#Fire Force S2

[firefly464]

Two souls. Both given a second chance. Both waiting for a third.

Some bonus versions under the cut :D

also shoutout to @fishcop for listening to me ramble about this idea and then showing up with a beautiful drawing like. an hour later :D

[everth1ne]

Wallpapers

[rinhaler]

i want him so so bad btw

[ragnarssons]

people on twitter are fcking wild, spreading rumors about actors and all, like y’all need to stop “oh yeah people were purposely mean to pedro pascal on the set of the mandalorian” “oh yeah timothy olyphant totally bullied pedro on set” like pretending that some crew guy put a wooden thing outside his trailer so that he’d trip, and break his nose?? (source: “oh trust me i have a source i can’t name but i have a source”) are y’all alright?? i swear to god, people on there should be sued for all the defamation they spew on the daily, it’s actually ridiculous.

[fivekrystalpetals]

WOW can't believe I finished Fire Force manga in like 4 hours,,, like sat down and binged an entire manga!! A first for me lmao but again, to my defense, most of the pages were filled with fight sequence which is a quick skip-skip-skip-*gotta wait for the anime to understand these*-skip-skip for me in general

well, in spite of the slightly wonky-shaky lore and slightly repetitive fights towards the end, I enjoyed the story a lot more than I expected. I more or less speed-read through this because I wanted to know where all this madness came to a head rather than trying to piece together the story by myself.

aannnd well, that sure was a ride.

totally recommend the manga for a one-time binge-read—it has easy to follow lore, arcs which smoothly flow into the next, very lovable characters and fantasy abilities and super creative ‘physics’ all based on fire—I think treating it as a standalone (and not as a prequel to Soul Eater) endeared the characters more to me

[evilpenguinrika]

i think after i finish Demon Slayer s4, I'll start watching HunterxHunter

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#the people upset about Criston being Dornish are constantly stating Dorne is white so why does it really matter? (via @thewitchqueenofharrenhal)

i say ‘i’d love to know why’ but i know the reason people on twitter are actually weird about criston being dornish is that they view media in terms of overwatch diversity points and the team with more overwatch diversity points is morally superior. same as the alicent wasn’t a child bride argument it’s a concern to concede like. abused(5points) woman(3points) dornish(7points) lowborn(6points) because, if diversity is morally weighted, that would imply you think the greens are morally defensible or even superior to rhaenyra. leading to this bizarre refusal to acknowledge these morally neutral traits characters have. anyway clubfoot(10points) so unfortunately larys still 🔛🔝

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Shattered Silence

Jayce Talis x reader

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2 , not connected to any canon plot

Prompt: An enemies to lovers story; “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Notes: I KNOW some people are absolutely hating this man now but I had this sitting in my notes app and just need to set it free. I hope there aren’t any mistakes , but once again it’s been written in my notes app-

Part 2

Jayce Talis was no stranger to the silence of late nights in the lab. The rhythmic hum of Hextech crystals, the faint flicker of blue light against metal, and the steady scratch of pen against paper were his constant companions. Tonight, like so many nights before, he found himself hunched over blueprints, mind locked in the methodical process of refining designs. It was easier to work late when there were no interruptions, no voices cutting through the quiet—especially not yours.

Jayce had never met someone more infuriating than you.

You were brilliant, there was no question about that. Your intellect had earned you a coveted place alongside him on one of Piltover’s most ambitious projects. But from the moment you two had started working together, it had been like throwing oil onto a flame. You clashed on nearly everything. You were methodical, calculated—always challenging his more instinctive, risk-taking approaches.

“I don’t see why you can’t grasp that stabilizing the core will reduce its volatility,” you had said during one of your many arguments.

“And I don’t see why you insist on slowing down innovation for the sake of caution!” Jayce had shot back.

The entire lab had been forced to endure your bickering. And it wasn’t just the disagreements over schematics that drove the wedge deeper. It was the way you two refused to back down, constantly pushing and challenging each other.

Jayce had always prided himself on being the best. He’d been driven by that mindset ever since he was a child, determined to prove himself worthy of his place in Piltover’s elite society. But you? You were a different kind of competitor. You weren’t driven by arrogance, as he had first assumed, but by a fierce need to prove yourself. You didn’t have his connections, didn’t have the same privileges. You’d clawed your way up through sheer talent and hard work, and you weren’t about to let anyone—even Jayce Talis—make you feel like you didn’t belong.

That realization had hit Jayce like a punch to the gut one night, weeks ago, after one particularly nasty fight.

** flashback a few weeks ago**

“I swear, if you could just stop bulldozing over my ideas for one second, you’d realize we’re trying to solve the same problem!” you snapped, slamming your notebook down on the lab bench. The room was empty save for the two of you, the other engineers having wisely fled after the first thirty minutes of bickering.

Jayce glared at you, jaw tight. “I’m not bulldozing—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was sharp, a warning edge in your tone. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you’re not dismissing everything I say just because you think you know better.”

Jayce’s fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect you; he did. But you constantly pushed him in ways that no one else did, constantly questioned him, and it made his blood boil. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this. Not by someone like you.

“Maybe if you’d explain your ideas instead of acting like you’re the only person in the room with a brain—” he bit out, stepping closer to you, his frustration bleeding into every word.

You met his gaze without flinching, that fire in your eyes blazing hotter than ever. “Maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, you’d actually hear what I’m saying!”

Jayce had taken a breath to fire back another retort, but then he’d seen something flicker in your expression. For just a moment, the anger cracked, and there was something else underneath. Hurt, maybe. Vulnerability. It was fleeting, but it was there.

He didn’t say anything, and you had turned away, picking up your notebook with a quiet sigh. “Forget it,” you muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll just rework the damn equations on my own.”

Jayce had watched you go, something unfamiliar twisting in his chest. He’d thought about going after you, maybe saying something—anything—to defuse the tension. But his pride had held him back, and instead, he had let you leave.

That had been the first time Jayce had realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t angry with you because you were wrong. Maybe he was angry because you were right, and he hated that someone could challenge him the way you did.

From then on, the tension between you two had only grown. Arguments became sharper, filled with undercurrents neither of you acknowledged. He could see the way others noticed it, the way their eyes darted between you and him whenever a heated discussion threatened to boil over. They weren’t just seeing two colleagues who couldn’t get along. They were seeing the thin line between rivalry and something else.

But that something else was dangerous. It was a fire neither of you were ready to touch.

**end of flashback**

Tonight, Jayce had resigned himself to another long night in the lab, the familiar hum of Hextech energy his only company. That was, until the door burst open with a force that made him jump.

His irritation was immediate. Of course, it would be you, barging in without a second thought. “If you’re here to argue about the core stabilizer again, I’m not in the mood,” Jayce muttered, not even looking up as he continued scribbling on his blueprints.

But then there was silence. No sharp retort. No biting comment.

Frowning, Jayce glanced up—and almost immediately his stomach dropped.

You stood frozen in the doorway, but you weren’t your usual fiery self. Your hair was disheveled, the neat, professional attire you always wore was wrinkled and disordered, as if you had thrown it on in a rush or hadn’t cared enough to fix it and your face... your face was pale, eyes wide and rimmed with unshed tears. Something had happened.

“I... I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking in a way so unfamiliar to Jayce’s ears that it almost made him flinch.

“What—” Jayce’s brain stuttered, not understanding, confusion and concern flooding his senses all at once. He had never seen you like this—vulnerable, shaken. You were always the one with sharp retorts, the one who could throw him off balance with a single glance. And now? Now you were standing in front of him, broken, and he didn’t know what to do. But when he turned fully to face you and noticed the sheer panic in your expression, all of his irritation, all of the snide comments he had prepared, dissolved instantly. “What happened?”

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, standing in front of you, his hands hovering just above your arms as if unsure whether to touch you, whether you’d let him.

“They—” you started, then choked on the words, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, hands trembling at your sides. “Someone broke into my apartment. I—I don’t know what they were after. They tore everything apart, Jayce. All of it. All my work... it’s gone.”

Hearing the sheer devastation in your voice, Jayce felt a surge of protectiveness swell inside him, his heart pounding as he imagined the scene. The thought of someone invading your space, of you coming home to find it destroyed... it made his blood boil.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked urgently, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.

You shook your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself together. “No, I—I wasn’t there when it happened. But... everything was trashed. My work, my research, everything. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go back.”

Jayce felt a knot tighten in his chest. You—this person who was always so strong, always so put-together—looked like you were on the verge of breaking. And the fact that you had come to him, him , in this moment of vulnerability left him stunned.

Without thinking, he reached out, pulling you into his arms in a motion that was both instinctive and desperate. You stiffened at first, as if the idea of seeking comfort from him was the last thing you’d ever considered. But something inside you broke the moment his arms wrapped around you, and you let yourself sag against him, your hands clinging desperately to the fabric of his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Jayce tightened his hold, one hand resting on the back of your head as he cradled you against his chest, the other pressing firmly against the small of your back. He rested his chin atop your head, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. “I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

Jayce could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface as he thought about what had happened to you. His hand that rested on your back clenched into a fist as he imagined someone rifling through your things, invading your space, and leaving you terrified. Jayce’s anger surged, hot and violent, but he forced it down, knowing that what you needed right now wasn’t fury.

It was comfort.

You sniffled against him, your breath hitching as you tried to calm yourself, and his fist slowly unclenched, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your back. He hadn’t realized until now how familiar you felt in his arms, how right it felt to hold you.

For all the biting words and harsh glances the two of you usually shared, this moment was startlingly soft, intimate in a way that left him feeling raw.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t say anything, but you leaned into him more, your face pressed against his chest, your body shaking as you let out a soft sob. The sound of it cracked something inside Jayce, and he found himself holding you even tighter, as if trying to shield you from everything that had happened.

When you finally pulled back slightly, you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, and Jayce’s heart ached at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Why did you come here?” he asked softly. It wasn’t accusatory—it was genuine curiosity. After all the arguments, the tension, he hadn’t expected you to seek him out in a moment like this. You let out a small, humorless laugh, your voice still trembling. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess... I guess because I knew you’d be here. And... you’re the only one who understands.”

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. You were right. Despite all the arguments, all the bickering, you and Jayce did understand each other. You were alike in so many ways—both of you driven, both of you fighting to prove something, both of you carrying more weight on your shoulders than you let anyone see.

“I’m glad you came,” he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

A few hours later the lab was quieter, save for the steady scratching of Jayce's pen as he continued to make adjustments to the prototype in front of him. The tension that had once filled the room seemed to have settled, softened by the rawness of the earlier moments. You sat on the edge of his desk, your legs swinging slightly as you watched him work, the weight of what had happened still heavy on your shoulders.

Jayce had been focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled out a few final equations. But every so often, his eyes would flicker up to you, checking if you were still there, still okay. The silence between you was no longer strained or uncomfortable; it felt like an unspoken understanding that neither of you was ready to address fully yet. It was comfortable... for now.

Still, Jayce couldn’t ignore the way you were sitting there, curled inward as if the weight of the night hadn't lifted. The quiet vulnerability that had cracked through your usual armor made something stir in him. And as much as he tried to focus on his work, he couldn't shake the need to do something more for you.

Without saying a word, Jayce rose from his chair, his footsteps soft as he approached you. His mind raced—he wanted to offer more than just reassurances, wanted to do something that would make you feel *better*, something that would let you know that you weren’t alone in this. But what could he do?

Without overthinking it, he took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

The gesture was simple, but it felt significant. The warmth of the fabric enveloped you, and for a moment, you were taken aback. Your eyes lifted to meet his, surprise flickering across your face.

“It’s cold in here,” Jayce said, his voice softer than you had heard it all night. There was no bravado, no teasing edge like before—only sincerity. “You should stay warm.”

You didn’t know how to respond to the unexpected kindness, especially from someone who had always been so frustratingly distant. You had been expecting everything but this. His jacket was heavy, comforting, and as you tugged it around your shoulders, you found yourself grateful, even though you didn’t quite understand why.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was something different in your tone now, a softness, something you hadn’t let him see before. You had always been so sharp, so quick to hide any hint of vulnerability. But in this moment, with his jacket around you and his unexpected kindness lingering between you, it felt harder to keep up that armor.

