#It was painful but it was also really fun

[classyrbf]

THAT D!CK IS A 10/10! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...an analysis on the jjk men’s dicks just because hehe :)

INFO...jjk men x gn!reader, we’re talking about cock and balls a lot (no seriously), cum analysis, where they like to cum, heavy detail (be warned), im trying to make this a little realistic so no, gojo will not have a 12 inch dick (sorry not sorry), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

here’s a little something while I’m being a busy bee and dealing with life (help me)

GOJO

to start off, gojo isn’t too big or isn’t small either, if anything he’s just perfect (cause he is perfect duh). He’s around 3 inches soft and 6.6 inches hard. Listen, as much as I want to make this man have the hugest dick ever, he does not and it’d cause an extreme amount of pain every time he is pounding you. He’s not too girthy either, just the average 4.3. His also slightly curves upward which is perfect for hitting your sweet spot. But he’s super sensitive on the tip! So if you tease him too much there he might just cum prematurely. His balls are definitely a decent size too, they may be on the bigger side a little but he loves to have his balls played with so have fun! When gojo cums, he cums a lot! It literally will go all over the place if he can’t control it correctly. It’s spurts out in waves and it sometimes it’s like torture cause it makes his orgasms last longer but god does it feel so good. His cum is sort of thin and runny instead of thick and goopy with a slight salty taste.

NANAMI

i personally feel like nanami is fucking packing girth wise! He is slightly smaller than gojo around like 5.75-6 inches but he is fucking girthy! It’s like a damn weapon and it’s heavy (I’ll help you carry it around nanami, don’t you worry). His girth is around 5.5-6 inches and it’s veiny! Lord help us all because he knows how to use that thing, hitting all the right angles. From being so girthy his cock slightly hangs…So what comes with a fat cock? Big breeder balls! Duh! His balls are so fat and big it’s like an instinct to suck and lick on them. He leaks a lot of precum when he’s hard so it just drips from his cock until he cums so hard. Speaking of cum, unlike gojo he has more of a thicker consistency, and instead of spurting out all over, it just flows from his cock and it’s looks so pretty like a fountain. It drips all down his cock and balls and onto his hand if he’s jerking himself off. When he’s fucking you, he definitely cums inside and just fucks his cum into you over and over until he makes a big mess.

TOJI

my man, my man, my man! Toji is definitely bigger than nanami and gojo but only by like 1-2 inches. So he’s around 7 inches which is still scary bc why are just walking around with that? He’s definitely girthy too but not like nanami, he’s more girthy around the tip of his cock and it gets slightly smaller towards the base but it’s not a huge difference. He’s tip gets really pink and red when he’s hard that it almost looks painful (don’t worry baby I’m on my way to help) but I promise he’s fine. Dare I say that doesn’t trim that often???? I feel like he has a slightly bush, nothing too crazy but it’s kind of grown out. He doesn’t care (me neither) as long as he gets laid he’s fine. His balls are mix of nanami and gojos but they hang! So when he’s fucking you they definitely slap against your skin. When toji cums it’s pretty normal, it’s sometimes shoots out a little bit and then slows down after, but it’s definitely a good amount of cum that does come out quickly. He loves to see your face or your chest covered in it because he’s a pervy little bastard for sure.

GETO

pretty boy geto hehe…let’s just say that thing curves to the left okay? He’s around 6.5-7 inches and girthy so let’s pray for everyone’s holes cause I don’t think we are making it out alive. He’s somewhere between nanami’s and Toji’s girth so…do what you will with that info. His dick is so pretty though, a pretty dick for a pretty face, the curtains match the drapes yk? He has two prominent veins that run on the underside of his dick where he’s really sensitive. If you look closely you’ll see them pulsing when he’s hard. His tip is also a very pretty pink color while his shaft and base are slightly darker than his skin tone. His balls aren’t too big either so it’s definitely more about his dick. He doesn’t cum a lot either surprisingly, he’s never been the cum everywhere and get super messy type of person but if hasnt had sex or jerked off it’ll be more than usual.

CHOSO

choso is closer to nanamis size, maybe a little smaller but not a huge difference. His is pretty average but there is nothing wrong with that (can I get free ride???). Just like geto he also has a very pink tip and his shaft is the same color as his skin. His girth is around Gojo’s but he has some big balls that are just asking to licked and sucked fr. Baby boy gets so whiny when he’s hard and leaking that he’s almost embarrassed by it, he tries to control it but he literally can’t stop getting so hard to point it drives him insane. His cum is stringy and thick, like the perfect consistency for cumming on your face, chest, ass, literally anywhere. He cums a normal amount, usually spurts out super quickly and then slows down towards the end of his orgasm.

SUKUNA

where do I even begin??? Clearly, this mf is the biggest out of all of them. He’s scary asf because he has two, yes, two dicks that are practically identical. 8-9 inches long, 4.7 girth. End my life. THIS MF GOT 4 LEGS. It’s actually cruel. They’re thicker towards the base and gradually get narrow towards the tip. So at first, the stretch doesn’t seem that bad until you realize you got about 7 inches more to go…yeah. His cocks are darker than the rest of his body and his tips are sort of like a light pink/tan color. The only difference between his cocks is that one is super veiny and the other quite literally has like 3 veins. Fat breeder balls that hang, swing, touch the floor (I’m jk) but literally the mix of toji and nanamis balls. They hold so much cum, he can literally go round for round back to back and fill up every hole of yours without taking a break. And he cums so much that it’s actually concerning. Like nanami, its overflows maybe once in a while it will shoot out.

HIGURUMA

believe it or not I think this man is packing at least 7-8 inches. It may not look like it but I think he does! He never brags about it either so it’s really hard to guess. When he’s hard his dick touches his belly button…and his balls are somewhere between Geto’s and Gojo’s size so they’re kinda average. The color is slightly tan maybe like one shade darker and he has a pale pink tip. Did I mention he has a fat tip?? It seems like it gets even bigger when he’s hard, all swollen and everything. His girth is pretty average too like Gojo’s maybe slightly bigger like 4.5 but that’s it. Higuruma doesn’t cum that much it like toji where it’s a pretty normal amount. His cum isn’t super white either, it’s kind of on the clear side and super stringy which is perfect for cumming on your tongue imo

[little-mrs-morales]

Trash TV

Dieter Bravo x Personal Assistant Reader

The hotel room buzzed with an awkward quiet, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the thick glass windows. Dieter Bravo sat slouched on the edge of the bed, his hoodie bunched around his hunched shoulders, the fabric stretched tight between his restless fingers. His usual dramatic bravado was gone, replaced by a kind of nervous vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. Maybe it was because he’d never stayed sober this long. Or maybe it was because he’d never been in a relationship that wasn’t driven by his money.

You sat across from him, legs tucked beneath you on the armchair, a hotel robe loosely draped over your frame. This was your first Christmas as not just his personal assistant but also *kind of* his girlfriend. You hadn’t put a label on your relationship, but he’d stayed sober for you and become surprisingly faithful. You never thought you’d see Dieter Bravo clueless about someone flirting with him—yet when the receptionist tried, he brushed her off, saying he couldn’t wait to see the gifts his lady got him. That’s what you were to him: his keeper, his lady, the one who sorted out his messes but also the one he knew he couldn’t survive without. He wanted you in every aspect of his life, even if it meant staying sober.  

It had been an easy night until now—room service, bad movies, and his running commentary punctuating every ridiculous scene with remarks about how he’d do better. But something had shifted—a shadow crossing his face during a rare quiet moment. And now you were here, trying to figure out what he’d never say aloud unless it forced its way out.

“I’m not lovable,” Dieter said suddenly, his voice heavy with self-hate. The words fell like stones into the quiet, echoing through you.

You blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. Instead, he focused on the frayed edge of his hoodie, tugging at a loose thread. “I’m fun for a little while,” he said, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “But there’s too much under the surface. It’s more than anyone should have to deal with.” He let out a laugh that sounded painful. “I’m like trash TV—and that’s ironic because I’m a good actor—you watch it for a while, and it makes you feel better about how normal you are, but it gets annoying if it’s all you watch.”

You stared at him, his words hanging in the air like a unspoken truth. He wasn’t joking, not this time. The usual quips and distractions he threw up to keep everyone at arm’s length were gone, leaving only the jagged edges of his insecurities. He sat there, bracing himself for rejection, like he expected you to agree.

“You really believe that?” you asked, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

“I know it,” he shot back quickly, defensively. His hands stilled, and he finally looked up at you. His dark eyes were wide, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

“I’ve been through this enough to know how it ends.”

“How does it end?” you pressed, leaning forward.

“With me fucking it up,” he said, his voice breaking just enough to betray him. “With you realizing I’m...” He exhaled sharply, dragging his hands through his unruly hair. “I don’t know. Too much? Too broken? Take your pick. It always happens eventually. And I’m gonna end up shattered, restless, and totally done with myself.”

The weight of his confession was suffocating, but not for the reasons he feared. It wasn’t disappointment or regret that sat heavy in your chest—it was the sheer force of wanting to prove him wrong. You stood, padding over to the bed and sitting down next to him. He tensed at first, but he didn’t pull away.

“Dieter,” you said, your voice steady. He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. “You’re not trash TV. You’re far from it.”

He scoffed, but you cut him off before he could deflect. “I’m serious. You’re messy, complicated, and frustrating as hell sometimes. But you’re also funny, smart, and... God, so kind when you let yourself be. You care more than you think you're allowed to, and it scares you.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. You took it as permission to keep going.

“You’re not some temporary distraction or someone to put up with. You’re just... you. And yeah, maybe you’re a lot, but I’d rather have all of you than none. You don’t have to be perfect to be worth loving.”

His breath hitched, and you swore you saw the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes. He dropped his gaze, his hands wringing together in his lap. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “You don’t know everything yet. You know more than most, but there are still things…” He knocked on his head. “…things that would scare you away.”  

“Then let me see,” you said. “Stop deciding for me what I can handle. Give me the chance to decide for myself. And I’ll show you I can handle all of you.”  

He looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was searching for the catch, the lie, the flaw in your words. When he didn’t find it, his shoulders sagged, some of the tension bleeding out of him.

“You make it sound easy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not,” you admitted. “But nothing worth it ever is.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re either insane or... I don’t know. Insane seems more likely.”  

“Probably,” you teased gently. “But that’s why we fit. We’re both insane. A good match, I’d call it.” You nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’re insane for putting up with me. For bringing me my pretty pickles when I’m on my period, or buying my crazy stationery when I’m in a creative mood.” 

He huffed a small laugh, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.  

You stayed close, giving him space to process in his own time. He didn’t say anything more, but the way he leaned into you spoke volumes. There was still a long way to go, but at least he wasn’t alone in it anymore.

He was quiet for a while, his breathing calming, his hand finally still in his lap. Then he shifted slightly, turning toward you. When his eyes met yours again, there was something different—a hint of determination under the vulnerability.

“You really think I’m worth it?” he asked, his voice low, almost fragile.

“I don’t think it,” you said softly. “I know it.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for a brief second before returning to your eyes, as if asking for permission. You didn’t hesitate, leaning forward to close the space between you. The kiss started gently, his lips soft and unsure against yours, but soon deepened, filled with a raw desperation and quiet gratitude. His hands cupped your face, trembling but steady, as if afraid to let go. You had shared countless kisses before, but this one felt different—more real, more alive.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the space between you. Dieter’s eyes were glossy, his expression unreadable for a beat before he whispered, “I think I love you.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unpolished, but it was everything.

You smiled, your hands resting on his wrists. “Good,” you murmured. “Because I love you too.”

A shaky laugh escaped him, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of your neck. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t holding anything back. And for the first time, you knew he believed he didn’t have to.

Writing Prompt #2916

"I'm not lovable. Not in the long term. I know that."

"What?"

"I'm fun for a little bit, but there's too much when you dig down. It's more than anyone else should have to handle. I'm like trash TV—you put it on for a little bit and it makes you feel better about how normal you seem but grating if it's all you watch."

[curly-my-beloved]

Krampus Jimmy NSFW headcanons

CW: non-con. monsterfucking. somnophilia. technically cannibalism (mentioned). jimmy mouthwashing starterpack.

