#I still call him operation queen

[ryoflix]

sukuna as that dad who buys a whole stock of things just because his kids mentioned in passing that they like it | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

the supermarket trip starts off normal — which, in sukuna terms, means a near military operation. he’s pushing the cart with one hand, the other cradling your son like a sack of potatoes while your daughter sits daintily on the cart’s front like a tiny queen surveying her kingdom.

you’re busy comparing cereal labels when the twins spot it.

that thing. some brightly colored, sugar-loaded, probably-no-real-fruit gummy snack hanging near the checkout aisle, designed purely to ambush tired parents and gullible children. your son immediately points. “daddy, look. worms. but with rainbow.” your daughter clasps her hands like she’s about to faint. “it’s sparkly. it’s calling to me.”

sukuna doesn’t even flinch. “keep walking.”

“but—”

“walk.”

“but it’s glowing—”

“it’s plastic,” he barks, wheeling them past the stand like a man dragging his family from the jaws of death. “you think that’s food? that’s chemicals. sugar and glue. probably made in a damn basement.”

the twins pout, your son slumping dramatically across the cart handle, your daughter sighing like she’s just been banished from joy itself. they grumble a little. for about twenty seconds. then they see the bakery section and instantly forget, distracted by the smell of butter and warm bread.

but sukuna... does not forget.

he’s unusually quiet all through checkout. eyes twitching just once toward that stand. you’re too busy unloading the cart to notice, but there’s a new tightness in his jaw. by the time you're all home, he’s already making excuses.

“forgot somethin’,” he mutters, shoving his feet back into his shoes like he's off to duel the void.

you glance up. “what could you possibly—”

but he’s gone.

cut to fifteen minutes later. the front door swings open with enough force to shake the floor. sukuna’s standing there, arms overflowing with about eleven packs of those same rainbow gummy worms, a few extra bags hanging from his fingers, one clenched between his teeth for good measure. “got the damn things,” he grunts triumphantly, hauling them in like contraband.

you raise a brow. “i thought they were sugar glue made in a basement.”

he drops them all on the table. “they are. but they’re happy-shaped sugar glue. and what if you liked them? huh? what if their friends came over and wanted one? you want my kids looking poor in front of guests?”

you glance at the twins, still in the living room, now playing a quiet game of “guess that cloud shape” by the window.

“guys,” you call, “your dad brought you something.”

they both scamper over, faces lighting up as they peek at the stash.

your daughter tilts her head. “...what’s this?”

“the worms,” sukuna says, expectant.

your son scratches his cheek. “...what worms?”

sukuna blinks. “the ones you saw earlier. the rainbow ones. with sparkles.”

your daughter frowns. “we did?”

“you begged for them!”

they look at each other. your son shrugs. your daughter shakes her head. “don’t remember.”

sukuna stares. you’re trying not to laugh.

“you little—i just raided a store for this!”

your daughter picks one up delicately, sniffs it. “can we eat it now?”

“obviously.”

your son tears his open and starts chomping with glee. “it tastes like glue!”

sukuna huffs, collapsing into a chair. “if i ever give you children a kidney, you better remember it.”

your daughter offers him a worm. he takes it without looking at her. you pat his shoulder, grinning. “they won’t remember. but i will.”

he snorts. “good. someone needs to witness my suffering.”

then he promptly steals a gummy. because glue or not, it does taste kinda good.

[astonmartinii]

day four: rock(ette)ing around the christmas tree

pairing: pierre gasly x fem rockette reader

high kicks this, high kicks that, pierre is ready to kick off because his job is getting in the way of his festive wag duties

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 238,044 others

yourusername: back in the concrete jungle wet dream tomato for another round of rockette duty !!!

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user1: how does it feel to live my dream

user2: its not fair that 1. she’s a literal rockette 2. looks like that and 3. is with a whole ass f1 driver ???

user3: everyone saying that she’s lucky to be with him but have we considered that he’s massively batting above his league?

user4: real …. i hope their babies have her hairline

pierregasly: HUH???

yukitsunoda0511: i make sure to remind him everyday 🫶🏻

user5: obsessed with yuki’s need to humble pierre all the time

yukitsunoda0511: he bagged a queen and has made it everyone else’s problem since

yourusername: can you blame him?

pierregasly: don’t answer that yuki

charles_leclerc: please please please come back right now this whiny french man won’t shut up

yourusername: … it’s my job

charles_leclerc: well i’d also argue that wrangling this oversized puppy with attachment issues is also your job

yourusername: no it’s my passion! there’s a difference

pierregasly: seeeeeee !!!! i am loved :(

yourusername: you are! but please cool it on the texts, i got so many going through the TSA that they thought i had a vibrator in my carry on 😭

pierregasly: WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: babe can we not read?

pierregasly: oh! lol i was ready to fight the world of battery operated sex toys

estebanocon: you need help

pierregasly: LEAVE ME ALONE

user6: smile guys i think we’re in the original

user7: bro is crashing out

user8: tbf i’d give my left ball to have a chance with y/n

pierregasly: i will castrate you for free if you even think about her!

yourusername: so romantic <3

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 524,087 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: engine failures got me missing my girl :(

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user10: my one dream this christmas is to get a man this in love with me

user11: really waiting for my grapes to kick in

user12: any second now i swear...

yourusername: mine took three years to come true so hang on

pierregasly: as if i wasn't manifesting you

yukitsunoda0511: bro retired but still hasn't caused any damage this year damn

pierregasly: told them to give me the projected damages for the season as a bonus so i could treat my girl

yukitsunoda0511: ... and nothing for the guy who is actually at all of the races ???

pierregasly: that is your job?

yukitsunoda0511: and i just comfort you after the races for the love of the game?

pierregasly: yes?

yukitsunoda0511: well it looks like i'll be looking for a new boyfriend this christmas

yourusername: what the hell, sure

user13: y/n just giving up against yukierre

yourusername: sometimes you gotta just sit back and let them get it out

yourusername: and also i do actually get invited to pierre's house in milan (i do also live there)

yukitsunoda0511: THAT IS A SORE SUBJECT Y/N WHY WOULD YOU GO THERE

yourusername: you're calling my boyfriend your boyfriend in public instagram comments?

yukitsunoda0511: PLEASE STAY IN NEW YORK FOREVER

pierregasly: yuki ???

yourusername: that's not very christmas spirit of you yuki

user14: y/n is thousands of miles away but still pulled into the scraps

pierregasly: i'm glad she loves me and puts up with it

yukitsunoda0511: why are you both being so mean to me today :(

yourusername: it's the christmas presents that keep me around (jokes, OBVIOUSLY)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511 and 2,109,778 others

tagged: pierregasly, danielricciardo & landonorris

charles_leclerc: i've stolen his phone so he won't see this but @yourusername he's scarily easy to kidnap

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user15: so we're on kidnap now... i think the season needs to finish now

user16: no we gotta see how far they are taking it

user17: there's no race in qatar because half of the grid have been arrested lol

francocolapinto: please manifest it i need one of their seats

user18: so real

charles_leclerc: i hate to break it to you franco but you're also on the plane

francocolapinto: don't be dumb charles, i know that, i'm just too pretty to go to jail

charles_leclerc: if anyone is too pretty to go to jail on this AIRPLANE IT IS ME NOW PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN PIERRE IS GETTING SUSPICIOUS

user19: FRANCO IS THERE?

user20: are they all there ???

maxverstappen1: when all is done i don't wanna hear from ANY of them that i don't do anything for them

charles_leclerc: sorry good sir but not all of us have a private jet we can use at the drop of a hat

maxverstappen1: oh i know, i will just hold this over all of you (especially pierre) for as long as i can

charles_leclerc: it's pierre's surprise, why would you hold it against him

maxverstappen1: because i can 👌

yourusername: so on a scale of 1 - 10 how worried should i actually be?

maxverstappen1: very.

charles_leclerc: MAX

charles_leclerc: all is under control y/n do not worry

yourusername: i gotta go warm up for my show tonight i better not finish the show to news reports that my boyfriend is dead

charles_leclerc: he will be alive!

yourusername: and well?

charles_leclerc: i don't want to make that guarantee

yourusername: EXCUSE ME?

charles_leclerc: what? my lawyers told me to never make promises i can't 100% deliver on?

yourusername: well consider me worried

user21: they're defo doing what we think they're doing right

oscarpiastri: if you've got more than two brain cells and the ability to read context cues you will know, it's not the craziest surprise ever

charles_leclerc: we're not in a country rn, maritime laws and all that - THINK

user22: .... riiiiiiiiiiiiight

yukitsunoda0511

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 489,205 others

tagged: pierregasly & yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: using this love sick fool as an excuse to visit new york

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user24: they took him to nyc to see y/n !!! that's so cute i can't

user25: are they going to go to y/n's show ???

maxverstappen1: they weren't allowed my jet without the assurance that we were going to that damn show

yourusername: you were very happy to see me as someone who recently publicly told me to stay in nyc forever ...

yukitsuonda0511: obviously i said that so we could come visit you !!!

yukitsunoda0511: it was all a part of the plan

charles_leclerc: ummmm you had no part of the plan

yukitsunoda0511: i clearly seduced pierre into not asking questions

yourusername: you're very close to successfully seducing my foot to your ass

yukitsunoda0511: pierre !!!!!!!!!!!!

pierregasly: i am not helping you here bro

user26: someone get yuki a girlfriend before he gets his ass high kicked out of radio city

yukitsunoda0511: at this point i am just doing it to annoy them

yourusername: whatever you want to tell yourself girlypop

yukitsunoda0511: you're just scared that i'd look better than you in the costumes

yourusername: oh really?

pierregasly: okay girls there's enough pierre to go around

pierregasly: but it is all going to y/n, sorry yuki

yukitsunoda0511: you're scared you'll find things out about yourself

pierregasly: is it time to go home yet y/n ???

user27: fuck george vs max i need y/n vs yuki

user28: instead of crash threats it's just yuki threatening to steal rockette outfits

user29: surely there's someone who can make this happen? @f1 @yourusername

yourusername: noooooooo chance

yukitsunoda0511: cough, cough SCARED

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen and 303,277 others

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: heard my frenchie missed me <3

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user30: my god they're so cute

user31: i love when a man is so shameless about his love

user32: the matching outfits !!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thanks charles!

charles_leclerc: you're a great friend

charles_leclerc: you're an amazing person who knows us so well and DOESN'T try and seduce one of us

charles_leclerc: how can we ever repay you

charles_leclerc: oh well, no worries guys i love you

yourusername: nurse he's out again

charles_leclerc: i'm giving you ten seconds before i lose my shit

yourusername: i jest !!! thank you for bringing my lover boy to me charles

pierregasly: thank you charlooooo i guess all my complaining was worth it, i'll make sure to keep it up

charles_leclerc: no no no no no no no No No No NO NO NO NO

user33: charles got major friend points for reuniting them (after like a week away from each other lol) and now will be stuck with pierre complaining full time

alexalbon: and this kids, is why we're not nice to each other

user34: the grid being so done with pierre is so funny

charles_leclerc: the change from him being a slut to a lover boy is too much for my head

pierregasly: can we tell radio city to push back your performances to the second week of december so we don't have to be apart

yourusername: babe i don't think i'm important enough to be making those kind of demands

pierregasly: I THINK YOU'RE IMPORTANT ENOUGH

yourusername: thank you baby but being a rockette is my dream so you'll have to deal with a couple weeks without me

pierregasly: so you don't miss me :(

yourusername: you're on my mind all the time, i love you xx

pierregasly: i love you more xx

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 673,298 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: only two more races until i can become a full time christmas wag xx