Jayce watched you closely, his eyes softening as you adjusted the jacket. "I mean it," he said gently. "You don’t have to go through this alone. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

You nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around you. It wasn’t just the warmth of the fabric that calmed you—it was the understanding in his voice, the quiet way he was trying to reassure you without making you feel like a burden. The connection between you, so fraught with tension and arguments, felt... different now. Maybe it was because of everything that had happened, or maybe it was because you could finally see a side of Jayce that hadn’t been so guarded.

For the first time, there was no bickering, no cutting remarks, just the two of you in the quiet of the lab, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t come here,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady. Jayce gave a small, knowing smile, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a step back. “I’m glad you feel safe enough to trust me with this.” he said , voice sincere.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You didn’t know where things would go from here, whether the fragile peace between you would last. But for now, in this moment, it was enough.

[spacerockfloater]

Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.

I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.

First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.

That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.

By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.

Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?

[alastor-simp]

Get Radio-Jinxed!- Alastor Reacts To Jinx Reader

❥Summary- A new addition has arrived to the hotel, catching Alastor's attention. He finds them highly entertaining despite the "explosive" tendencies that they have.

❥Tags- Alastor x Jinx Reader, Jinx, Arcane, Alastor x Jinx, Some spoilers of Arcane S1 and S2.

❥Notes- I have finally finished the Arcane series and OMG I LOVE JINX SO MUCH. I decided to do an Alastor x Jinx Reader because I wanted to experience how would Alastor interact or respond to a character like Jinx so here we go! Enjoy!

❥Credit- Divider by @the-voice-beckons-below

💙Alastor didn't know what to make of you when you entered through the doors of the hotel. Your form was shrouded by a black cloak, but he was able to make out your sky blue hair and shimmering violet eyes. "Hmm what have we here? A sweet little blue bird has decided to join our establishment?" Bending down, Alastor comes close to your face, hoping to get some sort of reaction from you.

🩷The stone cold gaze you threw back at him manage to stun him a bit, before the frown plastered on your face turned into a smirk. "Huh, so your the radio bozo that everyone yaps about in the streets. I expected you to be a tad more intimidating, but ya look like an overdressed Bambi." The smile etched onto Al's face twitched, clearly realizing that this little bluebird had a feisty side to them. "I can assure you this "bozo" in front of you could rip you apart, limb from limb," His fangs sharpened, as a eerie glow began to emanate from his body, powers leaking out.

💙A brunt object had pressed against Alastor's stomach, forcing him to look down, seeing an odd-looking gun pointed directly at his abdomen. "Well, this little "bluebird" can blast so many holes into ya that you'll look like swiss cheese. Wanna test it out?" The both of you continued the stare off until Charlie grabbed you, slowly pushing you away to avoid a brawl. Well it was clear that the two of you disliked each other after that incident, resulting in a few clapback fights between the both of you. Alastor detested how direct to the point your insults were towards him, making it very difficult for him to control his temper, but he promised dear Charlie that he wouldn't harm any of the guests at the hotel.

🩷The relationship did take a turn one day. Alastor was performing his usual walk around the hallways when he hear the sound of a loud smash coming from one of the rooms. Teleporting to the sound, he discovered that sound was caused by you, having smashed the mirror. He found you curled on the ground, hands placed against your ears, appearing so small that it soften his heart a bit. "Having another one of your temper tantrums again, little bluebird?" He snarked out, preparing for you to fire back at him. "St-stop." That wasn't the response he was expecting resulting in him to tilt his head at you. "Stop what?" Alastor questioned, crimson eyes filled with concern once he noticed the tears on your face. "The voices....make them go away. Th..they never stop...always whispering in my ear. Please..make them stop."

💙Al was still unclear what you meant by voices, were you cursed by someone perhaps? Either way, he couldn't bear to leave you in this sorry state. Snapping his fingers, the both of you were transported into his bayou dimension room. He figured the tranquility here would be enough to drown out whatever voices that were pestering you. His shadow also turned on the record player, soft jazz music flowing throughout the room.

🩷Getting on his knees, he placed his hands on top of yours, as they were still covering your ears. "My dear, there is no need to worry now. No voices will be able to enter my domain." Slowly but surely, the hands that clawed at your ears were pulled away, the whispering voices finally disappearing. Pink eyes gazed around the room, taking in all of the nature and peaceful ambiance, leaving you speechless. Al opened his mouth to say something, but closed it upon seeing the shine in your eyes.

💙You avoided him, sparking some annoyance from him. He went out of his way to help you with your voice problem and this is what he gets? It irked him, claws digging into the chair he was sitting on, causing some of the cushioning to rip. His irritated behavior was very easy to spot from the other residents, hinting that it be best to avoid him for the time being. "Hey." A soft voice spoke next to Al, snapping him out of his thoughts, head turning to see you standing, hands behind your back. "Come out of hiding, have we?" Alastor's smile had grew, showing off his large teeth, as he noticed your shy nature.

🩷 Normally you would insult him, but this time you presented him with a radio? Removing the object from behind your back, you revealed a small radio to him, resembling the one that got destroyed from the last extermination. Handing it to him, you looked away, fingers twirling your blue braids. "Never tinkered with something this ancient before, so it took a while to get all the parts working. Figured it was a way to thank ya for.....ya know." Alastor continued to look at you, eyes widen in awe. You did this for him? It made his black heart soften.

💙 "Why thank you, little bluebird! I must say, you have a real knack for this." Lips drew into a soft smile, as the radio in his hand had vanished, having been teleported into his room. "Jinx," you muttered out, earning a head tilt from the red man in front of you. "Jinx?" Alastor repeated, confused at what you said. "Yup that's me. That's my name. Don't wear it out, deer man." You said, rolling your eyes at him, as you walked away, going back to hide in your room. Well well, the little bluebird has a name, Al thought to himself, smiling even wider.

🩷It was nice to see that the two of you weren't butting heads anymore, the both of you could actually manage to stay in a room together without causing Charlie to worry. Alastor greatly admired your talent at inventing, especially weapons. He never heard of "Hextech" before, but he preferred it more to the so-called Vox tech that his rival created. You even offered to fiddle with his microphone, which he refused, "Come on! I ain't gonna break the thing. Just wanna add some things here and there to it." Grabby hands aimed for his staff, which he held out of your reach. "No thank you, my dear. I like my staff the way it is, thank you." Groaning, you placed your hands on your hips, "Jeez! You're such an old man." Scoffing at you, Alastor twirled his microphone staff, while giving you a playful glare. "I may be from the 1900s, but I'm not an old man, little blue bird." Chuckling, the violet eyes of yours did a roll, "Fine, then you're an old deer." Only response you got from Al was a small chuckle, giving your forehead a small flick, before he disappeared.

💙This was the Jinx that Al had gotten to know better, he hadn't seen the Jinx that roamed the streets of hell, and boy were you a spectacle to watch. The quickness of your moves outmatched your opponents, and not only that, you were a very good shot. The weapons you yielded either left your victims with holes through their heads or parts of themselves being blown up from your chomper bombs. Quite impressive. He wouldn't mind you joining him during one of his hunts, as your fighting skills would be greatly appreciated.

🩷 His radio tower was your safe haven during one of your "episodes." The past always came back to haunt you, visions of your trauma taunting you wherever you looked. Al was always present in his tower when they occurred, his presence being enough to get you through them. He knew that you had a bit of an aversion to physical touch like him, so he chose just to sit next to you, then wrapping his arms around you or holding your hand. He heard you mention some names like "Vi" and "Vander," but he never questioned you.

💙The episode finally ended, making you extremely tired, resulting in your head falling on to Al's lap, causing a radio screech to sound out. Alastor raised his hands up in the air, not expecting you to drift off so quickly, and on his lap as well. The feelings of unease he felt was prickling at his back, yet they quickly went away as he calmed down, trying to get use to the sensation of you touching him. His crimson eyes caused at you, laughing a bit at the little snore that came out of your mouth. His gaze started to focus on your long blue braids, grasping on of them in his hands, wrapping the softness in his fingers. He never was a fan of blue, but he slowly came to admire it a bit when he was with you. His shadow had emerged from the ground, teasing him by making heart shapes in his eyes, which Alastor ignored, shooing the entity away. His shadow left, leaving just you and Alastor alone, as Alastor continued to play with your hair as you continued to doze off.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

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[mymitochondriaforpresident]

“And the winner, for Best Performance With A Hot Dog (Drama) is….”

Via Most.

[dalliancekay]

Bandstand and Final 15

If S1 ended with the bandstand argument, I bet we'd have the same situation we have with S2, people blaming Aziraphale and calling him cruel and unreasonable for not wanting to do as Crowley asked.

Oh who am I kidding, many fans STILL think Crowley was right back then.

Was Aziraphale stupid?

Was it unreasonable of him to try and speak to God and stop Armageddon? Instead of just - trying to kill the Antichrist child and see what happens? Or run? (Run where?)

Aziraphale was heartbroken but he just had to try. That's the kind of person he is. He hoped someone will see how Earth doesn't need to be destroyed. They could go and speak to the child perhaps. There doesn't need to be a War.

But God didn't pick up his call. So we never get to know what She thinks and whether She'd do anything to help as Az hoped - and of course one could argue that everything that happened was exactly what She wanted (and wait for it, that's exactly what Crowley says on the bench as they wait for a bus). Because the 'spokesperson' who did answer Azi's call, didn't understand Az at all and fobbed him off.

After Aziraphale got discorporated in an accident (which looked like agony btw, Crowley wasn't the only one to suffer) he knew he was running out of time and resolved to speak to the kid himself. Kill him even, if there's no time for anything else. But save the world. If at all possible. He assumed he's on his own now, Crowley having left. He was not.

After losing his body (and abandoning Heaven doing a demonic thing), he learns his home and everything in it burned down.

And yet, he's determined to save the world even if he seems to be losing everything.

I see a lot of metas about - did Aziraphale know Crowley was talking about him when he said he lost his best friend...

I believe he did. But what if Aziraphale understood that after the argument, Crowley is saying he lost his best friend... because it is their friendship what is lost. Is that why Aziraphale is so careful with words at first, but when he learns Crowley saved a book, his book, THE book, he knows Crowley is the one thing he did not lose. Because how would Az know Crowley thought he lost Az in the fire? He didn't know Crowley went looking for him. He only knew he disappointed Crowley for not wanting to run and Crowley calling him an idiot and leaving. When Az reached out later from the bookshop, Crowley hung up on him. That's the last Az knew of Crowley before being forced away.

Just because things didn't work out how Aziraphale hoped or was trying to achieve, doesn't mean he was wrong to try.

If anything, he was right. And Crowley would stand right by him and say so too. Would killing the boy (which I don't think they would have attempted at all when push came to shove without the stress that came from being on that tarmac with forces of Heaven and Hell converging) change anything? No. Because they misunderstood (yes, both of them) how the Plan works (or doesn't work). It wasn't about trying to kick one step out from the Plan to topple it. It wasn't about killing the kid or persuading him to not destroy the faulty humanity. It was about shifting the whole mindset. About humanity but also about Plans.

It was about freedom to choose. Az told Adam to make up HIS mind. (Which incidentally, I think Crowley told Eve in Eden too.) Crowley gave Az the space to do so. To be kind. To be his usual self. To be an angel who is strong and brave and open.

Adam took it.

Yet, it still wasn't enough. Their superiors wanted a War. They believed the Plan. But Aziraphale didn't anymore. He changed something. Suddenly it was just a question of finding a loophole to do the right thing. SOMETHING HE IS A VERITABLE EXPERT ON HAVING HAD THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF PRACTICE IN DOING

And when it came to their punishment?

A loophole.

What would the guesses be I wonder on how would they escape? Run? Az deciding to Fall? They tricked them. Not with words this time but with appearances.

_________________

S2 is different. It's not Bandstand part 2. They changed.

Yes, Crowley poured his heart out, wanting to finally acknowledge how much he wants, how he wants things to be simple. Open. Just to be together. But the timing was so wrong you'd think Metatron tempted him into it, to confuse him.