In a world where Curly might be Santa, Anya might be Mrs. Clause, Daisuke might be an elf and Swansea might be Rudolph... Jimmy Zare is the Krampus himself.

And while the whole scaring and maybe even kidnapping naughty children is fun (he loved scaring the vulnerable ones), there was another part of his role that he loved. One that not many people knew about.

One could consider it... payment. For his hard work. A reward, even.

Sometimes, he doesn't catch all the naughty children. It happens. He doesn't think much of it.

The kids usually end up behaving, anyway. Just seeing him is scary enough and leaves most of the little escapees traumatized for years.

And trauma is a funny little thing. Because some people cope with it by... turning it into a kink, basically. Like your good self.

Jimmy doesn't even remember you. He never bothers remembering the snivelling little faces, little fists or feet that try to fight against him. He just moves on.

But what is the reward I mentioned? Well, every once in a while, if he's done with his work early, he can use the free time to... check up on the ones who escaped. Of course, that only happens every few decades, but still.

And while he doesn't remember most of the little shits that escape him, every few years there's always one juvenile he remembers and hates with a passion.

He doesn't really think about them until one of those years he gets some free time. And you happened to be one of them, pulling shit that even Kevin from Home Alone would be proud of.

But now, two decades later, he gets to have his revenge.

You've grown, changed. He'll give you that. But deep down, he could feel that you were still the little shit you were all those years ago.

And even if not, you certainly had some fascinating interests. Your trauma made you obsessed with him, in a rather... sexual manner.

Did you think he wouldn't find out about your little Tumblr blog? And all the cryptid porn you wrote on it? Especially the Krampus porn? You're adorable.

Of course he would visit you!

Not only does he get his payback, but you also get your dream to come true! You get to fuck The Krampus!

Or rather, he gets to fuck you.

Breaking into your apartment is very easy. So is finding your bedroom. Your bed. You.

He doesn't bother waiting or even waking you up. If the clicking of hooves or the ringing bells on his horns didn't wake you, that's on you.

Hell, you didn't even wake up when he ripped your shirt and underwear off. It almost made him... curious...

He hummed, moving his almost goat-like face to your neck, sniffling carefully before his long, split tongue took a long, wet lick of your neck.

He reveled in the way you flinched, your breath shaking. He grinned, exposing all the sharp teeth in his mouth, his eyes glowing in the dark with all his sinister ideas and plans letting loose in his head.

He lets his sharp claws explore your body, fangs just barely scraping the sensitive skin that protected your fragile throat. A small bite wouldn't hurt, right?

He chuckles, slowly sinking his teeth into your sensitive flesh. And the moment he heard you gasp as you awoke, he gripped your thighs, your skin breaking from the sharp claws as he forced himself inside you in one firm thrust.

He ignored your pained and shocked scream, glancing down at the unnatural looking bulge that was now on your stomach.

He leaned in close, far too close, to your face, exposing his now bloody teeth in what could be either a grin or a snarl.

"Remember me?"

[protagonist-art]

he's dead by the time rdr2's story begins but i'm pretending he's not

[gguk-n]

would you consider doing a prompt in which the MLs have the same soulmate marks but they are enemies? you can choose the driver and the logistics i would love to see a fic like this by youu

Thank you for the ask!!

I had this in my inbox for so long bc I'm indecisive and I couldn't choose who to write it for, so there's a poll to choose. There will be a part 2.

What? How?

Everyone grew up hearing about soulmate; from their family or friends or relatives. Most people looked forward to meeting their soulmate, some people wanted to defy fate and some people never got to meet their soulmate.

Y/N thought she was a part of the soulmate less crew, "I'll register you with soulmatch" her mother told her. Soulmatch was an agency, a app or a website, which ever one you chose to help two soulmate less individuals get together and find companionship in each other. Her mother wanted her to start looking, Y/N couldn't careless since her job kept her busy and she was barely at home anyways. Y/N was a race engineer in Formula One; a job she worked tirelessly to achieve. It barely gave her any time to wonder where her soulmate was. She got to work with some of the most talented and smart people to make machinery that made the car go really fast. But now she was working with her driver to make sure the race went as smoothly as possible with the best result as possible; sometimes at the cost of the other driver. "Are you listening to me?" her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. "Yeah" she replied. "I'll let you know once you match with people" her mother stated before cutting the call.

Her parents were late bloomers themselves; meeting each other in their late 20's and early 30's so she didn't understand the fuss her mother was making. She was in her prime and a soulmate would come along when he wanted to. Y/N travelled the world; if a soulmate existed, she would run into him eventually.

There were a lot of times you would wish someone was your soulmate and there were a lot of times you wished someone wasn't. For Y/N, it was her driver's teammate. She hated his guts; ever since she had joined, he had been a pain in the ass for as long as she could remember. He would start fights with her if she prioritised her driver, and honestly, who else would she prioritise. She had good strategies that would work in her driver's favour sometimes and he couldn't tolerate it. Starting fights and unnecessary arguments. The team was done with them, the paddock was done with them and the DTS crew always had so much fun.

It was any other race weekend, the two of them had been at odds since FP1. Y/N tried to be calm and mature about it; she didn't want to cause issues for the team. Hence, she ignored any thing and everything he said. It was getting on his nerve; she was ignoring him and behaving extremely rudely to him. It all came to a head when the team finished P1 and P3 with Y/N's driver winning the race. You can already imagine the resentment brewing as he got out of the car.

During the post race interview, there were jabs being thrown but it was during On The Sofa; he said something, he later realised he shouldn't have. But it was too late; Y/N was already there and a fight broke out. A lot of commotion, the media having a field day, the P1 and P2 driver trying to get them to stop, their team trying to stop them and PR having a crisis. The crowd went silent as Y/N pulled her sleeve up to reveal her soulmate mark which matched the her enemies's soulmate mark exactly; now visible due to the scuffle. A loud whisper broke out in the crowd, Y/N looking at him and then his mark as the pair tried to process what was happening. Over whelmed with emotions, Y/N stormed off, leaving the crowd but most of all her soulmate stunned.

Y/N was reeling from the revelation; the man who was supposed to be her soulmate was also the man she hated the most, or did she dislike him? All of these thoughts and emotions swirled inside her as she wondered what just happened and how she had gone this long before finding out. Did he know? Did he hate her because he knew? What was going on and what was she supposed to do? She felt her world crash and her phone wouldn't stop ringing. She looked at the caller and it was her mum. "Congratulations darling" she bellowed. Y/N was confused, "I saw you found your soulmate" her mum said when she got no reply. "How did you find out?" she asked. "It's on the news, sweetheart" her mother stated. While Y/N was still reeling from the revelation, F1's social media accounts had already posted about the two sworn enemies actually being soulmates and how it was straight out of a fairytale. Y/N wanted to disappear. Why was this happening now? she wondered, exhausted from the events of the day.

[maracujatangerine]

Thank you so much @bilightningwhumper 💖 Back to you as well! ❤️

I am as always amazed at how creative, fun, kind and just genuinely nice people are here in this community!

So much of the internet just feels depressing, stressful, stupid and mean, so I’m so happy to have found this oasis of lovely people to hang out with. I’ve been kind of coming and going a bit during the past year, but I always enjoy having lovely interactions with you all.

Thank you also for creating and sharing wonderful art and stories and thank you so much for being such great readers.

I appreciate all the comments, reblogs, asks and likes that I get for my stories, and I often reread comments. When you engage with my writing, you should know that you all really make my day.

I was debating whether I just shouldn’t tag anyone so that I can tag everyone, but it is pretty fun to get tagged. If I missed you, I’m sorry - the thanks is for you as well! ❤️

Happy holidays and thank you all! 🎄❤️🎄

@bilightningwhumper

@whumpzone @bbu-on-the-side @pigeonwhumps @secretwhumplair @squishablesunbeam @justplainwhump @octopus-reactivated @wolfeyedwitch @gottawhump @rainbowsandwhumperflies @just-horrible-things @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump @distinctlywhumpthing @scandalacious @alternateminds @casekek @stardustagony @cupcakes-and-pain @cowboy-anon @redwingedwhump @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @pinkraindropsfell @aswallowimprisoned @briars7 @oliversrarebooks @whump-em @rainydaywhump @hellodecisionparalysis @deluxewhump @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @cyberwhumper @itsawhumpsideblog @whump-blog @for-the-love-of-angst, and many more! ❤️

Saw someone do this. Thought it would be fun!

End of year important people list (whump community edition!)

Reblog and tag all of your favorite whump creators, friends in the whump community, anyone in the whump community really, and let them know how much you care about them!

[sprunkimortality]

Is Ciqu Waterproof? In fact r the other robots also waterproof?

Ciqu: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."

Fun Bot: "Father! Father! Let's talk about this!"

MFC: "WAAAAAAAAA!!"

Clukr: "They get it, Garnold! Stop scaring them!"

Garnold: "Vivisection is for organic things isn't it?"

Clukr: "So is dissection."

Garnold: "Hm. That's a point. Oh, and they're right! We gotta turn Ciqu off, don't we?"

Clukr: "Hrm..."

[Clukr glanced at Ciqu, scrutinizing him.]

Clukr: "...I don't think he has an off button, Garnold."

Garnold: "Huh."

Ciqu: "No need to deactivate me. I want to observe everything."

Garnold: "You...sure? It might hurt."

Ciqu: "Pain is just a signal sent to the brain to inform it of danger."

Clukr: "You might regret saying that, Officer."

Ciqu: "I will not. Proceed once all is set."

Ciqu: "I don't get 'overwhelmed.' Crime fighting is a chore that I dutifully tend to."

Garnold: "You do get overwhelmed, Officer. You literally had an existential crisis!"

Ciqu: "Yes. But I don't feel that feeling when I enforce the law. No matter how many troublemakers there may be."

Clukr: "Good day."

Garnold: "Sup!"

Ciqu: "Good morning."

Fun Bot: "Hello! I'm doing alright! (Disregarding the fact that Father was threatening me earlier.) And, haha, thank you for that!"

MFC: "Heehee! I'm doing okay now too!"

Clukr: "Well, isn't that impressive?"

Garnold: "My years' worth of being repulsive...down the drain..."

Clukr: "...

...really?"

Clukr: "What's the purpose of--"

[CRASH!]

Clukr: "...never...do that again."

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

Do you have any head cannons for the rookies when their boyfriend gets injured (like a nosebleed or something) and the drivers just think it’s really hot.

oooh yes!

nsfw so under cut <3

franco colapinto:

he's such a slut about injuries OH MY GOD

i swear i saw photos of him showing off scrapes he'd gotten and he was doing it looking like the most bottom to ever bottom but now i can't find them????

i swear i didn't hallucinate them (i'm like. 70% sure)

anyway

even if they're fake it's real to me

so therefore i'm making it real for all of you

you + blood (even if your nose is just bleeding because it's cold and dry or something) = feral franco

he'll pretend to play nurse for you and then give you head

medicinally of course

gabriel bortoleto:

sooooooo into it

especially if you got hurt in a fight or something

he likes his men protective and a lil dark idc

you can't convince me he wouldn’t make out with you or ask you fuck him against a wall in a dark alley after you get in a fight

(bonus if it's over him. i hope you liked your back bc it is getting shredded)

jack doohan:

acts the calmest up front

isn't

once he knows you're okay and you guys get somewhere less public, he'll kiss you hard

like hard enough to match your black eye

whispering how hot you look through pants and moans

totally bites your neck and makes sure the hickeys match the bruise

kimi antonelli:

initially a little cocky because he's usually the one getting injured

but as soon as he gets over that it hits him that you look

you look really hot

and you know maybe it doesn't matter who is and isn't hurt, if you could just take him home and talk it out—

begs so quickly when you tell him you're not fucking him after he made fun of you

(you're bluffing. of course)

ollie bearman:

the most scared you're actually hurt

doesn't like the thought of you being in pain

but the second he knows you're not

the most insatiable of all of them

pretty much embodies the multiple positions rambling meme?

