the most amazing thing) and ✿ for Ves. Thank you so much and btw I abolutely love your witcher memes

you sent this 6 november. it is currently 12 december (by time i finished it its 11 january on my god) i am so fucking sorry but here you go! also the ves one.. yes.

☾ - sleep headcanon

■ -  bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

♡ - romantic headcanon

✿ - sex headcanon

list

sleep headcanon

morvran is generally a pretty light sleeper, to the point where someone walking loudly outside will wake him up

so, he takes it upon himself to be properly tired before he goes to bed so he'll sleep through the night

this is usually accomplished by riding (a horse or a diplomat? who's to say)

good god it's the third bullet point how did i already make this sexual

alright...

he totally gives me monogrammed matching pyjama set vibes

like they're a mahogany coloured silk with a little MV embroidered in cursive

ciri loves making fun of them

but he's comfy DAMNIT

he sleepwalks... and didn't think it worth mentioning until emhyr hired a witcher to deal with the palaces supposed wraith problem...and of course he didn't want the city of golden towers to have a reputation as a hotbed for monsters.... but he eventually decided he liked his status as the local ghost

he keeps a dream diary.

like most of these hcs are based on tiny details in some obscure translation, but trust me bro morvran voorhis keeps a dream diary

he plays the dapper dude game, but with enough sambuca he will absolutely tell you why journaling your dreams is the most important thing you can do

he wears slippers. i know this for a fact. they match his pyjamas and he leaves them right next to his bed every night

of course, this started with morvran's father making sure he was always prepared for a quick getaway

even after the assassination he just couldn't shake the habit. he also always stays on the ground or first floor and won't fall asleep in a room unless the windows open from the inside. precautions, you know?

great now i'm sad

bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

okay here's the thing you need to understand about morvran voorhis: he did not have any autonomy for the first 20 odd years of his life

growing up in the imperial palace doesn't leave a lot of room for individuality. sure, he had expensive toys, soft fabrics, and the nicest governesses and most intelligent tutors in the empire, but none of it was his

even after his father died, he couldn't leave because he was getting married off to some girl he'd never even met!

so, by time he had command of the alba division and, by extension, his own life, he got creative

i'm talking a tapestry of his favoured stallion that takes up an entire wall

and a custom plaque of the merchant's guild insignia on the mantle

and a hook right next to his bed to put his medallion

and his own gwent card, framed

and a map of nilfgaard he annotates himself, with markings such as "bastard who stole fire scorpion, cheats with scoia'tael deck", "pretty girl witcher", "annoying witcher", "guild army contact", "actual 25 centimetres, take portal or carriage"

and a desk he never actually uses because it's too orderly and looks too nice to mess up

should all those mismatched patriotic and egotistical things look good together? no, no they should not. but do they?? fuck to the yes! our mans knows the importance of a colour scheme!

when you first walk in his quarters, it looks kind of like most of the others in alba, except with a few extra empty coffee mugs

but he HAS THOSE MOTHERFUCKING DETAILS

i don't know why i'm so invested in this i just fucking KNOW it's true

he's a neat freak. i feel like we all knew this.

there's a designated spot for everything, and don't you dare mess up the system

also if you drip water on his rug he will 100% throw your ass out onto the street

romantic headcanon

now, i'm almost exclusively romantically attracted to women, but i would marry voorhis and not just for the money

he definitely has a huge romantic streak that he really loves indulging. buying flowers, writing love letters, all of that, he genuinely enjoys it

yes, he's a busy man, but he makes the little moments count! he definitely bugs assire for a new xenovox like every week because he breaks them so often

morvran voorhis is a massive flirt. i will not be taking questions

i told myself i wouldn't work in my voorhis used to be a sex worker hc in this, but you know what he did and that's important to him!

the flirting is definitely an issue in relationships, especially with people who didn't know him before he was a commander.

i'm not saying he's two faced, he just has very distinct business and pleasure personas that he doesn't want to mix

he also sees relationships as fairly contractual. he gave those diplomats a little of ~this~ because it helped him succeed. somewhere along the way he began to enjoy the feelings of courting someone, but it was largely because he knows you're always better at work you enjoy.

ciri has called him out on it a few times... he was not happy

how dare you ask this man to be vulnerable he is a BOTTOM

but i honestly think that if there is someone he wants, he will make himself worthy of them. voorhis is nothing if not confident and determined, and i think those are more powerful than the massive daddy issues and praise kink

he really just puts in effort and concern to all aspects of a relationship

like dates? unreal

he always starts by going to the vegelbud estate, partly because he is desperate for his peers' approval and partly because he wants to see if this lucky person is a good match

he also knows all the places around the estate where wildflowers grow. i told you he's a romantic.

sex headcanon

i'm about to be incredibly gay on main oh good god jimmy don't read this please

ves is a dom and a top. acceptable titles include Sir, Master, or Lieutenant and you better fucking use them

ves definitely gets around. i mean, just look at her. the energy is immaculate and she knows what she's doing

overstim. just... one is not enough. shaking is not enough. begging is not enough. being completely fucked out and not even able to manage any words while sobbing? that might do. (with consent!)

not that ves doesn't love to hear some begging, she definitely does. it's just not going to motivate or demotivate her to do anything, she already has it all planned out

that plan includes hearing someone beg for her strap even as she's deep enough inside them they can feel it in their belly

good god i'm really exposing all my kinks

anyways let's keep it going!

she's an amazing rigger

not just in technique, she knows exactly when to be gentle versus firm and create art out of a body and some ropes

ves bites

just grabbing a handful of hair and tilting their head back so she can leave marks on their throat... mmhm yeah

i think she fucked geralt

like yeah you can have her fuck geralt in assassins of kings but i think she just did it anyway cause she was bored and smelled a bottom

he had a very good time

ves was eh

geralt's just far more submissive than ves's usual partners. i mean, she's used to handling 5 temerian guerillas. a singular witcher isn't even a challenge

surprisingly, she's quiet. spending 80% of her day within earshot of her father figure made this more of a necessity, but she can fashion an excellent gag for any parties who aren't worried about all of temeria hear them

tip of your tongue [fic]

tip of your tongue

Rom Howney, 2213 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

Tom has a terrible gag reflex and Robert just wants to help, aka, 2020: the year that inspires us to make mouth swabs sexy. (Cannot believe an Instagram video of Tom gagging on a swab would help get over my writer’s block...)