Because Crowley has just been to Heaven and learned why Gabe was being pursued, what the new plans were and knowing Heaven, he must have known Gabe's 'nah' wasn't gonna stop anybody. Gabe just needed to be put away. Which Aziraphale put a stop to with his stubborn protectiveness.

So why wasn't he more on board in helping Az in F15?

gif by @capinejghafa "Tell me you said no." But he did! Aziraphale who said flatly no so many times. To the 'chin-wag' and how he all but laughed at the proposal of him being the new Supreme Archangel. Aziraphale who only blanched when Crowley was brought into the discussion. (Same as some 80 years before... his biggest fear is always Crowley getting hurt and them being forced apart)

(He found a loophole nobody expected, to escape)

"IF YOU WANTED TO WORK WITH HIM AGAIN" (this is the only way Aziraphale*)

So what does Aziraphale do? He gives Crowley a choice. He doesn't say - they are taking me back to Heaven, making me go (because Crowley would follow immediately no questions asked). He doesn't even say he said yes, he just says he got the offer and asks, will you come with me. After all, Az thinks this is forever, that he must leave forever (he looks so stressed and so scared in F15) and he knows they both hate Heaven and would never choose to leave Earth voluntarily - but he wants Crowley to be able to choose - he doesn't want to force him the way he was forced, over his loved one's safety. And his heart breaks when Crowley says no. BUT

Crowley could not follow to Heaven, he made his choice. But he also didn't walk away. He didn't storm off. He didn't drive away. He stayed. I do not think he waited for Aziraphale to change his mind. He knows Aziraphale. He knew the angel made up his mind. He waited so Aziraphale will see that he's there. That he will wait until he's needed. But from Earth.

*I'm sorry but if you think that should Aziraphale insist on staying that he would be left in peace to be with Crowley, than you are not paying attention to what Heaven can do.

To sum up: Their 'arguments' are never about them, they don't need to learn to communicate better (they need to be free to communicate better) they are already doing so much better than expected in the circumstances. They know each other. Their arguments come up because they are not free and there is no way they can be safely together. Yes, they love one another and want to be together (and no, Az does not need to wake up and admit what he's feeling or some such nonsense), but in their world as it is, it's impossible (or the possibility is only very brief) and that's not what Aziraphale can agree to, so he must fight on. He was given that sword for a reason. He will fight. Just not... the usual way and not for what was perhaps intended.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Look kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3

[sundrop-writes]

Precious Time Alone

Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader

aka the fic where Gar has a knot

Summary:

Even with the ability to see the future, you never would have guessed that your life would lead you to falling in love with the perfect man - someone sweet, caring, funny, cute. Someone with the passion and fire to protect the ones that he loves no matter what. A precious guy with green hair who had the ability to transform into a tiger at will. And when you finally made love to him for the first time, you never could have guessed how that unique ability affected his sex life.

You weren't exactly complaining, but you wished you had seen this coming. At the end of the day, it was just another thing about him to love.

Or - Neither you nor Gar knew that he has the ability to knot, and you both find out for the first time when you have sex together.

Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 11,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, to make my masterlist for this fandom more complete, and to help new people discover my old fics.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Important Note: for reference, this is not an A/B/O fic - I have nothing against A/B/O fics and I love them very much (it's one of my favourite genres, and I really need to write more A/B/O fics and post them) - the reader character is 100% human and does not have any traits that fall into the A/B/O category. This fic is based off the concept that Gar has a knot due to his animal traits/animal DNA, and it is something that happens to his body because of his ability to transform into an animal. This could be considered a hybrid fic, but Gar's knot is the only animal trait he possesses during sex. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, come back later, and I might have something more your style. Or you can check out my masterlist in the meantime.

Warnings: the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this is an established relationship - Gar and the reader have been dating for a while now; mentions of canon events from S1 and S2 (so there is some spoilers from the show - if you haven't seen the show yet and you want to watch it unspoiled, be warned); mentions of canon level violence, including Gar being tortured at the asylum; this is set during 2x09 when Gar is 'home alone' (and the reader is there with him); the reader character suffers from insomnia; the reader character does have powers but they don't really have major involvement in the plot of this fic (idk if I should have even labelled this as 'powered!reader') - the reader character has psychic visions; mentions of clothes sharing - the reader is implied to be bigger/plus sized because Gar wears her clothing and it's 'oversized'; the reader is attracted to Gar's more 'animal' side - she admits to being attracted to him because he protected her with his powers; this fic does use Y/N (I am a proud Y/N truther); Gar and the reader have engaged in sexual acts before (handjobs, fingering, oral) but this fic features their first time having penis in vagina sex; Gar's knot is a surprise to both of them due to it being their first time having penetrative sex (his dick only swells up once it gets inside of her body); though this is both of their 'first times' with each other, I didn't put any big emphasis on virginity in this fic, especially because they have done other sexual acts before; this could be considered Crack Treated Seriously - but like I said, my brain just took the concept and ran with it; there is something in this fic that could be considered consensual somnophilia - the reader character starts performing oral sex on Gar in order to wake him up, but she's not specifically turned on by the fact that he's sleeping, and there is an unspoken consent due to them being in a relationship; this whole thing fluctuates from making love/passionate sex to rough, animalistic sex; slight praise kink - Gar verbally praises the reader and compliments her a lot; there isn't really defined roles here, but Gar is more dominant and the reader is more submissive; as mentioned before - penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom (the lore of knots and condoms bothers me anyway, like how would a condom not break under those circumstances??); possessive!Gar; biting kink/marking kink (Gar bites the reader - a lot); Gar cums inside the reader - a lot, because of his supernatural dick (though this doesn't quite make it to cum inflation levels); Gar knots the reader (if you don't know what that is, just stay away); creampie kink - NOT breeding kink; there is mentions of pregnancy in a discussion after the sex is over, but not in the breeding kink sense (Gar and the reader both want kids and there is no mentions of alternate forms of birth control, so if that gives you the ick then don't read this one); slight warning for VERY BRIEF painful sex/pain after sex - Gar tries to pull out not knowing what the knot is and accidentally hurts the reader's vagina because of it (the pain only lasts for a few seconds, and he stops trying to pull out once he is unsuccessful); scent kink - Gar loves the way you smell after being fucked by him; (I was not planning on adding a bonus scene when editing this fic, but it's Gar and I got carried away) more consensual somnophilia toward the end - Gar fingers the reader a bit while she is sleeping, and then he masturbates on top of her and cums over her thighs before cleaning her up (again, this is operating off the pre-existing consent in a relationship, or you can imagine that they had a consent conversation about this before the fic, idc); the ending of this fic is just pure fluff.

A/N: This is one that I wrote in 2022 and I had kind of forgotten about it? But I was going through my older fics on AO3 and I was like 'omg I love that fic, I forgot how much I love that fic'. And because I am trying to post some easy stuff before my move (which will be exhausting and it will mean that I will post pretty much nothing for a few months) - I realized that this fic was an easy re-post because it didn't need a lot of work before being re-posted. So - here ya go! If you haven't read this fic before and you don't know what a knot is (in terms of fanfiction/smut): run away. Run away now. I don't need to be the one to corrupt you lmao. But yeah - this fic was inspired by someone on Tumblr (I wish I could remember who it was and link the post) posing the theory that if Gar is 'part animal', then he might have a knot. And my brain felt the need to exorcise that idea once it entered my mind and literally possessed me, and thus, this fic was created. I think it is one of my better Gar fics - with a very straightforward concept. And if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy it!

...

It was entirely strange to wake up to the Tower actually being quiet. 

Well, quiet aside from the sound of Gar’s snores rumbling beside your head. But there was a lot less noise than usual. 

There was no distant beeping of the coffee machine where Dick had it pre-set to go off at an ungodly hour. No grunting of Jason training because he couldn’t sleep. No rumbling bass tones of Rachel’s music where she played it aloud, thinking no one else could hear. 

No arguing voices. 

Strangely, that was something you missed most of all. You had come to love the chaos of so many people living in your new home. And you had secretly hoped that Dawn, Hank, and Donna would stick around for a while, even if they insisted that they were just going to take care of the Dr. Light problem and leave once again. With them cooking meals and hogging the TV, it had started to feel like a real family. 

You had definitely not expected all of the Titans to barrel out faster than cockroaches fled from light when Dick told them of his past transgressions. But boy - they fucking ran. And naturally, when Gar volunteered to stay at the Tower with Conner in order to hold down the fort, you stayed with him. 

What else would a good girlfriend do? 

You had stuck by him through everything else, so of course you would stick by him through this. 

And even though you missed everyone dearly, and you worried about the long-term impact that Dick’s confession would have, you did see the appeal of The Tower now being completely empty. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t bring some salacious thoughts to your mind. 

Maybe it was that morning silence, truly reminding you of the lack of occupants in the house - or the burning hum between your thighs that had you awake at this hour in the first place. But you couldn’t sleep, and now your mind was brimming with better, hornier things that you could be doing with your time. (Things that you likely already would have started if Gar had been awake along with you.) 

You were sometimes jealous of his ability to sleep so well. Typically, sleep was an area that you did very poorly in. 

Usually, having Gar’s intense warmth curled up next to you did help. And you thanked that perfect human furnace for what little sleep you had gotten the night before. Especially after all the anxiety and the fighting, and the unexpected charge of everyone leaving so suddenly. 

You lifted your head from Gar’s rumbling chest as he snored and snorted away and you looked at the clock on his nightstand - 4:15am. You sighed deeply to yourself and decided to get out of bed. You knew from your experience with insomnia that it was no use trying to fall back asleep again. 

You untangled yourself from Gar’s grasp, careful not to wake him - and then you grabbed a piece of clothing off the floor to shield yourself from the morning chill. 

It was an oversized hoodie that you and Gar often shared. It had originally started off as yours, but now your things had migrated into Gar’s room and it seemed like your lives were easily blending into one. He found himself wearing one of your socks mix-matched with his own, and he often slept under a fuzzy throw blanket you had brought when you moved into The Tower. You used his body wash in the shower, and had some of his nerdy pins on your backpack. 

It always just felt right. 

The hoodie smelled delightfully like your boyfriend - and you couldn’t help but to press the fabric to your nose with a small contented sigh while you walked down the hallway to check on Conner. 

The young man was still deeply unconscious - not making a single movement or a flicker of acknowledgment toward you when you walked into the room. His vitals were stable, with his puppy asleep on his knees. The dog looked at you with curious eyes as you checked on the machines and even used a stethoscope to listen to Conner’s heart just to make sure that he was doing alright. Krypto made no moves to get off the bed, entirely protective of his half-human companion. You shut off the light and partially closed the door as you left (leaving enough room for Krypto to get out if he wanted to). 

Then, without much else to do, and feeling a slight grumble in your stomach, you went to the kitchen. You ate a bowl of cereal as you scrolled your phone, listened to music, and checked for messages from any of the other Titans. There were none. 

After you had eaten, you were still bored and the sun wasn’t even up yet - so you decided to take a shower. 

As the hot water poured over your body, you couldn’t help but think of Gar. 

The two of you had been together since your psychic powers led you to Scooter’s Roller Palace. 

Before that, you had lived a somewhat normal life, even with your visions. You had the very typical ‘loving family, suburban home, thriving at school’ type of life. 

You had been trying to achieve your goals while completely ignoring your visions. 

Visions that you had previously denied had even been able to predict the future - until a horrifying dream of your parents’ double murder came true. You were unaware at the time that the same doomsday cult that was attempting to track down Rachel was also looking for you. A group that had been watching your abilities carefully and wanted to use you to track Rachel and to perceive better outcomes for ‘their work’. 

So with the realization that you could see the future, you knew that you had to act. Especially with visions of the dark, crumbling end of the world plaguing you. You let your powers guide you to that roller rink in search of a purple haired girl who could save everyone and a green haired boy who could transform into a tiger. And since then, you hadn’t let him go. 

It was only when you had been captured at the asylum that you and Gar became truly close. The day that he had first come to your rescue. 