"in the kitchen, on the floor, in the shower, in bed, against the window, in the backseat of the car ..."

that one

you don't get a second of rest

wants you to fuck him in every position he can think of

paul aron:

actually the most chill about it

might even manage to make it back to the hotel room / apartment before telling you how hot you look

also probably the most gentle about it

he'll ride you slowly while icing your face and whispering sweet words to you

definitely on the side of preferring you don't get hurt but he's not all that upset when you get minor injuries bc

you look hot

and just about anything that makes you hotter than usual (paul initially didn't think that was possible) is cool in his books

[syndrossi]

resonant ch33 dvd commentary

This was a problem child of a chapter as I tried to figure out the best path toward the next set of plot points, which, combined with the work months (Nov and Dec) from hell meant it ended up a bit late and thereby thwarted my hopes of breaking 200K words of Resonant by year's end, alas.

Favorite line(s):

“I want his head,” Daemon croaked, unable to calm the racing of his heart. “I want to swing the blade that cleaves it from his shoulders. Do not deny me this, I beg of you.”

SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE THIS MAN SOMEONE'S HEAD, HE DESERVES IT. Reyne's, Crayne's, Allard's...he's not picky right now.

Daemon glanced at the red on Viserys’s white-and-gold sleeve, still bright somehow despite being half-dried. How is it that you seek to spend my blood, brother?

The "blood to be spent" is one of my favorite of the candle's refrains to weave in, and it was fun to have a literal representation here.

[The sobs] were as quiet as they were heartbreaking, each wracking him violently, as though the pain of it were trying to bend him in half.

Anyone who's had a really intense cry knows exactly what that feeling is.

Rhaegar seemed to read his expression, and his arms tightened around Qelebrys briefly, as though apprehensive, before steeling his face and turning toward his brother. It was an impulse that was all too familiar to Daemon. He does not want his brother to think him weak.

You know it's bad when Daemon is seeing parallels with him and Viserys, rather than Aemon and Baelon.

Favorite Details

Daemon's victory

As someone pointed out in the AO3 comments, this is a rare occasion where Daemon outplayed Otto, who seemed to be expecting his leaked information about Daemon being seen visit Mysaria in Flea Bottom to result in far more dire consequences for him. He didn't realize that Daemon had been withholding information of his own.

(Granted, Daemon would gladly have continued to withhold the information about the bounty on his own head, had it not been useful in the confrontation.)

Redfort brothers

Sorry, @textbookchoices, I think you were envisioning something quite different when I promised Redfort content...

I don't know, just the utter heartbreak/tragedy that was the Redfort twins' lives in those early years, where they didn't understand why people behaved so strangely and why there were so many unspoken rules. And adoring their older half-brothers, only to be utterly crushed when they never returned, convinced it was their own fault for daring to impose/ask. (When the reality was that this was near the time when Raymar's dye started failing and Allard was eager for the Redfort brothers to halt their visits anyway...)

But also the vulnerability Rhaegar/Raymar was willing to show, and the love the Daemon met it with. Raymar got a lot of much-needed affirmation this chapter, as much of an unsettling rollercoaster of emotion as it was for Rhaegar. They both needed that, and with the stress/upset over the rift with Jon, they were due for a meltdown.

Valyrian histories

I like to imagine Aegon entertained his sons with stories like that of House Dewald (the name itself me making a bad German pun, since the holdfast was near the edge of the forest aka "der Wald"), and Aenys passed it on to Jaehaerys who passed it on to his sons and grandsons. So much of that purely oral history would have been lost in the Dance, with only the children surviving.

And the Valyrians love their stories of "why you should never try to steal dragon eggs, aka because we'll kill you really, really dead."

Dynamics

Daemon and Viserys

Not Viserys's best day ever, though he's not quite as clueless as he seems in giving Reyne an extension. (His reasoning is "I'll need a little time to get a replacement ready and minimize the harm during the transition if he truly is a traitor," hence the one week for Reyne to "prove" himself.)

If things go poorly (aka proof of treason is found), Reyne could very well lose his head!

But that's little comfort to Daemon, who continues to feel (rather fairly) that Viserys won't go beyond half-measures for him, while he'll bend over backward for everyone else.

@marmari33 had a very insightful ask on the topic of how Viserys acts when Daemon is on the verge of a breakdown (aka he's most willing to act the comforting big brother then), so I won't rehash it here, but that's another complicated piece of their dynamic.

At the end of the day, the problem is still that although you can't go around beheading everyone without proof, Viserys's touch is far too light given how serious the treason that was committed by House Royce (and Redfort) under House Arryn's stewardship. Viserys being willing to cede the negotiation ground to the Vale give them the home field advantage/the sense that he's willing to be lenient.

Rhaegar and Raymar

These two have been more integrated than Jon and Jon Redfort by a wide margin, but Rhaegar was feeling it this chapter. As mentioned above, he's eight-years-old and he's in a cold war with his brother who he idolizes and doesn't trust him, which hurts, so he's primed for a breakdown. The hair dye background, which is a particular pain point for Raymar, just opened the floodgates.

Those with a keen eye will notice that Jon has also been more affected by his counterpart of late, so there may be a ticking time bomb there to reckon with...

Quick hitters

It felt almost like a simulated D&D session, the events at the end of the chapter. There were about ten different things that could have happened instead, but this is what the dice (and Daemon) landed on.

It remains ambiguous just how much of Reyne's failure is incompetence, malice, or both.

Larys is back at the Red Keep now, btw...

What was Jon so cheerful about when he found them at the enclosure? We'll find out next chapter...

Daemon's violent outbursts are never not nerve-wracking for the poor Kingsguard. Granted, he's never harmed Viserys, but the sounds of a man breaking a chair by slamming it repeatedly into the ground are not gentle.

The one thing about Daemon's hunger for Allard's head is that it doesn't take into account what the boys might want.

How did Reyne come to know of Daemon's visit? He only showed his face to the woman at the "front desk" so to speak of the establishment, and Mysaria herself. Is Mysaria still informing on Daemon to Otto for a price? Does that still make sense, given the promised rewards from Daemon? Or is it another source?

Daemon's anger tends to have an insulating effect against the candle, while despair/grief make him susceptible, and we see both sides of that coin in this chapter. Though it also remains an open question of whether there is always a warlock "manning" the candle, or if it has any passive effects.

Daemon remains best dad when it comes to finding ways to cheer up his sons. Plotting the perfect flight path to find some natural beauty for Rhaegar followed by interesting ruins of a military defeat for Jon.

The saddle refitting is complete, meaning the boys can take a field trip at any given moment...

Cut scenes/moments

“If I tell you of my own troubles with my brother, will you tell me of yours?” Daemon asked. His son’s grip tightened on the cup, then slackened. “It is nothing.”

The scene was already pretty long, and it didn't feel the right time/moment to veer into the Rhaegar-Jon conflict.

That was the provence of Allard Royce, for those years of cruelty. Lorent Reyne, for dismissing the whispers from the Vale that would have united Daemon with his sons years before. Rhea Royce, for devising such a heartless scheme, and the Redforts for aiding her in it. I will see them all burn.

Just a little extra seething from Daemon that I ended up cutting. I think it's pretty well understood within the chapter that Daemon is hungry for blood/revenge.

“He does not trust me. He thinks that I am weak.” “I am certain that is not so,” Daemon said. Rhaegar’s shrug was listless. “I understand why he believes it to be true. He is able to resist the candle, where I have failed. I was the one foolish enough to drink the cider at the Saltpans and be taken. When we were captive, he challenged Crayne and I—I feared him.” His voice grew thicker with upset, each word escaping him quickly than the last, until he was stumbling over them at the end. Daemon pulled him onto his lap, resting his chin atop his hair as he held him. “You are a child. You are allowed to be frightened.” Rhaegar twisted free, springing to his feet with fists balled tight. “Jon isn’t. He is never frightened. He thinks that he must keep me safe, whatever the cost to himself.” “I am your father. That is my duty.” Daemon caught one of his small fists, clasping it between his hands. “I will keep you safe, both of you.” His son regarded him with a solemn expression that pierced his heart. Aemon. “You will not always be there to protect us.” The chill of winter gripped Daemon suddenly, bitter and harsh in his lungs. The crimson of his blood on Viserys’s white sleeve swam before his eyes, only it was snow he saw now, stained with lifesblood, more than a body could spare. “Do not say that,” he whispered, heart seizing.

A little more of the Rhaegar-Jon conflict that I was a bit sad to see go because of the "blood to be spent" imagery melding with the Wall vision.

And there's one more cut scene (the longest) I'm holding onto in case it's relevant next chapter. If not, I'll share it in that DVD commentary!

[idorukiss]

A Slumbering Reunion

─── ⋆⋅୨୧⋅⋆ ─── Sylus x MC/Reader (can be any gender) 2,098 words | SFW | AO3

Tags: First kiss, Cuddling, Start of the relationship, Brief mentions of some side charas, POV Second Person

Summary: Work has kept you from being able to see Sylus for the last month, and you are overcome with longing. You miss him so much. ─── ⋆⋅୨୧⋅⋆ ───

You miss him. You miss Sylus so much more than you ever thought you would when you first met him that fateful night. The ‘you’ of back then would be shocked to see how head over heels you have fallen for this man right now, especially seeing how your relationship has developed over time. All you want to do at this moment is run into his arms and hear his sweet voice, but you can’t. And it pains you every time you are reminded of it.

How long has it been since you got to see his face, let alone hear him call your name? Work has kept both of you busy for the last month, barely able to keep up with daily texts to one another. Any time you had a day off he was in another country, and any time he was finally available you were out on yet another mission unable to be contacted. It was excruciating for the both of you to be apart for so long. Wanderers and shady deals never cease to stop just because you are longing for somebody after all.

It wasn’t unheard of to have so many missions back to back, keeping everyone safe took top priority over everything else. It’s a blessing that Captain Jenna granted a week's vacation after all is said and done as an apology for overworking you. As soon as the last reports were handed in, you were out those doors in record time- even brushing aside Tara’s invite for drinks just to get to your bike sooner.

Your schedules are as synced with one another as they can be with how wildly unpredictable things can be for the both of you. Sylus isn’t set to be home for 2 more days but you don’t care, you just need to see him as soon as possible. He doesn’t know about the newfound time off yet, it was a last minute decision and you wanted it to be a secret. You wanted to surprise him the moment he stepped through the doors with a massive hug and never let go.

Golden rays paint over the landscape as you zip through the traffic and chaos of the N109 zone at record speed. You'd never be this reckless back in Linkon City, but Sylus has taught you to live a little while you're there. And when all you want to do is see him again, not even petty theft on the side of the road will stop you on the way. A familiar crow can be spotted flying alongside you as the looming mansion finally comes into view.

Before you can finish dismounting from your bike the front door is already swinging open, revealing two bright familiar figures calling out to you. It’s easy to tell what good moods the twins are in, they must have been mindlessly bored this entire time. You make a mental note about finding something fun for the three of you to do together tomorrow, time always passes faster with company and you surely have time to spare before Sylus returns

After being escorted in and getting confirmation that the one you wish to see the most indeed won’t be back for a while, you beeline to his office. You know he won’t be there, but it just reminds you of him and sets your heart at ease picturing him there cleaning his gun as always. Slowly taking in the surroundings, everything looks exactly as you last remember it but also so foreign at the same time- Almost as if it were a dream in a way. Has it really been this long?

His desk is perfectly clean, looking like you'd expect it to for the top dog of Onychinus. Well except the small dinosaur figurine sitting on the corner, of course. You got it from a capsule machine months ago and even have your own matching one back home- it sits on your bedside table to greet you every morning. Your heart does a little flip up knowing he keeps it there all the time. Maybe you should get him more trinkets, he enjoys showering you with presents so its only fair you do the same, right?

Sitting yourself on the comfortable leather sofa, you grab a book that was sitting on the table. It’s one you grabbed the last time you were here, curious about the contents, but you didn’t have the time to open it. Seems like Sylus kept it out and ready just for you in case you stopped by- Did he hope you'd stop by while he was gone? You wonder if he found himself staring at it while thinking of you as you open it up and start reading.