“Happy to see you’re being safe, even if that looks very uncomfortable. Awful gag reflex, by the way. Miss ya underoos.”

Most of the time, Tom assumes Robert never even sees his Instagram posts. He figures he’s too busy with other way more important movie star type things, or hanging out with his family, or doing literally anything other than browsing Instagram for hours like Tom does when he’s bored. But of course he happens to catch the one where he gags about two seconds after having that evil fucking swab shoved down his throat. It’s embarrassing, to say the least. He can practically see Robert’s smirk as he reads the DM.

Tom feels his cheeks colour slightly. Emboldened by the two beers he has just downed, he quickly types out a response and hits “send” before he can change his mind.

“It was horrid, but worth it. And yeah, haven’t had much chance to practice. xoxo.”

He throws his phone down on the couch so hard it bounces off and hits the floor.

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing for it and sinking back into the cushions in relief when the screen doesn’t show any visible cracks. Then he stares at it for a good ten minutes, totally NOT waiting for a response from Robert. Not at all. But when one doesn’t come he groans and buries his face in one of the big, soft pillows beside him.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he says into the fabric. “I wonder how long it would take to suffocate myself like this.”

“Are you saying something?! Why d’you sound like you’ve got your head in a jar?” Harry yells across the house. Tom groans again but launches himself off the couch and in the direction of Harry’s voice, leaving his phone on the coffee table, hoping for a distraction.

Ten o’clock that evening there’s a notification blinking at him. Tom nearly drops the phone again in his haste to check it.

“Didn’t think so, a good boy like you. Take it from someone who knows… practice does make perfect. I hear bananas work well. You have those in England, don’t you?”

Tom makes a painful, strangled noise that has Harry running to see if he’s broken something.

For some reason, they keep texting. It moves from Instagram DMs to actual text messages and Tom thinks that’s meaningful in some way… maybe… or not. Sometimes they’re flirty, sometimes they’re completely benign. Tom’s working on Uncharted and it keeps him too busy to dwell on it most of the time, until there’s a break in shooting for a week and he’s responding to Robert’s texts WAY too eagerly and he’d be mortified for himself if Robert wasn’t responding just as fast.

One night, after a few beers (again, god, he really needs to stop drinking) he sends a video. Because he has been practicing, actually. Not with bananas but with his toothbrush every morning, so that’s what he uses. He smiles at the camera and then opens wide and slides the handle into his mouth, taking care to concentrate on his breathing. His tongue pokes out underneath it and if he curls it slightly around the handle it was only to hold it steady, of course. The brush goes in a respectable distance until he feels his throat spasm and he gags slightly as he pulls it back out. His eyes water but he smiles again and does a completely dorky thumbs up before cutting the video off.

He cracks open another beer to wait with but the response comes almost immediately.

“Jesus, you’re pretty. Working hard, I see? Very good, I’m so proud.”

Tom blushes at the praise and squirms happily, kicking his feet a little. He’s alone in his hotel room, who fucking cares, Robert makes him giddy and he’ll kick his feet if he wants to.

“Aww you really think I’m pretty? I am working hard. Can even do it with the banana.”

“Show me.”

Fuck. FUCK. Tom hasn’t even attempted the banana yet but he didn’t expected Robert to respond… like that. He hops off the bed, grabs it from the bowl in the kitchenette, and immediately sticks it in his mouth.

“Peel it first, you absolute fucking moron,” he says with a grimace, and takes another swig of beer to wash away the taste of banana peel. He only has one banana, though, so if he’s gonna do this he has to film it right away or else it might start falling to bits after, er, repeated use. So he sets up his phone at an attractive angle and hits record.

He smiles again, less cheesy this time and what he hopes is more seductive, before turning slightly to the side and opening his mouth. The sweetness is almost overwhelming on its own, never mind how much thicker the banana is than a toothbrush, but he takes it slowly and slips it over his tongue. He has to close his lips around it, there isn’t really any other way, so he takes the opportunity to glance at the camera when he does, eyes lidded and slightly hazy from the alcohol. He stops about halfway down and makes a pathetic little sad noise because he knows he’s almost at his limit but fuck he wants to impress Robert so badly… so against his better judgement, he keeps going. Tom pulls out every trick in the book: breathing through his nose, squeezing his thumb in his fist, pressing up with his tongue. He makes it further than he did with the toothbrush before he chokes and slides the saliva-slick banana back out of his mouth with a wet gasp. There is a silvery thread of spit connecting his bottom lip to the end of the banana, and he stares directly in the camera as he licks it away.

This time there are actual tears in his eyes, and one slides down his cheek as he leans in to rasp out, “Did I do a good job?”

When the FaceTime notification pops up he nearly falls off the edge of the bed. There is absolutely no time to make himself look presentable or cool in any way, so he sets up the phone on the nightstand and answers with a tear-streaked face and a little bit of banana in the corner of his mouth.

Tom assumes Robert is in L.A. but it’s dark in whatever room he’s calling from, his face lit up by the soft glow of a desk lamp. A small thrill shoots up Tom’s spine at how blown his pupils are.

“What are you trying to do to me, hm?” he says, his voice quiet and half-wrecked.

“I’m just doing what you told me to… sir…”

Robert growls – actually GROWLS – and Tom feels it in every nerve of his body.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. Practicing.”

Tom’s always been terrible at dirty talk, and he doesn’t think he’s ever had phone sex before, but he is an actor, so he lets himself slip into the role of someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. It’s a lot easier with a scene partner like Robert.

“Practicing… yeah, I’ll bet. Practicing for something even bigger?”

“I… I don’t know. Am I?”

Did he really just ask Robert Downey Jr. how big his dick is?

Robert smirks and bites at his plush lower lip.

“Show me your hands,” he says.

