#I do want to say that I understand the appeal but I'm really not a fan of Fëanor or his sons

[necrotic-nephilim]

@profandomhopper i was going to reblog the original post this comment was left on but i felt it divorced itself from the original topic so much, you get your own post for giving me delightful permission to ramble about this. buckle in people this is long.

so, DC is a big fandom that expanses a lot of different types of content, and like anything, is subject to crossovers. the obvious ones like Marvel are for the reason of being a similar and equally popular superhero world, so it's easy to transpose the worlds onto each other and overlap the characters. both of these worlds deal with multiverses and endless, endless heroes. it makes sense and there's no real stretch to think Batman and Spider-Man could co-exist. i mean, there have been canon crossover comics. and even some more random crossovers like White Collar have pretty easy to trace origins, being an actor in WC was a popular Dick fancast back in the day so there was some bleeding over that led to a well-loved niche crossover space.

but Danny Phantom and Miraculous Ladybug are where it gets interesting. because at a surface, MLB sort of makes sense. it's a superhero world, you're following a teen girl superhero and sure the mechanics are pretty contained, but the crossover should make sense. but when you compare it to the crossover numbers of other superhero media like say My Hero Academia, Ladybug takes the *crown* with such a bizarre popularity. and of course, DP feels like it makes even less sense. sure, you *could* lump it into at the very least, superhero-adjacent media, but it's not a true hero world like MLB or DC is.

but, the thing to always understand about DC, *especially* the Batfamily (which is where the crossover content propagates the most) is this: a *very* good chunk of fans don't interact with the comics. i would venture to say even most Batfamily fans don't read the comics and actively talk about it. we've all read a very fandom big Batfam fanfic where the author's note mentions the writer has never touched a comic in their life. typically, these fans are either cobbling together their understanding from fandom content, or by frankensteining unrelated DC adaptations to understand each character. you take Bruce from Batman: TAS, you take Dick from the animated Young Justice, you take Jason from Batman: Under The Red Hood animated movie, you take Damian from the DCAMU Batman vs Robin, and you read some fandom metas to fill in the rest and well, you've got some sort of an understanding of these characters. read enough incorrect quotes, some genfic, a couple of character metas, and boom, you understand the Batfamily fandom enough to start creating your own content. and of course now. now you have Wayne Family Adventures so it's even *easier*. a pretty easy to pick up webtoon that's filling in all the gaps for you. but i've been in this fandom long enough to remember before we had WFA and even then, this was still a common, if not the most popular way, to ween yourself into the DC fandom space. you cherry-picked the canon you liked and then plunged into the depths of fanon.

i'm not here to make in depth commentary on if i think this is a good or bad thing. trust me i have that commentary in my head, but that would need it's own post. i'm very split on it and my feelings are complicated. my feelings on WFA are even *more* complicated. because oftentimes, the attitude expressed by these fans who are frankensteining this version of the Batfamily/DC world they have in their head is they don't *want* to read the comics. the comics don't contain the content they're after. and to an extent, i understand that. if you're looking for light-hearted vibes of the Batfamily all getting along and having the occasional hurt/comfort moments but in the end, they hug and make up, you're right. largely, you won't find that in canon. of course there are so many comics to recommend for Batfamily interactions, but you have to get specific. you'll find them interacting in small groups, Tim and Dick bonding here, Duke and Cass bonding there, but largely, the comics don't care to balance the ridiculously large cast they've given themselves. but fandom does. it's easy to toss them all in a blender and ignore the parts you don't like. the default argument to ignoring the comics or writing something OOC is always "well the comics are OOC and inconsistent too" which, while a flawed argument that massively misunderstand how comics work as a medium, isn't an entirely incorrect one. you could serve on a silver platter to these fans, an easy and accessible way to get into comics and they wouldn't be interested. it's not what they're here for. fandom is always character-driven above all else. it's driven by character relationships and dynamics. if someone wants to consume content where Tim idolized and stalked Jason as 'his Robin' and now is trying to help him rehabilitate and they're super complicated but have this long epic forgiveness arc, why *would* they read the comics? because they're sure as shit not going to find that dynamic in the comics. it's laughably OOC and not canon at all, but that doesn't matter. what matters is the sandbox. most Batfamily fans care *far* more about the sandbox canon gives them than the actual canon itself. feel how you feel about that, this really isn't being negative toward that attitude, but it is a common attitude.

so, you have Batfamily fans playing in the sandbox and building their own narrative. common fandom headcanons are so common, you could practically write a guide on how the fanon Batfamily works with how consistent people are about it. or you could just read WFA, which is practically the new manifesto of it. even now, with this sudden spike in people talking about canon accuracy and "actually this happening in the comics", they don't actually care about the comics, just what they can cherry-pick for fodder. (even if they rob it of so much context they're just as OOC as they were before. see specifically: the recent phenomena with Tim Drake going from the woobified weakest member of the Batfam who everyone needs to save constantly and he's the smart boy but he's also the one with a sad tragic neglectful past who gets overlooked being the way Batfamily fandom played with Tim for years. but recently, people seem to be pushing this idea of a ridiculously badass Tim, Tim who *totally* has a kill count because of his actions in RR (2009) if you take them completely out of context, Tim who bested Ra's and is even more badass than Jason and he's the 17 yr old CEO of Wayne Industries being cool and flawless it becoming the new fandom zeitgeist. neither of these versions of Tim are canon, and the second fundamentally misunderstands his arc in RR (2009) but the shift has undeniably happened and it's been fascinating to watch. the same thing happened with people suddenly deciding Jason isn't the "angry violent Robin", he was a sunshine sweet boy who was perfect as Robin. neither of these are true, but the second feels more transgressive and new to fandom from cherry-picked panels.) the point is largely, Batfamily fans would rather build their own canon than play with the actual canon.

and then, you have Danny Phantom. i'm not into DP and have no interest to get into it, but what i know about it via fandom osmosis is this: DP fans sort of also don't give a fuck about canon. once again, the canon of DP is a sandbox, not a rulebook. the concepts and the characters are the draw, not the plot itself. i've seen DP posts explaining characters who are essentially OCs, but have become so dominant in the fandom via fandom osmosis. there are concepts and ideas about how Danny's powers work and potential concepts with his ghost nature that either aren't in canon or only happened once in canon and fans decided to expand on that and doesn't care about it's own in-universe logic. i've seen a lot of DP fans also express they haven't seen the show and they don't have plans to see the show. because the show is just some children's cartoon with some inconsistencies and a simple plot, as you'd expect from CN. the show isn't the point. no one cares about it's plot, they care about it's characters. they care about pushing the concept of half ghost boy to a logical extreme and seeing what you can get out of that. can you make it weird and fucked up. how much can you highlight on his trauma and body horror. what identity crisis can you give him and how can you build his interactions with other characters in his world around that and also make those characters fun and unique on their own. sure, the skeleton of canon is there, but the meat lies all in the fanon.

Miraculous Ladybug also exists in this similar vein. the characters, the concepts, those hold intrigue. and not even mentioning the fact the original concept for this show was supposed to be aimed to an older audience, so you can see the bones of something a bit more mature and nuanced under this typical, villain of the week magical girl transformation show. the show itself is a bit shallow and that's not a *bad* thing, it's just the medium it exists within being aimed towards children. but the concepts of a teen girl who's basically a sort of chosen one, a boy who doesn't know his father is the big bad of the show, and their weird identity porn love... square thing. those dynamics are *so* complicated and such a fun sandbox to play in with character-driven fandom.

so, at the core, you have three fandoms that care more about the culturally accepted fanon than the canon, with a good chunk of people often not even consuming the original canon content. and well, DC is an *easy* world to transpose just about anything onto. a boy who's half ghost and fighting supernatural threats? that makes sense, DC has ghost heroes like Deadman already. a girl who has this magical item that gives her animal themed superpowers? i mean that's practically the same thing as Vixen's Totem so that one makes sense too. they fit in pretty easy, no needing to change the world to accommodate them. and of course, if you're a fan of *one* fandom where you don't care for the canon content and only like the fandom sandbox, chances are, you'll get drawn in pretty easily to another fandom with similar mechanics. if you can teach yourself the DP fandom rules/concepts, you can teach yourself the Batfamily fandom rules/concepts. and well, since there's so much crossover in fandom members, why not write the fanfiction? crossover fics will always exist, but with such a shared member base, you have a really big boom.

it's why the characters you see DP interact with in DC are *always* characters who are far more driven by fanon than canon. Danny and John Constantine is a *massive* concept. for people who don't read Hellblazer comics. my poor partner, @divine-dominion has lamented to me pretty often about finding DP content in the Hellblazer tag that is essentially turning Constantine into an OC. because whatever version of Constantine is being written about isn't one bit comics accurate, and really, isn't trying to be. and the same thing happens with Shazam. you watch Young Justice and understand him well enough, you get drawn in by the character concept that you just run with it. people put their favorite blorbos in the same place because hey, wouldn't ghost boy be pretty cool in a city like *Gotham*. how would Batman even react to him. and then, the shipping. because ages for the Batfamily can be easily hand-waved and moved around based on where you plop Danny into the timeline, you have your pick of the litter with him, and same with Ladybug. of course there are the most popular ships but largely, the world is your oyster.

i don't think this is the worst thing in the world for either fandom. it's not hard to filter out the crossover tags and scroll past content i don't like. and sure, i see the appeal of making your blorbos from two different places meet. i've got my drafts *full* of DC/MHA crossover ideas because well, i like them both and think that would be cool. i think my only gripe with it is when DP or MLB crossover content seeps it's way into the wrong tags. using the above example, if you're writing about Danny and Constantine but there's zero content of the actual Hellblazer comics, i don't think you need the Hellblazer tag, just the Constantine character tag. tbh i wish this extended onto Ao3 and people utilized fandom tags better. if you're writing Batfamily fanfiction that is very clearly and obviously WFA driven in characterization and concepts, i would far prefer those fics be tagged with the WFA fandom tag rather than the Batman (comics) fandom tag. because well, you're not writing about the Batman comics. and there's nothing wrong with that, but it helps if you don't confuse yourself for content striving to interact with canon more. (this especially extends to Young Justice, by the way. if you're writing for the Young Justice tv show please, please stop using the Young Justice (comics) fandom tag. i'm at my wit's end- /lh)

the whole thing is fascinating. i've got zero interest in entering DP or MLB as fandoms because that's not my speed, but witnessing it as an outsider is my favorite pastime. i see a *lot* of posts going around the DC x DP space that are helping explain to people who's who, what's what, and understanding the canon/fanon of both of these properties so others can better enter the space. which is not something you'd need in a fandom driven only by it's canon content, but it is sweet watching others try to help newbies enter the space. it's a very inviting fandom space, i think, whether you lament it's existence or not. they're just sitting in their corner with their blorbos, and i gotta respect that. the posts explaining the Batfamily to DP fans are always fun for me to read, even if i disagree with some of the characterizations in them because it helps shine a light on what the fans of this crossover regard as "important" enough about each fandom to be worth including those sorts of primers. very fascinating stuff.