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user37: the grid are so cute 🥰

user38: the way y/n's dressing room was full of flowers omg she's so loved

user39: the videos of them just being flabbergasted by the show, so personal to me

yourusername: thank you all for coming to see the show !! i promise everyone else were a lot less chill about you guys being there than they let off

pierregasly: no thank YOU for being the star you are 🌟

yourusername: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: are qatar and abu dhabi really that important?

pierregasly: unfortunately they are :( (i am also contractually obligated to be there)

yourusername: boooooooooooooo

alpinef1: but we're paying him to buy you christmas presents

yourusername: ... okay i guess

user40: christmas came early with all this grid content

user41: this is what i wanted from drive to survive not the fabricated drama

yukitsunoda0511: although i still think i'd look better in the costumes... i don't think i'd slay the high kicks like you y/n :(

yourusername: i'll take it !

yukitsunoda0511: but you guys will let me come to the milan house in the new year right?

yourusername: you'll have to ask pierre ...

yukitsunoda0511: PIERRE PLEASE

pierregasly: i guess... only if you stop saying you're prettier than my girlfriend. NO ONE IS PRETTIER THAN HER

yourusername: that's crazy coming from the handsomest man in the world

charles_leclerc: let's not get too crazy here y/n

yourusername: look who isn't getting a christmas present this year now ...

charles_leclerc: i mean last year you gave me a "this candle smells like max verstappen" and a max cardboard cutout

maxverstappen1: sounds like a great gift to me ...

pierregasly: well the presents she gets me are great

charles_leclerc: i don't want to know about those presents

user42: even christmas isn't free from them being horn dogs

yourusername: why do you think i learnt to high kick babe ....

charles_leclerc: shut THE FUCK UP

pierregasly: heheheheeh

fin.

note: oh gosh it's been a busy busy busy week. i haven't written for pierre for like a year lol - enjoy!

[the-californicationist]

That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame. 

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment, 

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues. 

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over. 

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him. 

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone. 

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress. 

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry. 

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question. 

You blushed, laughing a bit, 

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out. 

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap. 

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse. 

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against. 

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain. 

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded. 

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat. 

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip. 

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay. 

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture. 

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds. 

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through. 

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need, 

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in. 

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate, 

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come. 

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge. 

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back. 

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection. 

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers. 

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward. 

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness. 

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you. 

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs. 

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice… 

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief. 

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams. 

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine. 

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you. 

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you. 

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck. 

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to. 

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard. 

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable. 

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth, 

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small. 

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more. 

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done. 

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss. 

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…” 

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears. 

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds. 

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust. 

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you. 

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated. 

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit. 

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.” 

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending. 

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you. 

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly. 

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?” 

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat. 

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand, 

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire. 

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you. 

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down. 

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole. 

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.  

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over. 

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation. 

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him, 

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again. 

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath. 

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth. 

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again. 

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself. 

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin. 

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

[tacobacoyeet]

jitters and the vibe | patrick zweig x reader

a/n: inspiration struck while i was driving, so a short and sweet little thing i typed over the course of 30 minutes between stoplights for the queen, @tashism! i hope this is okay! also, title will be changing lol

warnings: alcohol mention, hastily written, not proofread!

The first time Patrick Zweig says the word "fiancée," he says it into your neck.

Softly. Like a question. Like he’s still learning the shape of it.

You're sitting on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by swatches of linen napkins and Tashi's ruthlessly detailed planning binder. Your knees are tucked to your chest, your face flushed from wine that’s long gone warm—abandoned, forgotten, like everything that isn’t him.

He leans over your shoulder, all bergamot and sweat and the ghost of his cologne, and exhales the word into your skin like it belongs there.

“My fiancée.”

The syllables bloom against your collarbone. You feel them more than hear them.

You don’t dare look at him. If you do, you’ll cry. And if you cry, he’ll stop touching you like this—like he’s afraid the universe will notice his joy and take it back.

So you tilt your head. Let him kiss your throat. Let him forget, for one suspended moment, that Art is still struggling to write a speech without grief, that Tashi—your maid of honor, his ex—is coordinating the wedding like it’s a military operation, and that the only person unfazed is the six-year-old flower girl who has practiced her petal toss like it’s a championship.

You and Patrick are the eye of the storm.

Maybe you always have been.

His hand finds yours—rough, calloused from racket strings and refusing to let go of things long past. He doesn’t wear an engagement ring, but he carries the weight of one like a promise.

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispers. Into your skin. Into the quiet.

You squeeze his hand, gentle.

“Believe it tomorrow,” you say. “Tonight, just breathe.”

Outside, the city hums. Inside, it’s just you.

You, linen swatches, warm wine, and the boy who loved you quietly, then all at once, then always.

Your fiancé.

By morning, sunlight slices through the blinds, bold and insistent. You wake with a linen swatch pressed to your cheek and Patrick tangled around your thigh, half-on, half-off the floor, his arm draped over a demolished bag of gummy bears.

His hoodie’s rucked up to reveal a patch of freckles you once counted, in place of sheep, during a thunderstorm. He mumbles something that sounds like “red velvet,” then sighs, like the words themselves wore him out.

There’s a knock—no, a thud—as Tashi’s clipboard hits the door.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” she calls, sharp as ever. “We have appointments.”

Patrick groans and buries himself deeper against you, face nestled in your stomach like he can hide from time.

“I had a dream,” he murmurs. “We eloped. In Iceland. A goat officiated.”

You run your fingers through his hair.

“Was the goat in a tux?”

“Three-piece. Tailored.”

Another slam. More urgency.

“You’ve got twenty minutes before I livestream this to your relatives.”

You laugh and reach for your phone: ten texts, two missed calls, and under it, one glitter-pen note from Lilly marked “IMPORTANT WEDDING STUFF.”

Patrick peers up at you with bleary eyes. “Think we can bribe her to skip rehearsal?”

You grin. “Only if you wear the goat tux.”

His groan is muffled against your leg, but he’s smiling.

Later that afternoon, he’s standing in the middle of the church aisle, holding two napkins gingerly between his fingers,  like they’re explosives.

“These are the same napkin,” he says, flatly.

“They are not,” Tashi replies without looking up. “One’s ‘Vanilla Cream,’ the other is ‘Pearl Linen.’ Try to keep up.”

He shoots you a desperate glance, but your focus is on Lilly, who’s methodically practicing her petal toss at the start of the aisle, adjusting her grip like she’s prepping for center court.

Patrick sighs. “Fine. I vote for the one that’s… less shiny?”

Tashi marks her binder with the finality of a general issuing orders.

Lilly drops a petal. Pauses. Glares at it like it insulted her and starts over.

“She’s restarted five times,” Patrick mutters.

“She wants it right.”

“She’s six.”

“So were you when you picked up a racket.”

He shoots you a glare. You just smirk.

From the back pew, Art’s voice floats through: “She’s got better footwork than you, too.”

Patrick doesn’t even turn. He just lifts his hand, middle finger raised.

Tashi hisses at Patrick to hide the profanity from her daughter before she slaps a clipboard into your hands. “Seating chart emergency.”

You lift a brow. “Is there a seating chart non-emergency?”

“Not in this universe.”

Lilly shouts down the aisle, indignant: “CAN SOMEONE FIX MY HAIR?”

Art is already up, braiding it with surprising skill. When he’s done, she beams.

“Thanks, Mr. Art.”

“I’m your father,” he deadpans.

She leans in. “You’re gonna cry at the wedding. I can tell. You’re sad.”

Art blinks before he snorts at her.

And you wonder—maybe this is it. Not peace. Not perfection. But love in motion. Love in the mess.

As the sun begins to sink, you find Patrick on the balcony, cross-legged and surrounded by notes, highlighter cap between his teeth, and a crumpled wedding timeline on his lap.

He’s muttering like the timeline might rearrange itself if he speaks fast enough.

“Art’s speech—ten minutes. Twelve, tops. Cake—whatever. Vows—pen or pencil? Pencil’s cowardly, right?”

You lean in the doorway, watching.

“Are you planning a wedding or defusing a bomb?”

He startles, nearly drops the highlighter. Catches it like instinct.

“Both,” he says, sighing. “You know there’s an exact moment where the sunset will hit just right and your dress will look like it’s glowing? Tashi made charts with all of the angles. Literal graphs.”

You settle beside him, knees brushing.

“There's highlighter on your cheek, you know? You’re glowing.”

He turns pink. Tries to rub at it.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

He breathes in. “I just want it to be perfect.”

“It already is.”

He looks at you like you’re the only match he’s ever won without a racket.

The highlighter rolls from his hand.

Neither of you moves.

-----

The vineyard is alive with light. Candles flicker. Air thick with rosemary and the faint hum of a quartet playing something slow. Tashi’s dress is flawless. Her expression, less so, as she threatens to eviscerate the caterer over the gluten-free cards.

Lilly is collecting dinner rolls under her napkin like treasure. Her sneakers blink with every kick of her heels beneath the table. You, Art, and Tashi told her no. Patrick told her yes. He won. He justified the shoes as... 'a vibe.'

Art stands quietly at the edge of it all, leaning against a column, nursing a drink and scanning the room like he’s memorizing the moment.

Patrick leans closer to you, his anxiety radiating so heavily off of him at you swear it’s why you’re so itchy.

“You okay?” You squeeze his forearm as you ask, your hand cool against his burning skin.

“I’m fine.”

He fidgets under your deadpanned almost-glare. “What if someone brings up Wimbledon? Or your uncle corners me about pickleball again?”

You can’t help but smile at him. “Then you marry me anyway.”

He grins. “I’d marry you in a Denny’s parking lot.”

“You almost did.”

“The goat tux was classy.”

The clink of glass silences the crowd. Tashi lifts her fork. “If everyone could please direct their attention to the stage for speeches, starting with Patrick’s best man, Art.”

Art steps forward. His voice is low, even.

“I’m not good at this. I normally let the racket talk.”

Lilly, ever the realist, provides her opinion: “That’s not how speeches work. Rackets don’t talk, Mr. Father.”

He almost smiles.

“Patrick was the most stubborn kid I ever met. And the loneliest. Then he met you.”

Silence falls as Art’s eyes find yours. Everyone holds their breath.

“He’s still stubborn. But not alone. Not anymore. And I don’t think he ever will be again.”

A pause. A swallow.

“I wrote a speech. Pages of it. But it was all a bunch of bull to say the most important thing: you saved his life.”

Patrick’s hand tightens around yours.

Art sets the paper down.

Patrick turns to you.

“Don’t leave.”

You squeeze his hand.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And he believes you.

-----

The morning of the wedding is golden. The suite smells like silk and steam. Tashi is steaming your dress like she’s preparing for battle.

“If one more person asks about boutonnières—”

Lilly bursts through the door.

“I lost the flower basket!”

You blink. She continues.

“I gave it to the dog. The dog ran.”

Tashi doesn’t miss a beat. “Is the dog still wearing it?”

Lilly shrugs. “Maybe.”

You almost cry. But you laugh instead.

Tashi finally softens.

“It’s just a day,” she says, squeezing your arm. “But it’s yours. And he’s waiting.”

Across the venue, Patrick paces in socks. Tie slung over his shoulder. Vows in hand, barely legible now.

Art watches from the corner.

“You’re going to cry.”

“I won’t.”

“You cried at that dog food commercial.”

“That dog got adopted!”

Patrick runs a hand through his hair. “What if I ruin it?”

Art shrugs. “Then go make it worth the ruin. Go be happy.”

Patrick looks to the door, and he doesn’t breathe again.

Until it opens.

Until he sees you.

The ceremony glows. It smells like jasmine and the end of something old.