The ‘scientists’ there hadn’t been unable to taunt or shock him into his transformation like they had been planning to. But the moment he had heard your screams of torture and torment from down the hall, he had transformed into the tiger and ripped the cage’s door off its steel welded hinges with his teeth just to get to you. 

When he witnessed them torturing you in an attempt to demand predictions of the future out of you - Gar had snapped. And then, a bizarre vision that you’d had years ago came to life before your very eyes. A vision of a giant green tiger ripping apart a group of men in white lab coats, making them bloody in order to save you. 

He later told you, as you were traveling on the train, that he had never harmed another person before that. He had never used his powers to harm someone before that. But he also told you that he absolutely didn’t regret it. He had told you that if it meant that he got to save you, then he would do it a thousand times over. And that was something that warmed your heart and drew you to him like a moth to flame. 

If you had a schoolgirl crush on him before that, then in those moments, it grew into a heated, womanly lust. You started falling in love with him on that day. 

That animalistic strength, that passion, that courage was what had drawn you to Gar immediately. He claimed it was ‘hero syndrome’ - the thing that made you pull him close and kiss him on the train. The thing that made you call him your boyfriend. He claimed it was only because he was the one that saved you, and if it had been someone else, then you wouldn’t have ended up with him at all. 

But no - nobody else had the primal drive that he did. Nobody else had the same protective instincts that he had. Nobody else looked as good with blood dripping from their teeth. 

It was a dangerous thought to have. But it was one that got your clit throbbing every single time. 

Of course, you loved Gar for all of his soft parts. You loved him for his dorky smile, his smooth laugh, his shy gaze. He was a soft place to land when you were hurt, upset - when you needed comfort the most. But you also loved him for his sharpened edges - his undeniable passion, the way he wouldn’t hesitate to harm an enemy when it came to protecting the ones he loved. The way he bit down on your lip whenever you gripped his cock just the right way. 

You sighed hard through your nose as the water went cold around you. Had you really been in the shower for that long?

Disappointingly, you and Gar had never actually had sex before. 

You had done plenty of sexual things - but it always felt rushed, and it never quite scratched that itch in the way you needed it to. 

The fact that the two of you were pretty much never alone together meant you never had the time to indulge in each other, to properly touch each other the way that you really wanted to. Everything you did together was always quick and haste. Grabbing and groping each other through clothes, shoving your hands into each other’s pants, panting breaths down each other’s throats, desperate to cum as quickly and quietly as possible. 

You wanted nothing more than to feel every single inch of his naked skin against yours. You wanted to be able to spend hours worshiping his body, getting your tongue onto every perfect muscle you had seen when he trained shirtless. You spent far too long fantasizing about him laying you down in the middle of his bed and pounding into you, roughly and savagely - showing off that animal side you loved so much. 

As you wrapped a towel around yourself and wiped the steam off the mirror, you realized something absolutely wicked. The house was empty. This was the perfect opportunity to get exactly what you wanted - what you needed from Gar. 

You dried off your body, abandoning the fresh clothes you had brought into the bathroom with you and simply walking down the hallway naked. It was a strange feeling, to say the least. You were aware of the fact that there were cameras in literally every common area of the Tower (as Gar had pointed out to Rose a few days prior) but you took for granted that nobody would have to review this footage for any reason. 

You slipped into Gar’s room, where he was still fast asleep - splayed out on his back, his jaw wide open as he puffed out air and snorted loud snores. 

He was adorable, almost innocently so. He was so peaceful when he slept. He was wearing a tee shirt with a cartoon of Link from The Legend of Zelda on it - something you only knew about because he had explained it to you in great detail. His green hair was messy in a beautiful way that suited him, his limbs sticking out from the covers at odd angles. Even though you did have some idea of the not-so-innocent things he thought about you on a regular basis, you did feel slightly guilty for disrupting his sleep with your lustful corrupting force. 

(Just not guilty enough to stop what you were about to do.) 

With the morning sun rising at your back, just slightly orange through the curtains, you pulled up the covers and crawled in on top of Gar. Instantly, you were warmed by the natural heat radiating off his body. Apparently something about his ‘condition’ - that thing that made him half-animal, also made him incredibly warm. At any given time, his skin was near-burning, almost like a fever to the touch. It made him so pleasant to sleep beside, so nice to hug and cuddle up against. It was just one of the many, many things that made him the perfect boyfriend. 

With that heat gathered under his blanket like a sauna, it almost made you want to lay down on top of him and fall asleep again. But the prominent hum between your thighs was a bit more persistent - and you knew that there would be plenty of time to fall asleep with Gar later. His clothes did slightly irritate your sensitive, bare skin - you knew that you wouldn’t have to tolerate the feeling for long. 

Gar liked being naked more than you did. So he certainly wouldn’t mind you undressing him. You knew the only reason he even bothered to sleep with clothes on was because of the general pretense of others being around. 

You pressed yourself on top of Gar, not worried about your weight disturbing him - not after the many times he had told you how much he enjoyed the feeling of being cuddled with you laying fully on top of him. You pulled the covers up over your body as the chill of the room bit at your still somewhat damp skin, and you leaned in to kiss across Gar’s neck. He moaned quietly in his sleep and began to stir. 

You smiled to yourself, loving the feeling of his muscles so relaxed underneath you. It was something that had been too rare as of late - with all the intense training sessions, and the stress of Rose being brought into your home, Jason being kidnapped, and then Conner being shot. For the past few weeks, whenever you had hugged Gar or cuddled against him in bed, he had been nothing but a tense ball of stress. 

You certainly understood that stress. He was worried for his friends and wondering what would happen next. Even though you had the ability to see the future, you couldn’t simply predict what would happen on a dime. You had helped to secure Jason’s safety, but you had been nervous that the others wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. Even though everything had worked out in the end (debatable, seeing the emotional scars Jason had come away with), the stress had taken a toll on you and Gar. 

Life as a Titan was stressful. And you knew that you and Gar were both well deserving of a break. Even though Gar marked this as a tense fracturing of the group, something else to stress about, you knew that everyone simply needed a break. 

And you knew exactly what kind of relaxation Gar deserved now that you had the time on your hands. It was something you hadn’t been able to give him since a late night in the bathroom many weeks ago, when he had to muffle his moans into a hand towel for fear of being caught. You laid a few more gentle kisses against the skin of his neck, and then began to descend downward. 

You wiggled yourself completely under the blanket, loving the warm cave that it created around you - a pleasant fog of Gar’s body heat that easily made your cheeks scorch. It raised your body temperature more already, and made your cunt clench in anticipation. 

Of course, you were going to focus on him first. You pushed his shirt up his stomach, gathering the fabric lazily around his midsection, not really making an effort to take it off. You appreciated the skin that was revealed to you, especially seeing as every single part of him was beautiful. 

You had seen him naked before.

Gar was a smart person - but he wasn’t always clever. So he had unintentionally shown off his ‘goodies’ on more than one occasion when transforming into that mighty tiger that you loved so much. He didn’t always rush to cover himself if he thought that nobody was looking. It was a strange juxtaposition - the fact that you had made him cum before, but you had only seen him completely naked when he used his powers publicly. 

During the times when you had been intimate, you had both been forced to keep most of your clothes on - your trysts entirely secretive, shoving your hands down each other’s pants or dropping to your knees and taking his cock out, keeping everything haste and ready to easily redress in case someone came upon you. 

Now, you were more than ready to make love to him. You were fed him with never having enough time - never having enough of him. You so badly wanted to have your naked body pressed against him completely; to have him naked in bed for hours where there would be absolutely no disruptions. Your pussy throbbed with excitement at the very thought. 

(Perhaps Dick coming clean of his transgressions and pissing off all the Titans had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. Not that you would ever admit that out loud.) 

You kissed along the now exposed skin of Gar’s stomach, loving the little moans he let out as you did so. Clearly, he was still floating somewhere in sleep, his sounds still dull and adorably sleepy. Perhaps on his way to waking up as your wet mouth worked a trail down to the edge of his sweatpants. 

His stomach muscles flexed under your touch as your tongue darted out and traced the light trail of hair leading down from his belly button and dipping into his pants - definitely one of your favorite things about him. You laid a few more light kisses near his hip, causing more cute little jolts, before you lovingly eyed the outline you saw forming inside his pants. Even though the fabric, his cock looked perfect. 

You knew that Gar pretty much never wore underwear. 

It was something he had given up on because it was just another article of clothing to rip off, previously impeding his transformations. And then he simply never wore them in his off-time because once he had stopped, he found them too uncomfortable to wear casually. It was a dirty little secret of yours - but you absolutely loved his commando lifestyle. 

It always made the outline of his dick so obvious through his clothes (even when it was soft). You had never admitted that you ogled him on a regular basis. Especially when he trained - his movements when sparing causing his cock to bob around and move in a devilishly delicious way. 

Maybe you were a bit of a pervert. At least, that’s what some people might call the way your mind worked. But you couldn’t really help it. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that you had found the most gorgeous man ever and he had a sex drive that seemed just as potent as yours. (Though - as previously mentioned - you had been horrendously impeded by a barrage of housemates and multiple crises interrupting your alone time. Until now.) 

You were quick to undo the tie on his sweats, and from there, all it took was a firm tug to get his pants down. The fabric became slightly trapped between the plushness of his ass and the bed - thankfully he was still limp and pliant with sleep, and you didn’t have to put too much effort into getting the clothing down. You took the edge of his pants down to just past his hips, letting his cock free. 

This gave you a perfect view of his long, thick cock - freshly awakened from its slumber and easily half-way to hardness. It was as remarkable as always - pretty pink cockhead (just like the sweet pink of his lips), pale and seven inches long - about nine inches long when he was fully hard. Tugging the fabric of his pants down a bit more, you gently pet your fingers over his round, full balls - one of your favorite parts of him, even if you felt shy admitting it aloud. 

You also loved his so beautifully Gar, bright green pubes. The first time you had seen that his green hair was so entirely all natural (well, natural since the injection of Dr. Caulder’s serum) - you had been shocked and absolutely amused. 

You loved every inch of him, and you definitely loved how this was a solid reminder of exactly who your boyfriend was, even when you were making steady eye contact with his dick. 

You placed your hands on the tops of his thighs and leaned in, taking the head of his semi-hard cock into your mouth. You couldn’t help but to be pleased with yourself, knowing that this was how he was going to wake up. His skin was delightfully smooth under your tongue and he tasted slightly of a musk that was so uniquely Gar. 

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, thumbing down over his balls as you bobbed your head down - with your tongue loose and your mouth wide open, you gave a few good, greedy slurps on his cock, simply enjoying the feeling of him hot and thickening up in your mouth as he became harder. You couldn’t help but to moan around him, and he let out a startled snort, and then a deep groan. 

You felt movement above you as his tired arms grappled with the covers - he was definitely awake now. 

His dick throbbed under your tongue as he swelled to full hardness - and you held back laughter as he momentarily pushed on your head through the covers. Clearly, still not quite awake enough to know what was going on - just enjoying the feeling of a warm mouth on his cock. You squeezed your grip tighter around the base and prodded your tongue into the slit, gentle and exploring, lapping up the first bit of precum that he leaked out. 

He let out a perfect shuddering gasp. 

“Wha-? Hmm? Y/N?” He mumbled out, confused in that tired, dumbly adorable way. 

A moment later, the covers were ripped off your head, ruining that lovely cave of warmth you had going, causing a rush of cool air to prick at your skin. With your lips wrapped around his cock, bobbing down over the first few inches of the mighty, thick beast while gently pumping at the rest with a casual grip, you looked up at Gar through your eyelashes. You attempted to look sweet, knowing how sinful you looked with your lips stretched around the girth of his cock. 

You suppressed a moan of your own when you taste more salty precum and his jaw dropped open with a broken moan. 

“G-good morn-ning.” He said, voice tight and raspy, partially from the haze of sleepiness and partially from the lust coating his throat. 

He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down the length of his body at you. He moved to wipe the sleep from his eyes, clearly stunned and awed to be woken up this way. His gaze was hazy with that half-awake look and his chest moved in thick beats as he began to struggle for breath, partially holding back his moans in a practiced way due to your living situation. 