[brethilach]

sorry for Elden Ring posting on the tolkien blog but I'm not the only person who thinks Messmer evokes heavy Maedhros vibes right

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Me, when Sebastian joins my party for the first time: Okay, this time I'm not going to forget about you, Sebastian. I'm going to make an effort to use you a lot this playthrough so I can better understand you.

Also me, immediately forgetting about Sebastian while finishing Act 2 and making it halfway through Act 3 before I finally notice his Faith quest: ......................Oh. Right. My bad.

[mooseyspooky]

just

[codenamethebird]

I'm loving all the discussion about Melinoe's anti-human prejudice, but I don't see anyone discussing my favorite, so u get more of my rambling. I also got these screenshots from YouTube so you get sketchy Hades, but I actually only just got this dialogue in this patch haha (I forgot to screenshot it myself).

I'm obsessed with this bit of dialogue because it houses some beautiful Hades character development. One of his big flaws that caused like 75% of the problems in Hades 1 was his eternal punishments. Orpheus and Eurydice, forced to be apart. Achilles and Patroclus, also forced to be apart because of Hades contracts. And in this case Sisyphus, being doomed to always push up the rock.

Hades was convinced that they deserved their punishments, that they could not change, so they should never be free. Zag had to go through a bunch of hoops to change their fates, and Hades just grumbled through it all. But people can change, Sisyphus is a prime example of that. The way Hades' voice actor says that last bit "He forgave me anyway" just murdered me.

What an emotionally pogninent moment from a man who has realized his mistakes, but it's too late (to him at least), and now all he can do it stand in chains, in a prison he made, drowning in his regrets.

And then this is how Mel responds:

I just, omfg Mels nooooo babe, your Dad has just had some brilliant character development, what are so saying.

She is so dismissive. She totally missed the point of what he was trying to say. There's like no thought that went through her head, just "fuck that dumb mortal, don't feel guilty dad." Mel doesn't even try to even slightly engage with it, the moment he mentions a mortal, it becomes unimportant.

Hades, while blatantly disagreeing with her, doesn't exactly reply to her dismissal of Sisyphus. Which makes sense I doubt he wants to really argue with her and the context of these chats he is trying to get her to leave quickly considering their location.

But he does name Sisyphus here and reinforce the fact that he was a king. Which I note because Mel just called him "some dead mortal". And he appeals to a much more emotional thread with the whole thing with Bouldy, something Mel would understand a bit easier.

And Mel does call him a king in response, which while not his name, is more personable than "some dead mortal". But ultimately, she respects him because he was kind to her dad, not because she remotely comprehends the emotions and regrets that Hades is feeling with this character development.

And considering what else we know about her, I think it's very safe to say she still thinks Hades shouldn't feel guilty about anything. That this mortal is ultimately unimportant and deserving of his punishment.

But yeah tldr, i find it endlessly hilarous how Hades has this lovely moment of self reflection and then Mels immediately dismisses it with a simple "fuck that mortal".

[moonchild9350]

Still Life and Nude Surprises

Summary: you need to prep for an art show and sign up for a class for extra practice. the model you’re assigned however turns out to be someone you know very well.

Pairing: best friend!Felix x fab!reader

Genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: nude modeling, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mention of overstimulation, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied multiple rounds

Notes: another fic from when I was feral sorry not sorry lol this was fun to write though and it’s Felix so…. lol

If you enjoyed please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

"Hold still!"

You chastised the blonde who was at the moment wiggling around in his seat, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he blasted god knows what on the latest game he acquired.

"Y/n! Lemme just finish this round, then I'll do anything you say," he responded as he showed off his biggest pouty face.

You sighed, not being able to say no to that face. Felix smiled and went back to his game, his fingers tap tapping on the keyboard.

Felix is your best friend, he has been since you were neighbors as a kid. You've done everything together, from attending dances as each others dates, sleepovers as kids, endure heartbreaks, and even live within the same building as adults.

You couldn't live without him, your relationship going beyond your wildest dreams.

Now, you were trying to sketch your best friend as you were trying to improve your still life skills, preparing for an art show that you had signed up for. Everything was going well until he received a text from a gamer buddy, wanting to go for a round on a new game he recently started.

You set your sketch pad down and watched your friend as he scrunched his face in concentration, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he shot down enemy after enemy. It was pretty humorous to watch, as everytime he missed his target he'd scream "noooo!" before concentrating once more.

You knew it was a lost cause, understanding once he started gaming, it would be hours until he would stop. You gathered up your stuff, packing it into your bag.

You got up and walked over to Felix, ruffling up his hair, obscuring his view of the computer screen.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed as he blew his hair out of his face, the strands framing his face haphazardly as a result.

"I'm gonna go home, it's getting late. I"ll see you later ok?"

Felix took a chance and looked away from the screen to you, "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible model."

You chuckled and slapped his arm, the boy yelping at the sting. "No you're not, you just get distracted easily."

You continued to laugh as you walked to his door, listening to Felix mutter under his breath something along the lines of "that's not true."

Closing his door, you walked the few doors down to your apartment, dropping your bag on the hallway table. You really did want to practice your skills as the show was getting closer day by day and you were banking on using Felix to start.

You grabbed your laptop and plopped on the couch, propping your feet on the table in front of you. Opening up the search engine, you began to look for classes that you could attend to help you practice.

You came across a particularly promising site, the company offering a variety of classes from group sessions to private ones. You clicked on the private session info bar, as the prospect of it just being you and the model seemed appealing.

You noticed they offered private nude modeling sessions as well, your eyebrow raising in interest. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the human body and to improve your skills on drawing it.

The company had a few sessions open over the next few days which would be perfect as you were free. You clicked on the time slot for tomorrow's private session, your mind running over the pros and cons.

You've never sketched anyone nude, the prospect seeming a little embarrassing to you, but how would you get better if you didn't step out of your comfort zone? Plus, these models were trained for this, and it was with a reputable company.

The cost of the class wasn't much either, definitely within your budget. You filled in your information, whatever they asked for. Once done, your hand hovered over the book button, as you considered what to do.

"Fuck it," you said, bringing your finger down to press book.

A confirmation page popped up saying your session was successfully booked and they'd see you tomorrow. You let out a breath and closed your laptop.

This was really going to happen. You wondered if you'd have a male or female model, noticing there was no option to choose. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the session until the time came, opting to go in with a fresh and unbiased mind.

You went about the rest of your night, prepping everything you would need for tomorrow. Settling into bed you pulled the covers up to your chin.

You were ready for tomorrow and whatever it were to bring.

--

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the weather warm but not too hot. The walk to the art studio wasn't too far away, the building being within walking distance.

You were giddy with excitement, your anxieties gone about the details of the session. You texted Felix to let him know you would be occupied today and would be over later on. He didn't mind as he apparently had something to do as well.

You approached a chic building, the outer walls appearing old yet charming to fit the town. You opened the door and walked in, met with the scent only an art studio can provide, from the scents of paints to fresh canvases. The scent of coffee drifted in the air as well, as there was a fresh pot that seemed to have been brewed in the corner of the reception area.

You approached the front desk, greeting the worker behind it.

"Hi, my name is y/n, I'm booked for a private session at 10:30?"

The lady looked in a book on the desk, her manicured fingers running down the page to the appointed time. She tapped her fingers on the page, finding your name as expected.

"We have you all set, would you like to pay now?"

You nodded and pulled out your card. She took care of the payment and then smiled.

"Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly to take you to the studio."

"Thank you," you said, walking towards a comfy looking chair in the corner.

You sat down, cradling your bag to your side. The atmosphere was quiet, the occasional sound of chatter meeting your ears. You watched as people walked to and from, their focus on getting to their destination.

Not long after sitting down, a young woman appeared calling your name. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and walked towards her.

"Ready?" she asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," you responded as you followed the lady down the hall.

She stopped at a door, the placard reading studio eight. It was more secluded than the other studios, the room being near the back of the hall. The lady opened the door and stepped in, you following right behind her.

As you crossed the threshold, you took in the surroundings of the room. It wasn't too small but not too big. The walls were covered with sketches and paintings, portraying various body types. Each painting was beautiful, the artist capturing the details of the human body in intricate detail.

There was a ceiling to floor mirror along one wall, the whole room visible in its reflection. In the center of the room, there was a chair next to a series of boxes, linen draped over it to make a makeshift bed. You eyed the stool next to an easel, which you assumed is where you would be sitting.

"So, this is where your session will take place. You have this space for four hours. If you need assistance of any sort, just press this button here and one of the staff members will assist you."

You followed her hand as she pointed to a blue button next to the door. You nodded and faced the lady again, waiting for her to continue.

"You have opted for a nude model for your session correct?"

"Yes, I have," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush at her question.

"They will enter after I leave. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can ask them to robe again, they will not mind. I think that's all. Any questions?"

You shook your head no, as everything was pretty straight forward.

"Great! Go ahead and get settled, your model will be in shortly!"

You thanked the lady and walked over to the easel. Setting your bag down, you began to pull out your sketch book and various pencils, setting them up accordingly. You sat on the stool, crossing your legs as you waited for your model to arrive.

It didn't take long until a different door than you came in opened, a person stepping in within the room. It was a flurry of movement as they walked into the room with their head down.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," the person said in a deep voice.

Wait...you knew that voice. Shocked, your head snapped up to look more closely at the person. You couldn't believe it, that person was...

"Y/n?!"

"Felix?!"

Your model was Felix? Your best friend? What the fuck?!

You were confused and shocked. Felix seemed to be as well as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.

You eyed your friend who was prepped in a white robe, the material seeming soft and cozy on his skin. His long hair was in a ponytail, framed away from his face, his numerous freckles on display.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing," Felix responded as he came closer to you.

"I uh...I signed up for a class to work on my skills since you know..." you said, your voice trailing off at the end.