You step forward. Tashi hands you your bouquet with the precision of ritual. Her hand lingers longer than necessary.

Lilly tosses petals with an elegance that belies her age. She pauses to correct a wayward one, then resumes, her shoes flashing like she’s guiding you home. They really captured the… ‘vibe.’

Patrick waits, eyes never leaving you.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he breathes. “You’re… wow.”

“Try again.”

“You’re everything.”

The minister is talking, sure, but neither of you can hear him. Not until he's telling you that it's time to exchange vows.

Patrick's shake slightly.

“I thought love was winning. Surviving. Enduring. Then I met you, and it became all the ways you made it feel like coming home. All the times you told me I could stop. Breathe. And I did. And I do. And I will.”

Your vows come steady.

“I thought I wanted quiet. Then you happened. Now I want the noise, the mess, the midnight fights, the morning kisses. I want the crazy and the stupid. I want you. I vow to love you. Even through the towels on the bed, your digusting socks on the floor, your 2 a.m. spirals, and every kind of silence we grow through.”

The officiant says the words.

You say I do.

He says it faster.

And when Patrick kisses you, it’s not sweet or simple or soft.

It’s forever.

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl

[dioslesbianwife]

Hiii ! How are you?

Can i request the Phantom troupe (including illumi) with a reader who's like Zatanna Zatara (Powers, appearance and personality) ? Anyways, thank you! Have a nice day :)

hii, doing alr, hope you’re good too! sure i can do that, hope you enjoy and ty for being patient and for requesting <3

Chrollo Lucilfer

Absolutely fascinated by you. Someone with powers outside the known Nen system is like a goldmine of knowledge to him.

Tries to analyze your magic, maybe even attempts to see if he can steal it. If your power doesn’t operate through Nen, he might be frustrated that it’s beyond his reach.

He enjoys your charisma and theatrical presence. You’re one of the few people who can match his calm confidence without being intimidated.

If you become an ally, he’ll treat you like a rare gem- something to be studied, protected, and utilized.

Hisoka

Obsessed with you. You’re powerful, unpredictable, and have a flair for drama? He’s practically drooling at the idea of fighting you.

He’s absolutely the type to mimic your backward speech just to see what happens. He butchers it, but he still tries.

If you disappear mid-fight, he’ll grin like a maniac and call it foreplay.

If you ever pull a "sawing a person in half" trick, he will volunteer himself just to see if it hurts.

“Ohh~ turn me into something fun, ♡ Y’know, like a snake! Or maybe a toy~”

Illumi Zoldyck

Does not like that he can’t immediately figure you out. It bothers him to no end.

He watches you with a blank stare, barely blinking, analyzing every movement.

He asks unsettling questions like, "If I remove your tongue, would your powers still work?"

If you use magic to manipulate his needles, he’ll consider you a genuine threat.

If he ever decided he liked you, it wouldn’t be normal. He’d see you as something he needs to contain. "You should let me make you stronger."

Feitan

Immediately dislikes you. You make no sense, and he doesn’t trust things he can’t predict.

Hates your confidence. The way you smirk and joke when things get dangerous makes him want to wipe it off your face.

If he tries to cut you and you casually bend reality so his sword phases through you, he will be furious.

He refuses to believe your magic isn’t Nen. “Everything is Nen.”

If you ever levitate while he’s using Pain Packer, he’s throwing hands.

Shalnark

Thinks you’re really fun. He loves how flashy and dramatic you are.

Would totally try to hack magic if that were a thing. “So, if I record you saying a spell backward and play it back, would it still work?”

He’d ask you a million science-based questions about your abilities. You could tell him magic is just vibes and he’d still want to test it.

Loves pulling pranks with you. Imagine him using his remote ability while you use magic to make things disappear. Chaos.

Machi

Pretends she doesn’t care, but she definitely cares.

If you use magic to heal wounds instantly, she’ll be one of the few who actually respects it.

If you ever float or vanish mid-conversation, she just sighs. "Drama queen."

If she has to fight you, she’ll take you seriously from the start. No underestimation here.

Nobunaga

Thinks you’re a joke at first- until you make his sword vanish with a flick of your wrist. Now he’s pissed.

Keeps challenging you to duels, even though you clearly don’t need a sword to fight.

Will argue that magic and Nen are basically the same thing. “It’s just another form of aura.”

If you ever make fun of his “waiting in a circle” strategy, he will genuinely sulk.

Phinks

Hates anything that doesn’t make sense. Your powers? Make zero sense.

“Oh, so you just say words backward, and bam magic happens? That’s BS.”

Absolutely tries to punch you just to see if you can counter it. If you teleport behind him, he’s raging.

Begrudgingly admits that you’re strong after you dodge every single one of his attacks without even touching the ground.

Bonolenov

Actually respects you because his own fighting style relies on something that seems supernatural.

Wants to know if your magic is tied to history or an ancient practice.

If you ever perform a dramatic incantation before fighting, he finds it oddly honorable.

Kortopi

Not really interested in you unless you mess with his conjured objects.

If you can duplicate his duplicates, he will be visibly disturbed.

Pakunoda

Would love to read your memories, but you might be able to black her out due to magic. If she can’t read you, she’ll be intrigued.

If you’re an ally, she enjoys hearing about your performances and tricks. 

If you’re an enemy, she considers you a serious wildcard.

Uvogin

Thinks you’re hilarious. Big himbo energy means he doesn’t question your powers- he just accepts them.

“You turned my beer into water. Why.”

He will absolutely try to out-magic you by doing something dumb like pulling a coin from behind your ear.

If you actually defeat him in a fight, he will laugh and say, “Hm. Alright, that was sick. Let’s go again!”

Franklin

Unbothered but interested. He’s quiet about it, but he sees your potential.

Would never underestimate you, but he also wouldn’t be impressed by simple tricks.

If you make his bullets disappear mid-air, he’ll blink, pause, then say, “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

Shizuku

Thinks your magic is neat but doesn’t think too hard about it.

“Oh, you can summon things from nowhere? Me too.” Pulls out Blinky.

If you make Blinky vanish, she’ll just stare at you and say, “Huh.”

Would probably forget that you can do magic and act surprised every time you do it.

[wuvja]

Operation: Silent Treatment

| Pairing: Severus Snape x Prof!Reader

| Summary: After a petty argument, the reader gives Severus Snape the Silent Treatment — and he absolutely loses his mind.

———————————————————————————

It started over something stupid.

(As all your fights with Severus usually did.)

He had made some sarcastic comment during breakfast — something about you being “charmingly disheveled” — and you’d been in a mood already.

Now, Severus Snape, feared Potions Master, Half-Blood Prince, your boyfriend, was being subjected to the deadliest punishment known to man:

The Silent Treatment.

And you were committed.

⸻

Severus first realized the gravity of the situation when he passed you in the corridor outside the library.

Normally, you would greet him — a little smirk, a teasing smile, a brush of your hand against his.

Today?

You walked past him like he was a ghost.

Didn’t look. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Severus turned on his heel, stunned.

“Excuse me,” he called stiffly.

“Did you go deaf overnight?”

You kept walking.

Severus narrowed his eyes.

So that’s how it is.

⸻

Later, in the dungeons, he tried again.

He “casually” appeared outside your classroom door just as you dismissed your students.

You walked out, papers clutched to your chest, nose in the air like some vengeful queen.

Severus stepped into your path.

“Good afternoon,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm.

You swerved around him without a word.

Severus scowled, turning to follow you down the hall like a very offended bat.

“You are being childish,” he snapped.

You didn’t even flinch.

Severus, now openly glowering, stalked behind you like a black cloud.

⸻

By lunchtime, the entire Hogwarts staff had noticed.

At the staff table, Minerva McGonagall raised a brow over her spectacles as she watched Severus scowl furiously across the table at you — while you buttered your roll with deliberate, regal indifference.

“You’ve done something,” Minerva said dryly, sipping her tea.

“I did not,” Severus hissed under his breath.

Minerva looked at him over the rim of her cup with infinite amusement.

“You poor fool.”

Severus stabbed his peas with unnecessary violence.

⸻

By dinner, Severus had accepted the terms of war.

If you wanted dramatics, fine.

He could out-stubborn anyone.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight dirty.

He waited until you were deep in conversation with Poppy Pomfrey, then “accidentally” brushed his hand against your back as he walked past.

You stiffened — but didn’t react.

Severus smirked darkly.

Challenge accepted.

He waited until you were pouring tea, then leaned close — too close — murmuring just loud enough for you to hear:

“Still ignoring me, darling? It’s starting to hurt my fragile feelings.”

You splashed tea everywhere.

Poppy snorted into her napkin.

Severus looked insufferably smug.

⸻

Finally — finally — as you were storming back to your chambers that night, Severus cornered you.

Quite literally — in a shadowy hallway near the Astronomy Tower.

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path, black robes swirling dramatically like some sort of overgrown bat.

You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

“You’re blocking my way.”

Severus tilted his head, studying you.

“You are insufferable,” he said.

You arched an eyebrow.

“And yet you’re obsessed with me.”

A twitch at the corner of his mouth.

(You caught it. You definitely caught it.)

“Painfully so,” he admitted without shame.

You blinked, caught off guard — your heart doing an embarrassing little stumble in your chest.

Severus took a slow step closer, lowering his voice now, the humor fading into something more serious.

“I missed you today,” he said softly.

You swallowed. Hard.

“You were annoying,” you muttered, stubborn.

“I am always annoying,” Severus said easily, reaching out to brush your hair back behind your ear with the gentlest touch.

You scowled harder — but you didn’t pull away.

Severus smiled — a real, rare, devastatingly soft smile.

“I would prefer,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek, “that you yell at me. Hex me. Throw things. Anything. Just… don’t ignore me.”

You bit your lip, feeling your throat tighten unexpectedly.

You hadn’t realized…

how much it had bothered him.

(You also hadn’t realized how much it had hurt you to avoid him.)

Your lower lip wobbled slightly — traitorous and completely out of your control.

Your eyes burned.

Oh no.

Not now. Not in the bloody hallway.

You sniffled aggressively, trying to hide it — but it came out sounding like a wounded kitten.

Severus immediately froze.

“Are you — are you crying?”

You turned your head away quickly, mortified. “No!”

Another pathetic sniffle betrayed you.

He made a choked sound — was that a laugh?

You glared at him, blinking rapidly.

“You’re laughing at me?!”

Severus, utterly undone by you trying (and failing) to look furious while your eyes welled up, pulled you into his arms without hesitation.

“I’m laughing because you’re adorable,” he said into your hair, voice shaking slightly with amusement.

You sniffled against his chest, miserable.

“I’m mad at you,” you mumbled pathetically.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re doing a terrible job showing it.”

You let out a weak punch to his chest — it barely moved him.

“Idiot,” you muttered, wiping your sleeve across your face.

“Insufferable,” he corrected fondly.

You scowled up at him — your watery, pouting scowl so fierce and so pitiful at the same time that Severus looked like he was fighting for his life not to laugh again.

You shoved him half-heartedly, and he caught you easily, pulling you even tighter against him.

“There you are,” he whispered against your hair, like he’d been searching for you all day.

You huffed a grumpy breath but curled your arms around him anyway.

There, in the quiet hallway, you finally let yourself relax against Severus — all your ridiculous grumpiness and stubbornness dissolving into the safe, warm, slightly amused embrace of the man who was, for better or worse, just as hopelessly obsessed with you as you were with him.

[cuppajj]

Neo Beast Head cannons?