You simply continued your actions, widening your lips to suck more of him down. You bobbed your head slowly as you took the first half of his impressive length like a popsicle, swirling your tongue around it and using your hand on the base. Gar’s chest became tight with trapped sounds, and his hip muscles seized tight as the urge to fuck your mouth overtook his body - but he held back with intense self-discipline. 

“You - oh - you-you’re naked.” He quickly observed, struggling to speak through the pleasure of your tongue on his cock. 

His eyes scanned over your naked body with intense hunger, and he rushed to move the blanket back more, wanting to reveal your bare ass and thighs. When he managed to do this, you quickly felt the coolness of the room against your bare pussy and realized just how wet you were. 

Gar’s eyes went wide in an almost cartoonish way as he drank you in. 

He had only been able to get glances at your naked body before - when you were coming out of the shower and flashed him in an attempt to rile him up, or during your trysts when he had been able to pull off pieces of your clothing, but not everything all at once. Now, seeing you entirely bared to him, in the warm light of the early morning, something that made your skin glow - it caused his heart to speed up inside his chest, and made his dick throb. It was something you felt under your tongue that brought you another thrill. 

You popped off his perfect cock with a wet sound, much to Gar’s disappointment, so that your mouth would be free to speak. 

“I had a shower.” You told him, giving him a little smirk. “I didn’t feel like bothering with clothes afterwards.” 

You leaned back in and licked a broad stripe across Gar’s dick as you waited for his reply, causing a sharp breath to shake his chest before he could speak. 

“But what if someone-?” He glanced toward his bedroom door, thinking of the other Titans. Thinking about the possibility of being disrupted yet again. 

Perhaps he had forgotten of the debacle that happened the day previous. You were quick to remind him. 

“No one else is home. Remember?” You said, your breath fanning out over his cock before you gave a few kitten licks to the leaking, pretty pink cockhead. 

Gar shuddered with delight, gripping the sheets with tight fists. He hadn’t really forgotten, but he had been hoping that someone else would have come home by now. That they all would have gotten over the argument and just wanted to be Titans again. But he couldn’t find himself too upset about those hopes being dashed with your hand pumping his cock and your tongue swirling around him like that. 

“Fuck.” Gar breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, desperate to compose himself. “What about - what about Conner?” 

“He’s still asleep.” You told Gar. “That lady - his Mom, guess? She said that he would be out for at least a few days.” 

You paused for a moment, and then, you gently confirmed:

“It’s just the two of us. We’re all alone.”  

You stopped your actions, simply holding his dick in your hand and looking up at him with a small grin, giving the words a moment to sink in. Gar stared down at you, letting it truly work through his brain.

The two of you were alone. You were naked. You were naked in his bed. You were holding his hard cock and you both wanted it to happen - very badly. 

There was nothing stopping the two of you. 

“This is so awesome!” Gar’s voice was pure enthusiasm as he grinned widely at you, his hands quickly moving to rip off his shirt. 

You sat back on your heels, giving Gar room to fully shed his clothing, knowing that he was likely just as excited to be fully naked and uninterrupted as you were. He was slightly clumsy in kicking off his pants - something that made you giggle as he got caught up in the fabric. After a moment of struggle, you reached out and helped him untangle the pant legs from around his ankles and toss the unwanted item to the floor. You were now both fully free and absolutely ready for each other. 

“C’mere,” You let out a joyous laugh, quick to pounce on Gar. 

The second that you were close enough, you got your mouth on his, engaging in hot, open-mouthed kisses while he wrapped his arms around you. He was quick to roll you onto your back, leaving you lying slightly awkwardly, diagonally on the bed with your ankles tangled in the sheets. Not that you cared about any of that for a moment - not with his whole body shadowing over yours, bringing more of that amazing warmth to cover you. 

Then, for the first time, you felt that ultimately satisfying press of pure skin on skin. The feeling made you both moan loudly into the other’s mouth as he leaned all of his weight onto you and pressed your bodies almost completely together, from knees to chests. You felt every single inch of him: his warm, muscled thighs pressing against your own, his hard cock up against your pelvis, creating a deep hunger that caused your pussy to throb hard between your legs, his smooth stomach and chiseled chest pressing against you - the beating of his heart racing in tandem with your own. It was topped off by the breath-taking sight of his big, brown eyes staring into yours as he looked down at you with utter adoration. 

It was so utterly perfect.

He leaned in for another long, hot kiss, and you moaned heavily into his mouth.  After a moment, he pulled away from the kiss with a nip on your bottom lip - something that made you whimper from the back of your throat. A hard, hot pain throbbed between your thighs as your pussy cried out for him, desperately needing him inside of you. 

You had waited far too long for this. His fingers had always felt good, but you knew that his cock would feel so much better. 

“So fucking perfect.” Gar told you, his voice taking on a deep, lustful rumble that had you clenching around nothing, yearning for the fullness of his cock inside of you. “You are a goddess, I swear.” 

As he said this, his eyes raked over your naked body with an intense heat that had you squirming. 

His voice caused even more heat across your skin - an intense tingling raking over you like goosebumps. You felt his words with the genuine intense passion that he intended them with, all the affection that boiled inside of him breaching out and spilling over you. It was something that made you feel more beautiful than any expensive dress or makeup ever could have. 

“You’re perfect too, Gar.” You echoed back, feeling lame and uncreative with the compliment, but absolutely believing it to be true. Every inch of him was something to love. Inside and out. 

Gar drowned any further words - perhaps afraid he would get too emotional - by shoving his tongue past your lips. He ran his hands up and down the sides of your body while yours settled on his gorgeous, plump ass. Your legs naturally fell open for him, your knees coming up to sit on either side of his thighs. 

You let out a moan as his tongue mingled with yours, his hips grinding into you, moving his cock against your mound and partially bumping against your swollen clit. It was a beautiful sharp shock that made you gasp and pull him closer into you. You wrapped your ankles around the backs of his knees, setting yourself in the perfect position to take his cock. 

You were dripping and needy, and you weren’t prepared to wait much longer. 

“Gar, please,” You moaned, pulling away from the kiss to puff the words out against his now wet lips. 

You angled your hips up in a way that directly dragged the wet folds of your pussy along his hardness, beginning to hump yourself against him, showing him the true depth of your desperation. This caused him to groan and buck into you. He echoed the movements right back, humping his cock along your pussy, rubbing across your clit again and sending sharp jolts through your whole body. 

This made you even needier. 

“Gar!” You gasped out in response. “Please!” 

Your voice was a lilting whine that you barely even recognized. Of course, only he could do that to you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled back. 

His brow furrowed as he stared down between your bodies, clearly captivated by the sight of your pussy drooling wetness all over his cock. He was now very purposefully jutting his hips to slick that glossy wetness across his dick, to feel the essence of you covering him for the first time. 

“You want me to just-? You-? Are you ready?” He choked on his own words, his mind hazy with lust. 

“Yes.” You were becoming absolutely short on patience, your tone demanding. “Just get inside me. Please.” 

Gar simply grunted in affirmation, reaching down to use a hand on his dick to guide himself inside of you. You hitched a leg up over his hip, opening yourself up more to give him better access. It was only a single moment of staring at his concentrated face - something that was entirely arousing in the situation - before you felt it. 

The thick head of his cock breaching your slicked, needy hole. Your body was so prepared to take him, having taken his fingers (and your own thinking about this very moment) so many times before - you practically sucked him in. He let out a breathy, desperate sound as he let go of his cock and gently rolled his hips into yours, sinking home for the first time. 

It was something that made you dizzy. You were so fucking full. 

You knew how large his cock was - you had seen it, felt it in your hand - but having him fully inside of you for the first time - it knocked the air out of your lungs in the best possible way. The press of his pelvis fully against you, the slight coarseness of his pubic hairs up against your most sensitive skin, his heavy balls brushing your ass - all of it sent jolts across your skin and had your mind so beautifully blank. 

All you could do was grip onto him tightly, and let out a breathy moan of his name. 

“Gar.” 

“Y/N.” He moaned back, his voice absolutely thick with pleasure, lost in a deep haze as the feeling of your pussy clenching him for the first time. You were so perfect - so tight and hot around him, leaking wetness around the base of his dick. The feeling easily sent hot waves rolling over his body. “Fuck, so perfect.” 

He was absolutely smothered - the feeling of you gripping his cock like a vice driving him insane in the best way. His thighs quivered and he struggled for breath as he resisted the urge to pound into you - resisted the urge to selfishly chase his own pleasure inside the irresistible, velvety feeling of you. 

He didn’t want to hurt you. 

The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you. 

There were the tiniest echoes of logic still chanting in his brain, screaming at him that he absolutely couldn’t risk hurting you. That he had to use self control. 

Even as he looked down at your gorgeous naked body, your tits heaving with your breaths, the slight gleam of sweat across your skin, your kiss-bitten lips, the gloss of lust that had come over your eyes. You were a sexy goddess; you were so perfect, and you made his cock ache, and he wanted to pound into you until you were screaming, and filled with his cum and dripping white around his cock. 

But he could never hurt you. 

“Move, please.” You begged. “Need you, Gar. Please make me cum.” 

With that perfect plea, how could he resist you? 

Any semblance of Gar’s scared self control flew out the window. 

And you became all too thankful for that. 

In seconds, it went from a feeling of perfect fullness to a blur of flesh, his hips pulling back and slamming into yours. His animalistic instincts kicked in, and absolutely took over. That thing in the back of his head chanting at him, telling him to fuck his cock into the perfect hot body beneath him without stopping. 

Don’t ever stop. 

That thing told him that he needed your pussy to live now - and he couldn’t find a lie anywhere in that feeling. 

He let out a growl that shook your chest - a sound that turned you on far more than you expected it to - causing you to let out a whimper in response. He gripped at your inner thigh, holding you open as he dug his knees into the mattress and pounded into you with impressive might. The thickness of his mighty cock splitting you opened caused sharp pleasure-pain shocks from your pussy that quickly stole your breath. You didn’t think that you would enjoy the slightly venomous bite of the pain so much, but mixing with the pleasure, it made you even more beautifully delirious. 

You knew that you would likely have difficulty walking after this, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

The pure force of Gar’s hips easily shook the whole bed. 

You were mildly aware of the headboard hitting the wall behind you - a sound that seemed so distant in your sex-hazy mind. It was easily drowned out by the wet, sloppy sounds of your pussy drowning his cock; the wicked slaps of flesh to flesh, and the whiny whimpers you let out. Followed by his near feral groans and deep growls that were absolutely programming a response into you that would likely get you untimely turned on the next time he transformed into the tiger. 

(But that was something you would have to mentally unpack later.) 

It was all so perfect. 

The hot, shocking tingles flowing from your pussy in waves, the perfect pain of his pelvis bruising you every time he slammed into you, splitting you open with his cock. But you needed one more thing. You reached a hand down, needing some form of touch on your throbbing clit. 

When your hand found its destination, Gar was quick to smack it away - something that surprised you. He had never been so rough with you during a sexual encounter before. You absolutely didn’t hate it, though. This new side of Gar sent dizzying waves through you. You fucking loved it. 

“No.” He said, his voice edging on a growl. 

He went so far as to grab your wrist and pin your hand down to the bed - and you let out another loud moan at the feeling. 

Before you could question him, he went on to answer the silent query - why didn’t he want you touching yourself? 

“Mine.” He grunted, his voice almost unrecognizable, coated hazy with lust. 

He moved his touch away from pinning your wrist down, and in a second, he had a thick thumb on your needy, swollen clit in place of your own touch. 

He was possessive - claiming your pussy entirely as his own. The action sent your spine into a sharp curve against the bed as you felt even more waves of white-hot pleasure shooting through you from the touch. He made quick, demanding circles against your clit in time with his hard thrusts, leaning down to dig his teeth into your neck as you desperately gripped at his upper arms for something to hold onto. 

“Mine.” He grunted again, the word solid and demanding against your neck. 

“Mine.” The second time, it became lost, a slur against his teeth as he bit down into your skin again. 

“Gar!” You gasped out. 

You already felt your orgasm coming to fruition, tight and hot in your belly. His touch was so perfect against you - he was so perfect. 