The atmosphere was tense, neither one of you knowing what to do. You never expected to see your best friend here, especially since he never mentioned he modeled for an art studio...nude at that.

Felix nodded at your response, "I work here as a side gig...make some extra cash you know?"

You nodded, accepting his answer.

"Why did you never tell me you did this?" you inquired, curiosity getting the best of you.

Felix fiddled with the strap of his robe, his gaze anywhere but yours. After a moment he cleared his throat.

"Well, I thought you'd find it weird. I mean I'm naked in front of people and they draw me in the nude. How would I bring that up with you?"

He had a point. That would definitely make for an interesting conversation. Now the question becomes do you go on with the session? Sketch your best friend nude? You could make him keep the robe on.

"Do you...do you still want to proceed with this?" Felix asked, his hands gesturing toward the makeshift bed in the center of the room.

"I'm ok if you are," you said shrugging.

Felix cleared his throat, surprised at your answer. Recovering quickly, he said, "Of course."

You nodded and watched as he padded toward the bed, stopping in front of it for a moment. His hands went to the strap of his robe, his fingers fiddling with the knot before he stopped.

"You ok with sketching me nude?"

"Yes Lix, I've seen you naked before."

You really have and with years of being best friends, it was bound to happen.

Felix nodded before he grasped the strap again, this time untying the knot.

You watched as the knot fell away, the straps now dangling at his side. He brought his hands up, to grab the soft material and slide it off his shoulders. With a flurry of movement, he let the robe fall, the fabric pooling at his feet.

You gasped, your eyes glued to your best friend as he stood in the center of the room, his back to you. Taking the chance, your eyes roamed his back, taking in his muscular frame, down to his lithe waist, which you've always admired. You smirked at seeing his ass wanting to reach out and smack it.

Felix took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face you. You watched with bated breath as he now stood facing you, his eyes on yours.

Your eyes drifted down his torso, eyeing his nipples, the pinkish-brown buds perky in the cold room. You eyed him further down, down, down until you came to his pelvis, a happy trail of hair leading down to his cock.

You subconsciously licked your lips, your eyes glued to his soft cock lying amongst a smattering of hair, his balls hanging nice and delicate. You couldn't help but admire his cock, wondering how it would feel in your hands, how it would feel...

"Earth to y/n! My eyes are up here pervert!" Felix exclaimed while snapping his fingers to get your attention.

You snapped your eyes up to his face, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You definitely were just checking out your best friend, the feeling in your panties a little more wet than when you came in.

You cleared your throat and gestured toward the bed, "Umm, wanna get started?"

Felix nodded, "How do you want me?"

"You can just lounge on the bed for now."

Felix nodded again and sat on the bed, swinging his legs up to rest on the linens. You walked over to your best friend and stopped in front of him, your hands reached out. You hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes asking silent permission to touch him.

"Go ahead, position me how you want," Felix chuckled.

You took his hand in yours and draped it across his face, his fingers dangling delicately on the side of his cheeks. You angled his head to look toward where you would be sitting. You looked at his legs, taking a breath before propping one of his legs up.

Once finished, you quickly took a step back, eyeing your work. Satisfied, you sat down on your stool and grabbed your sketch book.

You picked up a pencil and began to sketch, easily getting lost in your work. You looked up at Felix every now and then, to get some details solidified in your head before you translated it onto paper.

It was silent in the room, neither one of you speaking. It was not as awkward as you thought it would be, but rather comforting.

Time passed and you got more of your sketch done, the outline being nearly complete.

Felix was staring at you, watching your hands dance across the page, sketching his frame. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, admiring how you got lost in your work, that not even your best friend posing naked for you can distract you.

He loved how you let out a small smile when you got a detail just right or how you scrunched up your face and bit your lip when something did not seem right.

You were beautiful, that he couldn't deny and you were even more beautiful in this moment, sitting on a stool in an art studio underneath the dim lights.

Felix started to feel warm, despite laying right under the air conditioner, the feeling spreading down his belly and settling at his cock. He could feel the blood slowly fill out his cock, the appendage slightly harder than before, laying haphazardly against his pelvis.

He willed himself to breath, to cool down, not wanting you to see the effect you have on him. He could never live that down. He tried to look everywhere but your face, especially when your head was down. But to no avail, the feeling increased, his cock twitching slightly in response.

You looked up at your friend to get another look at his torso for shading the area on your sketch, but froze at what you saw. Felix seemed to be in turmoil, his breath shaky, his eyes darting everywhere around the room.

Your eyes traveled to his cock, noticing how it seemed to have hardened some since you last took a look at him. You thought you would feel embarrassed, however, you felt quite the opposite.

You lingered on his cock a little longer, a a pleasurable shock traveling down your body and straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together in response, feeling your slick slowly seep into your panties.

You cleared your throat and went back to your sketch, not wanting Felix to catch you staring, not let him know that you were aware he was hard while you sketched him.

Felix was turned on, that was the brunt of it. He tried to stop his reaction to you, but he just couldn't do it. He felt his cock hardened until it stood fully at attention, the tip pressing up against his pelvis.

It was torture laying there, only a few feet away from you, his cock so hard it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the ache, and maybe just maybe you could help him out too.

He watched as you lifted your head up once more, gasping at the state of him.

You were in shock, noticing now that Felix's cock was fully hard, the member seeming angry and red at the lack of attention it received. You could see something shiny glistening on the hairs littering his pelvis. You watched as a drop of pre-cum oozed from his tip, the liquid dripping down his shaft until it reached the hairs, getting caught in the thickness.

Looking at Felix's face, you could tell he was miserable, as he breathing was shallow and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. You knew he wanted to touch himself to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling.

"Felix?" you questioned, your eyes reaching his. "Do you wanna touch yourself?"

Felix's eyes widened at the question, disbelief written on his face.

"I'm..I'm sorry y/n, I just couldn't help it," he stuttered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

"It's ok," you responded with a smile. "You can touch yourself, make yourself feel good. I'll continue to sketch."

Felix stared at you for a moment more before he took his other hand that was at his side and placed it on his chest.

You watched as he gripped his aching cock and gave it a squeeze as he moaned lowly. He shifted his hand upwards, his thumb pressing on his slit before gathering up some of the leaking pre-cum.

He began to stroke his cock, steady but slowly, his fist reaching the base just to travel back up and circle around the head. Felix kept eye contact with you, your sketching forgotten, as you took to watching your best friend pleasure himself.

He increased the speed of his wrist movement, wet sounds from the aid of his precum filling the room. With each moan he let out, you felt your pussy clench over nothing. You were soaking wet, your panties stuck to your skin by now, your clit throbbing to be touched.

"Y/n," Felix said, his voice raspy as he continued to stroke his cock. "Can you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself for me?"

You looked into Felix's pleading eyes, watching as he licked his lips and swallowed. You didn't give a moments thought at your friend's request, instead ridding yourself of your leggings.

You stood before Felix, your fingers going to the band of your panties. You watched Felix's eyes drag to the piece of cloth, his eyes widening at the wet patch present on your panties, the material sticking to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as the outline of your lips could be seen.

You slowly slid your panties down your legs and set them aside. Felix let out a groan at the sight of your pussy, his cock twitching in his hand.

You sat back down on the stool and spread your legs, your wet folds separating to show him your entrance. He kept his eyes glued to your pussy as you brought a finger to your clit, flicking the bud and the rubbing it gently.

You sighed out as you dipped a finger lower into your hole, gathering your slick that was pooling there before bringing it back to your clit. You circled it gently, applying the slightest pressure, a jolt of pleasure causing your pussy to clench.

Time passed as you both sat there, eyes on each other as you pleasured yourself, the room filled with wet sounds and the mix of both of your moans.

You matched Felix's pace as he stroked his cock, harder and faster, his hips bucking up into his hands. You let out a whimper as you felt the tightening within your belly, the coil tightening, filling your core with warmth.

"Felix, m'close," you moaned as your fingers slipped and slid around your clit, your pussy getting wetter by the minute.

"Yeah? Cum for me? Will you cum for me like a good girl?" Felix cooed. "I'm close too, fuck."

Your breathing increased as the coil expanded in your belly, the feeling getting larger and larger until you tipped over the edge, your walls spasming, clenching down rhythmically as you rode out your high.

You didn't stop rubbing your clit, watching as Felix let out a groan as he bucked his hips, spurts of cum landing on his belly creating a painting with its pearly white sheen.

You pulled your hand away, the feeling of overstimulation settling in. You looked at your best friend, both of you breathing hard as you came down from your highs.

You chuckled as you noticed Felix was pretty much in the same position you put him in, his resolve at staying true to his role admirable.

"You um...you can keep sketching if you'd like," Felix said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

"We literally just got off together and you want me to continue sketching?" you asked incredulously as you cocked your eyebrow.

Felix cleared his throat, his body slighly shifting on the makeshift bed causing his softened cock to jiggle.

"Well...yeah, you paid and all..."

You stared at your best friend in disbelief. You hated that he had a point, you did pay a pretty sum to be here today. But here you were, nude from the waist down, your nether region a mess. You sighed and picked up your pencil, moving your hand to start sketching again.

There was silence once more as you got into the zone, focusing on shading in your sketch. You began to hum to yourself, adjusting yourself sligthly on the stool.

Felix returned to staring at you, watching you get lost in your work. He tried not to remember that you were naked waist down, your pussy seconds away from being on display if you decided to open your legs.

The thought caused arousal to seep through his body once more. He cursed silently as he felt his cock twitch. Why does he have to be turned on by you? He's never had this reaction before for any other client.

Maybe it was because they were strangers, people he didn't know, while you were his best friend, his life line.

He couldn't help it as his thoughts wandered, wondering how you would feel wrapped around him. He wondered how you would sound as he pounded into you, making you feel better than any of your little flings ever could.

He peeked down to look at his lower half as he silently groaned noticing his cock was fully hardened, resting against his belly once more.

You looked up to gather reference and noticed Felix's cock was hard, more of his precum leaking out and onto his belly. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight as your tongue darted out and licked your lips.

"Fuck this," you said, tossing your sketch book to the side.

You stood up and walked towards Felix, lifting your shirt up and over your head in the process. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, your tits spilling out and on view for your friend.

Felix scrambled up quickly and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him until you stood right in front of his face. He grasped your waist and smashed his lips to yours, letting out a moan as your lips moved with his.

Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, giving it a squeeze. Felix moaned against your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Can I fuck you y/n?" Felix asked with hope in his eyes.