WOOWOO

✨Saint Vanilla Cookie

He’s the only one who goes wherever he wants. The other beasts are pretty stationary for the time being, but Saint’s on a mission and he will show up literally anywhere

Still loves animals and thinks they’re incapable of sinning, so they don’t get the purifying touch. It’s why raisin’s crows are still alive

Speaking of raisin, he does miss her but he thinks she’s in a better place. Calls her his martyr and talks about her like she’s still alive

He has tea every morning

It’s unknown where he sleeps when he’s traveling the world

He keeps Crepe’s headset extra clean for the day they meet each other again

❤️‍🔥Dragonberry Cookie

She is still the same old Hollyberry who loves drinking berry juice like there’s no tomorrow. She even brings pints to Neo beast meetings

Even though her pride has given her a massive superiority complex, she still views her family and even Pitaya rather fondly, though it doesn’t prevent the latter from being spared any sort of pain. She sees everything as playful until it’s not

Does frankly miss Tarte Tatin and Royal Margarine even though one or both of them has Snapdragon, who she’s trying to get her hands on

Snores

❄️Frigid Cacao Cookie

Rarely speaks but when he does it’s usually to give orders, and half of that time he asks for food

His incense always remains lit

Alongside the cookies left, sometimes the licorice sea monsters that now roam his halls act as his servants. He can also use the licorice ooze to do wacky things like teleport from one place to another

Sometimes he appears in the fog of the snow like an apparition, something you can barely see but know he’s there. It’s one of the rare sightings of him outside

Another thing he does when outside is stare at a frozen Cacaoian. Sometimes he touches the icy surface, maybe kneels. Who knows what he’s thinking?

☀️Celestial Cheese Cookie

A lot of her mannerisms are akin to white diamond from steven universe, she was actually one of the main references I used for her design

She can summon as many golden arms as she wants and they operate on hydra properties. Cutting one will grow two

Despite this, she doesn’t have the legit Midas touch where everything she touches turns to gold, she can be selective. Which is good when she wants to pet jackals

Her growing kingdom is full of converted desert inhabitants and travelers, maybe a handful of townships, and it’s remarkable how she’s been able to grow a lot from nothing. She does get a bit of an inferiority complex when comparing herself to the likes of Dragonberry, but it motivates her to conquer more

🥀Midnight Lily Cookie

She picked up playing the harp after she became queen, and she plays often. The silver fae like to gather around to listen to their queen perform, and her harp can be heard across the kingdom

She’s grown more accustomed to speaking like the silver fae as well at times, her voice songlike despite how neutral it sounds. She’ll sing as she plays the harp as well

Despite being a beast, she’s the least accepting of that name for lack of a better word. She doesn’t see herself as being corrupt, only staying true to her decisions and her sovereignty, what she believes is right for herself and everyone. It just so happens that it enables the bad to do worse, but it’s not her problem anyway.

Her kingdom is still strict to outsiders, probably on the same level as cacao. You might need an invitation inside or risk the silver fae being free to do whatever they wish with you

As I mentioned previously they operate similar to the fae (unseelie in aesthetic) so you don’t want to bother chaotic neutral creatures

The only one allowed without invitation is Saint Vanilla, who has a habit of showing up in her garden to lay among the flowers. Lily can only imagine what he thinks of when he sees her

[hwaretic]

Where The Soft Things Are | k.ys

pairing : kang yeosang x fem! reader

genre : very fluffy fluff

word count : 7.2k

synopsis : on a quiet, rainy weekend, you and Yeosang find yourselves wrapped up in a slow, gentle magic of being deeply in love with cookies, cuddles and a blanket fort kingdom made for two.

check out more from the masterlist !!

You weren’t supposed to wake up yet.

But the absence of Yeosang beside you had tugged you out of sleep like a thread unraveling a dream. Your fingers stretched across the sheets, feeling only warmth fading where his body used to be. A gray light seeped through the curtains, soft and sleepy. Rain tapped a lullaby against the window.

You sat up slowly, the oversized hoodie you stole from Yeosang slipping off your shoulder. His scent still lingered in the cotton—clean, warm, familiar. It felt like him wrapping his arms around you, even when he wasn’t there.

The apartment was quiet, save for the whisper of rain. You padded into the hallway in fuzzy socks, following the faint smell of vanilla and something sweet.

There he was.

Yeosang stood in the kitchen in pajama pants and a fitted long-sleeve shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair still slightly messy from sleep. He was biting his lip in concentration as he carefully arranged something on a tray.

Your heart swelled like a marshmallow in hot cocoa.

“You’re up,” he said, startled slightly when he turned and saw you watching.

You smiled sleepily. “You left me.”

“I was coming back. With these.” He held up the tray like it was a gift from the gods. On it: a stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs shaped like little hearts, and two mugs of what could only be your favourite chai latte—complete with whipped cream.

“You cooked for me?” you said, blinking. “At this hour?”

“It’s almost eleven,” he teased, walking toward you. “You call that early?”

“I call anything before noon ‘still dreaming time.’”

Yeosang leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Then let’s pretend we’re still dreaming.”

He set the tray down on the coffee table, then turned to face you with the sort of grin that could melt the clouds outside.

“Wait here,” he said mysteriously.

You watched as he disappeared into the hallway, only to return carrying a massive bundle of blankets and pillows. One by one, he dumped them onto the floor beside the couch.

“What are you doing?” you asked, already giggling.

“Operation : Cozy Kingdom,” he announced. “I’ve declared today a no-leaving-the-house, no-responsibilities, all-the-soft-things kind of day. You and me. Snacks. Cuddles. Blanket fort. Yes?”

“Fort?” You raised a brow.

He grinned. “A palace.”

You didn’t even try to argue. In fact, you started grabbing cushions to help.

An hour later, the living room had been transformed into a glowing, magical world of softness.

Blankets draped over chairs and books created high ceilings. Pillows lined the floor in a cozy nest. Twinkle lights strung across the top cast a gentle golden hue over everything. A sign—handwritten on cardboard and stuck to a pillow—read “Kingdom of Cozy. Rulers : Y/N & Yeosang.”

Yeosang peeked out from under the makeshift archway, his hair now slightly frizzy from crawling around in static-filled fleece.

“Welcome, my queen,” he said dramatically, holding out his hand.

You curtsied, then took it.

Inside, it was perfect. Warm. Safe. Yours.

You both laid down, plates of breakfast forgotten beside you as Yeosang pulled you into his arms.

He kissed your temple. “You like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

You turned to face him, your noses brushing. His eyes were all stars and morning softness.

“You,” you whispered, “are the fluffiest man alive.”

“And proud.”

You reached up to trace the curve of his cheek with your finger. He caught your hand and kissed your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours.

“Can I confess something?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“I think I like this version of us the most. The slow, sleepy, quiet kind. When there’s no pressure to perform or be anywhere else.”

You rested your forehead against his. “I do too.”

“Sometimes I feel like… this is the kind of love that never has to shout to be real.”

Your throat tightened.

“I know exactly what you mean,” you murmured.

He kissed you then. Not hurried. Not hungry. Just… present. You melted into him, your heart blooming quietly in your chest.

By afternoon, the rain hadn’t stopped. It only deepened the cocoon around you both.

Yeosang had disappeared into the kitchen again, this time armed with a new mission : cookies.

From your pillow nest, you watched as he moved around the counter with far more grace than any human should have. He danced a little to the lo-fi playlist humming in the background, hips swaying as he cracked eggs into the bowl.

You couldn’t resist pulling out your phone.

click

He looked over his shoulder with a mock scandalized gasp. “Are you secretly photographing me again?”

“Always. You’re beautiful.”

He blushed.

“I’ll allow it,” he said, turning back to the bowl. “But only if you help me decorate them later.”

“Deal.”

You joined him in the kitchen just as he was scooping out dough onto a tray. He handed you a spatula like it was a wand.

“We’re making cookie hearts,” he declared. “For morale.”

The two of you leaned over the tray, hands brushing constantly. You added sprinkles—pink ones—until Yeosang joked that it looked like a unicorn had exploded.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned playfully.

“Oh Yeah? What would you do?”

Without a word, he smeared a dollop of cookie dough on the tip of your nose.

You gasped.

“I dare you,” you hissed.

Yeosang smirked. “You’re in trouble now.”

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a mess.

There were sprinkles on the floor, flour in your hair, and Yeosang’s shirt had a tiny handprint on it from where you’d slapped him with powdered sugar. You were both breathless, grinning like children.

The cookies had somehow made it into the oven.

As they baked, Yeosang stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You swayed together to the soft music playing in the background.

And then, he said it—quietly, simply.

“I want to do this forever with you.”

Your heart skipped.

“Make cookies?” you joked, but your voice caught a little.

“No,” he said softly, lips brushing your ear. “Wake up with you. Make forts with you. Dance in the kitchen. Laugh about nothing. Love you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes wide.

He looked serious—but not scared. Just… honest. Pure.

“I mean it,” he said. “I love you. And I want a million more rainy mornings just like this.”

Tears blurred your vision. Not from sadness. From being full.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “So much it hurts.”

Yeosang smiled then, and it was the kind of smile that made every season feel like spring.

He kissed you again—this time, deeper. Sweeter. The kind of kiss that promises forever.

That evening, you curled up in your blanket fort with warm cookies, tea, and Yeosang holding you against his chest.

You listened to the rain together.

“I’m serious about us making this a tradition,” he said, stroking your hair. “The Cozy Kingdom. Every rainy day.”

“I’m not opposed,” you mumbled against him. “As long as you keep making cookies.”

“And cuddles?”

“And cuddles.”

He pulled the blanket tighter around you. “Then it’s settled.”

You tilted your head up. “Yeosang?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being my soft place to land.”

He smiled, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “You’ve always been mine.”

And outside, the rain kept falling. But inside your little kingdom—where the soft things were—everything was exactly as it should be: warm, quiet, full of love.

The kind that didn’t need to shout.

Because you felt it in every heartbeat pressed between you.

And that was more than enough.

taglist !!

@moonlitarcade @flambychan @yunniverse @blue5ummer @stefanoiswithme @ecriggs1990 @beljakovina @blehno @roomie7669

[fancycat-thesilvertux]

Okay, so I’m a fan of Brain Dead - these two overworked boys who need hugs, melatonin, and to sleep in a comfortable pillow fort while wrapped in soft blankets like burritos (bonus points if it’s actual tortilla-pattern blankets) - and I’m also a fan of petty revenge like -

Tim accidentally getting married to Ghost King Danny because Red Robin got captured and used as a sacrifice by a cult to summon the Ghost King to reign destruction but mishap someone forgot to read up on their runes so the “sacrifice” was actually a “sacrificial bride”, meaning magical contract between GK!Danny and Tim.

And Danny, when he gets summoned and realizes what happened, is like, nope. Takes down the cultists, does abscond with Red Robin just to explain the situation and how right now, the dude is his Queen Consort or co-king because magically enforced marriage at least they don’t have to copulate that would have been even worse. And Tim is just computer crashing as he gets an information dump on how one, there’s another realm that’s, two, filled with dead people who, three, is ruled by a guy his age and who, four, Tim is now married to because, five, cultists really need to do their hOMEWORK WHAT THE HELL -

And did I mention that the contract lets them know no secrets between them? So Danny knows who Tim is meaning he knows who the Batfam is but that’s okay since Tim knows who Danny is and oh wow that explains a lot about Jason now with the ecto-contamination by impure ectoplasm -

And Tim really doesn’t want to tell the Batfam what happened since he still has insecurities regarding his place in the family which isn’t helped by their treatment - and Danny is seething because him and Tim actually get along pretty well as friends and Tim has quickly worked his way into Danny’s Obsession of Protecc because Danny will always protect those he cares about and he doesn’t like how Tim gets treated especially when it came to learning about Tim’s missing spleen.