“All yours.” You murmured back, your throat tight and almost too weak to form words. You hoped he even heard and understood what you were saying. “Yours.” 

He sunk his teeth harder into your neck, a sharpness that stung in a delightful way, and then pulled back to lav his tongue over the blooming bite mark. 

“Mine.” He growled into your neck once more - a powerful, possessive statement that made you quiver. 

He pressed his thumb harder into your clit as he felt your pussy fluttering around his cock, as he felt your thighs jumping from pleasure, heard your needy whines. He knew you were tumbling over the edge. He gave a few good, hard slams of his hips - almost as if he was attempting to break your pelvic bone - but it was a roughness that had you gasping with delight, chugging air past your moans. It was a wonderful, harsh fullness that sent a perfect ache through your pussy. Gar played your body as well as played his favorite video games. 

He had you cumming around his cock with a strangled sound, digging your nails into his biceps so hard that you likely drew blood. 

“Fuck, Gar! Oh, oh!” 

It was a dizzying orgasm. Blood pumped through your ears, your whole body tingled - your pussy clenched down on his cock hard, as if determined to keep him inside of you. You felt like you were floating - the only feeling you had left being the hard throbbing where you were connected to him and the dryness of your mouth. Your tongue turned to sandpaper from being exposed to the open air by your slack-jawed moaning.  

You were beyond words. You couldn’t even get out the single syllable of his name, left gargling your own spit and gasping for breath as he fucked you through it and groaned into your neck at the wonderfully wet feeling of you cumming around him. 

He slowed his hips after a moment, still hard and throbbing inside of you, and moved his head up to lay gentle kisses across your hot cheeks and jaw as he finally moved his touch away from your almost numb clit.

“So perfect,” He murmured into your skin, clearly delirious with pleasure himself, his eyes closed as he leaned into your skin. “So beautiful. So good, Y/N. So good. I love you so much, baby. So much.” 

“I love you.” You breathed back. 

You were barely capable of speech, but you knew that you had to return it. Especially after something that spectacular. As you came down from your orgasm, you found yourself still hungry for him at the feeling of his thickness perfectly motionless and full inside of you. 

“Wanna make you cum,” You told him, your voice raspy and rough. 

He laid a gentle kiss on your mouth before he took a breath, gathering his words to make a request. He pressed his forehead gently into yours as he spoke. 

“Can you -?” He paused, attempting to think of the right words or gathering his breath to say it. “Can you turn around?” 

You were slightly confused by this. Fuck-drunk from your orgasm, feeling numb and positively unsure how to move - you had no clue what he meant. 

Gar saw this on your face and drew more words from his mind. 

“I wanna - I wanna see your pretty ass.” He spoke out, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. “Wanna grab it. Wanna fuck you from behind.” 

Those words sent a hazy wave of pleasure through you, and caused you to unconsciously squeeze around his cock - which drew a whiny groan from him. 

“Yeah.” You told him. “Yeah, okay.” 

Gar hesitantly pulled out of you, drawing a small gasp of disappointment at the empty feeling. This left you absolutely gaping from the absence of his large cock. But it was only for a moment as you situated yourself and got comfortable with a pillow under your chest and one under your hips at Gar’s insistence. 

Though that pillow did little to support you, seeing as a moment later, he was using his animal strength to man-handle your hips into the air. He positioned you with your knees bent and your ass high up, your chest and face pressed into his orange tiger striped pillow case. 

He didn’t hesitate this time before plunging his cock back inside of you - something that had you absolutely alight with pleasure, showing the animal inside of him shining through. Especially as he let out another sharp growl and didn’t waste any time before he began drilling himself into your tight, wet warmth. 

“Fuckin’ love you.” Gar grunted out, his words quiet compared to the loud slapping of his hips against your ass as he fucked his cock deep inside your wanting pussy. “Love how you feel on my cock.”

His filthy words had you clenching around him, moaning out so whiny that you barely recognized your own voice. You were so pliant to Gar, so needy for him. But you loved it, because you loved him. You couldn’t help but to love everything about him. You felt like you belonged with his cock inside of you. 

“Love you too.” You gasped back, barely able to summon words at all with the powerful fury of his hips fucking into you. 

Gar groaned out, his head tilting up to the ceiling in a moan as he grabbed a handful of your ass. Just as he had promised, he took a possessive hold on the flesh, tight enough that it would likely leave marks behind. He pistoned his hips into you with a mighty fury, fluctuating between staring at the space where his cock disappeared into your dripping, wanting pussy, soaking his cock with your wetness, and closing his eyes for fear of cumming too soon at the delicious sight. 

You gripped the pillow underneath you, desperate to hold onto something. Your face was half-shoved into the fabric with some drool leaking from your open mouth onto the pillow case as you struggled for breath and involuntarily let out an increasingly loud string of moans and whorish cries for Gar. His cock was so perfect inside of you - a perfect, hot length filling you up. 

Your pussy was dancing somewhere between pain and pleasure, well used by him and tingling with shocks every time he fucked back into you with the sharp movements of his hips. So you almost thought you were mistaken when you felt that thing. That extra bit of thickness prodding to fight its way inside of you. 

“Gonna cum.” He grunted, his voice garbled down to a broken mess of consonances by now. At this point, one word syllables was all he was working with. 

He was already so big, it seemed impossible that there was more of him. But you definitely felt it. That extra bit of something at the base, that extra girth of his already impossibly long cock that he was shoving inside of you with each pass. More and more of him with each time he fucked his hips forward. 

It felt so fucking impossible. 

“Gar!” 

Your voice was a whiny, high-pitched howl that you couldn’t even recognize, a plea for him to slow down, or give it to you - you weren’t entirely sure. Your pussy ached with a hot fire that you had never felt before and you wanted more. You really couldn’t imagine him stopping at this point. If this was going to break you - then so be it. 

“Take it.” 

He growled, shoving his hips so close to yours, spreading your pussy open with the impossible thickness of his cock, and that even thicker thing blooming at the base. It felt like it was going to split you in half, but it felt too fucking good to stop. 

“Take it, fucking take it-” 

His words dissolved off into a shuddering moan as he gripped your ass even tighter, pulling you back into his pelvis, shoving his cock impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy somehow accepted his gigantic size. 

His words had you faint and hazy, the sound of his voice like that making you more drunk than any booze ever could have. You knew that those words - his voice in that ravenous tone, it would echo inside of your mind forever. It would be something that you thought about every single time that you touched yourself from now on. 

He leaned down to drape his body over yours - creating a wonderful slick of sweat and damp skin on skin that warmed you in the coolness of the room as he pressed right up against you. 

He mouthed at the back of your neck and across your shoulders, leaving more sharp lines with his teeth, determined to mark you. Your pussy was almost numb with the pleasure, absolutely throbbing around him, but the feeling of him swelling even more inside of you was unmistakable. Somehow, his already large and impressive cock was growing larger. 

In your babbling haze of pleasure, you couldn’t find your voice to relay this strange feeling to Gar. So you were only able to lay there and clutch at the pillow as he dug his fingers into your hips - hard and possessive, as he shoved his cock even deeper inside of you and began spilling his cum inside of you in hot, thick waves. 

“Y/N, fuck - love you,” 

Somehow, his cock continued to expand inside of you. It was an entirely strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one. It was something your body began to take pleasure in. Something that had you letting out a strangled moan as he bit at the back of your neck and groaned into your skin, gently humping his hips into you as he rode out his orgasm. 

He was so swollen and thick inside of you that it felt as though your pussy might burst, the outer ring of your muscles almost stinging with pain, stretched to the limit where the base of his cock was lodged inside of you. He was slick with your wetness, but not a single drop of his cum had leaked out from where you were locked together - you could definitely feel that. 

Gar moved to pull back, seemingly unaware of the strangeness going on down below. When he did so, a sharp pain rocked you as he pulled at your most sensitive, stretched-out muscles. 

You loudly winced in pain and he immediately stopped his movements. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breath puffing out over your neck, his voice returning to its usual brightness as he was shaken from his pleasure haze by his worry for you. 

“Just stay still.” You instructed. 

Your legs were shaky, your muscles weak from the intensity of the sex. You were still high up on your knees where Gar had put you, tiredly trying to support your own body weight. Struggling with that task as your thighs quivered, so fucked out from his excellent job fucking you. You unconsciously squeezed yourself around him and he let out a groan - clearly still sensitive. 

He tried again to pull himself out, not yet understanding the situation, and you let out a sharp hiss of pain as the thickness of his cock tried to breach through you without success. He was stuck inside you. 

The realization flashed through your mind. Oddly enough, you knew exactly what was happening. One too many late nights plagued by nightmares (that had turned out to be glimpses of the future) had caused you to end up reading some… interesting fiction to fill your late night hours. So you knew what this was. At least, a fictional approximation of it. That’s what you get for dating a guy with animal DNA in his system, you guessed. 

“Gar.” You said, a warning in your voice. “Just. Stay. Still.” You gritted your teeth, praying he would listen this time. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He said, his voice quickly escalating with panic and worry. 

He raised his head up from your neck, moving to look down toward the space where you were joined, looking to inspect the problem. This was a movement that jostled things, and caused another a small jolt of pain. 

“Gar!” You gasped, voice warning him to stop once again. “Just - just lower us down so I can lay on the pillows, okay? Be gentle. Please.” 

“Why? I can just pull out, right? Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I swear, Y/N-” Gar began a rambling panic, and you knew the news you had to tell him wouldn’t calm him down at all. 

“You’re stuck inside me.” You told him. 

“Stuck?!” Gar shrieked with shock, his voice sharp right next to your ear in a way that made you flinch. “Wh-what do you mean? Did I do it wrong? Fuck - I must be the only guy who messes up having sex, I am such a fa-!” 

“It’s not your fault, Gar.” You said, quickly cutting him off. Your legs shook more, and you yearned to rest against the bed. “Just lower me down to the bed, please.” 

He began to do so, easing your joint bodies down toward the bed, letting your legs untangle and stretch out - the soreness from how roughly he had fucked you was already setting in. 

“What the hell is happening, then? How did I get stuck? I’ve literally never heard of this happening to anyone ever.” Gar said, clearly exasperated. 

He settled in, laying against you. As he put his weight against your back, his cock sank somehow even deeper inside of you. This sent latent shocks through your overly sensitive, worn-out pussy, causing you to let out a quiet whimper. 

“Sorry.” Gar mumbled as he heard the quiet sound. 

You really didn’t need him to apologize. It had been the best sex of your life. 

“Just - just pass me my phone.” You said. 

The only way you could think to properly explain it to him would be to look up some diagrams and perhaps show him your AO3 history. It was strange to see, and feel some of those wild fictional concepts coming to life right between your legs, but hey - at least you weren’t as unknowing and freaked out as him. 

Gar glanced at both night stands flanking the bed and then sighed. 

“I don’t see it.” He told you. 

Right. You had left it in the kitchen before you went to shower. 

“Then… pass me your phone.” You said. 

He would end up with some very weird shit in his search history, but this was quite literally, his problem. Technically - it was both of your problem, considering it was currently between your legs. And he was your boyfriend, and you definitely weren’t going to break up with him over this. Especially with your reading history, you found it to be more of a turn-on than you were willing to admit. 

Gar reached out to the night table on the other end of the bed, something that caused more jostling and another sharp gasp of pain from you. He mumbled a chorus of ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’ as he grabbed the phone and then returned. He blanketed his body over yours once more, relaxing into his position on top of you as he passed the phone to you. 

It took you about an hour to fully explain the concept to Gar. There were a few diagrams available - ones that had been drawn by writers in the genre. But most of the explaining was done by your hand movements, showing him how it was possible to get ‘stuck’ because he had moved smoothly and pleasurably and first, and then essentially - based on biological instincts, and no purposeful intent of his own: he had knotted you. 

“So you know this from a story?” Gar asked, trying to confirm the source of the information. 

“A few stories.” You told him. 

You didn’t want to divulge just how many stories of the genre you had read and fantasized about before. You were glad that your face was half-buried in the pillow, and Gar couldn’t see the expression of partial guilt on your face as you tried in vain to hide your kinkier side from him. 