You've both come this far, why stop now you thought.

"Sure," you agreed as more arousal gushed out of your pussy and onto your thighs at the thought of his cock filling you up.

Felix helped maneuver you onto the makeshift bed as he hovered above you. He spread your legs and pushed them upwards, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy, your slick coating your folds and dripping down your ass.

He brought his thumb down to press against your swollen clit that was peeking through your folds. You let out a whine at the sensation, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"I've waited for this moment for a long time y/n," Felix said, his eyes lifting up to your face.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling at the thought that you both have liked each other probably for years.

He really was your person, your everything, and you would love nothing more than to give yourself fully to him.

Felix smiled down at you before swiping his finger over your clit again, watching as you wiggled your hips at his touch.

"I'm gonna give you my cock now," he grunted, grasping the appendage at the base.

He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick before pressing against your entrance, his eyes glued to how his head disappeared within your hole.

You mewled as he withdrew his cock just to press into your entrance again as he fucked you with just the tip.

"Felix, please," you whimpered, holding your legs open even more.

"Want my cock hm?" Felix asked, his eyes on yours. He watched as your mouth hung open, soft moans falling out as he teased you, spreading your folds open with just his head.

He was faring no better as he felt a shutter run through him, every time he sunk his tip within your warmth.

"Fuck me," you commanded, your eyes snapping open and staring Felix down.

You reached for his cock, your hand wrapping around the shaft. You wiggled your hips attempting to take more of his cock, ignoring how Felix was laughing at you.

"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," Felix chuckled. "Oh wait, you lost those hours ago, so desperate for my cock y/n."

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips into yours with a groan, sinking his length within your walls until bottomed out.

"Fuck, so warm and tight," he grunted as he began to thrust his hips into yours, withdrawing his cock just until he was all the way out and pushing back in.

You pussy clenched around him, the feeling of his cock stretching you out causing waves of pleasure to settle in your pelvis.

Felix grasped your legs, pushing them further to your chest as he pummeled his hips to yours, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He couldn't believe how tight you were, how your walls molded around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him.

His moans mingled with yours, as you both chased your highs. Felix licked his fingers and brought them back down to your clit, the digits slipping and sliding along the nub, causing shocks of pleasure to wreck your frame.

"Shit, I'm close, gonna cum. Can I come inside?" Felix panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"Please, need your cum!" you whimpered as your pussy contracted at the thought of his cum within you.

Felix slammed his hips into yours once more before stilling, ropes of his cum flooding your walls.

"That's it, take my cum," Felix cooed as he continued to finger your clit.

You let out a loud moan as you came, your arousal seeping out of your pussy, coating Felix's cock as he thrusted his hips into yours a few more times to help you ride out your high.

Felix peered down at you, his eyes searching yours as you panted, your hands running down your body. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, his eyes glued to how his cum leaked out of your pussy, a smile gracing his face.

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips once more as he whispered "I love you."

You carded your fingers through his hair, eagerly returning the kiss.

"And I love you Felix," you cooed.

You both laid there a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, neither one of you in a rush to move.

After a while, Felix perked up, mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna keep sketching? You still have another hour."

You smirked at the suggestion, knowing exactly where it will lead, and that was definitely ok with you.

"Sure thing, let's go for another round," you teased with a grin.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

[moondirti]

back on my bullshit soapgaz x gn! reader

Kyle has his tongue halfway down Johnny's throat when the petulant knocking previously on the other side of the wall migrates to his front door.

It's not like he didn't hear it before. Just that he didn't care. And really, if it were up to him, he'd continue rutting their leaky cocks together until he were gratified enough to deal with whatever bullshit problem the neighbour's have this time. Being pent up off the end of a bad mission does that to you, you see. Wears you down until you're all instinct, aggression, sybaritic once you taste death on the barrel of an M-16. He doesn't have any propriety left in him. No patience.

But that's exactly what does it. The banging gets too loud to ignore, and Soap, bless his heart, isn't exactly quiet either. His moans meet the cacophony of knuckles rapping on wood. In the clamour, Kyle's remaining sanity wears infinitesimally thin. His nerves spark like frayed electrical wires. His balls ache with a climbing release that only grows steeper. And he's running on frustration that's been impossible to burn off. (It was his fault the op went to shit, no matter how his team insists otherwise.)

His fault. His fault.

God, can they fucking shut up already?

He rips away. A thread of spit still tethers him to Soap, swollen lip to lip. The man in question is flushed, blue eyes more watery than usual. Dazed, briefs shucked halfway down his lap, his shirt creased in all the commotion, exposing the hair-dusted planes of his muscled abdomen. Kyle can tell he isn't as bothered by the disruption. For all his acumen, Soap's always been the first to loosen up. All it takes is a hand down his pants by someone he trusts not to stab him.

He looks up at him now, blinking stupidly, saying nothing when Kyle gets up and steps into the closest pair of sweats. Wider pant leg, shorter inseam. Johnny's. The lining is soft enough not to chafe his balls as he scrambles for the speaker remote, and he thinks he starts to understand the appeal in going commando.

The knocking persists until he pauses the music.

When he swings the door open, he expects to find Agnes, or Gerald, or one of the other ten geriatric tossers living on his floor. They all like him well enough. Sending them away would be as easy as promising a day's worth of labour, dusting the shelves they can't reach, or some other menial task he can drag Soap along to do with him.

What he doesn't expect is you.

You. Pointedly not old, endearingly unkempt, and enraged enough he's surprised there isn't steam whistling from your ears.

If he's in any way moved by the novelty, he doesn't have the energy to show it. In many ways, he feels like an expanded version of the vein throbbing at your temple. Whatever complaint you have, he's sure he can match it with a hundred more, each distinctly worse.

"What?"

"Have you no fucking courtesy?" You snarl, twisting a sore fist in the scratchy fabric of your scrubs. Your knuckles look raw, scratched up. He half wants to kiss 'em better, half wants to huff a serves you right. "You're not the only person in the world! You share walls with three other people, and I'm sure you know how thin they are! That music is way too loud to even defend! You'll go deaf by 50, you bloody lemon! And that's not counting what you're doing to the poor sods who have to share a space with you, since you've clearly demonstrated a lack of care in that regard! Honestly, I should just call the cops to deal with this. Or the landlord, see how you like blasting your shitty playlist on the streets!"

The words don't mean much to him. Perhaps they would, if he properly digested them. But you're way too cute when you're mad for him to take you seriously. Your lips purse in a way that screams put my mouth to better use, and his fingers itch with the urge to pinch your nose shut, shut off your airflow, as your nostrils flare with heat. In the end, the only response he can muster is a lame:

"I've never seen you around before."

"I don't live here!"

"Then..." He trails off, looking back at Johnny on the couch, then the speakers, then you.

"I'm Maureen's caretaker. You know, your next door neighbour? Her Alzheimer's makes her sensitive to the racket, and she hasn't been able to calm down all day! Because of you! I've about had it up to here–" You raise a hand above your head, waving it wildly to emphasise your point. He has to bite his cheeks to stop himself from smiling.

"That's unfortunate." He says, and tries really hard to mean it. It seems you have a keen ear for apathy, though, because you cross your arms and tense your jaw and harden your glare until he's sighing, all dramatically, "Fine. Music down. Got it."

He means it, too. Despite all the awful things he's done — twisting a knife into the throat of a soldier pleading for their mum and using their corpse as a shield through the ensuing crossfire, most recently — he isn't heartless. He knows he isn't the only person in the world. The casualties that fell on his hands in the past month alone will haunt him to a point where he remembers that fact like it's a second skin.

But you turn your nose up, up, all self-satisfied, downright pompous if you ask him, and that brief flame of empathy flickers out like a candle held under rain. It's made worse when you walk away without so much as a thank you, and you really do need to be taught a lesson, don't you?

He never liked Maureen, anyway.

Malicious compliance is an ugly game, but to his credit, he doesn't turn the music back on.

Soap hasn't moved an inch, though his briefs lay over the arm of the couch now. One scarred, rough palm cups the mass between his spread legs, kneading his balls carelessly as he waits for him. Pillow princess. Kyle wonders if he's this laid back with Ghost, or if their brutish lieutenant makes him work for a fuck.

"They're bonnie." He hums, hugging his knees up and apart when Kyle slides a finger between his cheeks.

"And you're loose."

"Aye. Ye didnae think Ah’d turn up without gettin’ maself ready for ye, did ye?" Soap smiles crookedly, cocking his head to the side in that way he does. It narrows the gap between human and dog to an uncanny degree, and he's struck with the realisation that yeah, Ghost probably gives him whatever he wants with enough whimpering.

"Slut." Kyle says, without malice.

"Yet ye're pumpin' me."

He's got him there.

His hole is slippery, hot around his finger. He could probably get away with fucking him like this, no extra prep needed, and the Scot would enjoy whatever burn comes as consequence. But he uncaps the lube anyway, squirting it between the iron-firm canyons of Soap's ass and a little over the head of his own cock before lining them up.

And as he pushes in, he swoops low to whisper in his ear.

"Be loud."

Johnny loves a good challenge.

It's part of the reason they get along so well. Kyle seeks stimulating experiences like Icarus to the sun, and no one rises to the occasion better than his twin sergeant. He'll be the first to place bets over a deck of cards, or contribute to trivia nights at their frequented bar, or hop on the game with him when neither can sleep. He's even down to test all those sick fantasies that frighten birds off. Including, it seems, exhibitionism.

And Lord is he good at it.

Kyle is almost embarrassed, despite being the one to start it. Soap, on the other hand, has left shame with his shoes at the door. The air hangs heavy with sex and noise, the lewd slaps of skin on skin, his balls swinging to hit the cleft of his ass, just as his cock hits the same spot within him. Over and over.

The Scot moans with abandon, head thrown and back arched. He really doesn't need to slam his fist into the wall repeatedly, the mangled sounds tearing from his throat (an arbitrary pattern of Gaz, fuck, ye're huge, jist there, dinnae stop) more than enough, but it's a nice touch. By now, it's practice that assures him he's hitting the right spot (the dramatics are appreciated, not reliable). He knows just how to angle himself, where exactly Soap likes it, to make this worth both their time.

Though, with the way his cock is twitching untouched, he looks to be getting off on this too.

His mind is split between the delicious sight underneath him and an imagined picture of you. Are you more furious or turned on? Is your charge giving you a tough time for their transgressions? Did you sneak off to the bathroom to relieve your frustration in a productive way? Fuck. He wonders what you look like when you cum, drawing a picture with the very limited references he's been given.