Now here’s the funny part of this AU - because of the marriage contract between Danny and Tim, Tim gets the perks of being Queen Consort/co-king in having power over ectoplasmic beings, so when Jason’s going in on Tim who has been stressed from the situation despite Danny and Tim’s new friends in Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Jazz, and Dani (and Dan if you want to include him) doing their best to help him destress which he greatly appreciates, is still operating on little to no sleep, AND just found out that somebody replaced his extra strong coffee with decaf, Jason who calls Tim “Replacement” one last time -

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Tim snarled at Jason, his eyes glowing a scarily familiar green to the Batfam. Jason’s own eyes began to glow green in response, but instead of his feeling angry, the Pits encouraging him to hurt, Jason can feel the Pits actually COWERING back instead this time, and an incredible urge to not say another peep.

Meanwhile the rest of the Batfam is also freaking out because holy shit when did Tim take a dip in the Pits?!

[callmelyc]

This is a Lance based on a langst/slow burn klance au where he goes undercover and gains a second scar right over his pre-existing one.

So the gist of this au is that Lance is sent alone to attempt to investigate a partial lead on a massive druid energy harvesting operation. No one else they've sent in has managed to get in deep enough but they note that all the ppl who do (none affiliated with the coalition) have scars that the Queen on this planet favors.

One such scar is a back scar which Lance just so happens to have and they send him as a tourist to see if it gains attention. It does and he ends up deep undercover alone and with no contact. During his stay he quickly gains the queens favor as his back scar mirrors one on her favorite gods from her home planet, the god of freedom Asteus.

This god gave up his freedom (his wings thus the back scar) so that their people could gain eternity so she grows possessive of lance, thinks his freedom is hers to harvest.

She starts calling him by the name Asteus and brands his back taking not only his voice (so he can't share any information he's learned) but his freedom and life energy.

The brand is a tracker, a seal, and a quintessence drain. Lance is unable to escape alone and has all the information the coalition needs to save millions.

He's freed by the aid of two others also trapped by the queen (two that were too weak to take the same brand) and Keith holds lance close as the brand is removed through the silent scream and tears.

It scars though and lance hates it, he won't look at it, has lost confidence bc of it. He has lost parts of himself to the trauma. It's Keith that helps him learn to heal, it's Keith that helps him as a support and helps him learn to be empowered again by not concealing the scar as it continues to fade.

Keith gifts Lance jewelery made of gold to drape across his back to help him feel beautiful again To help him feel free (bc it's his choice to wear or show the scar with pride and the gold helps lance see that he doesn't have to fear it anymore, bc he is safe)

Dark ik but it's a very dramatic au like the word doc for it has 5k words of just info in it. It's a mystery mostly but with the added langst (and slow burn kl) there's so much more to it but this scene wouldn't leave my head so I drew it

A gift of love and care that lance wears as he learns to heal again. I will be writing it one day but it's still in the planning phases.

[unholyjs]

Bad Things - prologue ~ Oliver Queen x Reader

This is the prologue for a fic I'm writing on Wattpad, sharing it here because I'm kind of proud of the story.

~

"Ollie?" Your voice cracks as you look between him and the power-dampening cuffs on your wrists. "What are you doing?"

The shock doesn't come from being thrown into a cell. It comes from the icy glare in Oliver's eyes—the same eyes that once looked at you with nothing but love. Now, they hold a cold, unrecognizable look. You knew this moment would come eventually. You knew he'd find out about your double life, but even in your worst nightmares, it never felt like this.

"You've been working with us since the very beginning," Oliver growls, stepping back as the glass door slides shut, sealing you inside. "And all this time, you were playing us. Playing me."

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the sting of his words. It wasn't supposed to end like this. You joined Team Arrow as a means to an end, to gain his trust and operate under the nose of your biggest threat. You never intended to develop feelings. You never meant to fall in love.

"Well, you found me out," you say, lifting your bound hands to wipe away the tears you refuse to shed, "Congratulations, Oliver. It only took you six years to finally see what was right in front of you."

Oliver's jaw clenches, his hand forming a tight fist at his side, "You've killed innocent people, Y/N. This is where you belong."

You scoff, tilting your head with a bitter smile, "What do you think you know? You found out I'm Malevolent, but I bet you don't know half the people I've killed—or why."

"Then tell me!" Oliver slams his fist against the glass barrier. You flinch, flashes of your father's abuse overwhelming you. You force yourself to take a deep breath, pushing the fear back down.

To be honest, villainy might as well have been written across your forehead from the start. Your father beat you senseless before you were even old enough to understand what abuse was. Every small mistake became an excuse for his rage. Your mother wasn't any better—always drunk or high, barely aware she had a child.

You carried those scars for years, blaming yourself. Maybe if you hadn't touched this, or looked at that, your father would've left you alone. Maybe if you behaved better, your mother would have loved you.

But eventually, you convinced yourself that you deserved better. You left the torment behind and joined the Army as soon as you were legal, it was your first real break. You fell in love, got married, and had two beautiful children. For the first time in you whole life, you were happy. It was a kind of happiness you never even though existed growing up. But it didn't last. It never does.

"You wouldn't understand," you whisper, dropping your gaze. "You see everything in black and white, Oliver. I'm forced to live in the gray."

He steps closer, his expression torn between fury and something softer. "Then help me understand," he demands, his voice breaking for the first time. "Why did you do it? Why did you betray us?"

The question hits you hard, and suddenly the walls of the cell seem to fade away. Your mind drifts back to a moment you've tried so hard to bury—a moment that still haunts your every waking thought. The moment that's driven every waking moment and every decision you've made for the past few years.

You push open the front door of your home, smiling as you call out to your children. "Melody? Michael? I'm back!"

There's no response, normally the second you'd walk in the house you'd be greeted by their little footsteps pounding excitedly towards the door. They always knew when you were home. You suspiciously set your bag down and walk into the living room, expecting to find toys scattered across the floor and the sound of laughter echoing through the house. 

Instead, it's silent. Eerily silent.

A chill runs down your spine, and the smile fades from your face, you pull your gun from it's holster at you side. "Melody?" you call again, your voice trembling slightly now. You step into the kitchen, and that's when you see it—the shattered glass on the floor, the overturned chairs.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you move down the hallway. It feels like your feet are made of lead, every step heavier than the last. You push open the door to the kids' room, and the sight before you rips the breath from your lungs.

Melody and Michael lie motionless on the floor, their innocent eyes frozen wide in terror. A single bullet wound pierces each of their small foreheads, their once-bright faces contorted in horror—the image sears into your mind, you know their expressions will haunt you forever. You drop to your knees, a choked scream tearing from your throat as you scoop up and cradle their lifeless bodies. "No, no, no..." you sob, rocking back and forth, pressing kisses to their cold foreheads, "My babies."

You can barely see through the tears as you stumble into the bedroom you once shared with your husband. The bed is soaked in blood, the sheets tangled around his lifeless form. His eyes are vacant, the same gentle eyes that once looked at you with love.

You collapse against the doorway, a guttural scream of agony ripping from your chest. Your entire world has shattered, and you know in that moment that nothing will ever be the same.

You don't know how long you sit there, but when you finally stand, your tears have dried. All that's left is a hollow emptiness inside you, a cold determination that replaces the grief.

You will find out who did this. And you will make them pay.

You're jolted back to the present, the cold walls of the cell pressing in around you. Oliver is still standing there, his eyes locked on yours, waiting for an answer.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words die in your throat. He doesn't bother to repeat the question. Instead, he taps the computer screen, and you watch helplessly as the pipeline seals itself shut, cutting off your powers and any chance of escape—for now.

~

Oliver storms into the main room of STAR Labs, where the rest of the team waits in silence. The tension is palpable. He can feel their eyes on him, but he doesn't want to talk. Not now. Behind his stoic mask of indifference, he was hurting. His mind raced, searching for any plausible explanation that could clear your name and bring you back into his arms. There had to be a reason—he was sure of it. 

He had worked with you for six years, memorized every quirk, every fear. He thought he knew you better than anyone, better than you knew yourself. And yet, in this moment, he realized he knew nothing about you at all.

He heads straight for the computer, typing furiously until your file appears on the screen. The national meta database is almost blank, save for a few vague details.

Name: Y/N Y/L/N Known Aliases: 'Y/N Vance,' 'Black Arrow,' 'Malevolent' Occupation: Unknown Status: Unknown Family: Unknown Abilities: Electricity, Telepathy, Teleportation, Regeneration DOB: Unknown

Oliver slams his fist down on the desk, his voice a broken whisper. "Why the hell does no one know anything about her?"

Barry steps forward, pulling nervously at his fingers. "Oliver, I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to talk to her. Not at her. You can't threaten her or berate her. You have to listen."

Oliver's hands tremble as he grips the edge of the desk. He's fighting to keep his emotions in check, but he knows Barry is right. Maybe if he had listened to you sooner, things wouldn't have turned out like this.

"Okay," he finally mutters, the word coming out strained.

~

The hiss of the pipeline door opening makes you jump to your feet. You're surprised to see Oliver standing there, still dressed in his leather costume, the hood pulled back to reveal his tired, conflicted expression.

"Who are you?" he asks, stepping closer to the glass, his voice barely above a whisper.

You meet his gaze head-on, forcing yourself to smile. "I'm Y/N. Or did you miss that?"

"Y/L/N or Vance?" he demands. "Because you told me your last name was Vance."

"I lied," you say flatly, dislocating your thumb to slip out of the cuffs. The pain barely registers anymore; you've trained yourself for this.

"What's your story?" Oliver's voice cracks slightly. "Your meta file doesn't list anything before six years ago. Why?"

"I erased it," you reply flatly, feeling the electricity crackling beneath your skin as your powers return. "You don't deserve to know, because then you'd understand. And I don't want your pity."

"Damn it, Y/N! Talk to me!" Oliver slams his hands against the glass. You flinch, and a bolt of electricity shoots from your fingertips. His eyes widen, landing on the limp cuffs dangling from your wrists.

Your eyes glow bright blue, and the electricity wraps around your arms like coiling serpents. Memories of your family flash through your mind, intensifying the charge. The glow brightens, and your hair lifts as lightning surges around your body, wild and untamed.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I served two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. I fell in love, got married, had twins—Melody and Michael." Tears well up as the electricity grows volatile. "They're all dead now."

You thrust your arms forward, shattering the cell. Glass and metal scatter like shrapnel, the blast sending Oliver flying across the room. You land gracefully, lightning still crackling around your arms. As you step onto the platform, Oliver rises, bow drawn and ready.

"Y/N, stand down!" he commands, just as Barry speeds in.

"How the hell..." Barry mutters, taking in the wreckage.

They knew you were powerful, but breaking out of the pipeline was supposed to be impossible.

"Move, Oliver," you growl, advancing. "I don't want to hurt you."

Barry lunges at you, but you sense his move before he makes it. You blast him with a bolt of lightning, sending him crashing down the hall.

"Y/N!" Oliver shouts, more urgently now. Your eyes narrow, glowing brighter.

"What's the plan, Oliver? Are you going to talk it out with me, babe?" You mockingly pout, and he pulls the bowstring back even tighter.

"I'm not saying it again," he warns, aiming straight at your chest.

"Good, neither am I." You lunge forward, snatching the bow from his grip and hurling it across the room.

He grabs your arm, twisting it behind your back at an unnatural angle. You scream, but instead of yielding, you snap your own arm, freeing yourself from his hold. With your good hand, you throw a punch, but Oliver catches it, flipping you over his shoulder. You hit the ground hard, gasping as he looms over you.

"I told you to stand down, Y/N."