“So how do you know it’s true?” He asked. 

“Because you’re literally stuck inside me right now.” You said, voice dancing with a laugh. “And in fiction, it’s usually something that happens with characters who are half-human, half-animal. I think we know which part of you is doing this.” 

Gar sighed, leaning down to rest his head between your shoulders. Clearly he was frustrated at the lack of predictability. He was frustrated that this was just another aspect of his life that couldn’t be normal. 

“Fiction is the only good reference we have to go off.” You said. “Rachel can bring people back from the dead, Kory can literally shoot fire out of her hands, and you can turn into a giant tiger. I think we passed reality a long time ago.” 

“So… when does it stop?” Gar asked. “As much as I enjoy being this close to you, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He rubbed his hand lovingly along your bare side, a genuineness in his voice that made you absolutely thick with love. 

“In the stories I’ve read…” You were also hesitant to share this answer. “Anywhere from a few minutes to… several hours.” 

“Hours?!” Gar let out another indignant shriek, and your muscles tensed. “We’re gonna be stuck like this for hours? Wh-what if it doesn’t go down at all? What if we have to call 9-1-1 and get my dick surgically removed?” 

“It’s gonna be fine, Gar.” You told him, trying to be the soothing calm to his unnecessary panic. “It’s your body’s natural instinct. Your body knows what to do. Just relax. It’ll probably help.” 

“My body’s natural instinct?” Gar echoed back the words. “So what… the animal inside me wants to get you pregnant?” 

Your face burned at the words, and you wondered if Gar felt your pussy flutter around him. 

That did appear to be the truth. A large part of you had wondered why this had never happened to him before. His cock had reacted differently when it had just been your mouth or your hand, or when you had made him cum in his pants dry humping against each other. It was like some animal instinct inside him took over when his body felt your pussy around him - like that thing inside of him really was determined to get you pregnant. 

It was a thought that made your stomach roll with heat. The part of you that loved being Gar’s, the part of you that loved him and everything about him so dearly. Of course you wanted a family with him. Of course you wondered what your little green haired babies would look like. 

“That seems to be the case.” You said, slightly breathless in your reply. 

Gar wrapped his arms around you, tucking his strong grip between your stomach and the mattress to hold you tightly. 

“Would you wanna keep it?” He asked, voice quiet. It was something he did when he was afraid to know the answer. “If you did… end up pregnant?” 

He was leaving the choice entirely in your hands. As though he had no say in the two of you starting a family. But he was good like that - he knew that it was your body you would be sacrificing for those months, he knew it would be asking a lot from you. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You told him. “I’d wanna have your baby.” 

Gar moaned quietly at this realization. 

… 

You chatted about other things for a while - what you were gonna make for dinner, hopes of the other Titans to make-up and come home, wondering when Conner was going to wake up, wondering what Krypto would eat because you didn’t have any dog food in the house (wondering if you should go out and buy some dog food). Eventually, you dozed into sleep and Gar fell asleep on top of you. 

… 

Gar woke up before you did. 

His cock had slipped out of you while he had slept, and he felt an insane sense of relief to look down and see his usual soft member hanging out between his thighs, no longer stuck inside of you. 

Then - he became very distracted by something else. 

The sight of your pussy - fucked raw, slightly gaping, with white cum flowing out of you. So much cum. 

Gar bit his lip, suppressing a groan - he wanted to be quiet. It would be rude to wake you. 

His eyes flickered over to your sleeping face, wanting to check - and yes, you were in the middle of a deep, peaceful sleep. You had been worn out from the intense, rough fucking. You deserved to get all the sleep that your body needed now. 

Gar’s eyes went back to your pussy, and entirely against his will, his cock stirred to life between his thighs. He was still covered in the mixture of your wetness and his own cum, and god - the smell. He knew that his sense of smell was infinitely more sensitive due to that animal part of him, and fuck - this had to be his new favourite smell. 

The tang of your natural wetness mixed with his own cum. The undeniable scent of him just pouring out of you. The fact that he could smell how well he had claimed you. 

Gar itched to touch you more, and gripped a fist tightly, resisting the urge. 

It would be rude to wake you. 

But maybe - he didn’t have to. 

While sitting back on his heels, he inched his touch forward, and oh-so-gently eased two fingers into your pussy. He just needed to feel you - he needed to feel what he had done. Your pussy easily gave way to his touch, and more of his cum came gushing out around his fingers - he was met with another pungent burst of that perfect smell, and his cock ached between his thighs. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He gently scooped through the mess, careful not to be too rough with your sensitive, fucked-out pussy as he gathered the mixture of your cum and his on his fingers - and then he brought this hand toward his hard cock, spreading the mess across himself. He choked down a loud moan, wanting to stay quiet for you. 

He wrapped a tight fist around himself, and began jerking off earnestly - he needed to cum. He needed to capture this moment in his mind forever. 

His eyes couldn’t race fast enough to take all of you in - your beautiful, peaceful sleeping face, the soft muscles of your back, the way your breasts were pressed against his pillows, showing off the gentlest peak of the side, round fat. The thickness of your spread thighs, slightly marked by his dull nails scratching you earlier, the perfect plumpness of your ass, and your perfect pussy leaking his cum - the ultimate mark of his claim on you. 

All of it had Gar fucking his own hips into his fist fast, biting down on his lip hard to conceal growls deep within his chest. 

Within a minute, he was overwhelmed - by your beauty, by the perfect smell, but the idea that he had you, perfect you, and he would get to have you forever - and all too soon, he was cumming again. Not nearly as much this time - a meager few stripes that leaked across his fist and sprayed out across your thighs and his own. 

Perfect. 

He felt much better now. 

He knew that it would be polite to clean you up, so that you wouldn’t have to wake up to the mess. The first thing he spotted was his own shirt that he had shed off in a haste earlier, and he wiped you down with that (and let out a growl when even more cum came spilling out of you the more he wiped) - before he went to the bathroom in order to get a warm cloth. 

Once you were as cleaned up as he could get you (he was partially impressed and partially embarrassed by just how much cum he had fucked into you) - he found a pair of your panties and slipped them onto you, leaving a small kiss on your ass through the fabric before he covered you up with a blanket. He could have spent all day in bed with you, but you had requested pasta for dinner. And he was nothing if not a servant of your every need. 

… 

You had dreams of a green haired little boy with your skin tone, and you wondered if it was purely fantasy, or your powers trying to tell you something. 

… 

You woke up feeling unpleasantly empty. 

You knew in a moment that Gar’s knot had gone down and he had successfully pulled out of you. It left your pussy sore, but not unpleasantly so. He had also managed to dress you while you were sleeping. Well, he had put a pair of panties on you. 

Your body must have really been exhausted from the sex for you to sleep so deeply, but it was something you were grateful for, considering how many nights you had laid awake sleepless due to your nightmare-like visions and the worry they caused you. 

With your upper half bare, you still felt a slight chill - you got up and grabbed an oversized, cotton band tee shirt that Gar often liked to steal from you and shoved it on. As you moved, you noticed that the modest cotton underwear he had put on you were slightly damp against your pussy. You didn’t think much about it. 

You continued on, shoving your feet into a pair of slippers you had left in Gar’s room to shield you against the coldness of the floors. You heard music coming from the kitchen and followed the sound, smiling widely when you saw Gar stirring a pot and swaying his hips, dancing to a Cardi B song. He was dressed in an oversized green hoodie that made him look delightfully cozy and a pair of sweatpants. The moment he saw you, he put down the spoon he was using and turned to pause the music. 

“You’re awake.” He gave you a small, lop-sided grin. “I tried to clean you up as best I could, but there was a lot… a lot of… cum.” 

His hesitance to say the words was entirely adorable - especially considering how filthy his mouth had been just hours before. His persona outside of sexual encounters shifted entirely, and it was one of those things you loved so much about him.

That would explain why your panties were damp. 

He cleared his throat, quickly shifting the tone of the conversation when you didn’t respond. 

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I kn-” He began to apologize, and you were quick to cut him off. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You said. 

Gar’s brows curled with confusion and you stepped closer to him, leaning your body against him, reaching up to smooth your hands over his arms and across his shoulders. You pressed your forehead into his and his hands took a natural place on your waist. His expression softened as he realized that you weren’t mad at him or upset with him in any way. 

“Don’t even think about apologizing, Gar.” You told him firmly. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened earlier, because I loved it. It was fucking amazing. That was the most amazing sex ever.” 

Of course, you had to start by assuring him of this fact. His skills were well pronounced and he had to know that he had made you feel a multitude of pleasure that you had never felt before. Something that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get with anyone else but him. 

“The ending… I know it was… weird. Neither of us really saw it coming. Which is strange, considering my powers.” You said, chuckling lightly as the joke flowed naturally from your lips. 

Gar let out a laugh at this. 

“But I love that side of you.” You declared, absolutely certain. “I love the animal part of you as much as I love that sweet, soft side of you.” 

You leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss, skimming your teeth along his bottom lip in a tentative bite as you pulled away, showing him a little roughness of your own. 

“I’ve never been afraid of the tiger, you know.” You added on, your thoughts on the matter absolutely final. 

Hearing you say that made Gar’s heart flutter. It was something you had told him before - after he had taken down your attackers at the asylum. But back then, he had been convinced that you were just trying to placate him. He had thought you were just trying to soothe his anxieties about hurting someone for the first time. Now he heard it for the genuine sentiment that it was: you saw his animal side, and rather than being afraid of it, you embraced it. 

“I love you so much.” He said, a heartfelt whisper that warmed you from the inside out. 

“I love you so, so very much.” You told him, and he kissed you again. 

“I made dinner.” He announced. “The pasta you wanted.” 

It was something you had discussed earlier, when you had still been locked together in that slightly uncomfortable position, a lovely food smell now filling your nose. He was a talented cook. Just another thing about him to love. 

Krypto wandered in, the padding of little doggy feet catching your attention. When you leaned down and began petting him, cooing at the dog with a sweet little baby-talk voice - Gar couldn’t help but imagine the two of you in your own family home, with your own pets, making dinner for your kids some day. Maybe it was a pipe dream to think a couple of super-powered freaks like the two of you could have the white picket fence dream, but Gar wanted it so badly, because he wanted it with you. 

“I also made cookies, but they turned out weirdly… flat.” Gar said, moving to the counter, and picking up a large plate that was covered in plastic wrap. 

He presented them to you, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you saw something that you easily recognized as an amateur baking mistake. He had either set the oven to too low of a temperature or neglected to refrigerate the cookie dough before baking them, causing the butter to melt before it actually started cooking. 

“I’m sure they’ll still taste good.” You assured him. And to make sure of this, he handed you one to sample. You tasted it - the mixture of sugar and butter and chocolate chips could never go wrong. “Delicious. Everything you do always turns out right.” 

It was a clear hint at what had happened earlier, and Gar grinned at you. 

“Everything I do for you always turns out right.” He corrected. “And I’m thankful for that.”

...

A/N: Please keep in mind - this fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'part 2', so please do not ask for one. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, and if you want to check out more of my Gar Logan fanfics, definitely check out my DC Titans masterlist!

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Okay, so, there's one thing that I'm kind of tired of beating around the bush with white fans about, and it's this: if you pretend to "ignore" race in OFMD, you will miss a lot of what the story is trying to tell you.

Now, I do not truly believe that race is something you can ignore in a story. I just don't think it's possible, and when you try, what you wind up with is something like the conservative worldview of "not seeing color." Trying to ignore race will make you sound racist and ignore important racialized themes.

You can't understand Stede's need for character growth at the beginning of the show if you just focus on how he's "cringe" instead. When Stede makes his crew members of color serve them at dinner when the English board, this is gross, and their faces tell us exactly how they feel about it. Stede unlearning his biases here isn't subtle (guy who called him and Pete "fucking racists" I love you forever), and learning to take all of his crew members seriously as fully actualized people, moving away from the sort of Kindergarten-teacher behavior at the start to truly valuing them as people and taking their input and suggestions, it's an important aspect. Stede asking Abshir for intel at the party isn't just funny, it's also proof he's learned to see value in people in positions like Abshir's.