Tom furrows his brow, confused, but raises his hands up anyway.

“Perfect. Lovely, long fingers. Put them in your mouth.”

It’s an order, and an order given so confidently and almost carelessly, like he knows Tom is going to obey. It’s devastatingly attractive.

“H-how many?”

“Start with two. As deep as you can.”

He does it. He tastes faintly of banana but it’s quickly washed away down his throat as he gags on his own fingers.

“Easy, sweet thing, no rush. Work them in nice and slow, close your lips around- yes, perfect, just like that…”

Tom’s eyelids flutter closed and he just lets Robert’s words wash over him as he slides his fingers over his tongue, deeper and deeper into his throat. His teeth knock against his knuckles and he moans when he realizes they’re in as far as they can go.

“Perfect,” Robert says. “Now suck.”

A whine escapes around his fingers, unbidden, and Robert answers with a low groan. Tom hollows his cheeks and does exactly what Robert tells him. He slides his fingers back out a bit only to suck them back in, almost petting his own tongue. He tries to go a bit faster, almost fucking his own face, but the repeated motion makes him gag again and he wrenches his hand away, coughing and sputtering and wiping spit off his chin.

“S-sorry,” he gasps, more tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Oh, no, you’re doing so good, baby,” Robert reassures, “so fucking good.”

He sounds breathless, and Tom wipes at his eyes so he can see him better. Robert shifts in his chair and Tom can see his arm moving under the desk and oh holy fuck he’s jerking off, he’s jerking off right now on the phone and Tom is about to DIE.

“Lemme see,” he blurts out, his eyes desperately focused on Robert’s arm.

Robert pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please! Shit, please, please lemme see.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is more serious this time. He knows that this is a line that is about to be crossed. It’s almost sweet, in a way, that he’s concerned about getting Tom’s consent and all, but really Tom was already winding up to fucking pole vault across that line so he just nods furiously and shoves his fingers back in his mouth to whine around them again.

Robert exhales through his nose and pushes his chair back from the desk. His fly is open but his trousers and underwear are still mostly pulled up so all Tom can see is his cock. And fuck, it’s a gorgeous cock. Thick and dark in his hand, wet at the head where he’s been leaking during their little conversation, one prominent vein that is just begging to be traced with his tongue.

“There,” Robert practically coos, “is that better, sweet thing? Can you imagine this in your mouth instead of those pretty little fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” Tom answers around the digits in his mouth. God, he can practically taste it. He’s rock hard in his jeans and part of him wants to touch himself too but Robert didn’t say he could, so he settles for rubbing against the mattress as he sucks on his fingers. There’s more saliva in his mouth and it’s starting to make everything sound incredibly wet and filthy, slurping and popping and squelching, but Robert seems to love it.

“I bet you’d look so damn good on your knees in front of me… those big eyes… fuck.”

Tom shifts around on the bed so he’s facing the camera, so he can look directly into the lens. Robert’s eyes flash when he realizes what he’s doing.

“God, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? So obedient. So eager to please.”

He nods and continues to suck on his fingers, adding in a third to stretch his lips even wider.

“You’re gonna make me come, baby,” Robert mutters. His hand is flying over his cock but his eyes are laser-focused on Tom’s mouth. “Gonna make me shoot all over that pretty face.”

Tom is fairly certain he’s never been this turned on in his entire life. He lets his fingers slip out of his mouth.

“Please, I want it,” he gasps, and opens his mouth wide, tongue out like he’s waiting to taste everything Robert is willing to give him. He looks up at him through the lens, fluttering his eyelashes and petting his tongue with his slick fingers, and Robert comes with a harsh shout. Robert comes because of him. It makes him tremble and rut against the bed and within a few seconds he’s making a mess of his own boxers like he’s a teenager again.

There’s an echo of harsh breathing for a few moments as they both ride out the aftershocks, and then Tom hears shuffling from Robert’s end. He looks back up to see him tucked under the desk again which makes him pout. He misses that dick already.

“It’s gonna be a while before we see each other again,” Robert says. He’s trying to look casual, but Tom can tell when he’s acting. God knows he’s seen it enough. “We should stop texting. You’ll forget about this by then, and I won’t feel like as much of a creep. Hopefully.”

“Or…” Tom starts.

“Or?”

“Or, we keep texting, and I keep practicing, and when I see you I won’t have forgotten ANY of this and I’ll be able to suck your brains out through your gorgeous dick.”

Robert’s eyes widen, and then he throws his head back with a ridiculous sounding guffaw of a laugh. Tom laughs too and blows a kiss to the camera when Robert’s face is back in frame. He shakes his head but mimes catching it and pressing it to his lips.

“I could be ok with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sarah Paulson Characters and jealousy headcanons:

NSFW I guess?

Billie Dean Howard:

She’s literally so jealous anytime anyone gets close to you or flirty, even if you two are just keeping things casual.

If you show up at an event with someone else she for sure gets possessive af

She’ll keep her distance and just watch you for a while, but the second your date gets a little too close and touchy she gets heated

She’s all about appreciation of the art, but it’s a fine line with her.

It’s like a game for her, she waits until you see her and then she gets super flirty with someone she doesn’t care about

But when you don’t seem to take notice, she makes a move over to you.

She’ll start off the conversation innocent, but with a possessive grip on your shoulder

The more interest you show in your date or the more interest they show in you, the worse it gets. Bitchy glares are exchanged, the level of flirtation rapidly rises, she keeps her face only inches from yours. Her hands are touching you whenever possible.

So many pet names and innuendos are dropped

She’s definitely the “I can see other people but you’re mine” type.

And you know exactly what she’s doing and you secretly live for it

Sometimes you get extra flirty with your date just because you know you’ll have her attention

You are completely aware you have her wrapped around your finger and you definitely use it to your advantage

She thinks she’s in control but you know if you play your cards right she’ll give you exactly what you want

And because you enjoy driving her crazy, you play coy and excuse yourself and your date to go dance or talk to some friends

Then you get even more flirty and she is LIVID

Now she can’t even enjoy this damn party because she can’t take her eyes off of you.