You laugh through the pain, eyes glowing once more. You hurl him across the room with a surge of electricity. "And I told you to move."

As Oliver collapses, you take a moment to catch your breath. Then, you walk over and use your good arm to grip him tight, dragging his limp body across the debris. With a practiced gentleness, you prop him up against the wall, adjusting his head so it rests back comfortably.

You kneel down, brushing his hair away from his forehead. For a moment, you let your fingers linger, tracing the familiar lines of his face.

"It's for the greater good," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, "I still have a mission to finish."

~

prologue, 1 , 2

[starberry-cupcake]

SHORT STORY + BONUSES (read it like when gollum says bagginses) INTERMISSION!!! Today we'll take some time to dive into the Harrow bonuses and a couple of short stories, one of which I should have read before, but such is life.

previously, in the tlt universe:

I finished harrowcita del 9

Bonus 1: BoE google doc for the soldiers

differently from the other recaps, I did these while I was reading them, not when I finished reading a whole chapter/story

so maybe the thoughts are more rambly than usual

sorry about that

ANYWAY I have to give it to the BoE folks, they've got a lot to deal with over here

they're like the audience, coming into this blind

and have to try to understand how necromancers operate on the fly

'bullet to the head but don't be too confident on that' seems to be the most useful tidbit

it's like a resident evil gameplay

BoE is in resident evil, gideon is in survivor and harrow is in a gothic pulp novel

the advice for engaging lyctors is "avoid them at all costs"

I keep spelling it BoA instead of BoE because of her

blood of adam? blood of awake me up when september ends? idk

Pronounciation guide (aka I do what I want, but apparently pronounce nonagesimus like the author)

dr reverend emperor john chose the name gaius for himself, it wasn't his real name

gaius sounds like gallo, the spanish name for gallus gallus domesticus, which in english would translate to cock and alludes to the fact that he is a dick

agustine is pronounced like in english and not like in spanish (agustín), I have been pronouncing that one right but I could have called him agustín all this time

cassiopeia was a queen but we already knew that

sixth house, ceramics, cooking, checks every one of my boxes

"CRIS-ta-bell. Rather than “crees”."

what is the difference oh my god is there a difference there

pyrrah is achilles's drag name, which is cool

valancy and cyrus were like this

I'm still gonna call the mithraeum mithrandir whatnot the emperor's bolthole, it's in the sacred text

the nonniad is in dactylic enneameter, which is a ninth version of greek epics (which are hexameters) and it's making me send my ancient greek professor from uni good vibes wherever he is

Glossary

we know more about the beasts now, or have more ordered info, the gist of it is this

so the RBs are only the nine OGs from the nine planets of dominicus that the emperor fucked up

those are the ones that can go from the river to the physical world and viceversa

the other minor beasts can only exist in the river

I still think this is all the emperor's and the lyctors's fault for starting this nonsense and killing planets for power and whatnot

so yeah, Consequences of your Actions, johnny boy

the heralds, as we had established, are kind of like borg, responding to the RBs

necromancers kinda go mad at all this as if they were looking at cthulhu

I wanted to google what the two first verses of wake's name were but the first results that pop up are tlt sources and I'm not looking into that, in case of spoilers

I've already come this far without massive spoilers, I'm not gonna risk that now

what quotes would you like to have as a name if you were one of these folks?

If I could choose three, I'd probably pick: Yo tengo el corazón como la espuma / das Leben Sie nicht vergessen hat, daß es Sie in der Hand hält / Quieto en la tierra y sentir que mis pies tienen raíz

probably un monceau d’idées et un monceau de douleurs would be another contender considered

idk how that'd be shortened though, maybe espie because espuma

house quiz was book 1, boe name assignment is book 2

The Mysterious Study of Doctor [tumblr keeps blocking my post and I'm gonna try to avoid this word to see if this is it]

ANYWAY, SIXTH HOUSE TIME

from the blurb I can tell that:

1) all this time I thought Dr S was like a funny nickname someone had given palmolive for being correspondence-horny lmao

2) is this the magnus institute???

3) "Enter Palamedes Sextus and Camilla Hect, age thirteen" we're gonna look at some baby picturessss

"Every thirteen-year-old necromancer in the Sixth House is gifted."

"I was born with four kids in my generation eligible to produce children with me. Palamedes had two"

maybe that's why he went for a correspondence gf

camilla describing that's she's the best and me just going

this thing of 'being attractive' as a category would get me demoted at the sixth, though

but working in data, I can do that

I am really liking archivist zeta

there's something that was sealed for a lot of years and now is unsealed and that's very exciting!!!!

lost media!!!!

so many stairs would be a problem for me, but there's lost media at the end of the tunnel

archivist zeta: don't touch anything

palmolive: including the bone hands?

archivist zeta: the what now

apparently the hands are younger than the time the room has been sealed

with the forms being color-coded, I'm starting to think this is less magnus institute and more office of incident assessment and response 

them making references to other houses remind me that other houses socialized, seeing everything from the ninth made me feel like everyone was isolated all the time lol

add to my list of sixth house love the fact that we have murder mysteries now too

gotta love the sixth house

kinda ominous the hand bones now that we know what we know, of camilla carrying palmolive as a tamagotchi in a bone hand after harrow changed the skull

palmolive and camilla age 13 are a whole other book I would have devoured at age 13 myself btw

giving me his dark materials vibes

there was a skeleton in the air vents above the hands

camilla says she's gonna start taking measuring tape with her alongside everything else and I also can relate to going places with 25 million things, just in case

palmolive steals pens, apparently

I've used this meme for palmolive before but it still fits

the skeleton was possessed by the dr himself, he got kinda stuck on his way there after the fifth person tried to call him and got his hands into his study through skeleton shenaningans

palmolive needs to touch something in order to prove the "why" and everyone votes in favor, because he's on a roll

the cool wooden orb that was in the desk was a cool wooden puzzle, like the Karakuri Creation Group ones

man, I love those

the dr solving a puzzle after his death and coming back to prove it is me with some niche puzzles I used to have a sideblog for

don't ask me

there was paper inside and everyone got outside super fast and started congratulating each other (hello????? you did nothing????) and shaking camilla's and palmolive's hands

they don't wanna give palmolive multiple points for solving a several hundread years old mystery, which isn't fair tbh

"Don’t expire in a fit of hubris." oofffffffff

the paper had letters, which palmolive thinks are love letters

with his years of experience on pining letters

the one at the ends says "Tomorrow you will become a Lyctor and finally go where I can’t follow"

is this about cassie??? aka cassiopeia????

loved the camilla and palmolive murder mystery dinner

As Yet Unsent

this is judith's diary and this is how I imagine she looked while writing it and judging people

judith assisted the BoE with her own healing but it's kinda tough when you're also handcuffed and with your eyes covered and whatnot

judith is still in the emperor's side

I don't blame her, she hasn't met the man

yandere twin has met him and still saved him so, I can't judge judith too much

there's a corpse that isn't rotting

promising stuff

there's a commander called We Suffer

they're wearing masks and camilla is being "converted" to their cause

and she didn't even meet the man, but apparently BoE had contact with the sixth house at some point in the past

cassie?????? is this you??????? who knows

sixth house though, earning more points

also, camilla says that palmolive would want to find out what they know and, you know what, fair

I would too

camilla is also good at chess, because she's good at everything

they're playing ceiling chess like in queen's gambit

judith thinks about martita, who will soon do some awesome things next to mati nonnius

judith is also marinating the fact that everyone was fooled by the twinsies and the fact that regina george twin has no necromancy

she also complains about her being too emotional and prone to trust people

every point regina george twin makes about BoE sounds pretty solid to me tbh

the more I see, the more I think the emperor is a dick, like his name implies

judith argues with regina george twin a lot but also notices that her ears go pink when she's impassioned so...why are you noticing that judith????

how did you notice that???? *smirks knowingly*

judith has to deal with the limitations of medical care when you don't have a bunch of people who do body magic stuff

so she's dealing with recovery in a slow way and with machines plugged to her

it's hard for her because she was from the house where necros are also very able to do physical stuff

camilla is giving her strongly worded positive reinforcement

regina george twin and judith have a lot of moments that go from flirty to fighting

I can't keep using smirk reactions images so (¬‿¬)

regina george twin is also being trained to be rambo barbie and I think that suits her

"In a different time I would have found ways to apologise to Palamedes Sextus, whom I at the very least critically misjudged"

palmolive always getting the indirect compliments my goodness

he's so popular

"The princess has by turns tried to charm Camilla, play with Camilla, flirt with Camilla, and cajole Camilla. Camilla is currently unmoved"

nobody's good enough for her, regina george twin, move along

regina george twin is also being kinda aphobic towards judith's response on her being uninterested to romance camilla

I don't think judith is aro at all but that doesn't mean we have to be assholes about it, regina george twin, thank you

judith and regina george twin think BoE is wrong about necros having orgies and I'm here like

so, apparently, judith propositioned martita because she was pretty much obsessed with her

and martita said no

and she thinks camilla is holding onto tamgagotchi palmolive out of some sense of not wanting to let go of him

unaware of the fact that he's in his river loft waiting for his bones to be womanhandled by harrowcita

also, the BoE has an old ship that judith wasn't helpful with, so they don't really have much patience with her

regina george twin and judith keep flirting in that intense tlt way

I'm starting to think regina george twin has a big crush on judith and I'm here for the dynamics of that

"It said, Ugh! Then it said, Eugh!" is this mercygirl??? it sounds like mercygirl to me

and fixing someone's insides as if they were cleaning a sewing machine also sounds very mercygirl

mercygirl is also curious about this body that doesn't rot and I wanna know what it is because I want so bad for it to be gideon-related but I can't let myself hope

also, she gave them the coordinates to find harrow in the cool planet

"And Camilla said, The Warden and I know they can die like anyone else" 👀

"The corpse of the Ninth House cavalier is as pristine as when Camilla Hect convinced them to take it on board"

YESSSSSSS

YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

MY HOPES WEREN'T UNWARRANTED

LET'S GOOOOOOOOO

GIDEON ARMS INTACT BABYYYYYYYY

regina george twin proposes necro-cav marriage to judith and judith says no because no relationship here can be straightforward

"Why would I ever knowingly take Coronabeth Tridentarius’s, having desired her already for twelve long, stupid, fruitless years?!"

DRAMAAAAA

AND THAT'S IT!!!! FINALLY!!! This took me a lot longer than I wanted it too but I enjoyed the stories ♥ See you in the next one!!

[steddiealltheway]

@steddie-week day 1: hunger / pining / Somebody to Love by Queen

"I'm going to murder Steve if he tries to flirt hopelessly with another girl when he likes Eddie," Robin says with a groan.

"Keep your hands still," Nancy gently reminds Robin as she paints another black layer on her nails. "Does Steve know that he likes Eddie?" Nancy asks with a laugh.

Robin resists the urge to use her hands to speak. "No! But even you have seen the pining. I thought he was going to have a meltdown when he saw Gareth jokingly flirt with Eddie."

Nancy blows on Robin's nails before frowning and scraping off some polish that got on her fingers. "Maybe Gareth is in love with Eddie," Nancy jokes.

Robin laughs. "He's been asking me if you're single for months now."

"If only he knew..." Nancy says with a wide smile before laying a kiss on her girlfriend's hand. "But hey, I'm dealing with Eddie who is hopelessly trying to get over his crush on Steve. He would be willing to be set up with anyone, I swear."

Robin throws her hands up. "That's it!"

"Robin your nails-"

"We set them up on a blind date. Steve has been trying to get me to find someone for him forever now, and Eddie wants the same thing from you! It can be operation... Find Them Somebody to Love."

"You just got that from my Queen tape."