Your brows scrunched, lips twisted, eyes screwed up. Still in your uniform, undershirt rolled up to your elbows as you slip a hand down the waistband of your pants. Unable to let yourself go completely. Shamefully indulgent. Fingers tensed over the lip of the sink, goading yourself along, pulling out and washing up the second you cum. Refusing to ride out the waves of your orgasm, but going home with a sticky mess between your legs.

Equal parts furious and turned on, he decides.

Soap grabs his hand to force it around his dick.

"You gonna cum so soon?" He asks — more shouts, really — even though it's a stupid question. Whatever helps you paint the scene...

"Uhuh! Uhuh!" Soap catches on, huffs trailing into whines as Kyle tightens the grip over his tip.

They're both one corny porn line away from bursting into laughter (which, the more he thinks about, the more he's sure Johnny is parroting the last film they watched together). He has to bite his tongue to keep the amusement from making itself known, jacking the length in his hands to the same tempo of his thrusts.

"Then cum, you needy whore. Make a fuckin' mess of yourself."

And it's terrifying how well they execute it. As though previously rehearsed, Johnny shoots ropes all over his chest, ending his act with a loud, punchy "fuck!"

Kyle follows not too long after, pulling out to coat the back of his thighs. Cum gets everywhere. That's fine. His couch is overdue for a wash, anyway.

"Good work," He chuckles. Quiet this time, the praise genuine.

Soap grins. "Steamin Jesus, ye'r th' best shag A've ever had!"

"Alright, enough." He taps his cheek in a mock slap, smearing their combined fluids all over the stubble he'd begun to grow. The man is undeterred, sticking a tongue out to polish his palm. "That's overkill."

"That's gonnae git ye leid. Jus' watch."

"Us laid." Kyle corrects, because who would he be if he didn't grant his best mate a portion of the prize?

In the afterglow, he forgets all about his anger.

It's late when you come by again.

Well. Not late for anyone with a healthy circadian rhythm, but he's been living at his Nan's old place long enough to know that light's out is 1800 hours. Maureen is definitely asleep by now. And even then, the timing is odd. They've both bathed, stripped the couch of its cushions, ordered takeout, played a round of Mario Kart, finished the last of their reports, and emptied an old vape cartridge (after running out of cigs).

It's been hours since the last time they made any significant amount of noise. Your appearance is unfounded.

The knocking is subdued this time. One, two. Pause. The shadow beneath the door retreating, then waddling back again. He watches it occur over a minute or two, fond of making you wait, before rising from his place on the floor.

The door swings. Hinges squeak. You look worse for wear.

Kyle pouts, mustering every condescending bone in his body to suppress the true pang of sympathy he feels. "Awe. What is it this time, baby? Turned down the music, didn't I? And we've been so good all night."

"Y-You're... A foul, despicable human being. You know– i-it didn't mean– I didn't need to–" Your eyes squeeze shut, but that doesn't stop a hot tear from leaking down your cheek. "If you get off to making people miserable, then congratu-fucking-lations, you're one of 7 billion."

He listens. Takes you in, properly this time.

Blotchy face. Stained scrubs. Plain hands. Messy hair. Heavy backpack. Beat up sneakers. And a darling little face that really shouldn't be so affected.

Unless it's in pleasure, his brain supplies.

"Rough day at work, huh?" He pushes his shoulder off the doorframe, opening his stance up to something more sincere. Maybe it feels wrong to rub it in your face any further. Maybe it's because he recognises the signs a little all too well.

And it must be bad too, seeing as you don't resist. Nodding weakly, you keep your eyes shut and take deep breaths. He's worked his frustrations out already, patience back in stock, so he waits as you wrangle back the waterworks.

"No thanks to you." You whisper hoarsely, crossing your arms and looking down at his shoes.

"I'm sorry." He says, and actually means it this time. Johnny comes up behind him, body heat a flame to the fuel coursing within him. It's all the confidence he needs to ask: "Allow us to make it up to you."

And the way you look up — a little too quick, hopeful, pretty — he knows you know what he means.

You really were there, then. Listening.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Kyle smiles, sharp-toothed, careful not to appear too eager. "I know just the thing to help."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving VI

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your schedules don't match

You love Alexia.

You were only little when your father died. You didn't quite understand it.

Your father was a football fan, a big Barcelona supporter so all of his daughters got taken to games with him.

Alba was never that into sports, even just watching them.

Alexia was definitely sporty. You think she was what your father really wanted. She plays football and she adores it.

Your father was already sick by the time you were born. He was already struggling but he still took you to matches. It didn't click with you like it did with Alexia but he could still some athletic speck in you.

He took you to a tennis match instead. He'd never had much interest in tennis but he seemed to know what would appeal to you. You were tiny and Mama had been worried that you wouldn't be able to sit through a match.

But you did.

You sat through a whole match and fell in love then and there.

You were still little though and your father was still sick but he took you to as many lessons as he could.

He was a football fan but he could learn tennis for you.

He never could in the end, not when he died so suddenly.

But then Alexia took over. She didn't understand tennis and she still doesn't understand but she took you to every lesson and went to every match.

You just wish she understood the difference in your schedules.

She was getting ready for another round of Euro qualifiers even though Spain had already qualified. You were at Wimbledon, trading shots with Iga on the practice courts.

"Have you called your sister yet?" She asks, sitting down next to you as you guzzle down your water.

You roll your eyes. "In a minute."

"Do it now."

"What are you? One of my sisters?"

You're teasing her.

Iga is the world number one, by a lot of points. You sit just outside of the top ten. It's a little annoying, your own inconsistency. You can pull it out of the bag during big matches like Grand Slams but you suffer a bit in some of the less grand tournaments.

You're officially the youngest player this tour so you know you're getting babied by some of the other players, Iga especially.

You hadn't thought she had even known who you were until your coach told you she was the one who pushed him to take you on.

She thought you were on your way to being one of the greats.

She also thought you would make a great doubles partner one day.

It was different moving to Poland, away from your Mama and your sisters but Iga made it easy.

She was easy-going and you practically lived at her place so, yeah, you guess she took the more sisterly role in your life with Alexia and Alba at home in Spain.

"Go and call your sister," Iga laughs, spraying you with her bottle until you shriek and run off," And grab me a protein bar or something!"

You roll your eyes but head off, pulling out your phone to video call your sister.

It rings for barely a second.

"Hi Jenni," You say," Can you give Alexia back her phone? I need to talk to her."

"You don't want to talk to me, mini Putellas? I'm offended!"

"If I wanted to talk to you, I'd have called you!"

Jenni laughs before Alexia appears on screen, snatching the phone away from her ex.

"How are you?" Alexia asks, cramming her face onto the screen.

"I'm good!" You laugh," You look good too. Covered in sweat."

"You can talk," Alexia teases back," Have you just had a workout?"

"Practice pitch with Iga," You say," We've got matches coming up."

Alexia frowns. "What do you mean?"

"We've got matches in the next few days. It's Wimbledon, remember?"

Alexia shakes her head. "No. That was last year."

"It happens every year, Ale," You remind her," Me and Iga are competing and then it's a quick turnaround for the Olympics."

Alexia's frowning. "No, because I've got a match on the twelfth. You're flying out with Mama and Alba."

"The Wimbledon final is on the thirteenth. I need to stay."

"What?"

"Iga's out and I've got a real chance. I could really do it."

"But...What about my match?"

"What about mine?" You counter with a sigh," Ale, our schedules just don't match this time. I'm sorry."

"But..."

It's clear to the other girls in the room that Alexia's getting a bit distressed as her mouth opens and closes as she tries to formulate a response.

"But..."

"Listen, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Hey, wait-"

You put the phone down and Alexia just stares down at it, frozen as she looks at your profile picture.

"What's up with the long face?" Jenni pokes her in the cheek. "You're more frowny than usual."

"Nothing. I just...My sister can't come to the game."

"Well, duh, Alexia. She's got Wimbledon to win. She can't just fly out to us."

"I know but..." She blows out all her air. "Never mind. I'm just...I'm gonna go."

When you were little, Alexia tried to go to as many of your matches as she could manage. Sometimes she would come straight from her own games, still in full kit to catch your last ten minutes or so.

It was difficult but it worked.

You've gone professional now and branched out, travelling the world to take part in tournaments and games so you can work your way up and become the world number one.

She shouldn't be upset about you missing her match and her missing yours because that's just how sports work. So many went on at the same time that it was impossible to make every match but, still, a deep pit forms in Alexia's stomach as she thinks about missing your final.

Across the world, you prepare.

You practice on the courts with Iga and your coach. You eat well. You sleep well. You watch Alexia's match on the tv and wish you could be there but Alexia's no longer the only athlete in the family.

She had her career and you have yours.

Paolini is who you face in the final and she keeps you on your toes the entire time. She hits hard and fast and you go one set down immediately.

You pull it back though, managing to equalise the next set and then it's all to play for.

You take a few gasping breaths as you guzzle down your water, leaning back in your seat.

You look up at your box, where your family is watching.

Mama is there, of course, and so is Alba. Alba looks incredibly bored. You know she only comes to the tennis because of you and you're glad she's trying to be supportive but she truly looks like she's about to fall asleep in her seat.

Mama looks much more engaged. She'd told you once that she preferred the pace of tennis to football. There was less risk of injuries in tennis, no one around to slide tackle you or crash into you.

The most harm your opponent could do was smash a ball into your face and that rarely happened. Sure, you could slip and fall but it's not like footballers didn't do that too.

Out of the two sports her daughters played, Mama always found herself calmer at the tennis.

Mama waves at you and nudges Alba in the ribs so she can look up from her phone to wave too.

Your brows draw together in confusion.

There's an empty seat between them and you can't understand why.

So, you just kind of stare as you puzzle out who could be sitting there.

It's not until she comes back, with two beers and a hotdog that you realise who is filling that seat.

She looks exhausted. You can tell even through those stupid big sunglasses and the even stupider hat she's wearing.

She must have gone straight from her match to the airport to get here in time and crashed in Mama and Alba's room to keep it all a secret.

So, Alexia sits in her seat and you grab your racket.

You've got a set to win.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could you please do another part for royal consort? Maybe with phantom causing some chaos?

Tim didn't know how he ended up here. Consort Danny had disappeared into the crowd, and the King was sneering at any nearby humans. In hindsight, maybe dancing next to the couple wasn't the best idea, but he felt he had to do something.