And the second you stray away from your date she is grabbing you and dragging you to the nearest empty room for mind blowing sex

And you make sure she knows that SHE was the one who wanted to see other people and keep it casual, so you aren’t the one to blame

Because you’ll be damned if she gets away with this without admitting it’s not just casual

“If we’re just casual then let me go back to my date”

“Oh baby girl this is anything but casual.”

And that’s all you needed to cave

She won’t leave you alone until you are practically screaming that you’re hers and covered in hickeys that your date will definitely see.

When it’s over and you go to compose yourself she shoves your underwear in her pocket

“Hey I need those”

“You can get them when you come to my place tonight, sweetheart”

Lana Winters:

First of all, she’s Lana fucking Winters, she doesn’t get jealous

But whenever she sees someone get a little too close to you she likes to tease you about it

Only because she knows if she pretends to be a little jealous it’ll just make you feel the need to prove how much you are hers and hers alone.

She just likes to hear you tell her how much you love her

Even though she already knows

She especially teases you when men flirt with you.

“I see you found yourself a new husband.”

Which never fails to make you giggle uncontrollably

Because you’re like so gay dude

And you joke about it all night

And it becomes a running joke

“Oh is that your 5th husband?”

You now have like 12 husbands

“It’s getting so hard to keep track darling. You know I don’t like to share.”

She’ll never admit it but she secretly likes when others hit on you because it just reminds her how lucky she is that you are hers.

Cordelia Goode:

Cordelia Goode is graceful and elegant and is just not the type to show she’s outwardly jealous

But internally? Oh yea

She knows you are a gentle soul and are kind to everybody, but she still has insecurities

Mostly because she feels like she doesn’t give enough time to you or she feels like she’s too old.

She thinks you’ll find someone better

So she keeps it cool when you are out in public and it happens, and she won’t actually tell you she’s jealous even when you two make it home.

But she tends to be a little more affectionate

She just wants you to hold her and remind her you love her

Which you give happily because you would scream about it from the rooftops if you could

But there was this one time

It was before you were dating, you were flirty with each other but she was too scared to tell you she had feelings for you

And you were totally clueless but everyone else could see it

You had agreed to go out with Madison and she made sure to tell Cordelia that it was her mission to get you laid that night

And she casually mentioned you going out in a conversation just so you would invite her along

She justified it to herself that she was just going to make sure you didn’t get hurt

But when she saw some guy flirting with you at the bar and you actually looked interested she was done for

So she walked up and placed her hand on your lower back and asked if you were doing ok

And when he didn’t excuse himself and kept flirting she just couldn’t take it anymore

Cordelia Goode never uses her powers for her own personal gain, but she did that night

And suddenly he was saying he had to go and she had you all to herself

And she glanced up and Madison was smirking at her from across the bar

After she had thrown a few too many drinks your way, you told her how beautiful she was and how anyone would be lucky to have her

“Seriously if you were my girlfriend I would die”

“Miss Y/N, are you telling me you want me to be your girlfriend?”

And the drinks had made you a little bolder, so you smirked and said “maybe I am.”

Oh yea, you definitely got laid that night

Bette & Dott:

Oh the twins definitely get jealous.

Like insanely jealous, but they handle it in different ways.

They’re just really insecure, ok?

Bette is the one who cries/pouts because she knows you’ll tell them how much you love them and think they’re beautiful.

Dot tends to bottle it up, but she can’t help but be agitated, which usually means the silent treatment for her.

Bette seems to recover quickly one you reiterate that you love them

But Dot isn’t as easily convinced as her sister by your kind words. She’s more of an action kind of girl.

So after you quell Bette’s fears, you turn to Dot and stare at her for a moment with a loving and apologetic look in your eye

And once her eyes soften a bit you lean in to kiss her cheek and she melts

Sally:

This goes without saying but Sally is crazy jealous

Literally if she could tie you to the bed and keep you all to herself she would

But you tend to be a social person and like to frequent the bar

Usually it’s with her, but sometimes you get off of work and head straight there without her knowing, and most times by the time she’s reached you, you have taken up conversation with one of the residents or it’s visitors

And BOY does she hate that

She tends to be better about the ghosts, but if you are talking with a living human being she LOSES it

And you can tell when she’s mad and you try to sweet talk her, but if she deems you too interested you can bet things will get scary kinky later on, with or without your consent

But let’s be honest, you love that she’s this crazy over you.

One time she saw you talking to the countess and held a knife to your throat as she fucked the shit out of you

She’ll never believe you but you would die and stay with her forever if you could

And despite her crazy possessive moments, you know she could never hurt you, not really,

So you let her do it because you secretly love the thrill of it

Also it’s kind of the hottest sex ever?

Like she won’t leave you alone until you’ve cum so much you practically pass out

And she always apologizes and takes care of you after she knows for sure you’re hers.

Literally the queen of aftercare.

Audrey:

She literally gets so pouty when she’s jealous

You hate that you make her feel that way, but you also love how cute and loving she gets when she’s pouty

One time at an event you were talking with Kristen Stewart and she got so jealous

She’s a drama queen, so she made sure to mope for a little bit before she pitched a fit and ran outside in the rain

And while you were frustrated because you were just talking, you know she just cares about you a whole lot and this is scary for her.

So you ran after her and let her yell at you about how you were going to leave her for a younger woman even tho you damn well knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with her

She really just wanted her “the notebook” moment ok?

And then once she was done you just smiled at her

Which of course made her curse at you

And you just kept smiling until she ran out of things to say and finally smiled back

And she asked you what you were smiling about

“You.”

And you walked up and kissed her

Because you are more than willing to put up with her theatrics as long as she’s happy and with you

And by the end she was laughing at her hysterics.