"But it's a great plan!" Robin says with a victorious smile. She holds out her hand to shake on it.

Nancy rolls her eyes and shakes Robin's hand. "If this works, I'll repaint your nails."

Robin's brow furrows. "What do you mean..." she trails off as she looks at them.

"There's some in your hair," Nancy says with a wince.

Robin starts to scrape the paint off. "You call Eddie while I get this off."

Nancy watches her struggle for a moment before handing her some nail polish remover. "I hope this works for our sake."

-:-:-:-:-:-

To say Steve is surprised when Robin excitedly calls him to set him up with someone is an understatement. He may be a bit clueless and naive, but he knows when she's up to something. But maybe she's excited and thinks it's just a really good match, but he thinks that's just the hopeless romantic in him talking.

He also thinks it's strange that the date is at a burger joint that Eddie really likes, but maybe Eddie helped Robin with the date? He really hopes not but doesn't know why. He also knows that maybe the burger joint is a coincidence and the Eddie thought is just because Steve can't stop thinking about him.

It's weird. He's never really had a friend like him before, but he thinks it's part of the trauma bonding that makes Steve feel so intensely about him. But it's different from Robin it's... he doesn't know.

But he doesn't have much time to think about it as he parks outside the food joint. Time to lay on the Harrington charm.

As he walks in he notices only one table that has one person at it. The girl is facing away from Steve in a booth, her long dark curly hair being the only thing visible. She's definitely Steve's type.

As Steve approaches the table he runs a hand through his hair and tries not to think about how she has hair like Eddie's. As he turns to the girl with his most charming smile, it quickly turns into a real smile. "Eddie?" Steve asks.

Eddie's head snaps up and multiple emotions cross over his face as he takes in Steve. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"Blind date, and you?"

Eddie replies, "Same here, man. Nancy set me up."

Steve tries to ignore the way his heart seems to break. He gives Eddie a smile but it's too tight and entirely fake. "Robin set me up, but hey, that's great, Munson." Steve goes as far as patting Eddie on the back which makes him internally cringe. What's happening?

Eddie slowly glances at Steve's arm and gives it a confused look as his hand still stays on his back. "Right, sorry," Steve apologizes and feels entirely not like himself. Why is he so damn nervous? "But hey, what if I waited here with you until our dates come and we can keep each other company?"

It looks like Eddie wants to say no, but Steve is already sliding into the booth. Eddies just continues to stare at Steve as if he's the last person he wants to see at the moment. Steve ignores those signs and continues talking, "So a blind date? I didn't know you were looking for someone."

Eddie huffs and looks down at the table. "I'm not really looking for someone, I'm just trying to get over someone."

Steve feels that familiar pang in his chest. "Someone I know?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Eddie mutters. Steve just nods because he has no idea what that means. Eddie continues, "I didn't want to like this guy, but it just kind of happened. And they're incredible and way out of my league, so here I am. But they're somehow just always around..." Eddie trails off staring at Steve.

He almost feels like Eddie is trying to hint at something, but he isn't sure what. "I've been there. It took me a while to get over Nance, but eventually with time it happened. But hey, I don't know how someone could be out of your league, man. I mean you're really uh... well," Steve takes a moment to really look at Eddie and he weirdly feels his cheeks heat up, "You've got really nice eyes, and hair of course, and nice... lips."

Eddie squirms a bit in his seat and glances away. "You don't have to take pity on me, Harrington."

"I'm not!" Steve insists a little louder than he intends to. He lowers his voice and repeats, "I'm not. I'm just stating the facts. You're a really attractive guy. Plus, you're really smart and creative, and you can play the guitar well which I'm sure other guys dig, and you're also uhh really funny and kind-"

"Please stop, there's only so many words of affirmation I can receive in a day before I combust," Eddie jokes but there's a light flush on his face.

Steve holds his hands up and says, "I'm just saying you're a catch. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't good enough for you anyways."

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve for a moment then glances over his shoulder. "So, uh, doesn't look like our dates are here yet."

Steve glances around and notices no one is sitting alone and no one else has walked in. Weird.

A waiter walks their way and takes their drink orders and gives them a few more minutes to look over the menu. As soon as he's out of earshot, Steve asks Eddie, "Do you think it's rude to put in an order when they're not here?"

Eddie glances around and his eyes settle on the wall. Steve looks over and notices the clock. "If they're not here in the next ten minutes which is fifteen minutes after the date start time, then we can order," Eddie states.

Steve smiles but suddenly his stomach makes an obnoxious growling noise. Eddie's eyes widen. "We can make that five minutes if you'll last that long."

"I can last ten minutes it's alright," Steve replies.

Two minutes later, Steve is already giving in, "Okay, what if we just ordered when the waiter comes back?"

Eddie smiles at him for the first time that evening. "You're weak, Harrington," he jokes.

"Hey, I was strong enough to lug your body around."

"If only I was conscious for that."

Before Steve can think of a response their lovely waiter interrupts them and asks for their order. Steve ends up ordering the same thing as Eddie which has Eddie scoffing, "I thought you thought my taste in food was bad."

"If putting strawberry jelly on a turkey sandwich is your idea of food, then I stand by what I said."

"I'm going to make you try it one day," Eddie says with a wide smile.

Steve leans forwards. "Is that a threat?"

"If you want it to be," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve laughs and has the sudden thought that he really doesn't want his or Eddie's dates to show up. He just wants Eddie to himself.

What?

"What, are you traumatized by the thought of it or something?" Eddie asks after Steve has gone silent.

Steve looks up and really takes in Eddie again. You're a catch. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't good enough for you anyways.

Oh shit.

Steve glances towards the door and outside and doesn't see any cars approaching. He looks back to Eddie and says, "If our dates don't show up in the next five minutes, what if we agreed to be each other's date."

Eddie looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "As in... we're just like... hanging out or...?"

Steve takes a deep breath and says, "A real date."

Eddie's eyes widen and he looks around. "The kids didn't put you up to this, did they?"

"No, Eddie, I- I would really like to go on a real date with you."

Eddie stares at him again then asks, "You swear that this isn't a joke?"

"On Dustin's mother," Steve jokes then holds out his pinky.

"You know how much a pinky promise means to me."

"I know, it's a promise that can never be broken," Steve says.

Eddie hesitates then wraps his pinky around Steve's. "I hope our dates don't show up then," Eddie says with a big smile.

"Me neither," Steve agrees.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"I can't believe it's working!" Robin excitedly shouts from the passenger seat of Nancy's car.

"Me either," Nancy agrees as she watches Eddie rant while flailing his hands and Steve laughs. After a moment, Steve rests his hand over one of Eddie's and gives it a squeeze. Eddie flushes enough that Robin and Nancy can notice from the slight distance.

"Do you think they're going to kill us when they see us?" Robin asks.

Nancy scoffs, "No, they'll probably be over the moon thanking us. I'm just surprised that they agreed to go along with the date without thinking we were pranking them or something."

"Maybe the dinguses just finally sucked it up and admitted they liked each other when they figured out the plan," Robin says with a shrug as she watches the two get up. "And it looks like it's our time to leave."

Nancy shakes her head and looks at Robin. "Wouldn't that draw more attention to us though? We should just let them go first while they're so absorbed in each other's company."

"That's a good ide-" Robin stops as she looks back at the pair. "They've spotted us. Shit."

"Like I said, they're probably going to thank us," Nancy says, praying she's right. She rolls down the window as they approach.

Steve waves with a big smile. "Hey! We thought it was you, but we just wanted to let you know that your dates for us stood us up, but that's okay. Great really because Eddie and I decided you know..."

"I finally confessed that I've been pining after him," Eddie says nearly bouncing up and down.

Steve turns to look at him. "Wait, the person you said was out of your league, that was me you were talking about me earlier?"

"Steve, I thought you realized that after I told you I've had a crush on you for years now."

"Oh. Hey, I'm not out of your league at all, if anything you're out of my..." Steve trails off and seems to realize Robin and Nancy are still there, "Well, we're going to make up for lost time, but it was good seeing you. Thank you for attempting to set us up!"

Eddie and Steve wave as they leave, laughing about something moments later.

"Oh my god, did they just...."

"Holy shit, do they really think..."

Robin and Nancy look at each other and nod. "Dingues," they agree.

They look back as Steve and Eddie seem to argue about what car to take back and Robin sighs, "They'll eventually realize, right?"

"I doubt it," Nancy says.

Steve and Eddie walk towards their own cars seeming to realize that they don't have to drive together. "Gosh, they were made for each other."

It's years down the line when Steve and Eddie are telling the story of their first date when Nancy and Robin finally get fed up and tell the truth, but Steve and Eddie still don't believe them. Once a dingus, always a dingus.

[eldritch-spouse]

Something I've been thinking about is how compared to Adelo and his queen, Adrul's wife would probably feel pretty lonely.

I mean, think about it, he has so many responsibilities, ruling a place as chaotic as hell, keeping the Icons in check and working for his God Father's ambitions. No doubt you wouldn't see him all that often and feel a little forgotten. Making friends would be even harder, more so with being human and queen of hell. Trying to find actual friends would be nigh impossible, maybe not with the other queens of the icons. Not sure you could see them all that often either. I can even see Adrul's wife being a little jealous of the other queens, always by their Icon's side and even helping them rule. He won't trust you with that, to protect you, sure, but it still stings

You're in hell, something you dont even have a choice about if you want to be with Adrul, away from all the friends you had before, surrounded by demons that would use and harm you if given the chance, with your husband that loves you but is always busy. It's bound to take a toll on you.

That's a reality, absolutely.

At least until things settle down, and it'll take a long time for Perdition to regain stability when Adrul first begins his meticulous work.

Adrul is no fool, understanding the strain that you must be under. He too wishes he had more time to spend with you, away from responsibilities and duties that grind his nerves to a fine dust.

In fact, it's usually those around you two that watch out for potential breaking points. Adelo, Belo and Admin, mostly. They sense enduring turmoil between the two of you and manage to convince Krulu to work on the Rings directly. With his father mercilessly commandeering operations and whipping Hell into its place, Adrul can afford to draw back and check on you.

There are very few people in this world he can call friends, you spend a lot of time with bobbles, and they're not always the best company. His Father's underlings certainly can't be trusted often. Adrul promises one day things will be better, you just have to believe him.

You just have to hold on a bit longer.

[raayllum]

spark notes edition but:

For Rayla, Runaan, and Soren, a job is a sacred calling. It is something (or was something, in Runaan's case) something you strive towards upholding even when it goes against your sense of self or personal desires ("part of me wishes I hadn't seen you," "all of us pledged a part of ourselves," "to carry out my dark work") , and it ripples down and effects all that you are. For Soren and Runaan, there seems to be less separation between job as a part of who they are vs all that they are; Soren in particular scaffolds his identity almost entirely, therefore, on who he is/has become in relation to Ezran as an internalized feedback loop ("I can't do that, I'm sworn to King Ezran" / "I am a crownguard, and he is the true king!"). Rayla, meanwhile, has a hard cognitive dissonance of your job (i.e. the actions you take while operating under parameters) being entirely separate from who you are ("assassins aren't evil, they're doing a job" which also loops around to not holding Runaan's against her against him when he was operating as an assassin) when they align with that specific calling, except when it comes to her being bad at it, which does get internalized as something that is fundamental to her as a person ("I'm not good enough and I never will be") rather than a bad fit for that particular occupation. All of their jobs, notably, also centre around fitting into a collective whole (assassins, crownguards) that serve — conceptually in their own minds — as protectors of Something Bigger Than Themselves (their monarchs/kingdom, their people, etc): "[Soren] told [Corvus] that the young king was not only Katolis’ hope, but all of Xadia’s" / "for all of Xadia" / "I had convinced myself I was a peacemaker".