You can't understand the motivations behind Ed's actions, especially the violent ones, if you ignore the racist overtones. Ed is not a randomly violent person - he gets angry at a captain for calling him a "rich donkey," and if you think it's unreasonable for a brown man to want to get revenge on a white man for calling him that? Then fuck I'm glad you can't see the conversations I have with my other black friends, man. Ed's anger and frustration at the party aren't just because he fucked up with some spoons, lol, you can't get it unless you realize he's the only brown guest in that room. Yeah, he's ignoring Stede's advice, but he's immediately under a pressure Stede never has been. Ed's wanted posters in s2, too, rely on heavily caricaturizing Jewish features to make him look grotesque and monstruous. We're supposed to be horrified by that aspect.

And, yeah, when we ignore the racist tones to Izzy's behavior, I think that's undermining an important aspect of who he is as an antagonistic character. Him buying Ed from the English should feel like a gross violation, because it is. When he sits in front of the crew eating and making Fang and Ivan serve him, I think it's a pretty obvious parallel to how the crew members of color were similarly insulted in the pilot. It's impossible to ignore race in the way he dehumanizes Ed and tries to force him back into a caricature of behavior he hates and is horrified by - when he calls Ed a "wild dog" in s2, if that doesn't cause a visceral reaction of disgust in you, I dunno what to tell you. This doesn't mean that Izzy is irredeemable - just as Stede wasn't - but it does mean that racist biases are things Izzy had to unlearn.

OFMD so often takes so much care with how its characters of color are depicted. We get thoughtful, relatable moments (those French boat people getting humiliated and setting their boat on fire after they'd tried to touch Ed's beard is so satisfying, guys) and excellent, supportive friendships between men of color. The characters of color on OFMD are clean, smart, respected, and it's wonderful. And just because these things aren't always relatable to you specifically doesn't mean they're not important parts of the story.

[morganas-pendragons]

To be Held | Gil-Galad

Summary: You are Gil-Galad's most trusted warrior. With the centuries of history between you two - and the multiple wars you have both survived before and during his rule - it is hard for you to ignore the obvious: You are his complement, his other half, the shield to his sword. You two work as a unit. Everyone in Lindon knows it.

So what happens when he comes close to losing half of that unit?

Set during S2 of ROP - loosely AU to episode 8 (we don't go into the courtyards of Eregion)

tag: @wild-typo-turtle @celebrimbormylove @pentaghasm

You are one of the earliest memories of his younger years as an ellon. The years where he'd been living in the Grey Havens under the watchful eye of the Shipmaster, a young Elf named Artanaro who had nothing left but himself and the clothes on his back.

You had become a soldier at a very early age, taking to the spear with a gracefulness and poise unlike any of your other comrades who served alongside you in the war. You were raised in the heat of battle. Armor was your skin. Your weapon, your hands.

He admired you deeply. Your training commander at the time had noticed that the two of you were the only ones to take to the spear, and so it came to pass that you were often paired together for spars.

For sparring, for the front, for training. The other Elves whispered about you and how formidable you were as a unit the fields of war.

“What will you call yours?”

You watched him turn the weapon over in his hands. Once, twice, three times, long fingers flexing as it spun for him to properly admire the craftsmanship of the spear that had just been granted to him.

“Aeglos,” The Elvish word rolled off his tongue with an awe that made you shiver. You knew as well as he did that he would be known for being Aeglo’s wielder, among what other accomplishments he took to throughout his years. “It has a number of meanings, Mellon. For this one, however, I think snow thorn is more than appropriate.”

It fits him.

You averted your gaze away from him, desperate to keep your composure as you peered down at the spear in your own hands. He had such a deeply penetrating gaze. That unnerved you. You had to be unflappable. Something such as affection or love could not dare to make you weak.

You would not risk weakness on the field. You would not risk having something to lose.

“I think I have its name,” You announced. “I’ll call it Telmnar.”

Ereinion tilted his head curiously. He was not familiar with that term. “And what does that translate to?”

“Fire of Heaven.”

As the years passed, you took to chaos and disorder. Ereinion Gil-Galad took to the art of ruling much, much later in life with a firm hand and a soft heart. He never lost his spirit. Neither did you.

On the field, the pair of you were a force to be reckoned with. One unit. That’s what Elrond had said the first time he’d seen the two of you fight in the sparring yards of Lindon.

Gil-Galad just hadn’t expected the paralyzing fear that came with nearly losing the other half of your unit.

He sees you fall from across the battlefield. There are so few of you left, so many Elven bodies that litter the grounds of a scorched battlefield that Gil-Galad is sure will be their ruin. Elrond is catatonic over the Dwarvish army. You are fueled by your fury, helm hiding the fire he knows lights your eyes as you spin Telmnar with all the grace of poise of a practiced soldier.

Despite the destruction, you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. That is why Ereinion is so shaken when he sees the blade pierce your side through the gaps in your armor. A roar echoes across the battlefield as you twist your body to dismember the offending orc, Telmnar faltering in your grasp as it impales the body at the same time you fall to the earth.

Everything seems to blur together after that. Elrond is the one to rush toward you once clarity reaches him once again, removing the chest piece of your armor to better ascertain the severity of your injuries.

"Ereinion," You whisper. "Tell Ereinion..."

Telmnar gleams out of the corner of your eye as a hand reaches down to remove the spear from the body before laying it down beside Aeglos. They really are beautiful blades: A perfect pair for the best unit that the Elven armies had ever seen.

“Tell him what?” Elrond asks. He wants to keep you awake for as long as possible before blood loss sends you into unconsciousness.

Tears prick the back of your eyes. You’ve spent centuries trying so hard to keep your weaknesses out of harms way, to bury that secret you have kept of growing affections for Gil-Galad so he too would not come to be a name among the list of those you’ve loved and lost.

“He was never my weakness,” You whisper. “He was always my strength.”

"We may have lost many today, sweet friend," Elrond's voice is the only thing keeping you awake as he works to staunch the flow of blood from your body. "But you will not be among them."

You think of Gil-Galad, of Celebrimbor and Arondir, of Galadriel. They will not be able to take Adar on their own. They will need all the men they can muster.

Your innate desire to protect those you love is what coaxes you to move amid Elrond's healing, but not before a firm hand presses you back down into the ground and cradles your head in its embrace. Your eyes slowly shift across the open expanse of sky above you until your gaze falls on the dark eyes of the High King of the Noldor.

“Don’t move.” He commands, firm but soft as his fingers flex around your shoulder. “We will work diligently. Rest.”

Relief washes over you as you raise your fingers to graze his cheek. All you can see is blood and dirt, none of that smooth pale skin you’ve grown so accustomed to over the years.

He’s murmuring something low in Quenya as his hand comes upon your wound, and your eyes roll back into your head as Gil-Galad’s healing begins to seal what damage has been done. Elrond stands beside in waiting for the administration of bandages and salves so it will heal well.

The fingers of his free hand card through your hair as you fall unconscious in Gil-Galad’s capable hands.

***

When you first wake, there is a song on the wind. You’re being carried on a stretcher through what appears to be a path through a valley with elves on either side of you.

Panic rushes through your body until you recognize the voice that the wind carries. Gil-Galad has known since you were young that music was one of your only means of coping as it often brought you such serenity. Especially if the music came from him, his lips, his soul.

“Be well, my friend.” It is Camnir’s voice you hear closest to you instead as his face comes into view at your feet. Why the cartographer is here, you remain unsure, but your exhaustion is softened by the sight of his young face. “The High King is nearby. You are safe. I will wake you once we arrive at our destination.”

Your windpipe feels as if it has been pressed upon and your mouth forced open to swallow handfuls of sand. Despite that discomfort, you swallow and ask, “Is he safe?”

Camnir nods. “Indeed. Be peaceful. We are nearly there.”

You fall asleep once again with Aeglos and Telmnar on your mind.

***

There is warmth the next time you wake.

You’re careful not to aggravate your wound as you slowly shift your weight and rub your hands over your eyes to adjust to the dim light of the tent. Night has fallen, as you can tell from the shadows outside, but you did not expect to find The High King fast asleep with his hand gently laying on top of yours.

You smile. Not many are privileged to see him like this. It reminds you of your younger years, when you and Ereinion were just getting to know one another during your time in the Grey Havens. The pair of you had been far more curious than Círdan had cared for. The Shipwright had never complained. He simply remained grateful that someone cared as much for his charge as you did.

Gil-Galad shifts as you slowly kick your legs off the cot and reach outward to card your fingers through his hair. “Ereinion,” You whisper. Dark eyes flutter open and widen as he realizes you are awake, and it takes all of his willpower not to ask you a million questions as you hold a hand up to silence him. “Are you okay?”

The crease between his brow deepens as you run your thumb along his jaw.

“I believe it should be me asking you that,” He replies quietly. “You gave me quite a scare. I do not think I have experienced fear such as that watching you fall since we were young.”

Your earnest expression crumples almost instantly. “Gil-Galad-“

“You told Elrond to tell me something,” Now fully awake, the High King of the Noldor shifts his seat so that he’s planted directly in front of you, hands hovering over your thighs as he settles into the natural part of your legs. “What was it?”

Your mind shifts back to the early days. The days before the wars had ruined you, had cost the lives of so many people you loved, when it was just you and Ereinion against the forces of darkness and those who tried to tear you down.

The perfect unit, they’d called you.

Ereinion holds his breath as your hand, shaking as it may be, extends towards him to cup his face. “Do you remember all those years ago when I told you that the likelihood of me taking a partner was slim because I was not willing to have a weakness that could distract me on the battlefield?” You ask. He nods, transfixed by your face as your fingers gently trace the line of his jaw. “I’ve had one for centuries now. I have just never breathed a word about it.”

Hope flickers behind those dark eyes. “Do not utter that which you do not wish to come to fruition, nin meld.”

“Why?”

You dip your head down, fingers tangling in dark hair as he tips his head up to hover mere inches above your mouth. Your heart pounds with anticipation as you both waver against the line that was drawn centuries ago: the line that will forever change the two of you once you dare to take that risk.

“Because once you do, you can’t take it back.” Gil-Galad utters so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“I could not take back my affections for you. I would not dare. You’ve had my heart since Círdan introduced us. You are my weakness… and you are my strength, my hope-“

His kiss is bruising as he closes the gap between the two of you, surging upward to stand to his feet and cup your face in his hands. He is so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck to properly kiss him, but you don’t think you could ever quite tire of the fire behind which he kisses you.

“You are my salvation from this wretched life,” Ereinion whispers, relishing in the sweet sound of your whimper as he holds you there, helpless to do nothing but allow his mouth to trail across your jaw and down your neck. He is mindful to not aggravate your injury further lest Elrond have his hide for doing so. “And so I take that weakness willingly if it means I have the privilege to love you all my days.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod as his trail ends at your forehead before you part.

“You’re tired.” You point to the cot beside you that’s open. “Bring that over here.”

“I have to attend to duties elsewhere-“

You give him a pointed look. “Cleaning Aeglos and Telmnar can wait. There’s so many of us injured, and you cannot attend to your duties without having a few hours of sleep. You cannot function.”

He hesitates before acquiescing to your demand. Galadriel is being tended to by Elrond, Arondir is coordinating patrols, and the rest of Eregion’s survivors are taken care of at least for the night. He will sleep much more peacefully - and hopefully avoid nightmares about Celebrimbor - being able to feel your breathing under his fingers.

“Very well.”

When Elrond comes looking for his King, he is not surprised to find him with you, but he is surprised to find that Gil-Galad has indeed fallen asleep in the cot beside yours. You are sitting up in your own cot drinking the mint tea provided by the healers with a smug expression on your face as you meet his eyes.

Your other hand loosely cards through Ereinions hair as he moves himself closer to your leg, forehead pressed against your knee in sleep.

“Should I ask?” Elrond queries, laughing quietly under his breath as you playfully narrow your eyes.

“Keep walking, Peredhel. Nothing to see here.”

He will allow his King that respite for tonight. He deserves the comfort of being held by someone he loves.