Minutes turn into hours, and the words before you start to blur into one another. The clock on the wall now reads 12am to your surprise. Did that much time really pass? The sun was still just barely peeking over the horizon when you sat down. As if on cue, the exhaustion from the last month seems to be hitting you like a brick all at once. Standing up with a big stretch you decide that now’s the best time if any to turn in for the night.

Its always sweet that Sylus keeps a room for you here, sure there's plenty of spare rooms in this large building but nobody is allowed in this one but you. He told you that it will always be stocked and ready so you shouldn't hesitate to come by at any time- That you should always treat his place as if it were your own. A dangerous offer, since if it weren't for work and your important investigations you'd just spend every free moment here. Little did you know, he secretly wishes you would do just that.

A quick shower to get the day's grime off, and you find yourself reminiscing in the room. It was so cold and empty at first but now there's plushies, plants, and photos you took together hung on the wall. Its so warm and comforting now- it feels like home. There's even a new trinket on the bedside table- a small crystal bird that certainly wasn’t here last time. When did he find time to get you this?

Crawling under the warm covers, you drift asleep with an arm outstretched toward the far side of the bed. It felt so empty- you felt so empty. It’s strange to admit that, it’s not like you’ve slept in the same bed like that before. Your relationship with him has indeed developed over time, the longing that's been weighing deep in your chest is proof of that. But you can’t help but wonder what he would call it if you asked. Does he feel the same way?

In the dead of night, the front door slams open with a hurried urgency revealing the silhouette of a tall man illuminated from behind by the moonlight. The only thing stopping him from slamming it shut was the realization of what time it actually was, not wanting to disturb anyone in the house. Not wanting to wake you up. Sylus had rushed home the moment Mephisto signaled to him of your visit, and from the looks of it he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He doesn’t let his expression show on his face, but the long fast paced strides down the hall just showed his impatience. He could see your shoes by the door but he had to know without a doubt you are there- That he could see your face and hear your laughs again. So that he can feel whole once more with you by his side.

Upon spotting your sleeping figure everything felt right with the world once again. He doesn’t hesitate to throw his jacket on the floor and join you in bed, pulling you ever so tightly against him. He’s surprised that alone didn’t wake you, it must have been a really tiring month to have you this exhausted. Pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head he too drifts off to sleep, feeling a calmness and joy he hasn’t felt in a long time.

That night you dreamed, what it was about you couldn't say. It was both so vivid in your mind yet a complete blur at the same time. Was it happy? Sad? The only detail you can manage to retain is of flowers- a field of flowers as far as the eye can see. Maybe one day the details will come back to you once more and you can share it with him.

Light peeks through the curtains as the sun rises, and stirs you from your slumber. Trying to roll over to get just a few more minutes of much needed rest, you start to register the weight around your waist that's preventing you from moving much- as well as the warmth radiating from next to you. Huh? Your eyes shoot open and are greeted by the sight of Sylus’s sleeping figure. When did he get back?

So many questions race in your mind before they’re drowned out by the unbridled joy in your heart. He’s not supposed to be home yet, but here he was with his arms wrapped around you like a child with their favorite stuffed animal. Are you sure this isn't yet another dream? Well, if it was then it’s not one you wanted to wake up from any time soon.

Your phone dings with nothing more than a spam text, but it’s enough to cause a brief panic. The entire time you’ve known Sylus he has been an extremely light sleeper. Considering how dangerous of a life he lives, it makes perfect sense for him to always be on alert. But you would do anything to not disturb this moment or his sleep in general- and thankfully he seems to be out like a rock for once.

You spend the next seemingly forever just staring at him and gently running your fingers in his hair. He was always handsome, but something about his completely relaxed face as he slept soundly was ethereal. Like he was sculpted out of the finest marble by an angel’s hands, just for you at this very moment. You might be the luckiest person in the world.

As you reach out to cup your hand on his cheek, he begins to stir a little. Lifting his own hand up to hold yours in place as his eyes begin to flutter open, flashing such a shimmering deep red that you adored. He doesn't say anything at first- just staring at you with sleepy affection. Determining too, if this moment was a dream or not.

His voice is quiet, but gruff, as he nuzzles into your hand “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” “Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty” your face not even hiding the joy you feel at this moment “Shouldn't I be asking you that? I thought you were on a business trip.” He props himself up with a chuckle “Well as soon as I heard a certain someone finally showed their face again I cancelled everything I had planned for the week”

Oh how you missed him. Everything about him just makes your heart do flips and having him by your side once again makes you feel complete. Somehow you find yourself falling even more in love with him than you thought was possible. You don’t respond, choosing to just wrap your arms around him and giving him the biggest squeeze you can manage instead.

“I missed you too, kitten” he quietly whispers, holding you tightly in his embrace

You two lay there in each other’s arms, hearts both pounding in unison. The agonizing time apart has finally come to an end and this is where you were both meant to be. As your eyes finally meet once again, everything feels right and ignites a spark- eyes close and lips crash for a gentle yet magical first kiss that exceeds all expectations and daydreams.

It didn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, but the fact it happened in the first place was everything and more. The walls have come crumbling down and there was no hiding your mutual feelings for one another. Your hands wrap around his neck as Sylus pulls you in for yet another kiss- this one more desperate than the first.

Fate has once again brought you together, and with intertwined souls you will continue to love each other for eternity.

[someonesrealityshifting]

.・✭・. Body Explanation .・✭・. ・

✭ I want top surgery but not bottom, and I've decided my scars will look something like these.

✭ I want a shit ton of tattoos and piercings, many of which being nerd based; an Icarus tattoo, the deathly hallows, I have a plan for a Marauders tattoo I want and can't wait to have.

✭ I don't want to be pudgy anymore, so I'm glad I've been losing weight and keeping it off. I can't wait for the 3D to catch up so I can have my pretty abs <3.

✭ I couldn't find any proper pictures of what my hair looks like in the 4D, but it's kind of long and shaggy and curly and really fun and easy to play with. I trim it often, too, so I can dye it whatever color I want without any damage. It's naturally this super pretty shade of really dark brown and I love it so much. I especially love dying strips or parts of it one color or another, just as pretty highlights.

✭ I don't want to get rid of my chronic pain, but I do want to give myself access to better mobility aids. At this point, my joint pain is something I identify with, something that is a part of me and makes me, me. But in the old story, I only had shitty knee braces and no form of cane or crutch for bad days. Luckily, in reality, I have an assortment of really cool canes and braces that actually help, plus I have a sling I can use for the worst days with my shoulder.

✭ My style is a mix of goblin/gremlin-core and fairy grunge, and I never run out of things to wear. I always have a chunky pair of boots or a soft sweater to cuddle up in, and I always always always feel confident in my outfits and body.

✭ My eyes are a pretty green with central heterochromia, because that's also something from my old story I want to take with me. I love the way they shine in the sun when I'm outside or waking up in the morning to the sunlight streaming through my window.

✭ I'm also not getting rid of my mental illness, because I want the people who I'm manifesting to love me not despite but regardless. Because sometimes I can't eat, or I forget to, or I start a hundred tasks and finish 2, but I'm still worthy of love, dammit, and I still need cuddles and lovin.

[freckleslikestars]

Mistletoe Kisses

Christmas MSR smut, what more could you want

3303 Words, read here on AO3

She’d been pissy with him all day, agitated and grumpy, snapping at the mildest of questions, and checking her watch constantly. Of course, he understood. Her brother was coming into town, bringing the family, for Christmas at her mother’s. Just another painful reminder of Christmas’s past. And so it didn’t really bother him so much when at ten to five she gave a sharp sigh and stood from her side of the desk, abruptly pushing her chair away and muttering as she jammed papers into her briefcase.

‘I’m heading out.’

‘Okay. What time do you want me at your Mom’s tomorrow?’ her brow furrowed. ‘Christmas Eve? At your Mom’s. That’s- that’s if you still want me to come. I mean, I don’t want to impose, and you’re not...’

‘Tomorrow. Yeah. No, um, I’ll swing by at around two and pick you up?’

‘Okay. Sounds good.’ They hadn’t been...doing whatever it was that they were doing – some undefined, unnameable...thing – for long. A couple months – slightly longer if you counted the time four months ago when they tumbled into bed together after an intense case. And the night after his mother’s death when he sought comfort in her in the only way he could. And, really, if you considered the week after the New Year, where they barely left her bed and then refused to talk about it, both swearing it wouldn’t happen again, it was fast approaching a year that they’d been doing...well, whatever it was they were doing.

But it wasn’t serious. Unless you took into account all the unspoken things between them. The fact he’d silently hoped and silently mourned alongside her throughout round after round of IVF. The way he’d felt about her since...as long as he could remember. The lengths he’d gone to to save her and keep her by his side. And, of course, the fact that she was it for him, no matter how little they’d ever discussed any future together.

But it wasn’t serious. They were just having fun, screwing around behind the government’s back. Only, he’d started spending multiple nights in a row at her place, and she at his in turn. It seemed tonight was going to be the first night in a long, long time now that he wasn’t to be going home with her. And, of course, he was going to be spending Christmas with her family. Staying at her mother’s house. Meeting the extended family.

So... maybe not as casual as they were telling themselves.

He sighed, cracking his neck and reclining back in his chair, picking up the next file from the haphazard pile on his desk and flicking through it with little interest. He was worried that she wasn’t ready for him to meet her family, that going along tomorrow was a bad idea, that there was too much pressure on it. Because whilst this was it for him, whilst there was nothing and no one he wanted more than her, he still wasn’t certain that she was on the same page, and he really didn’t want to push it so far that he lost her.

Having absorbed nothing of the file he was reading, he decided that he’d try and read it through one more time before packing it in and heading home for the night. Ten minutes later and he was giving up, deciding that a night of leftover Chinese and Star Trek reruns was mildly more appealing than staring at barely convincing reports of sea monsters and Yetis. Mildly.

Traffic was hellish, a city of people leaving for the holidays and doing last-minute shopping, clogging the roads and making his drive impossibly slow. Tinny Christmas songs crackled over his car stereo as downy flakes of snow started tumbling down, catching in the taillights of the cars ahead and melting on the tarmac. As he inched closer to home, he let his mind wander and allowed himself to fantasise about tomorrow and about future Christmases to come. They hadn’t exactly discussed in what capacity he’d be attending the Scully family Christmas, and whilst he was fairly certain that Maggie at least suspected that they were together, he was also pretty sure that Scully hadn’t disclosed the nature of their relationship to any of her family. But that didn’t stop him from daydreaming of dropping sweet, chaste kisses on her cheek as they helped lay the table and wrapping his arms around her waist as she stood chatting with her aunt by the fireplace, finding a hidden corner to murmur sweet nothings into her ear and kiss her until her cheeks flushed.

The crawl home took twice as long as usual, and by the time he’d pulled into his parking space, the desire to go over to her place, crawl into bed next to her and forget the swirling snow and holiday traffic until the new year, was only dampened by the thought of spending even more time on the road and the idea that maybe she wouldn’t be so welcoming of his uninvited appearance after the day she’d had.

His building was quiet as he traipsed his way up the stairs, not before sending a glare towards the elevator that had been out of service for the past week, and he only passed one neighbour on his way up to the fourth floor, bobbing his head in a slight nod, a murmured ‘merry Christmas’ as they passed one another.

He sensed it as soon as he stepped into his apartment, the presence of another soul. He wasn’t sure what set his senses off, but there was something...not quite right. Everything was still, untouched, silent; everything perfectly in its place. But there was a hint of cinnamon in the air, a fresh breath of familiar musky perfume hidden under it.

Shedding his coat and toeing off his shoes, he placed his briefcase by the door with measured precision, biding his time and waiting to see if she’d come out of hiding. Assuming she’d fallen asleep when she didn’t come out to find him, he tiptoed his way into the bedroom, swallowing thickly when he saw her.

She was a fantasy, all diaphanous red and white lace, sat primly on the centre of his bed, a coy, inviting smile tugging at her lips. A fuzzy Santa hat was perched crookedly atop her head and she dangled a sprig of mistletoe between her fingertips, the spray of white berries drooping down above her cinnamon lips.