For Viren, his job is intrinsically tied to his search for self-esteem and self-importance. Given that Viren wants to find external sources to prop up his internal sense of self ("I thought you were going to be something special, something important"), he pursues jobs/actions that will make him important, largely in proximity to power ("the Dragon King and Queen kept this closest to where they slept; it must be important"). It is unsurprising therefore that being High Mage was always going to make him at least a little deranged, being that close to power ("it is an honour to serve him") while still be constantly reminded that you matter less than the person at the very top, hence his desire to eventually be king when his loop of validation with Harrow is irreparably broken. Viren sees his job as high mage (and as king) as being a protector, but in a less genuine way than the prior 3 discussed above do: this may be what he tells himself, but there's still prickles of self-awareness, especially when he coins Kpp'Ar: "Without dark magic, you're just a frail old man. You're no one. I am the High Mage of Katolis. I have power, purpose—" (dying for Harrow would've given him purpose, proved that he'd mattered). His job doesn't justify his actions so much as give him wider reach in which to make 'uniquely good decisions for the greater good of everybody himself', and therefore makes himself somebody.

For Callum, your job is a restriction and/or entirely separate from who you are and what you/he wants. He finds his title as high mage stuffy, he's decently inconsistent in the post, it's something he does find some pride (5x07) in, but that's still mostly tied to being a primal mage at all ("I'm the first human to do primal magic") which is tied to his desire for agency and to have his agency recognized (power, external) > internalized pursuit of self worth the way it might've been in earlier seasons (s1, maybe s2). We see him emotionally toss the job away with very little fanfare (consistently leaving the castle without hesitation; trying to leave the meeting; being distracted at the meeting to the point of barely paying attention) even before he does so directly. While this could be a fit of "right guy wrong occupation," Callum is someone pretty defined by 1) not letting anyone put him in a box (so much of s2) and 2) not listening, by proxy, to anyone else around him. He consistently goes against people's expressed wishes — right or wrong — and only takes up Viren's staff (something passed down between high mages) after he's abandoned the job. Callum is a wild card who will not let anything restrain him, taking only mage as an identifier and leaving most other things (except "Ezran's brother" and "Rayla's partner") entirely out to dry if it gets in his way.

[atopvisenyashill]

that bit about joffrey is FASCINATING have you ever written about this in depth? I've always loved his character but I would never be able to like. Describe why exactly he is the way he is so I really appreciate your analysis of him loving BOTH parents and incorporating only their flaws - I always just assumed that he hates his dad and is annoyed by cersei (still loves her) but then the way we sexually humiliates and abuses sansa etc is so robert-coded like of course he emulates the bevavior of his father.

Also slightly off topic but i always forget that Joffrey is like canonically so good at all the proper princely things (thinking of that scene at Sansa and Tyrion's wedding when she's so upset that a monster like Joff could be so good at dancing) and - not to go on about GOT again - but I wish we had actually gotten to see that and him being charming etc. Huge props to the show for giving Joff the perfect wardrobe (the only thing they did right) but also f them for waiting all that potential

yes, they really said joff gets to have all the swag and then the moment he died they put cersei in that fuck ass bob and no one in the lannisters was allowed to serve again smh. and thank youuu i actually had to stop myself from rambling over him before haha, but i'll go into more detail here! so this was the comment from the other post-

joffrey is a kid just ruled by his first, most base instinct. his instincts, his core emotions, tell him to love and trust both robert and cersei, and imo he twists himself into a MONSTER to try to appeal to both of them. no one else matters - not his siblings, not his uncle, not his grandfather, not the realm. he needs to be the sort of vicious person they could both be proud of, he needs to be better than them both at violence, so he absorbs all of their faults and none of their virtues.

i definitely do see very often that people feel he only loves one or the other parent and while I do understand that reading, I don't think it's quite how Joffrey operates. I think he does love them both, and holds them both in high esteem. I do agree that he's annoyed by Cersei but that doesn't mean he doesn't value her opinion (as much as Joffrey puts value on anyone else's opinion, I mean).

Joffrey and Cersei

Joffrey relies on his mother more than almost any other male character we see in the series. We see him call for Cersei basically every time he's hurt, in trouble, or wanting to whine about something. Not only that, but you have everyone from Robert to Renly to Tywin himself saying that Joffrey is doted upon and inseparable from his mother. A few choice quotes:

"Fear is better than love, Mother says." Joffrey pointed at Sansa. "She fears me."

He takes Cersei's lessons to heart, however flawed they are. Her opinion matters to him, he wants her to see him as strong.

Nine cases out of ten seemed to bore him; those he allowed his council to handle, squirming restlessly while Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, or Queen Cersei resolved the matter. When he did choose to make a ruling, though, not even his queen mother could sway him.

It's Cersei he listens to the most. We know that if a little King, even with his mother as Regent, doesn't want to deal with her, he can simply ignore her - that's what Jaehaerys does with Alyssa, after all. But Joffrey doesn't do this; he'll fight with her, he'll insult her, and he's not shy about doing it in public but he never disregards her out of hand.

Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed.

His instinct, every time, is to turn to her for help. He loves her. He adores her. She's the only person around who tells him he's strong and smart and will be a good king. He leans on her for guidance, for comfort, he talks to her about fucking whores. He shares everything with her because he doesn't have a single friend. She models anger and violence for him constantly, she excuses his disturbing proclivities, so he molds himself to be the person she wants him to be, the king she wants him to be. People - including Tyrion and Tywin! - are always wondering why Cersei is blind to his cruelty, but the reality is she knew he was cruel and loved him for it.

Tommen did as he was bid. His meekness troubled her. A king had to be strong. Joffrey would have argued. He was never easy to cow.

For Cersei, cruelty is strength and in her eyes, Joffrey is as strong as they come. This isn't by accident; just like his constant cries for her are reinforced by her rushing to coddle him, his cruelty is reinforced by a mother who sees it as strength. It's almost like what Coldhands says to Bran - Joffrey is a monster, yes, but in Cersei's eyes, Joffrey is her monster.

Joffrey and Robert

Joffrey had never had a close friend of his own age, that she recalled. The poor boy was always alone. I had Jaime when I was a child . . . and Melara, until she fell into the well. Joff had been fond of the Hound, to be sure, but that was not friendship. He was looking for the father he never found in Robert.

From Cersei's point of view, I think she knows very well that Joffrey is searching for love, acceptance, and himself in Robert. She doesn't like it, but she seems to accept that it's natural for Joffrey to search for some sort of father figure, and doesn't seem to begrudge him that - imo, I think because she knows Robert is always going to reject Joffrey for his cruelty.

“Why would he [care]? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I’d allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I’d kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things…”

Whenever they interact, the few times they do, there's violence. People always take this as Cersei not allowing Robert to "teach" or "properly discipline" Joffrey but, well...does the above seem like helpful discipline? Knocking out your child because he freaked you out? Punishing extreme violence with more extreme violence? And it's not just Cersei that this moment sticks with, because Stannis brings it up as well-

"Joffrey . . . I remember once, this kitchen cat . . . the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him."

Since Cersei says Robert would "say things" and we see him threatening Cersei (the "or I'll honor you again" line), I don't think it's a stretch to say that Robert threatened to beat Joffrey nearly to death several times over.

And yet...Joffrey compliments his father, especially in comparison to his other relatives.

He wrenched free of her. "Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock." The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. "A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk."

And Cersei believes this came from Robert-

"Father, I am sorry," Cersei said, when the door was shut. "Joff has always been willful, I did warn you . . ." "There is a long league's worth of difference between willful and stupid. 'A strong king acts boldly?' Who told him that?" "Not me, I promise you," said Cersei. "Most like it was something he heard Robert say . . ."

And of course, Jaime is the one who pieces together why Joffrey sent the catspaw-

“Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best. ‘We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children’ he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink.” Robert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. “Were you alone when Robert said this?” “You don’t think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children.” Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. “Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?” It was meant as mockery, but she’d cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. “Not Myrcella. Joffrey.” Cersei frowned. “Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself .” “A child hungry for a pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father.”

When you put it all together, you have a child who is ignored by his father unless he's being threatened with a beating, who is constantly calling him a monster, who watches his father harm and humiliate his mother day in and day out, who has no other paternal figure around but this violent, angry man who he is supposed to model himself off of, and a mother who encourages his cruelty because she believes it's the only way to protect herself, to protect her son. He's not just emulating his mother's cruelty, he's emulating Robert's violence specifically when he humilates Sansa at court, when he openly talks shit about Cersei - it's what he's seen modeled for him as kingly behavior!

The Abuse And Jaime Of It All

King Joffrey's face hardened. "My mother tells me that it isn't fitting that a king should strike his wife. Ser Meryn."

He knows Robert is abusing Cersei and he takes her dislike of it seriously even as he doesn't make the connection that she means he shouldn't be striking his wife period. Whether it's because Cersei directly told him (which could make sense; she's purposefully hiding it from Jaime but perhaps she confided in Joffrey) or because he witnessed it himself, he's aware of the abuse enough that he takes his mother's comments about not personally striking Sansa to heart.

"No," [Robert] thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to see the king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!" Everyone was staring. Sansa saw Ser Barristan, and the king's brother Renly, and the short man who had talked to her so oddly and touched her hair, but no one made a move to interfere. The queen's face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. "The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer." He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!" Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. "As you say, Your Grace." His voice was stiff. Lord Renly came forward, smiling. "You've spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you a fresh goblet." Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. "It grows late," the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. "Do you need an escort back to the castle?"

I think it's pretty clear that Joffrey is dissociating here which also explains his very detached way of looking at Robert's abuse of Cersei. It freaks him out enough that he uses Sansa as an excuse to leave (giving her the Hound, then running off himself) but he doesn't show it. He's not even particularly upset during this scene, not throwing a tantrum or making whiny remarks like he does when he's usually upset. He only has a "queer look" - the stress of trying to reconcile his adoration of Robert and his love of Cersei just makes him fully shut down instead of confronting it.

Joffrey gave a petulant shrug. "Your brother defeated my uncle Jaime. My mother says it was treachery and deceit. She wept when she heard. Women are all weak, even her, though she pretends she isn't. She says we need to stay in King's Landing in case my other uncles attack, but I don't care. After my name day feast, I'm going to raise a host and kill your brother myself. That's what I'll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother's head."

I think people often take his comments about how women are weak to mean he doesn't view his mother as a competent advisor. But you notice a pattern here - he gets shitty with her when it's about Jaime specifically.

"A great many people are sorry for that," Tyrion replied, "and before I am done, some may be a deal sorrier . . . yet I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where might I find your mother?" "She's with my council," the king answered. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles."

"She's with my council" he says, because he sees no reason to not let Cersei run things without him, something Robert never lets her do. But "your brother Jaime" not "my uncle Jaime" which is a shift because he doesn't stop calling Renly or Stannis his uncles even after they rebel. He knows, he suspects, and what he resents is not Cersei fucking Jaime but Jaime fucking Cersei.

My read on this is that Joffrey sees his mother as weak for allowing herself to be seduced by Jaime, and sees Jaime as a lecherous seducer who is the cause of all his problems. If only Jaime hadn't seduced his mother, maybe his parents wouldn't hate each other. His claim wouldn't be under question. His mother should have just taken the abuse and bided her time instead of putting herself in danger and having bastards.

He loves his mother. He loves his father. And that's the human heart in conflict with itself that resides in Joffrey. Does he honor his mother, the only parent he has, or does he honor Robert, the patriarch he is supposed to emulate? If he has no other example of what strength looks like, is he even capable of figuring out a different path for himself?