But she still swatted at you for teasing her

And then you begged her to let you take her home and she agreed

Because there’s nowhere she would rather be than alone with you

Ally Mayfair-Richards:

Despite what happened with Ivy, Ally isn’t one to get jealous

She just thinks the whole idea is toxic, and she never mentions a word about it to you

Expect you start to notice on the nights you go with her to functions and fundraisers, she tends to get a little more attentive

Especially when you have been talking with other women

She’s always grabbing your hand and pulling you closer

And she never fails to whisper in your ear about how much she loves you

If you spend too much time talking with another senator she tends to whisper dirty things in your ear

And her top definitely comes out

She’s not the type to do anything in public, but the second you walk in the door she’s practically taking off your clothes

She’s a gentle top tho, she never does anything without your explicit permission

And she never goes too far

She just wants to make sure you know you are hers and she loves you

And you are happy to oblige

Venable:

So Venable is incredibly possessive

Partially it’s that she’s super insecure, and partially it’s that she is a top in every aspect of her life

However, you work together and she doesn’t want anyone to think you are getting special treatment, so you keep your relationship a secret

But that means that everyone thinks you are single, and at work parties you are constantly dodging weird dudes who want to get you into bed

And despite your best attempts at fighting them off, you still can’t bring yourself to just tell them to fuck off and they tend to push father than they should

And she watches you carefully, knowing your kind demeanor and inability to be mean. Really, she just wants to protect you.

So when you make eye contact with her across the room and give a pleading look, she steps in and tells them to scram for you

But sometimes you don’t look at her, and that’s when she gets jealous

And she doesn’t interrupt you, but she can’t bring herself to look away and she gets angry that she cares so much about you

And when you finally slide up and talk to her, she tends to be colder than usual

But she hates being mean to you and can’t even bring herself to look you in the eye

And you can’t help but feel like a lost puppy every time

So you usually leave the party early, and when she notices you are gone she goes after you and knocks on your apartment door

And once she sees your red rimmed eyes she caves like nobody’s business.

And that’s the only time you two ever really hug

She’s not into PDA, even in private, but she holds you for awhile and tells you she’s sorry

She won’t admit she was jealous tho until you coax it out of her slowly

And you ask her to let you show her how much you love her

After, and I can not stress this enough, soft sex that ends up real kinky

She lets you undress her and touch her back, but as soon as you try to take control she’s flipping you over and tying you up

Literally the only way you get to make her cum is if she sits on your face

Usually that happens first and then she tortures you for hours until you are begging

And despite your tears she knows you love it

Because y’all have a safe word, although it is never used

Because you trust her and honestly, she thinks that might be even more important than love for her

Because even she can admit her tastes are rather sadistic

But you’ll happily submit

She tends to be not so great at aftercare in general, but after her jealous episodes she doesn’t protest when you crawl into her arms and kiss her cheek

Because she tends to be a lot little rougher on you

You tend to go to bed earlier while she stays up and reads, so often times you end up falling asleep on her lap

And she’ll never admit it but it’s kind of her favorite thing

Like her glancing up from her book and seeing you asleep on her chest never fails to make her heart melt like a popsicle.

And when you grasp on tightly to her nightgown? She would kill for you

When she’s absolutely sure you are asleep, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers how much she loves you and how much that scares her

Also forehead kisses?

And she loves how sleepy you are when she wakes you up

Especially that little whine you make

“What Mina?”

“We need to get to sleep, little one.”

And you never fail to curl back up and pretend you didn’t hear her so she leans down to whisper in your ear lowly

“I know you heard me princess, get up before I have to punish you.”

And that never fails to make you scramble

And she always sings your praises for it as she chuckles

And suddenly she can’t remember why she ever was jealous because you are obviously infactuated with her

Going through some older paperbacks, found my 1989 copy of Queen’s Gambit Declined by Melinda M. Snodgrass, decided to reread.

It inarguably reads like a slightly older fantasy - there’s that certain Epic Fantasy Style of the 1980s, definitely not contemporary - and I don’t know if I’d say it’s good exactly (entertaining, yes! OH GOD YES) but I would highly suggest you all find a copy, just because:

I had forgotten 1) how absolutely bonkers crazy this book and the entire plot is (like...what even. WHAT EVEN. Have you ever wanted a historical fantasy (or “anti-fantasy,” as the intro calls it) in which a young William of Orange (yes, the historical one) has magical powers and fights Cardinal Mazarin to save the world while flirting with basically everyone? also there’s sex-activated magic? and like...horse shapeshifter magic?? and a Sexy Northern Swordsman? and guest appearances from the King of France, the Duke of Buckingham, and Baruch Spinoza, to name only a few? all set to a backdrop of mysticism drawn straight from Robert Graves’ The White Goddess, which also provides all the chapter opening quotes? have you ever wanted all that? WELL HERE IT IS, PLUS MORE.)

and

2) how incredibly thirstily bisexual this book is. Like...every. single. main character. is the epitome of Disaster Bi. On pretty much every page. I’ll try to take a couple of pictures of some of the best moments, but just know that this book includes:

-a meet-cute in which Haakon (the previously mentioned Sexy Northern Swordsman) tries to cheat William (the Prince) at cards, William catches him in the act, and then they are so mutually impressed by each other that they save each other from a shipwreck while doing Cute Banter over who owes who more

-ONLY ONE BED AT THE INN. WHEN THEY’VE JUST ESCAPED THE SHIPWRECK. (bonus points for, in the words of the novel: “the prince was not having a restful night.”) (extra bonus points for: the innkeeper doesn’t know who they are, but clearly, CLEARLY assumes the pretty young man and the swordsman are here to hook up.)

-everyone constantly, repeatedly, notices a) how pretty William’s eyes are, and b) how attractive his personal pages/attendants are, especially “sweet Hans”

-”You’re not a prince, you’re a brat.” (paired with, “You are an uncouth northern barbarian!”) (also: “I’ve never taken orders well.”) (and also: “...perhaps it is of benefit to me that I’ve fallen in with a man of your experience.”)

-the whole chair thing! (paraphrasing: ”They didn‘t get you a nice chair befitting your prince’s rank at the fancy banquet table. That’s an insult.” “Don’t worry about it--” “I’m getting you a chair.” *Haakon walks off, comes back with the actual king’s chair* “You deserve this one.”)

-”You interrupted me for THAT?!” “You didn’t have to listen!”