‘Hi.’

She gave a delicate wiggle of her fingers before twisting her hand and beckoning him with a come-hither crook. A low grown rumbled through his chest as he staggered towards the bed, his knees hitting the frame with a thunk. 'Merry Christmas, Mulder.'

'Bit early for Christmas presents, isn't it?'

'Are you complaining?'

'Certainly not,' he shook his head, clambering onto his bed and shuffling up to her, 'you look…incredible.'

She smiled up at him softly, 'I thought you'd like it.'

'Like it? This is my favourite item of clothing now,' he pinched red chiffon between his fingers, rubbed the white lace trim with reverence.

'I bet you'd like what's under it even more,' she leant forwards, catching his lips with her own in a soft, tender kiss - almost chaste in it's comforting familiarity - the arm holding the mistletoe dropping down to rest against his head, holding him to her.

'Oh, without a doubt,' he murmured against her. His hands had started wandering, cupping her breasts through the lace, ghosting across her stomach, toying with the straps and disappearing beneath the hem of the babydoll. 'But I enjoy unwrapping my presents just as much as the present itself.'

'Some presents are fun to play with in their wrapping,' with the mistletoe in hand, she guided his lips down her chest, gave a sinful moan as he laved his tongue over a pebbled nipple, closed his teeth gently around it. With a shift of the mistletoe, he turned his attentions to the other breast, leaving his hand to finish his work. He peeled away the cup of the babydoll, pressing his face into her warm flesh, humming at the familiar scent of her; apricot shower gel and the perfume she gets from the department store, and the slightly musky spike of her that he can always detect after a day's work. She mewled, her free hand twisting into his hair and anchoring him to her, a soft plea falling from her lips.

Without needing her to guide him, he worked his way down her chest as she reclined back into the pillows, pressing wet kisses to her stomach through the diaphanous material, drawing it up to reveal a matching red thong. He nudged her legs apart, groaning at the sight, 'you're so naughty, Scully. So damn naughty. And I am one lucky sonofabitch,' his humid breath pressed in on her cunt, his nose barely ghosting across the soft, pale flesh of her inner thigh.

'I'll remind you of that next time you ditch me in favour of chasing after Bigfoot,' her voice caught as his tongue darted out to lick along the elastic of her panties.

'I'll make it my new year's resolution, how about that?'

'Won't stick,' she muttered, groaning when he placed a wet, open kiss over her slit, sucking on the flesh either side of her thong with a blissful moan.

He pushed up from her slightly and rested his chin on her pubic bone, gazing up at her with eyes full of mirth, 'well then, next year I'll be on Santa's naughty list, and you can punish me in whatever way you see fit.'

'Is that a promise?'

'Pinky promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. No more ditching you,' he pressed a chaste kiss to the jut of her hipbone, leaning into her palm when she cupped his cheek. 'I think this needs to come off, you know,' he lightly snapped the elastic of her thong, grinning when she squirmed. He hooked two fingers into each side and helped her shimmy them off, following their path with his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking at her legs, all the way down and all the way back up again as he settled before her, prostrate at her alter. She jolted at the first full lick of his tongue up her weeping opening, a whimper escaping her lips when he lapped at her clit.

He was good at this, good at winding her up and undoing her, driving her crazy with his lips and teeth and tongue, his own sounds of pleasure egging her on. He knew how much suction she liked, where on her clit too much was painful, and where the lightest touch could set her off like Times Square on New Years Eve. He knew just when to slip a finger or two into her tight heat, and the perfect way to curl them to have her begging him for more. In just the few months that they'd been doing this regularly, he'd become somewhat of an expert in what made Dana Scully tick, and what made her come. He could write dissertations on in, do a PhD in his partner's oral preferences.

Her back arched and her fingers tightened in his hair, the mistletoe long forgotten. With a hand on the back of her thigh, he guided her leg over his shoulder, moaning when it opened her up further and she used the leverage to draw her closer to him with her foot on his back, her toes curling into the fabric of his shirt. She was so very wet, a core of molten lava in a liquid body, eagerly gasping for more, more, as her hips writhed and thrust against his mouth. One of his hands reached up to join her own on her breast, fondling and massaging and pinching and soothing. His other hand braced around the leg he'd slung over his shoulder, pressed his palm against her lower stomach to stop her from squirming so much. His thumb gently pulled the hood of her clit up to allow it to peek out further, softening his tongue around it to lap gently. She mewled, her grip in his hair tightening when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.

'Mulder, please?'

'What do you need, Baby?'

'You. I just need you.'

His cock was straining uncomfortably against his slacks, and other than grinding himself into his mattress, there wasn't a thing he could do in his current position to relieve some of the pressure. He knew, without a doubt, that if he didn't pull her over the edge first, he'd never manage to last when he pressed himself into her tight heat. He flicked his pointed tongue against the left side of her clit, traced it up and down her slit before laving across her with the flat of it. 'You have me.'

She whined, straining against him, 'Mulder?'

'Yes.'

'Make me come.'

He'd do anything for her, of course, and after delving his tongue into her pussy, cleaving her open and lapping at her juices, he pressed two fingers into her, crooking them just so to rub against her front wall. She cried out, releasing the grasp on her breast to tangle her hand into the sheet beside her, gripping and pulling at it. Her muscles clenched and quivered around his digits, rippling with each rhythmic curl, until he gave a hard suck to her clit and she came with a whimper, trembling apart in his arms. He continued to suckle gently at her labia whilst she came down, her gasps calming to the occasional audible breath. She hummed, affectionately combing her fingers through his hair when he placed a delicate kiss to her mons and dropped his head down to rest on her thigh.

'You're overdressed,' she murmured, dragging a limp foot up his still-clothed back.

'I think we can do something about that,' he pushed himself to stand at the foot of the bed, efficiently shedding his work clothes and tossing them vaguely in the direction of his laundry basket.

She beckoned him over, a sly, satiated smile on her lips as she reached for him. Her kiss was ravenous as she tasted herself off his face, desperate as he tugged her down to lie flat on her back and settled himself into the cradle of her thighs. His shaft lay against her still-quivering pussy and he rocked his hips, coating himself in her slick. They both groaned as he pressed into her, their tension from the day melting away as she adjusted to him, his weight settling over her as he pulled out and thrust back in at a glacial pace.

'Christ, you're tight,' he grunted out, gritting his teeth as she clenched around him with a grin. Despite how big he felt within her, she was dripping with arousal, and it didn't take much effort to slip in and out of her.

'Roll over,' she whispered, two fingers tapping on his flank to encourage him. With his grip on her hips, he flipped them so she was atop him, pressing herself up with his palms on his chest. The change in angle had her dropping her head back and shifting her hips in a grinding roll, keeping him nestled inside her.

The room was thick with their gasps as she picked up her pace, lifting herself up and dropping back down onto him, her lingerie fluttering around her with each movement. He couldn't take his eyes from her, beautiful as she was, with her cheeks flushed, one tit falling out of the bra cup he'd pulled down, riding his cock like it was the only way to save her life. The Santa hat on her head had slipped down to the side, and the fuzzy ball swung to-and-fro with her frantic movements, and the sight was charmingly sexy. His fingers dug into her hips, helping her along as the muscles in her thighs quivered and faltered, and she leaned forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Her name, a mantra gasped into her mouth as she shattered around him, dragging him over the ledge with her into the trembling depths.

She slumped down onto him, her muscles continuing to milk him for all he was worth, as she trailed kisses down his throat and across his neck, showering him in grateful affection. With a pat to his stomach and a whimper, she pulled herself off of him, disappearing into the bathroom. He could hear her use the toilet, the taps running as she cleaned herself and washed her hands, and the familiar, domestic sounds of her existing in his space made him smile as he rested his eyes, trying to summon the energy to strip and re-dress the bed. She returned before he had the chance to move, flinging the thong he'd pulled off of her into the laundry hamper before crawling over to curl into his side.  

‘Feeling better?’ he asked, trailing his fingertips up her bare arm as she settled her head on his chest.

‘A little,’ she nodded, but he could hear the tightness that still laced her voice. The cooling room around them chilled the sweat on their bodies and she shivered, Mulder pulling the blanket from the foot of his bed up and over them.

‘Wanna talk about it?’

She shrugged against him but nodded, ‘it’s just...Christmas. Mom’s tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ve got the mental energy to deal with it all. It’s already a difficult time, and I just...with Tara being pregnant again and Mom constantly checking that I’m okay and Bill being...Bill. And that’s not even thinking about all the cousins and the aunts and all the “and what about you, Dana?”’

‘Well, I’ll be there to distract you when it all gets too much. And – I might be being a bit presumptive here – but I’d say I’m somewhat of an answer to that question.’

‘You’re the answer that will prompt Cousin Mona to make a joke about sleeping my way to the top and Aunt Eileen to ask you about your shoe size, so...as much as I love that you’re coming, you’re not exactly the saviour of the day. We could just stay in bed all weekend, tell Mom we’ve got food poisoning.’

‘She’d be disappointed.’

‘Yeah...’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘Besides, I ought to see Matty. Mom says he’s started talking.’

‘How about- how about we call your mom tomorrow morning and tell her that I have the sudden urge to drive down to Raleigh and visit my mother’s grave? She’s not going to question that. We say we’ll try to make it to midnight mass, but it depends on how we feel after the drive, and then we make sure we’re over there for roll call at O’ five hundred sharp Christmas morning. That way, you don’t have to deal with the extended family, Bill will have no ammunition for any of his arguments because you were supporting your partner through the loss of a parent, and if he tried to contest it, he’d come across as the asshole, and you still get to see your mom and Matty on Christmas day.’

She craned her neck up to stare, disbelieving, at him, ‘Mulder, I can’t use your dead mom as an excuse not to see my family.’

‘Call it an early Christmas present. Besides, lying about visiting her grave is the closest I’ve come to spending time with her over the holidays for many, many years.’

She gave a tender smile, ‘I love you so much.’

‘Yeah?’

Swallowing thickly, she nodded and reached up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, ‘yeah.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

[alwerakoo]

'when I'm nothing new'

ROTTMNT Leonardo & everyone written for @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast, as part of @tmnt-secret-santa-2024 PROMPT: Getting older

AO3

A/N: I had so much fun working on this fic! Couldn't wait to share it with everyone. Happy holidays! --

There are better things he could spend his birthday doing, Leo supposes.

Like going home and actually attending the ''surprise'' party his brothers are definitely throwing him, judging by how shifty Donnie has been acting the whole week. He's never been a good lair, and he's even worse at keeping secrets – especially from Leo.

But no one said anything to him in the morning, only exchanging knowing glances, and he quickly took that chance to run.

There are places where he goes to wind down, to make his lungs fill with air, his stomach unclench.

And there are places where he goes to occupy his mind with other annoying things, to the point where he can't even remember what made him so upset in the first place. Places like Draxum's apartment.

“That's a check,” Draxum tells him.

“No, it's not,” Leo says on instinct, even before his brain winds up to find the right move.

He moves his bishop, the sudden surge of uncertainty leaving him as soon as it appeared.

Draxum's face shifts into something strange, like he's bitten into a lemon, which Leo now knows means he's trying to hide his amusement.

Draxum is still the only person he actually knows to have ever beaten him in the game, and every time Leo outsmarts him leaves him with a sudden surge of giddiness. He's also the only person willing to play with him on the regular.

He's always been more than good at chess, and it gave him a great sense of pride and probably more than a bit of a god complex. But Draxum never seemed to care about the genuine emotions that spilled out of him sometimes during the game, usually matching his intensity tenfold.

Which is one of the reasons Leo came to him this morning. There were things he never seemed to mind, like Leo's intense emotions, quiet bitterness and secret cynicism, taking everything at face value and never talking about any of it.

It's why he's not expecting him to ask.

It's Draxum he spends the whole morning with, and it's Draxum who first puts the idea in his head.

“Well,” he says, rather sudden. “You're turning twenty-five.”

Leo blinks a little.

It's not like he really expecting Draxum to fully forget, and there might've been a sting of something painful if he did. But it's nice reassurance.

“I am,” he says.

“So, are you planning on doing anything with your life?”