King Phantom had been in a foul mood since the moment he arrived. Tim just wanted to let him know he wouldn't have to worry about him getting in the way of their love or their quarrel.

He may have overstepped to clear things up as quickly as possible. Now, he was dangling from the arms of a King who was one wrong word away from starting a war.

"Um, Your Majesty?" He tries, nerves making his voice high and tight as green glowing eyes glare at him. "I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," King Phantom bites in a tone that showcases how not fine it is. "Darling and I are just having a lover's quarrel. It has nothing with the likes of you."

Okay.

Tim scrambles to think of what to say. "I hope things work out."

"They will. What can I help you with?"

"Um, a dance?"

"Why?"

"I....just as a favor."

The King tilts his head in consideration but says nothing, eyes scanning the crowd and likely searching for where his husband had stormed off.

Tim is still determining what he will do to smooth things over.

He's been trained from a very young age to run circles around the ballroom halls of Gotham elites. He knows how to disarm with a smile and bite out a throat in the same motion.

Tim can dine with people twice his age and twice his experience and still make them hand everything they own over with a smile. He's good at figuring people out, finding out what they want, and manipulating them into wanting what Tim wants.

But to do that, he needs to know the rules. The rules of High Society were the thin line between victory and defeat. If he made one wrong move, vultures would overcome him and rip him apart before he could say, "My bad."

And sadly, Tim did not know how High Society worked in the Infinite Realms. The few who knew the rules or culture didn't explain what he needed to know. Constantine barely cared about manners with his fellow humans, Raven avoided the other beings for fear of her father, and Zatanna struggled with understanding the way of the rich or nobility.

Tim could make a guess, but the vast difference in their cultures could turn a simple greeting into a faux pas. Even King Phantom's appearance was something Tim couldn't really understand.

The God of all Afterlives thought Danny Fenton was the peak of beauty, so much so that he shapeshifted to look like him with only his coloring as a difference. Tim and a majority of the world thought Fenton was rather plain-looking.

He wasn't ugly, but his face was forgettable, something that wouldn't turn heads or be easy to pick out among a crowd. Yet King Phantom strutted around, somehow seeming appealing with his plainness. Tim wondered if the King moved confidently to make him more attractive than his model or if his otherworldliness peaked through his human facade.

In any case, he doesn't think he would be comfortable making out with a being who actively made himself look like him, no matter how in love Tim was. But that was how higher beings courted, according to Constantine, and Tim could not dismiss the valuable information.

He didn't understand it, but he didn't need to for him to know that Danny Fenton had a lot of control over King Fanton.

That, in itself, was a horrifying thought.

"King Phantom isn't just a ruler of another nation with nukes strong enough to take out the world," Constantine had said in the briefing before the ball. "He isn't even a god. A god has domain over a concept. King Phantom is every concept that humanity can comprehend. We can not afford this war. He can blink and make gravity on earth vanish. He can snap his fingers to plunge the sun outside the Milky Way. Worst of all, King Phantom can switch his Rules."

"What do you mean?" Bruce demanded, voice hard and steady.

"Every Higher being has Rules. Don't tell a Fae your name. Don't leave a ghost without saying goodbye. Don't invite a vampire inside. They are bound to follow those rules, and usually, you can defeat them with them, too, but what about King Phantom? His Rules are ever-changing. No one knows why, and that's horrifying. What will you encounter with him, and how will you survive?"

The last question plays through Tim's head as King Phantom takes a deep breath through his nose before huffing. He glances down at Tim as Red Robin would look at an old computer he was planning on rewiring. Easy to tear apart and rebuild to his liking. He swallows a gulp load of spit.

"Three dances." The King says at last after a heavy silence.

"Your Majesty?" He dares to ask.

Phantom doesn't bother with an answer as he suddenly strides to the side, yanking Tim. He stumbles for only a few seconds before he corrects his footing and finds himself in the center of the dance floor.

The two move in a fast-paced waltz, feet stomping on the ground in rhythm with the music as the King twists and turns. They pass through other couples- causing the vigilante to shiver. It felt gross- taking over the dance floor with dazzling movements.

People scramble out of their way, even if King Phantom somehow causes a density shift to not have them bother, encasing the two in a small circle of awed onlookers.

Sweat is building at Tim's brow, trying to keep pace with the King, who likely had centuries to perfect this dance. He probably witnessed its creation. It was fun.

He raises with the tempo, falls with the rhythm, and is whisked away by Phantom, who leads him through each movement as quickly as Tim breathes.

Phantom yanks Tim flush against him for the following song- causing Tim to stiffen in distress. There are far too many eyes on them who will spread rumors- but he doesn't dare push the other away. This is a Vietnam,ese waltz, but its pace, as the song used to speed up in tempo.

At least the King isn't looking at him, eyes still scanning the room with an intense hunger and awareness. He hasn't seen his husband.

His family has yet to report where Consort Fenton ran off, but he can hear them whispering escape plans from their respective party guests to check.

Things could have been much more awkward since their last encounter when the King offered Danny the position of concubine. Thankfully, the Royal didn't seem interested in Tim in any way.

The third song ends, and the King practically rips himself away, stepping back with a weary smile. "You wanted one dance as a favor. A favor for a favor.

I look forward to having you grant it, Drake-Wayne."

Shit.

The rules change trap, and he fell right into it.

Tim smiles, hoping his distress will not show. But with his luck, the King can tell when lies are spoken. "Of course."

King Phantom bows his head slightly, folding one hand very oddly. He snaps upright and marches into the crowd, walking right through guests approaching him. He doesn't even glance at them. Strangely,

he seemed angrier than before as Consort Fenton reappeared at the top of the stairway, which should lead to a more private bounty. Fe ton is waving a small rectangular box at him, grinning like a madman.

Fenton's blue eyes accidentally meet Tim's, shifting from pride and warmth to suspension and possible hate. He curls the rectangular object to his chest protectively, and the moment it touches his Consort necklace, the two items start to glow.

Phantom starts running toward him.

Double shit.

"Tim," Dick hisses, walking up to him. "I can not express this enough. What the hell did you do?"

"I think I just made the lover's quarrel worse."

Dick's face pinches. "Maybe it's not too late to try and seduce them-"

A loud bang echoes through the room as King Phantom screams, a sound so unholy and inhuman that it drags Tim to his knees. Around him, guests scream, also falling, but a few are unconscious, while some are only clutching to their ears in agony. A strong wing picks up, blowing the once classy ball into a makeshift hurricane, and Tim's feet give out from under him by the force of the shock wave. He is flung into a wall, followed a second later by Dick.

Thankfully, his brother can control his fall so that when he does wind up on top of Tim—for appearances—he doesn't put too much pressure on him. Most are not so lucky.

People make sickening cracks when they collide with the walls, slumping to the ground like broken puppets, unable to escape the explosion.

"What's happening?" Bruce demands in his ear as various screams emerge around the room. Some guests still fly around like rag dolls, caught in an unseen tornado. Chairs and tables crash into each other as the chaos unfolds, as Damian responds to his father.

"The Consort seems to be under attack. So something or someone is using him to power a gateway!" Damian screams, voice just barely heard over the other noises.

Tim strains against the blowing wind, trying to ease the ache in his eyes to gather more information. He sees a horrifying sight.

Consort Danny is floating in the air, mouth open in a silent scream, as a portal forms around him. The blaring white lighting buzzes with electricity, running over his body in fast and dangerous bursts.

He looks to be dying.

The King is flying in front of him, attempting to reach the human, but a force field is bouncing him back. With each failed attempt, King Phantom's hands crackle with power, and even from across the spacious room, Tim can tell that if he were to use that power, Wayne Manor would not survive.

Let alone the humans trapped inside of it.

"We need to get people out of here!" Yells Duke, likely seeing the real danger with his power. "The King is going to kill everyone!"

Despite wearing an earpiece, Tim can barely hear his father bark out instructions as the howling wind carries on. Tim can only watch the King of Ghost summon an army.

Miniature portals pop around the Ballroom as undead knights pour out in drones. They carelessly walk through humans, not bothering to help in any way as they quickly take up formation before the Consort.

They are posed for battle. But against what?

King Phantom's voice booms across the room, starting a terrible ring in Tim's ears. He hits the ground, his chin in a painful ache, clutching his ears, willing the ringing to leave.

Tears well up in his eyes as the ringing gives way to achiness, making it hard for Tim to pick his head up. It takes a moment before he can understand what King Phantom has shouted.

"Danny, you dumb, stupid Consort, stop picking up random shit you don't understand!"

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[tealvenetianmask]

A lot of the discourse on The Full Moon/Apology Tour has revolved around the pedestals that our boys put each other on. But I think the pedestal Stolas has Blitz on in particular often gets misunderstood.

I've seen a lot of takes that says that Stolas can't really love Blitz. He just loves the idea of Blitz . . . the one he's built up in his head based on romance novels and rom-coms and soap operas.

I think the reality is more complicated, and that even though, yes, Stolas idealizes Blitz, he also very much loves Blitz for his true self.

Let's look at some times when Stolas saw "the real Blitz," as his quirky, resilient, innovative, low-class self, and very much loved that person, and not just the knight in shining armor version of him.

The Circus.

Some have used this moment to say that Stolas idealized Blitz as a fantasy of what it must be like to be free.

And . . . yes. BUT ALSO. He only falls more in love (in a kid-crush kind of way) when he sees Blitz mess up on stage, get booed by the crowd, and make a joke that's clever but quite dark and niche. Creatively, to work his way through a difficult situation. There is SO MUCH in this short minute that reveals to us AND TO STOLAS who Blitz really is.

Seeing Stars

Oh boy. Let's make a list. I'm too tired to make this exhaustive, but in this episode, Stolas sees Blitz

Being careless in a way that puts Octavia in danger

Using an absolutely stupid costume to disguise himself

Getting terrible stage fright

Going way off script in the sitcom in (again) a way that's niche humor and does not appeal to most of the audience

LITERALLY HAVING A BREAK FROM REALITY AND SHOOTING UP THE TV STUDIO

Okay, so when Via is in danger, Stolas is unambiguously peeved by the mistake, but he forgives Blitz because Blitz puts in effort to find Via and make it right.

And in the rest of these instances, Stolas EITHER affirmatively likes the cringy and silly side of Blitz's personality:

Or without the slightest hesitation, when Blitz shows a real weakness, focuses not on disappointment that this man is not his perfect soap opera hero, but puts that aside and tries to help Blitz get out of trouble.