-Father Armand: “so...William...was raised in a very...male household...and His Highness...enjoys a good deal of private time in the company of handsome soldiers...”

-to emphasize the bi, not just gay: William’s totally having sex with Sagitta (the woman who’s his magical tutor), but he’s SUPER-CONFLICTED about it, and so is she, because she’s not supposed to fall for him, and also she has Secret Motivations as far as serving the cause of magic (bonus points: he was a virgin before that) (extra bonus points: the moment when she’s all, “Haakon doesn’t need to be here for this one thing we’re doing, he can’t do magic!” and William straight-up says, “I think this has more to do with jealousy than sound magical advice.”)

-that time all THREE of them share a bed! ...at first just like...super-casually, like, sure, we’re all just going to flop into a cuddle-pile in William’s giant bed and talk strategy...and then Haakon gets up to go, because he’s perfectly aware that William and Sagitta have a weird sex-magic thing going on, and William says, “No, stay, I feel safer with you here,” and Haakon, with no hesitation, dives right back into bed and, to quote, “drew the prince into his arms”

-”I worked hard for this rain. Don’t be ungrateful.”

-the approximately five hundred times William does something reckless and magical and gets hurt and/or captured, and Haakon’s thought process goes something like, “dammit not AGAIN, why am I still taking care of you, OH HELL I CAN’T EVER ABANDON YOU, I SHALL RESCUE YOU AND CARRY YOU TO SAFETY”

-they RESCUE A BABY. William wants to be a father someday.

-William, to Haakon: ”Sagitta’s finding a bedroom for us. Meet us there.”

-at various points they ALL do the “Go, save yourself, leave me!” and “I’m not leaving you!” moment

-”Do you also, perhaps, like me just a little for my own sake?” (William’s answer to this is, “Oh, Haakon, can you doubt it? I love thee well.” to which Haakon says, “Just wanted to hear it.”)

-(I should point out that it doesn’t quite get to a happy polyamory ending because there’s a specific thing that happens to Sagitta that’s...let’s see, trying to avoid spoilers...a kind of punishment for some of her choices...but it’s fairly ambiguous, and William still has magic, so like...there’s totally room to come up with a new head-canon that brings her back to William and Haakon, who ARE both very much alive and together at the end and still doing Cute Banter)

-(some possibly problematic bits: William and Sagitta sleeping together could come across as a bit uncomfortable because she’s the one teaching him, er, magic that includes sex magic and he’s a virgin when they start, but they’re roughly the same age (as far as one can guess her age, since she’s magical, but she’s physically a young woman) and he does totally consent, like, he’s definitely up for it! and he’s twenty years old, so he can consent as far as being of age and all, but just fyi about weird power dynamics; also, some general period-typical Church-related homophobia - like, even someone raising the possibility that William likes handsome soldiers makes some Church Fathers etc shiver - and also that one super-weird moment when it feels a lot like...William deliberately sort of...flirts with his uncle??? to get his uncle to send a letter on their behalf? like, the text literally mentions his fluttering eyelashes over soft eyes and a gaze of admiration, and then his uncle Charles caresses William’s cheek, and says, “Flatterer, you look like your mother, and I loved her, you know,” and then agrees to send the letter? and then the plot moves on, but that’s...yep, that’s a thing that happens in this book.)

2020 Fic Meme

It happens every year like clockwork. The Fic Round-Up Meme. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it this year because I’ve written so much. As usual, compiled from ancient Livejournal fic memes. I like doing it as kind of a time capsule of my writing. If anyone else wants to take a crack, feel free. I love reading writers’ throughs on their own work. <3 No tagging because that is PRESSURE. 

Twilight

12 Days of Fic-Mas (Twilight, WIP) Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 + Christmas Eve Twelve days of fic extracts, previews, and drabbles focusing on Alice Cullen and Jess/Jasper Hale: Anathema, the KidFic, Married in Vegas, Daemons, Memento Vivere, Human Alice Kills James, Jess and Alice do Prom, Forgotten, Vampires in Vegas, Shadow to Light Missing Scene, Hybrid, Cowboys and Angel Solstice, and All These Broken Things

Afterglow (Alice/Jasper, AU, Romance, G)  There were three things of which she was certain. The first was that her name was Alice. The second was that she was born an angel. And three, she was getting ready to die.

Against a Wall (Alice/Jasper, Human/Vampire AU, Romance, Angst, PG) If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.      

And Found (Alice/Jasper, Soulmark AU, Romance, PG) The soul mark appears when Alice is six. It is a twisted ribbon of a mark, from the inside of her left elbow, up her arm, over her shoulder, along her clavicle, over her right shoulder and down to her right wrist. What ugly, soulless individual could inspire such a mark?

Jar of Hearts Pt 1 Pt 2 (WIP) (Alice, Emmett, Seth, MCU xover, Angst, PG) The snap came for everyone - “He said he’d never leave me,” she says in a wobbly voice. “He promised me.”“It wasn’t by choice,” Emmett rushes to tell her. “You were his last thought; he tried so hard to get home before he…”

Never a Question (Alice/Jasper, AU, Angst, G)  Carlisle is quite sure that he’s watching his son’s heart break into a million pieces as he stares at his human mate, slowly dying alone, not a single person allowed to hold her hand.

Hand in Hand (Alice/Jasper, AU, Fluff, G)  “Never,” he swears, pressing a kiss to her cheek that makes her beam -  “There’s not a single moment I can think of that cannot be improved by your presence, darlin’.”

Love & Duty (Alice/Jasper, AU, Romance, G)  A trainee witch is sent to treat a wounded cowboy from her brother coven. 

Shadow to Light (WIP) (Alice/Jasper, AU Angst, PG) In 1918, Jasper lures the newborn known as Mary-Alice back to Monterrey. He is lost to her before it even begins. (Ch 6-8)

The Way of Things (Alice/Jasper, AU, Drama, M)  She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust. 

What You Say (Alice/Jessamine, Canon, Angst, M)  Edward might have thought Aro was their reckoning, but Alice knows for her, it is Jessamine’s hurt.

Total number of completed stories: ELEVEN. 