Leo's hand freezes, previously hovering over his queen.

He puts the finger on the piece, feeling the smooth wood under his callused skin.

“What?” He asks.

He can feel his mind ticking away, like a factory machine, trying to unwind every detail of the new conversation.

Draxum's not meeting his eyes, but he usually isn't, so that doesn't really tell him much.

“You're twenty-five, and you haven't done a thing.”

A part of Leo bristles, the part that used to take everything as a personal attack. It was something that made him rather annoying in his early twenties, and borderline unbearable in his teens.

He clenches his jaw, letting himself take a breath as Draxum knocks down his rook.

This is the part that he grew to appreciate over the years – raw and unfiltered honesty. Even, especially if, it makes him feel a little worse about himself. He needs that reality check, sometimes.

“I've done plenty,” he says, simply. “Like save the entire world. And many people.” He raises his head again to look Draxum in the eye. “Including from you, by the way.”

Draxum doesn't seem phased, which makes Leo think he might've practiced this whole conversation before. He hopes he hasn't, because that means there's a real chance of Mikey being involved, and he's already heard enough of his brother's unwanted advice to last a lifetime.

“You haven't done anything that made you happy,” Draxum says, and then leans backwards, like he's been itching to say it the whole morning.

That puts Leo's mind to a stop, for just a moment.

“I like helping people,” he defends, letting some of his old anger slip though.

Draxum moves his queen. It suddenly feels like they're playing two games at once.

“That's not the same.”

“I was happy the world didn't, you know, end.”

He sometimes still feels the weight of that "almost" in his chest and Draxum looks at him like he knows.

“Well,” he finally snaps, his voice harsh and bitter, “did wanting to kill all of humanity made you happy?”

“... No,” Draxum says, and it sounds so honest and raw it punches all the anger out of Leo.

They don't talk for a long moment.

Leo works his jaw, pushing the words in his head over and over again.

He's not wrong, is the thing. There were moments in his life where he felt happier than ever, and they rarely had anything to do with the heavy weight of a "leader" balanced on his shoulders.

He moves his knight (which he keeps calling a "horsey" out loud, only because it annoys Draxum), and says:

“I'm not unhappy.”

“I believe that.” Draxum nods.

“Did Mikey put you up to this?” Leo finally asks.

Draxum's face does a complicated thing.

“No,” he lies.

“Well,” Leo scoffs a little, looking at the board. The conversation made him distracted and he can already feel the corner he was backed into. “Tell him I'm perfectly satisfied with my life as it is.”

“Clearly you're not,” Draxum says, a little harsh. “If you were, you'd be having a birthday party right now.“ He moves a piece. “Check.”

Leo feels like someone drew a line straight through his chest.

Because there was a moment in his life where birthdays stopped feeling like laughter and presents and cake, and started to look a lot like responsibility and expectations, and he's not sure he can ever go back now.

Twenty-five is a big number.

“What I am supposed to do, then?” He asks, desperate.

It's weird, because there's a whole textbook of history between them, and he doesn't think he'll truly ever see Draxum the way Mikey sees him, but he thinks they might be friends now. And isn't that something.

“Whatever you want to,” Draxum answers, simply. “Right?”

Leo watches the board.

Then, he holds out a hand, putting a finger to his king. Slowly, he tilts it down.

“Right.”

***

Later, he comes home, gets his birthday party, and they don't talk about any of it until two weeks later.

***

When he pokes his head through the door, Mikey's sat in his hammock, legs swung over the edge.

He looks up from a sketchbook sprawled over his lap and smiles at Leo.

Leo never really grew into the habit of knocking before walking in, and Mikey was the only one of his brothers that never seemed to really mind.

“Hey, dude,” he greets and Leo walks in, closing the door behind himself.

“We gotta talk.”

Mikey's face falls, just a little. There's a line forming on his forehead that grows more and more pronounced with each year, and reminds Leo of Raph in an almost painful way.

“Okay,” he answers, very slowly. “Do I need to bring out a PowerPoint presentation for this or...?”

Leo can't really find it in himself to smile honestly, so he doesn't.

He shouldn't be angry with him.

Him and Mikey spend an awfully long time fighting in their late teens – both sick on guilt, misdirected anger and too much love. There were many things that changed after the Kraang, but out of everything, Leo regrets this one the most.

He doesn't want to waste more of his life making his little brother think he hates him.

(Even if he did, just for a short while. Mikey saved his life and Leo hated him for it.)

It took years, swallowing down their own hurt and pride, and many, many late night conversations for Leo to feel like he could breathe freely again.

Still, there was some odd comfort in knowing that Mikey would never walk on eggshells around him – laying down even the harshest truth if he didn't see any other way.

Maybe that's why it ruffled Leo so much.

That even after all that, he still couldn't face Leo himself. Not with this, apparently.

Leo sits down on Mikey's bed – the cleanest part of his entire room, probably only because it was so rarely used.

Leo still isn't sure how Mikey deals with an aching back after spending so many nights in his hammock.

“I had a very weird conversation with Draxum the other day,” he says, cutting right to the point.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, leaning against the wall.

Mikey watches him for a moment, very carefully, his eyes bright and wide open.

“Did you?” He finally answers.

“Stop that,” Leo huffs. “I know you talked to him.”

Mikey makes a face.

“He's bad at keeping secrets,” he says, almost like an apology.

He looks back at the sketchbook on his lap, adding a few more lines with the pencil held in his hand. It's not a spiral one, and so he spread the two pages so flat it left a mark on the spine.

“The hell was that about? Since when is he a mail pigeon?”

Mikey doesn't look up, but there's something more genuinely apologetic etched onto his face, some kind of regret. Maybe embarrassment.

“I felt like you wouldn't listen if it came from us,” Mikey says, quietly.

Leo clenches his fingers, holding his thumb until it aches.

“That's not true-”

“Is it?” Mikey cuts him off, harsh.

His face quickly softens; he chews on his cheek.

Leo thinks for a moment.

“So you talked to Donnie and Raph? Is this what we do now? Talk behind each others' backs?”

“That's not-” Mikey holds a hand to his forehead, groaning. “You're doing the thing again.”

Leo stands.

He circles Mikey's room, feeling the anger buzzing under his skin. His bad knee startles in pain and he feels it up to his spine.

“Doing what?”

He doesn't want to argue.

But he hasn't been able to sleep well since his birthday – caught up in his own mind, reflections and what-if's, and he can't help blaming others for it.

Because they're right.

Draxum, Mikey, his whole family, apparently.

There are things, parts of his life he never dared to look too closely at, that they all saw right though. And that scares him to his bones.

“Damn it, Leo.”

Mikey slides to the ground, letting his sketchbook fall to the ground with the outermost carelessness. He steps closer, blocking Leo's way to stand right in front of him.

Over the years, Leo grew taller and taller, towering over most of his family.

Right now, he feels much smaller.

“This thing,” Mikey says, as a way of explanation. “Where you keep acting like we all hate you.”

He reaches out, closing his fingers around Leo's arms, shaking him a little.

It's so unexpected it almost punches a laugh out of him.

He feels like he's running backwards, grabbing onto all the old anger that's left in him instead of letting it go.

His progress is a circle and he's always running backwards.

“I'm worried,” Mikey says, quieter now. “You're-”

“What? Useless? Depressed?”

“Aimless.”

That hits Leo right in the chest.

They don't really go on missions anymore, not like they used to. Donnie called them "retired" and Leo wanted to laugh because it was true. His brothers had lives to throw themselves into, something they carved along the way. Seemingly, Leo missed his cue to do the same.

He was himself, then he threw it all away to be a leader, and now he's too scared to look. Scared he'll find nothing else left.

“You wouldn't get so defensive if you didn't agree,” Mikey says, because he's known him his entire life.

Leo feels like he's been sitting with this for months, like an open wound right in the middle of his chest, and he needed Mikey to force his chin down to finally face the fact that the pain wasn't coming from inside.

“I love you,” his brother says, like the most important part he forgot to add before. “I want you to get your shit together.”

Leo laughs, and Mikey smiles. His face always seems to fall, rather than stretch into a smile, like it wasn't made to do anything else.

“I don't know what to do,” Leo says, honestly.

“You're a smart guy,” Mikey says. “Figure it out, man.”

Leo looks at his face and wonders when he missed the moment where his brother started to look so grown-up.

***

He sits on it for the next week.

Mikey told him to 'figure it out', and he honestly, truly – tries to. But it's only a rather long and tedious call with April, many aimless walks around the Hidden City, and even more conversations with Draxum – that he comes to an idea.

It's something he latches onto from the loose suggestions thrown around him, and holds onto like a drowning man.

There's hesitation there, of course.

He's past the point of admitting his own failure, but the thought of actually picking himself back up scares him. He's grown detached from the idea of throwing himself into the deep water like this, of climbing out of the uncomfortable and cold hole he accidentally dug himself into.

'It'll take years,' a part of him says. 'You'll be thirty before you'll even get anywhere'.

'You'll be thirty anyway,' another, bigger part replies.

Past that, it's not a hard choice. He can't really imagine anything better for himself.

He loves helping people.

There's a part of him that wonders if this too is tied more to his past and how he was raised, rather than his true self. He shuts it down pretty quickly, because it doesn't really matter what finally gets him moving, as long as it does.

He lets himself chew on that thought for another week, like a hard piece of gum he can't quite swallow, before he finally sets his mind to it.

But he knows the difference between making plans in his own mind and actually putting them into practice, especially in his own case.

He needs a final push.

The door to Donnie's room is cold under his knuckles when he knocks, and it only takes his brother a second to answer it:

“If it's not a life-or-death situation, I don't wanna hear it right now.”

Leo rolls his eyes, the sudden urge to be annoying, just because he can, adding confidence to his steps. He pulls at the door, letting it open with a quiet squeak of rust.

“It's always life-or-death with me,” he says.

Donnie stops for a moment to look up from his soldering work, which can already be counted as great success.

If they were younger – fourteen and careless, where death was a thing that will one day reach everyone but them, Donnie would've said: ''And I wish you'd choose that second option more often''.

He doesn't now, because they stopped joking about those kinds of things a long time ago.

“Well, hurry up then,” he scoffs instead. “You're already bringing down the property value.”

Leo shifts in place, suddenly feeling a little smaller.

And from behind Donnie's clear, protective glasses, Leo spots the exact moment his brother squints, brows drawn into a furrow.

“What's wrong?” He asks, because he's never been good at reading people, but he's always been good at reading Leo.

It must be something in him, the things people usually don't pay attention to and that Leo doesn't bother hiding, that Donnie has grown so attune to over the years. A high pitch note that he can only notice when it skips a beat.

“Nothing,” Leo says.

Donnie frowns some more.

“Lair,” he says.

Leo has been called many things in his life. Out of all of them, this might be the truest one.

He sighs, letting his shoulders curl a little in an unusual show of vulnerability.

“I just, uhm.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I need to do some research. Thought you could help?”

Donnie's shoulder's drop, and there's an increasingly panicked look growing on his face, like he's standing on the edge of a drop, leaning in further and further, only now realizing it doesn't seem to end.

Leo doesn't blame him, because the last time he spoke almost those exact words was also the day he first came out. He's been out to his family for ten years now, but that first day has cemented itself as one of the most painfully awkward experiences of his life.

And one of the sweetest, probably.

“It's nothing like that,” he reassures, and Donnie's shoulders loosen with relief.

“Oh, okay.” But quickly there's some new worry in his eyes, something more embarrassed. “I mean, not like- If it was, it's not-”

“Look,” Leo says, sparing him from the awkward, lingering moment.

He walks up to his desk, finally letting go of the leaflet he's been squeezing in his hand and placing it in the middle of the table.

It's covering Donnie's work, which he doesn't really care for, but there's also a slight wave to it now, where the sweat from his palm leaked into the ink. He wipes his hands against his thighs, self-conscious.

Donnie stares at the paper.

He blinks before finally looking up at Leo.

“You're going to med school?”

The words leave his mouth and the air around Leo grows just a little thinner.

He laughs, nervous and without any traces of humor.