There's also this moment in Western Energy where Stolas is absolutely unbothered by Blitz's atrocious spelling and is genuinely just happy to think for a moment that Blitz cares. I feel like someone COULD twist this to be about Stolas having blinders on about what's right in front of him, but I don't think so. I think he's fine with Blitz not having all the same strengths that his society clearly values, and just wants to be loved back by this person who he has genuine feelings for.

So what doesn't Stolas know about Blitz before The Full Moon/Apology Tour? He doesn't know that Blitz hates himself. He doesn't know that Blitz pushes away people he cares about. He knows that Blitz has walls up but doesn't know why. You can fall for someone without knowing their deepest darkest hurts-- you can even love them. But you do need to know these things to have a deeper relationship with the person.

His focus on romantic media is a problem because it forms his expectations about relationships, not necessarily because it blinds him to who Blitz is. He wants to be rescued. He wants to be chased after. He doesn't understand that good relationships take a lot of work . . . and he'll need to learn that.

But he doesn't just love Blitz for these ideas. He loves Blitz for being Blitz.

This, like many of these essays, was inspired by a conversation with @akirathedramaqueen.

[illym]

My favorite Bridget comics are the ones that really strike at the core of her character: That she's dumb as hell. (affectionate)

Translation assistance: @masked-and-doomed + @solradguy

ID in alt.

If you understand Japanese and retranslate this, get in touch with me and I'll update the comic.

Cleaned and original comics below the cut.

Specific assistances:

@.yomotsu-hirasaka: Assisted with transcribing the text by Sol's chest.

@.solradguy: Assisted with transcribing the text by Sol's chest.

I'm genuinely obsessed with this girl. I need Bridget to show up in the next story in Strive just so Strive exclusive fans understand that there isn't a single complete thought inside her head.

Anyway. Funny comic. Whoever drew this was exceptionally attracted to Sol. Look at the way they render the man.

If you're reading this, go look at the text by Sol's chest. What an utter nightmare. Thank you again to both of my friends for the help, as I would have never been able to get that in a million years by myself.

The text at the bottom of Bridget's speech bubble is just "you". I had to change the script for this up a bit, since adhereing too strictly to the direct translation would just feel too strange in English.

In the last panel, Bridget says [ as translated by DeepL both times ]

"What do you think? That needless flirtation with sexiness your condition is at the level of a monster! I think he's a handsome handsome man."

or

"I think you're a handsome handsome guy with a lot of unnecessary sex appeal."

I decided that the joke hit better if the only thing bridget says 1. uses the term monster, as the joke requires and 2. has what she was calling monstrous. I just couldn't fit her calling him handsome in at all without weakening the punch, unfortunately. If anybody skilled in Japanese wants to give retranslating the last line a go, feel free.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 2 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (this is part 2 to the birthday girl angst blurb! i changed the title for the series so it was more appealing)

cw: mentions of drug use, angst, nothing crazy (yet lmao)

wc: 1.2k

notes: i'm excited to write this since its my first series! lmk if there's anything you guys would wanna see in future chapters :)

previous chapters: part 1

You wake up to your alarm droning on annoyingly and feel around aimlessly with your eyes closed to turn it off. Once you had finally woken up on your own accord, you realized you should talk to Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him or left your house the last few days. Obviously, you missed him, but you just felt so hurt and angry with him.

After getting ready and using makeup to look a little more alive and less blotchy from crying so much, you decided you'd go up to Tannyhill to try and talk to Rafe. You left your house, hopped on your bike, and started towards the estate. The whole ride there, you just kept going over what you wanted to say but nothing seemed right. Before you knew it, you were at the front entrance.

You walked inside and heard voices in the distance coming from upstairs. Once you made your way upstairs, you heard the voices more clearly coming from Rafe's room. It was Rafe and another person whose voice you couldn't pinpoint.

"Come on, man you gotta understand where I'm comin' from. I've just been stressed out. Nothing a good time won't fix."

You looked into the room and saw Rafe sitting with some guy you've never seen. There was a table in between them that had some rolled-up bills and coke sitting on it.

You walked inside the room, still unnoticed until you spoke. "Hey, Rafe."

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, and Rafe immediately shot up, walking towards you.

"Shit... I uh- I didn't know you were coming over." He looked back at the man who just sat there unbothered. "Barry, can you uh give us a minute..."

"So let me get this straight, you went to a party and got high, missed my entire birthday, and after I tell you I'm pissed off your next line of action is to get high again with your drug dealer, right?"

Before Rafe could speak, Barry grabbed his stuff and started walking out. "A'ight man hit me up when y'all are done dealing with this shit."

Rafe waited until he thought Barry was far enough before closing the door and speaking, "Can you blame me? I don't hear from you for days so I assumed you didn't wanna be with me anymore! I tried to talk to you and you straight up ignored me."

"I was angry Rafe! I just needed some time to myself. That doesn't mean I'm breaking up with you and it doesn't mean you should start doing drugs again when that is quite literally what we fought about." 

This definitely wasn't how you imagined this conversation going. You didn't want to argue with him but your pride wasn't going to let you just back down.

"If you wanted space you could've told me," he sighed. "And I am sorry that I got high at that party and I'm sorry I missed your birthday okay? I want to make it up to you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down for a moment with your head in your hands. You loved Rafe, you really did. But you didn't want him falling into his old habits and lying to you about it.

You both sat there in silence as you thought about what you should do and what you should say.

"Rafe I... I think we should just take some time apart. Get our heads straight and figure out what we want-"

He walked over and sat next to you his eyes wide. "Baby I want you, I want to be with you."

"I wanna be with you too, Rafe, but I have conditions. I don't want you doing coke anymore. I don't like the person you are when you get like that. I know you get stressed and feel like it's your only option but you have me. Or maybe try weed and see how that works for you. I also don't want you hanging with Barry anymore. Non-negotiables."

He nods "I swear I'll work on it and I'll talk to Barry. I swear."

You stand up from the bed getting ready to go out the door. "Rafe... I'm gonna go stay with my parents on the mainland for a few days. I'll be in contact but please try your best to just leave me be. Get clean, for good, and I'll let you know when I'm back and we can figure everything out. Okay?"

He shakes his head. You can see that he's angry and confused, your heart just aches. "The mainland? What- why? Just stay here, I don't understand-"

"Please, Rafe. This is what we have to do okay?"

He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay... okay. When you get back, I'll have made it up to you. Just promise me we aren't over." 

You could see the tears that formed in his eyes and had to fight back your own. "We aren't over just yet." You gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving his room and heading home.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were finally off the ferry and on the mainland to stay with your parents. You really wanted to talk to your best friend to get advice so you asked her to pick you up. By the time you reached your house, she was all caught up. Your parents weren't home so you both went straight up to your childhood bedroom.

"Damn... I didn't think he got down like that." Niki looked at you slightly surprised. "Honestly though, it sounds like does care about you, even if he did fuck up."

"Yeah, I know he cares I just... I don't wanna have to worry about shit like this. Whenever he's all coked up he makes irrational and bad decisions. I'm just worried he'll do something and end up in jail or worse."

"You just have to let him know that. Make sure he knows your anger comes from a place of care. If he feels like you're just judging him, it'll probably piss him off."

You sigh and groan into your pillow. "You're right, thanks Niki."

"Don't mention it. Now, let me catch you up on the mainland gossip!" she squealed.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Niki had gone home and you were getting into bed, ready to sleep after what felt like an exceptionally long day, when your phone chimed. You looked and saw you had a text from Rafe.

Rafe: hey I just wanted to make sure you made it to the mainland safely.

You: yes I did, i'm at my parent's house, thanks for asking.

Rafe: of course, goodnight

You: goodnight

Placing your phone on the dresser, you're thankful he doesn't push the conversation further. You decide you'll only stay here for three days before going back to the island to figure things out with Rafe. You just hope he can work on staying clean and that you can go back to being together like normal. 

As you closed your eyes, ready for sleep, you heard another chime from your phone. You groaned before picking it up to check.

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

part 3

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe

[ckret2]

Any thoughts on the Stodehttcennoc code and all the Ciphertology lore it gave us? It’s interesting to get such a look at what an actual bill cipher cult looks like, even if the majority of it is played for surreal laughs.

yeah, i'm changing all the death valley girls' last names to Cipherwife

Right when I thought we'd run out of big packets of lore and were down to the dregs, we get the stodehttcennoc story, immediately one of my favorite things to come out of TBOB. In no particular order:

a Snapewives reference??? Unexpected. Hilarious.

i LOVE the mental image of just how unhinged Bill must have looked running around in Silas's body. Like i'm imagining that by the time of the big showdown at the end he's wheeling around his limbs like Jack Skellington dressed as a scarecrow cackling like a maniac surrounded by flame. Did he have fun, i think he had fun, it sounds like he had a lot of fun. I had fun.

on a doylist level i understand that Alex wrote Bill stealing all the wives in town because that is, in fact, something that real cult leaders tend to do. however real cult leaders tend to do it because they're straight human men horny for human women and realized their power lets them get away with anything they want. so on a watsonian level, why'd BILL do it?

LOVE the look into how Bill recruits people into a cult. His interview is actually a very good example of REAL cult recruitment tactics: mystical manipulation (using tricks to make you look magical/holy/psychic/etc); driving wedges between a recruit and their loved ones; flattering the recruit, offering to help their dreams come true; but dangling the answer to all their problems just out of reach, only after they make a big commitment (often financial) (and then you require them to keep upping their commitment); pressuring them FAST to make a decision, don't give them any time to think... that's actually how it works, all packed into one page

did bill take 100+ wives because HE's horny for human women? Is he horny ONLY for female humans or did he just figure he couldn't get away with also marrying the males in 1952 rural Kansas?

Something about Bill being delighted about having so many fingers just tickles me. Especially after he dissed humans for only having five fingers in TBOB. Human hands are a joke, are they?? Seems like five fingers are enough to make him happy! ... i realize how that sounds, i won't apologize for it

I feel like a cult that's willing to eat off its fingers for you and turn a blind eye to you taking 100+ wives would probably not draw the line at something as prosaic as homosexuality. Bill, you could have had 100+ husbands too. Why didn't you.

to me, somehow the goofiness & speed at which this cult came together felt more sincerely Gravity Falls-ish than most of TBOB. Like TBOB is still Gravity Falls, but most of the content doesn't feel 100% Gravity Falls. Bill Speed-Recruits A Cult While Wearing A Corpse He's Frantically Trying To Keep From Falling Apart feels closer to 100%. It's got that je ne sais quoi, that core dumb silliness.