Total word count: 90,155 words were formally posted - not including snippets, previews (aside from FicMas) or anything that was shared on the Discord server. 

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? I fucking nailed it. Like, seriously. THREE chapters of Shadow to Light? Every single day of JaliceWeek AND FicMas? I mean, I think the lockdown definitely helped with free time, and not going to lie, the iOS shutdown of Fortnite probably assisted my productivity. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? The Discord has so much to answer for. I wrote porn. Like, what. What. What. What. I find this bizarre and did not have ‘let’s just go full NC17 in 2020′ on my bingo card, but it happened. In fact, 2019 Lexie has just gone full spit-take and yelled, “WHAT?!” at the top of her lungs. 

And to make it more surprising, it’s both het and f/f porn. Like, mind-blown. Who am I anymore?

What’s your own favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? The Way of Things, What You Say, And Found, & Afterglow. All fics that came together really well, that felt like *me*, and had hopeful endings. I’m really proud of them. 

STL doesn’t get an opportunity to be apart of this til it’s finished. 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? The porn. 

Apparently, I can write it. Who knew? 

I definitely threw caution to the wind with JaliceWeek and just went for whatever crossed my mind and stopped worrying so much. Like, whatever, this is what I want to write so I will. I mean, the MCU crossover is happening in a slightly more obscure way than I initially envisaged it, it’s definitely a better fic for it.

I joined the Discord, and that’s been amazing. I’ve spent my last few fandoms existing in kind of a vacuum because of bad experiences and the fact I’m usually doing something niche, so having people to talk to who are so nice and welcoming and are happy to ignore my special brand of obnoxiousness is so lovely and has had such a good affect on my mental health. Sometimes you need people you can be your dorkiest self with. 

My instincts are pretty good as far as fic goes, people are awesome, and I can write sex scenes. It’s been a learning curve, let me tell you that. 

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?  I have to balance grad school, my business, and my writing, so that’s going to be interesting. I think I need to look at my fic more as downtime than a high-stress ‘job’ because I LOVE writing it. I love writing. I love reading. But I get in my own head and overthink. So my goals are BALANCE and RELAX. 

My best story of this year: Oh man, that’s not something I can judge. I am so incredibly proud of how Afterglow, And Found, and The Way of Things turned out. Especially considering I was so behind with JaliceWeek, and I think I was putting out a fic a day, and freaking out because I was lacking ideas, so when these three just came together exactly how I wanted them, it was a good moment. 

My most popular story: Shadow to Light. Look, if that’s my legacy to fandom, I’ve done pretty damn well. I’m really, really appreciative of how enthusiastic people are about this ‘verse. I don’t always understand it, because I can see how my writing has changed and how the story has evolved massively (first it was supposed to be a one-shot, then five chapters.) I hope that it ends up being satisfying for everyone because I have LOVED writing it, even if I am slower than molasses. 

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Everyone is always so damn enthusiastic about my writing. I think maybe Hybrid is kind of a big question mark for everyone at the moment because there are so many questions and no answers yet. 

And any of the Jessamine/Alice. That’s a new niche, I get not everyone is into it. But it’s happening and will continue into 2020.

Most fun story to write:  What You Say or Jess and Alice at Prom. Jess is a little snarkier than Jasper, less controlled, and the girls are super fun to write, even high-tension scenes. 

Most Sexy Story: Oh, I can answer this now! Um, maybe The Way of Things or Jess and Alice at Prom? Yup, those are my picks. 

Story with the single sexiest moment:  The Way of Things. This happened before the Discord Intervention, and I’m genuinely not sure if I’m happy with the end of the Prom fic, so it might be reworked slightly in the future. But The Way of Things I was really happy with because it covered so many ideas I had in a way that fit together well. 

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from aeons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach. 

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: I think I restrained myself from anything too dark or twisted this year, actually. Oh, wait, Vampires in Vegas. That one has some pretty dark implications about Alice’s life, about the vampire underworld, and Jasper’s behaviour, especially as it goes one. No fic that deals with someone being put into sex work without educated consent is going to avoid being dark, and I think it’s logical that vampires would have their hands in a lot of illegal yet profitable areas. 

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: Anything with Jessamine/Alice because, like, Jess isn’t a name-swap of Jasper, and the relationship dynamic shifts with the slight personality shifts. And then you have to consider the family and social dynamic of two women in the relationship, so working all that out was fun. 

Jar of Hearts is another one, because I had to work out who the fic was going to follow and what was lost. And Emmett and Alice pretty much don’t interact in canon, but they were chosen for a reason. I’ve stripped them down to their worst, most isolated selves without their ‘true north’ (Rose and Jasper) or their moral center (Carlisle and Esme), or even their secret weapon (Edward). Seth, too, has been isolated from his family and friends, and is especially ‘other’ in this situation. This is an MCU crossover, so we’re kind of following a heroes’ journey with the last of Forks’ supernatural creatures.

Hardest story to write: Shadow to Light because of the way I have to use language, because of the plot strands from canon when I hate writing canon material, and how the characters have changed and how this new version reflects the old version. 

Against a Wall, as well, because of the in-verse time crunch I had - I needed Jasper damaged, military-minded, and changed by age 19. And I needed the boy broken. I’m happy with it, the story is done and dusted, but it didn’t quite turn out how I planned. And that’s okay, because I like this version. But I think I tackled something a lot bigger than I anticipated with it. 

Most disappointing:  Look, I love the verse and the set-up, but I think Love & Duty could do with another 2k words for build-up. I just ran out of time, honestly, to build up that mutual attraction between Alice and Jasper. 

Easiest story to write: Anathema, because Alice’s voice was so clear in it. Anathema!Alice knows exactly who she is, and that’s always fun. And the Shadow to Light Missing Scene; it wasn’t as long as I hoped, but it turned out exactly as I imagined it happening. 

Biggest surprise:  Everyone really, really liked Forgotten. And Vampires in Vegas, which I honestly thought were the weakest offerings during FicMas. 

Most unintentionally telling story:  The Way of Things. There’s so little dialogue, and it’s covering such a massive amount of time and story that it’s intentionally written to tell. 