“Well, I'm not going yet. It's just- I don't know, I thought about it?”

He rubs his hands together, going back to the old habit of circling the room. He can't tell if his knee hurts, or if he just can't seem to stop clenching his muscles.

Donnie's quiet, carefully tracing the small text with his eyes. He picks the leaflet up to see better.

“Like, obviously I can't do New York Med,” Leo continues, “but there's this college in Hidden City. And it's not like we really have any, uhm, proof of education or anything, but I'm sure Big Mama can pull some strings, right?”

He turns his back on Donnie, too skittish to keep looking at him.

He walks back and forth, eyes trained on his own feet.

“So I just thought- I don't know. It says here you have to pass an exam to even get in, so it's not like that's cheating or anything.”

Donnie has always been the smartest of them, but Leo and his brothers all took to education like ducks to water, as long as it involved anything other than sitting straight in front of a desk for hours.

He doesn't think they'd do well in a normal school, not as kids, but they always seemed to soak knowledge a little faster than April, like tiny-turtle sponges, especially when it could be applied to practical use.

Leo's sure it was part of Draxum's design.

He might not be far behind Yokai his age, but there's still uncertainty curled at the bottom of his chest.

He's uncertain about everything.

“And, like, I probably won't pass it, anyway. But I thought,” he breaths, “maybe-”

“Nardo.”

Leo stops.

He feels his heartbeat in his head, beating fast behind his eyes. He blinks, turning to look at his brother.

Donnie's still holding the leaflet, absentmindedly running his finger along the edge. His face looks calm, almost neutral, but there's a new spark in his eye.

“What's after the exam?”

Leo swallows, clenching his fingers to stop his hands from shaking.

“Then it's five years of school, and then residency.”

“Okay.” Donnie nods. “Do you want me to help you study for that exam?”

It's a long moment when Leo doesn't know what to say.

“You think I can do it?” He asks, finally, his voice quiet.

Donnie looks at him like he's stupid.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Donnie holds out his arm, handing him back the leaflet. His other hand, clenched into a first, taps against his thigh, like there's some new energy in his fingers he can't quite hold in.

He's bleeding happiness, and Leo doesn't know to wrap his mind around all of it.

“You're going to be a doctor,” he says.

“Is this a question?”

Donnie reaches out to squeeze the crook of Leo's elbow; once, twice.

“No. That's a statement.”

***

He's been staring at the envelope for ten minutes now.

It's off-white, closed with an old-timey wax seal, and there's his name on it, written in a neat cursive right at the top.

He runs his thumb over the soft texture.

Him and Donnie spend a few grueling weeks almost living inside the Hidden City's library, with stacks of books piled onto desks in the most inconvenient of ways, and newly developed dust allergies.

Donnie's methods of teaching consisted mostly of borderline bullying, but it was the constant need to prove a point that pushed Leo forward – not that he was going to admit any of it out loud.

He showed up to the exam hall half-drunk on stress, desperately trying to look like someone who hasn't thrown up into a trashcan on his way there.

He found the questions tricky but not hard, which made him double guess everything over and over again, until he was probably the first one to finish, and the last one to leave.

Leaving it all behind was like weight dropping off his heart, and he feels all of it coming back now, settling behind his lunges like an avalanche.

He's bouncing his leg up and down so much his knee starts to ache.

Leo takes a breath, and with one hand – rips the envelope open.

His family's in the living room, huddled around the table for a dinner he's late to, and everyone's heads turn when he walks in.

His heart beats: once, twice, thrice. And in that rhythm, he says:

“I got in.”

***

In his first year, Leo learns a lot of things, only most of which have anything to do with medicine.

Most of his classmates are younger than him, bright with that special kind of annoying you can only be at nineteen, and Leo quickly learns to keep his distance.

His lectures feel long and exhausting, leaving his body aching after hours of sitting, and he's forced to leave the more practical classes to stretch out his bad knee – numb from standing in one place for far too long.

He thinks the faculty might know his family, or at least the reason why he was even able to apply in the first place, because there's a certain look some of his professors give him, that makes something in his stomach turn uneasy.

It's his first steps, and he's already climbing uphill.

He's so caught up in it – in desperately trying to avoid the label of a major weirdo, the constant thought of finals looming of his head, planning out his week to squeeze in as much free time as he can, that it takes him a while to realize he's planning out his week.

He's leaving the house everyday now; there's always a class to attend to, a book to pick up from the library, or something he needs to scream about on some secluded beach in Hawaii until his throat goes hoarse.

He's both more and less tired now. There's some sleep he always seems to be losing, but it doesn't settle in his bones like it used to. It doesn't cling to him like molasses, making him want to curl up on his bed until he can't get up anymore.

(He wonders if it was something other than tiredness keeping him down this whole time.)

His family is looking at him differently now.

Maybe they've been for a while. He just had too much time to dwell on himself to notice it before.

There's something in their smiles now, something hesitant but hopeful, like he's an injured bird they nursed back to health – taking flight again.

He's clumsy and slow, but he's up in the air and there's no going back.

He's moving now.

And that's a start.

***

The first exams hit him hard.

“Come on,” April says, her fingers tapping on the book's cover. “You know this.”

Leo's laying flat on the couch, his fingers locked together on his stomach, and he feels a little like he's at a therapists office.

That is, if therapists were weirdly interested in his bones, rather than feelings. Which might be true for some. Leo has never been to one.

April's sitting on the floor, her back rested against the couch, a heavy textbook spread open on her lap.

“I don't,” Leo huffs.

April seems monumentally more interested in adjusting her leggings than anything he has to say, so he waits till she looks up at him again to roll his eyes.

“You're just panicking,” she says, very matter-of-fact. “Stop winding yourself up.”

It's the kind of tone that used to keep them all in line when they were kids. It still does, to a certain point.

So Leo just wines, picking up a pillow he previously threw aside just to have something to scream into.

When he's finished, April raises an eyebrow at him.

“You're so dramatic.”

“I'm tired.”

Something genuine must've slipped into his tone, because at that, something in her face softens.

She reaches out to squeeze his good knee, before handing him some of his notes back.

“Read over it again.”

Leo studies his own handwriting.

There are so many things, so many things to remember, that he doesn't know what to put his hands into.

“This is so stupid,” he says after a minute.

April's already busy, filing down her nails with careful consideration.

“Welcome to college,” she says, holding out her hand in front of her face. “What shape should I do?”

“Almond,” he responds, automatically. Then: “How did you do this?”

April got her degree a few years back, coming out the other side with bangs under eyes, coffee jitters, and radiating happiness.

“Through sweat and tears,” she says, simply.

“What if I fail this?” He asks.

“What if?”

She doesn't turn to look at him, but raises a brow again, like she knows he's looking at her.

“I'll have to retake it,” Leo says, a little hesitant.

“Ok, you'll do that then.”

There's a kind of certainly in her voice, something stubborn and so sure of itself, Leo almost lets it quiet down the worries that have been rotting him from the inside out.

“And what if I fail again? I'll have to redo the year.”

He sounds even less sure than he'd like to, his voice quiet and mellow.

“You have all the time in the world.”

“What if I fail so much they kick me out?” He finally lets out.

It's a worry that sits heavily in his bones, the fear that he'll slip, and then all of this would've been for nothing.

“Then you'll find something else to do in your sad, little life.” She tilts her head against the couch, sending him an upside-down grin. “You're not winning this game.”

Leo lets out a shaky breath.

His chest squeezes, matching how she touched his knee just moments ago.

He might slip.

He might fail, and he might fall and never want to pick himself back up again.

It won't matter, because as sure as he breaths – there will always be someone there to catch him.

“Okay,” he says instead. “Ask me those questions again.”

April's smile widens.

Leo has a lot of things to learn. But he already knows who he can count on.

***

He feels the years pass faster now.

It might just be that he's getting older, but he feels like it's barely a blink before he's already in his third year.

It gets both harder and easier.

He's been an outsider his whole life, always either too young to understand why the world he lives in would never accept him, and just old enough to feel like he could never be a part of anything else.

But he knows the way people see him. He's cheerful and optimistic when he needs to be, charismatic to his very bones, and it doesn't take all that long for his colleagues to warm up to him.

They talk to him like they believe he should be there, like they see potential in him, and that makes him want to try harder and harder – over and over again.

And before he blinks, it's his birthday again, and there are twenty-eight candles, all awkwardly squeezed onto a cake.

Mikey baked it, and the blue frosting flowers he decorated it with look a little wonky, maybe a little worse than he would've done some years back, but so much better than anything he could've done right after Kraang. It makes Leo smile with all his teeth.

He's so occupied with all of it, with his family's arms around him, the promise of sweet taste on his tongue, loud music drumming away from the speakers – he almost forgets to make a wish.

He hesitates, for just a moment, before blowing out the candles.

More, he thinks. More of this.

A few hours later, he's sitting on a chair; feet aching from dancing and mind numb from beating Draxum in chess three times in a row. He's already on his fourth piece of cake, grateful Mikey never learned how to bake in moderation, when he feels a familiar shadow pass over.

He tilts his head back, meeting Raph's eye.

“Hey, man.”

Raph's finishing his own plate, tossing the leftovers on his plate with a fork.

“Happy birthday,” he says, not for the first time today. “How was school?”

Leo's classes were long and exhausting, made even more grueling with the promise of a warm welcome waiting for him at home.

“Ugh,” he says. “I don't wanna talk about it, it's my birthday party.”

Raph gives him an interesting smile, tilting his head a little.

“Well, okay. Raph just wanted to say...” He hesitates for a moment. “I think it's really cool you're doing it. You're gonna help a lot of people, you know?”

Leo feels his face twitch a little.

“Yeah. I mean, that was always the goal, wasn't it?” He says, and it comes out a little more honest than he intended.

Raph's face twist, like Leo just stepped on his foot but he's too polite to say anything about it.

He's still awkwardly hovering over him, which means he has something more to say. Leo doesn't rush him.

“I wanted to say...” He scrapes his fork over his plate. “I think I was too hard on you when we were younger.”

Leo blinks.

He sits straighter on the chair, turning around to look his brother properly in the eye.

Before the Kraang, him and Raph were rubber bands, high strung and waiting for the other one to finally snap. It was wanting to show each other up, and it was the rush of panic when they realized their wish might come true.

“Thanks. But maybe I needed some of that,” he says.

Leo used to think himself larger than life, like he knew some undeniable, secret truth that all of his family was too blind to see. He wishes he would've felt the cold water they were trying to throw on him before it pulled him under – right into the deep end.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says like he doesn't really mean it. “But I just- I was looking at some pictures and I saw some from right after Kraang and... I don't know.”

They took a lot of them during that time, like a desperate rush to never let anything slip through their fingers ever again. Leo thinks his broken bones and bruises that seem full on display on all of them, no matter how hard he was trying to hide them.

He remembers Mikey taking one of them, making him look straight into the camera despite his blackeye. Now, he thinks there was something to that.

Something like: 'despite everything, you're still here'.

Raph shuffles on his feet, his gaze turned down.

“I don't know. You were smaller than I remembered.”

Something in Leo's throat hitches.

He searches his mind for something to say.

“You were smaller than you remember, too.”

Raph's smile turns warm.

Leo knows there are things hidden under those sentences, things they need to talk about sooner than later. But for now, Raph only says:

“I'm really happy you're doing this. I mean, it's awesome,” he laughs a little. “You're awesome.”

Leo looks up at him, and just this once, lets himself grin with all he has.

He's warm, drunk on good food and good company, and when Raph goes to sit down next to him, he reaches out. He puts his arms around his brother's neck, letting his head rest against Raph's shoulder.

He feels when Raph takes a deep breath, then sighs.

The song playing in the background dwindles down, turning into something that makes April and Donnie pick up another fight.

“Hey, you know.” Raph picks up his fork again, playfully tapping it against Leo's snout. “I'm proud of you.”

Leo takes a breath, and when he breaths out, it comes out as a laugh.

“Thanks,” he says, honest and raw. “I'm proud of myself, too.”

*** When he's in his fourth year, his professor asks him what he wants to specialize in, and it's almost like making that first choice all over again.