Why did you want over 100 wives, Bill Cipher. Why only wives. What was your motivation.

This works well with my headcanon that Bill's bread & butter isn't just manipulating individuals, but specifically cult leadership. And it's given me a lot of material to work with in as far as writing him as a cult leader. I underestimated how himself he's willing to be while courting fresh victims, I figured there'd be more "trying to sound normally appealing by human standards" going on. He calls his soon-to-be cultists dim plasma bags before he even started pitching his cult. He's REALLY willing to let his charisma do all the heavy lifting. His technique clearly isn't "convince you that he's offering the things you want" but "convince you that you want the things he's offering"

Was stealing all those wives just a power trip, Bill? Is that all it was? If it was, wouldn't persuading guys to marry you in 50s Kansas be an even bigger power move??

how did Silas get involved in this. We don't see Bill take one corpse and KEEP piloting it for long periods of time like that anywhere else, even though it's clearly an effective method of interacting with humans. Was Silas just a conveniently available corpse, or did he make a deal with Bill before he died? Or maybe Bill DOES do this frequently, and it's how he starts most of his cults.

He CAN'T have taken all those wives for "I'm attracted to humans but only the female ones" purposes. In spite of the sheer quantity of references to female exes I am unable to believe that this triangle is heterosexual.

I'm requiring anyone who draws young skinny white human Bill Ciphers from hereon to switch from the sexyman human Bill to Silas Birchtree. 1950s huckster with a golly-gee-whiz face and evil in his eyes and rot on his breath is the pinnacle of what any young skinny white human Bill could possibly be. Also it's interesting to see Bill's justification for being a snappy dresser, that it's a trojan horse for chaos.

questions about bill's orientation aside, my gut says Bill MUST have wanted a bunch of wives and not husbands for some other reason, he didn't ACTUALLY want 100+ wives for sexual/romantic purposes.

or did he

bill explain the cipherwives

[wolfiesmoon]

Genshin guys as dads 🤭

in honour of finally getting off my ass and finishing mondstat, i bring you genshin men as dads <3 i decided to challenge myself and write for characters i haven't written for at all yet

the reader is gender neutral (u can interpret that the kid was adopted or u can interpret that the kid is biologically yours)

Yk the more i read these guys' lines to get a better idea of their characters the more i think they need a therapy session stat

Characters featured: Diluc, Alhaitham, Childe, Ayato

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Diluc Ragnvindr

"Diluc! Diluc, are you in here?" you knocked before opening the door to his office, assuming he's probably there. You were finally returning to the winery late in the evening and wanted to see how your daughter and husband were doing.

Tonight, they should both be at the winery.

But to your surprise, the office was completely empty. You haven't heard a single peep from your daughter yet, either. Usually she'd be running around and yelling, even if she wasn't with Diluc.

You went upstairs to check your bedroom and were met with a most adorable sight when you opened the door. Your daughter was very peacefully asleep, drool and all, on Diluc's chest. Diluc did not seem very pleased with this arrangement, however.

"Welcome home." he sighed upon seeing you walk to the side of the bed.

"Looks like someone's on pillow duty." you teased him, petting your daughter's head.

"Don't make fun of me. She's been running around all day with seemingly no end to it. Sometimes I'm surprised at what her tiny legs are capable of." he leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"She said she's not tired at all. But she fell asleep almost instantly when she sat on top of me to, umm... bother me." to anyone else, Diluc would seem like he hates this kid with how much he says she bothers or annoys him, but you know that isn't the case.

Whenever she runs up to him to show him something she did, he pats her little head lovingly. He keeps the drawing she made of him in his office, even if he is a bit concerned at how grumpy he looks in her artistic interpretation.

"I wasn't making fun of you... Okay, maybe a little bit." you leaned down, cupping Diluc's face and kissing his cheek. He hummed in dissaproval, but his cheeks turned pink anyways.

"Would you mind joining me? If I can't... I want to know that you're safe, atleast." his eyebrows were creased in worry. You don't know what for, exactly, but you gladly joined him on the bed, hugging him too.

"Is your aim to suffocate me further?" the combined weight of about a quarter of your body and his daughter was not the most freeing in the world.

"No, I just happen to understand the appeal of sleeping on top of you." and you really do. It's always so warm and homey.

"You've worked hard today, dad." you moved some stray hairs out of his face. His tired eyes met yours for a moment before they slipped shut. Hehehe, you need to take a photo of this.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Alhaitham

(let's pretend you live together with him now instead of kaveh haha)

"Dad doesn't love me!" the sudden accusation had you turning your head fast, wanting to know what was going on. "What did he do, sweetie?" the little pout on her pudgy face was adorable.

She ran up to you and hugged your leg. "You still love me, right?" she seemed very worried about your reply. It seems like she isn't in the mood to give a proper answer to your question, though.

"Of course I do. You're very very very special to me." You pat her head gently. She seemed satisfied with your reply, giggling happily at you before running off to play.

.

When Alhaitham returned home that day, he attempted to interact with his daughter, as he tries to every day, but he was utterly ignored.

He looked to you, hoping you'd know the reason, but you just shrugged. "She says you don't love her anymore."

"Hm..." was his only reply.

"That's because he doesn't! I told him 'I love you' yesterday but he didn't say it back!" Your daughter crossed her little arms, scowling at her dad before turning around so she didn't have to look at him.

"So it was that." Alhaitham seemed like he understood the situation properly now. And you realised what happened too, because it happens to you occasionally.

"Sweetie, listen. Your dad likes to wear these thingies in his ears. And when he wears them, he can't hear a thing." You explained in the most child friendly way you could.

"Not even an explosion?" Your daughter finally turned back to look at you and Alhaitham, though her eyes were fixated firmly on you.

"Nope. Nothing at all. When he didn't say 'I love you too' yesterday, it was because he was wearing them and couldn't hear." Your daughter turned her head back with an annoyed 'hmph', but you knew she was listening to you.

"So I propose a hug attack. Whenever you see him wearing them." You smiled evilly, glancing at Alhaitham who shot you a dissaproving glare in return.

"Leave me alone." Your daughter huffed, stomping off down the hallway. Oh well, kids don't always think critically, do they? You have a feeling she's already forgiven him a little, though.

"Children make no sense to me." He admits, and you finally greet him properly with a little welcome home peck.

"That's the fun in it, though." You smiled at him and to your surprise, he smiled right back. As awkward as he can get with the kid, he loves her a whole lot.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Childe

"Mhhhh... what is it?" he mumbled in annoyance when he felt his hand getting shook. His voice sounded quite raspy now.

"Dad... Dad..." turns out it was your son who was pulling on Childe's arm. He looked like he was about to burst into tears any second, now.

As soon as he saw the distress on his son's dimly lit face, his attitude changed and he was overcome with the sudden urge to take revenge on something or someone. Maybe it's the dad instinct.

"I had a nightmare.... I'm scared..." your son sobbed.

By this point, even you woke up, but your body was still mostly asleep, so you were just listening in.

"Come up here." Childe tapped the bed and your son awkwardly climbed up into his arms.

"Was it a scary monster?" Childe asked in an exaggerated scary voice. Your son nodded, gripping onto the front of Childe's shirt.

"In that case... you don't have to worry at all. I always love a challenge." you could practically see the smile on Childe's face. You turn over, opening your eyes slightly. You have to admit, the sight in front of you is adorable.

"What do you mean, dad?" your son sniffled, rubbing the snot away with his tiny hand.

"I'll fight the monster, of course. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see the b-" he winced a little bit when he felt the light slap on his face.

"Ajax, you'll scare him even more." you warned, your own voice raspy. You moved your other hand to ruffle your son's hair to comfort him.

"Ow, clearly, someone doesn't appreciate me enough." Childe rolled his eyes playfully.

Without warning, you lean forward and peck him on the lips. "There. Now I've evened out the slap."

"Just one peck? Well, I suppose we can't do much more right now... Hehe." Childe turned his attention back on your son, stroking his back gently to calm him down.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" you noticed he was smiling strangely.

"What look?" your accusations have been denied. But he sure does have a plan for you later.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Kamisato Ayato

"DAD! Look at where I am!" Your son shouted from somewhere in the tree that was stood in the beautifully maintained garden.

Being the little rebel he is, he climbed the tree despite you telling him multiple times not to.

"Please get down from there. It's unsafe." Ayato tried to reason with him calmly upon noticing him in the treetops.

"Nah, it's so cool up here! I can see the whole estate!" Sometimes, your son's stubborn nature made it hard for him to get along with Ayato. This is one of those cases.

"This is not a joking matter. You could get seriously hurt." Ayato doesn't think he could properly live with himself for a bit if his kid got hurt when he could have prevented it.

"What's going on here?" You joined in, happening to pass by the garden.

"He won't come down. I'm... worried about him." He admits, crossing his arms. Though you do sense a bit of annoyance behind his voice, too.

"Come down. I told you not to climb that tree so many times." You crossed your arms firmly. Your son looked at Ayato's face, then yours and sighed, beginning to descend from the tree. He'd rather avoid a scolding. But his little foot slipped and he suddenly tumbled to the ground.

"Son!" Both of you immediately ran to his side as he started wailing. "Call for healers. Immediately." He seemed fine, looking at him initially, but he might have a broken leg or something.

Both of you stayed by his side the whole time, offering him words of comfort (and a bit of a scolding). It seems like something like this happens almost every week, now. The Kamisato household has certainly gotten livelier ever since getting blessed with your son.

.

"Well, that was certainly an afternoon." You huffed, sitting down behind the table across Ayato.

"I wish he wasn't so reckless and disobedient, sometimes." Ayato held his cheek in worry. He let his son get hurt, again.

"He got that mischief from you." You smiled innocently, sipping your tea.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" He smiled innocently back.

"I miss days of solitude. We only have moments now. I suppose my life hasn't been a calm one for a long while now, though." He sips his own tea, looking outside at the sunset. Working as hard as he does every day is taxing on the soul.

"Guess we gotta make the most of it." You stood up, sitting back down next to him and playfully pecking his cheek.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He returned the mischevious smile you know and love. Just as he grabbed your waist, though...

"LOOK WHAT I HAVE!" Your son burst into the room, holding a sword. His sword.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?!"