Story I’d like to revise: Love & Duty, and Married in Vegas. A little polish, a little shine, it’s fine. For Love & Duty, it’s definitely the time crunch I need to go back and fix; for Married in Vegas, it’s just reflective of how long ago I started it. I’m a better writer, I know the characters more, and I’m less prone to overly dramatic plot twists. 

Story I didn’t write but will at some point, I swear: Look, let me lay the groundwork now so that no one who isn’t on the Discord isn’t startled. 

There’s going to be a Jess/Jasper/Alice threesome fic, and I regret nothing. 

I really, really want to get All These Broken Things redone and posted because it’s getting silly how long it’s just been sitting there. 

I want to actually write Monster, which is a fic I don’t talk about much but I want to write. It’s a question about who the monster of the story is, and I’m not sure I’m as skilled as I should be, to write it, but I want to try. 

And one of my numerous attempts at a Haunted House Cryptid fic. It has to happen, I have so many ideas!

TOP 25 BOOKMARKS of 2019

See also: Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

Hey guys! 

Since this is the last Fic Rec Sunday of the year, I’m going to give y’all the list of my favourite fics that I’ve read this year! I think this is a great way to end off the year, by letting y’all know what I thoroughly enjoyed reading while on my seemingly-never-ending quest to rec you guys the stuff y’all should read! <3 

And of course, I am reducing it to a small list or I will NEVER finish reccing fics because everything I’ve read this year have been fantastic, but these are the ones I’ve found myself going back to a couple times already :)

Hope y’all enjoy! 

------

JOHNLOCK BOOKMARKS

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

GOOD OMENS

you can dance in a hurricane, but only if you're standing in the eye by be_brave13 (G, 1,456 w., 1 Ch. || Non-Linear Narrative, Light Angst, 6000 Years of Pining / Slow Burn, POV Crowley, 5 and Ones, Idiots in Love, Song Fic) – 5 times Crowley knew he loved Aziraphale and the 1 time he knew Aziraphale loved him back (romantically).

Where Heaven Begins by sussexbound (M, 2,515 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Crowley, Soft Idiots, Emotional Love Making, Hurt/Comfort, Crowley Has Healing Powers, Kissing, Bed Sharing, Crowley POV) – Aziraphale bleeds. Is bleeding. He’s wearing human skin, after all.

In the (Second) Beginning by cherryfeather (M, 2,661 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Confessions, Soft Crowley, POV Aziraphale, Post-Canon, First Kiss, Wings) – Aziraphale realizes that Crowley's been saying something rather loudly for a week.

The Picnic; or, the Drawbacks of Loving an Angel by sorrowfulcheese (G, 3,776 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Apocalypse/Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Misunderstandings, Moving On, Picnicking, Idiots in Love, Crowley POV, Cranky Crowley, Mutual Pining, Light Angst with Happy Ending) – Aziraphale lures Crowley out for a picnic. It doesn't go remarkably well.

The slowest moving object in the universe by chamyl (G, 4,996 w., 1 Ch. || God POV, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Beach Day, Games, Light Humour, Tenderness, Embarassed Crowley, Soft Idiots, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Crowley and Aziraphale have had feelings for each other for a very long time. It takes a date at the lake and a round of 36 Questions That Lead To Love to give them the final push.

a garden all their own by leaveanote (T, 5,436 w., 1 Ch. || Post Canon, POV Crowley, Emotional Turmoil, Aziraphale Takes Care of Crowley, Crying, Nightmares, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Heart Wrenching Pining, Pining Crowley, Wings, Tired Crowley, Romance, Healing, Massage, Light Angst with Happy Ending) – The aftermath. An exhaustion deeper than body. A secret too heavy to carry when when grief burned so close. Crowley has to tell him. "What am I to you?" A saving thing, an agony, a binary star, tenderness, an unhealed wound, a home, a home, a garden. Come to me, we'll heal together.

i want to hold your hand (goddammit) by PersephonesReign (E, 7,695 w., 5 Ch. || Crowley POV, Pining Crowley, Emotional Turmoil, Slow Burn, Soft Crowley, Angst and Fluff, Love Confessions, Nervous / Anxious Crowley, First Kiss/Time, URT, Wing Kink, Anal, Top Aziraphale / Bottom Crowley, Hand Holding) – Crowley just wants to hold Aziraphale's hand. What's so difficult about that?

A Brief History of Touch by chamyl (E, 11,849 w., 1 Ch. || Moments in Time, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Mutual Pining, Romance, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Almost Kiss, Touch-Starved Crowley, Angst With Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Blow Jobs, Emotional Love Making, Friends to Lovers, Body Worship, Promise of Forever With a Ring) – Six thousand years of pining, stolen glances, almost-touches, plummeting towards the inevitable end.

The Nice and Accurate Love Story of A. J. Crowley and A. Z. Fell by SealandRocks (E, 16,353 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Crowley, Implied Mutual Pining, Emotional Love Making, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Crowley, Jealous Crowley, Crowley’s Plants, Kissing as Healing, Moments in Time, The Arrangement, Love Confessions, Bottom Crowley, Gentle Aziraphale, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Crowley is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss/Time, Anal Sex / Fingering, Wings / Wing Kink, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Kissing in the Rain, Symbolism, Historical References) – Crowley and Aziraphale have been dancing around each other since the beginning. From Eden to London, it eventually becomes very hard to avoid the only other immortal around. And after so many centuries, having a physically body becomes a bit uncomfortable. Crowley is left to wonder what it is about Aziraphale that helps ease the ache in his soul. It would only take him 6000 years to figure out that it was rooted in something deeper all along. Part 1 of Love Stories for the Oblivious

Any Way You Want It by LieutenantLiv (M, 27,585 w., 5 Ch. || Holidays, Slow Burn, Fluff, First Time, Eventual Smut, Swimming, Dreams of Dancing, Kissing in the Rain, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Crying Love Confessions, Soft Crowley, Clingy Crowley, Virgin Aziraphale, Romance) – Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.Who'd have thought that sharing a cottage in Scotland would be quite so romantic?