Except this time, he doesn't hesitate for a moment.

There's confidence in him that he hasn't seen in a long time, and the world feels wide and open, everything on his way pushing him further and further along.

'I'm not unhappy', he told Draxum a long time ago.

'Are you happy now?' he asks himself every day, looking into the mirror.

Every day, the answer he gives feels a little more like the truth.

***

While he waits for the tea to boil, Leo taps his fingers on the counter.

He's been fighting hard to kick back his caffeine addiction, and it might be a battle he's losing, but he's going down with dignity. And a lot of tea.

He's thumbing through his journal, because he's the kind of person who keeps a journal now, absentmindedly memorizing the dates of his finals. It's a lot of work, commitment, and work again, but he's used to feeling busy these days.

He looks up at the sound of familiar footsteps, smiling on instinct. He's smiling a lot less than he used to, but for once – all of them are honest.

“Hey, Pops.”

His dad grumbles, rubbing his hands over his eyes, clearly not awake enough for an actual conversation yet. Leo decides to not hold that against him.

“You want some tea?” He asks instead, not waiting for an answer before reaching up for a mug.

He feels this urge more and more often now. To pass him the remote, to move his chair for him, to bring down the heavy pans he can't quite reach anymore.

He looks a little older every day, and every time Leo spots a new patch of gray fur he wants to bury himself in his arms and never let go.

“What are you doing?” Dad asks, walking up to the counter to watch Leo wash his mug under the sink.

“Tea,” Leo answers. Dad looks at him like it's too early this sort of attitude, which is probably true. He adds: “I gotta bounce by the uni later. I have to give them some papers.”

“What papers?”

Dad takes the mug out of Leo's hands, filling it with tea and hot water himself. He's been doing that more and more often, too, like he has something to prove to them now.

Leo supposes he does.

“Just for next year. We're branching out, so it's a mess all around.”

He often felt like the administration system of his university was a pure mystery to everyone involved.

Dad looks up at him, eyebrows raised a little.

“What are you 'branching out' into?”

Leo hums.

“Pediatrics.” He reaches out, pouring water into his own cup. “They have a good program here. One of my professors said-”

He stops, something on the back of his neck crawling with alarm.

He looks down. Dad's not meeting his eye anymore.

“Pops?” He says, very carefully.

He puts away his mug and his hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to lay.

His dad's hand presses against his mouth, his eyes fixed to the floor, and Leo's body tenses, like he's once again a little kid who just broke a glass – waiting for the shoe to drop.

“I'm-” Dad finally looks up at him again.

His eyes look glossy, and something in Leo staggers, like a seized engine.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Dad shakes his head, stops, then nods, like he's correcting himself.

“Yes, yes, I just-” His shaky breath turns into a laugh.

“Dad.” Leo shifts on his feet, his fingers tapping against his thighs in a very Donnie-like gesture. “Dad, are you about to cry?”

His father laughs, waving his hand almost dismissively, but there are already tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I guess-” He sighs a little. “It just hit me now. You're- You're really doing this.”

Leo blinks.

He frowns, looks around the room like he expects to find any answers there.

“Doing what?”

“Come here.”

Leo's still frowning, but there aren't a lot of things he wouldn't do for his father. He leans down, letting Dad cradle his face in his palms.

Leo's grown so much taller than him, and everyday it hurts, just a little.

“You know, it's funny,” Dad says, very quietly. “I don't remember you growing up.”

Leo swallows.

The ties holding them together are strong, but coated in years and years of history, bitterness, and things they never said out loud.

It's melancholia, it's bitter-sweet, and it's an apology.

Leo raises his hands, covering both of his.

“My boy,” Dad says. “My baby blue.”

I love you too, Leo thinks.

***

The only good thing about his final exam, is that it is the last one he'll ever have to bare.

The whole ordeal feels more a job interview than an oral exam; unimportant inquiries about his future plans and small talk mixed with actual, medical questions. Leo gets the sense they might've been intentionally trying to throw him off, which seems a bit mean, but maybe necessary.

Waiting in the hallway for the examinators to call him back, Leo sinks into his seat, feeling the full weight of all his bones and muscles.

His family's waiting outside, and when he closes his eyes he can almost hear the hum of their nimpo, warm from the inside of his chest.

He thinks he might be nervous. But more so – he's relived.

He thinks that, for the first time, he's not afraid to fall.

This is his best.

Hope is a fragile thing and Leo's holding onto it with everything he has.

They call him back in and he's hovering in the doorway just for a moment too long, until one of the professors looks up at him.

There's a smile edging at the corners of their beak. They raise a hand to beckon Leo closer.

“Come on in, doctor.”

***

Leo can't imagine spending his birthday in any other way.

The night air feels cool and calm on his skin; his head and face warm from dancing and drinking. He's leaning back against the railing; the rooftop of April's new apartment building already familiar enough for Leo to not hesitate before he tilts his head up, balancing on the edge.

“Raphael wanted to eat the last piece of your cake.”

Leo straightens, opening his eyes to look Draxum in the face.

“Tell him to piss off, it's mine.”

“He already ate it.”

Leo's face scrunches up and he huffs.

He doesn't say anything else, but he shifts a little, because Draxum will only stay if he doesn't acknowledge his presence. He's like a cat in that regard.

The man slides next to him, resting his palms on the railing.

“How's work?” He asks, because Leo is now the type of person who's asked about his job.

With real curiosity at that, because while Leo's usual clients are rarely anything other than heartwarming, their parents have been the source of more than a few equally absurd and frustrating stories.

Even with that, he rarely complains about work.

He thinks he's actually good at it, which might be the funniest possible outcome for someone who's only previous experience with children was being one.

He's been told kids find him funny, parents 'charming', and there's a real kind of satisfaction that comes with it.

But working so closely with kids, with their bright smiles, chubby fingers, cute faces and not a single ounce of bitterness in their entire being – made him feel a whole sort of new things. Things he never thought he'd catch himself thinking.

Things that look alarmingly close to white picket fences, piles of small shoes next to the front door and the future.

Why not, he thinks to himself. Why not?

“It was fine. One kid fit an entire Lego piece up his nose.”

“Riveting.”

“You want to play chess with me later,” Leo says.

“I'll be tired.”

“That wasn't a question.”

Draxum huffs, and Leo recognizes it for the laugh it is.

“Leo!” Mikey's standing on his chair, waving at them from the other side of the roof. “Group picture time, get your ass over here!”

And so he does, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

As he tilts his head to squeeze into the frame, he takes a moment to look at his own reflection.

'Are you happy now?', he asks himself.

He hears the answer in his brother's laughter, in the soft music playing in the speakers, in the hum of an airplane passing above them.

He's only a few years past thirty, and there's already a deep ache and sadness etched into his bones – things that wouldn't seem unfit in someone much older.

The limp in his left leg won't ever go away.

But there's something in this, in getting older and older.

He was a dreamer when he was a teenager, and he dreamed of glory, blood rushing in his ears and things greater than his own life.

He's a dreamer now, and he yearns for more of this. More slow mornings, more days where he can't feel the coming cold in his bad knee, more moments where his brothers laugh like they haven't ever forgotten how to.

He's been living with a gun aimed at his head for so long he didn't even feel the cold metal on his skin until it stopped.

Leo tilts his head up, looking into the sky.

And from where he sits – the lights of the airplane almost look like stars.

[elcor-thespian]

Hi again! What do you have for 19 from the kiss prompt?

19. Kisses meant to distract the other person from what they were doing.

This prompt is getting answered with Nephele and Lucanis, and includes mentions of my other ocs. You don't really have to know anything about them for it to make sense. Also, this is a one-shot idea I've had for a minute, so it's kind of long. Please enjoy this soft silly fun.

Kiss Ask. Please send more!

The first thing Nephele noticed when she woke up was the crick in her neck, and the sharp jab in her side. Then the feel of a warm body, rising and falling slowly with breath. Also, a cold, hard surface. The floor? Then the sound of faint snoring, soft clanking of...something metal in the distance, and....eggs. That's what that smell was. It was eggs.

She definitely didn't want to open her eyes. Opening her eyes was the enemy. She also definitely didn't want to move. Moving was also the enemy.

Can you have two enemies? ... That's dumb, of course you can. You literally fight multiple enemies all the time. Get it together.

She made a minimal effort to roll over. Nope, pain, bad. Nausea? Unclear. She then tried to curl her legs up (it's fucking freezing in here) but she hit something solid instead.

There was a movement next to her, and the pressure in her side intensified. Reluctantly, she slowly opened one eye, just enough to figure out what was stabbing her.

The first thing to catch her attention was an unruly mop of blonde hair. Aleksei. Why was Aleksei here? She opened her eye a little more for more context. Her friend was sprawled out across her legs, with his head on Brenna's stomach (oh hey, Brenna's here), and his feet on Konstantin's lap. Konstantin.....she opened her eye all the way and turned her head to see the rest of the Qunari, fully asleep sitting up, head tilted back and snoring. It took her a second to realize she was also sitting up, leaning in to his side.

Ohhhh. Right.

She fully opened her eyes now, and the jigsaw pieces of her memories of the night before started to take shape.

The pain in her side was Konstantin's elbow. On his other side, with her head on his lap was Nasreen, curled in to a tight ball. Elspeth was fully spooning Brenna, who had pulled a couch cushion on top of her face to block out light in the middle of the night. Craning her head up she saw Paloma on the couch, her arm draped over the side next to a bottle of wine that must have fallen over sometime in the night.

And next to that was another bottle of wine. And another. And look, there were some over there. And didn't we start by drinking beer anyway? And I definitely was doing shots of whiskey at some point. I definitely remember there being a drinking contest. Pretty sure Brenna won. Pretty sure Konstantin threw up.

But that was in the music room, and this was....definitely the kitchen. Yep, going with kitchen. When did we move to the kitchen?

"About twenty minutes after Emmrich threw you out of the library."

Oh shit. I said that part out loud.

Extremely reluctantly, Nephele started to extricate herself from the pile of hungover bodies. She tried to grab on to the couch to help pull herself up, but missed and grabbed Paloma's arm. She didn't seem to notice.

"Oh fuck me," she grunted, rising up to a standing position, briefly tripping over Aleksei who groaned in protest. She heard a small clatter in the kitchen, and looked over to see Lucanis swearing in Antivan under his breath and grabbing a towel to clean up something he had knocked over.

Careful not to step on any more companions, she tip toed over to the counter, and saw not just eggs, but a variety of baked goods, cut fruit, oatmeal, bacon, and blessedly, coffee.

"Oh thank the Maker," she said, reaching for the pot. Lucanis beat her to it and moved it to the other side of the stovetop.

"First, water. Then coffee," he said, not taking his eyes off of the frying pan.

Nephele glanced at his workspace, which was littered with three or four half empty cups.

"Hypocrite," she teased, before grabbing the carafe of water. Was that juice? When did we get juice? Wait, did this mad man juice all of those oranges this morning?

"I am not the one who drank enough alcohol to fill the canals of Treviso last night," Lucanis retorted, glancing up at her with a teasing smile.

Fuck me. He's gorgeous.

Nephele ran her fingers through her hair to tuck it behind her ear, just to get it out of the way, and definitely not to make sure it wasn't sticking up in some awful way.

"I'm sorry if we were loud. I didn't mean for it to get that out of hand. I just thought it would be nice for the Birds to get to know each other better. You know, now that we're all in one place. Most of us have never actually met before now."

Lucanis plated up some of the eggs on a platter before adding some diced peppers to the pan. The aroma quickly changed into something far spicier. Oh I'm going to be sick.

"It wasn't that bad. I think Emmrich was more concerned about setting a good example for Manfred than anything else," He looked at her again before adding, "Not that you're a bad example."

Nephele laughed. "Oh, but I'm certainly a bad influence," she replied coyly, noting the way Lucanis' grip tightened on the spatula. She took a sip of her water, looking up at him through her eyelashes to see him with that far away look in his eye he got when Spite was talking. She waited for just a second to see if he would snap out of it on his own (also, this water is amazing. I never want to stop drinking this water).

"Does he agree?"

"Hmm?" Lucanis said, snapping back to their conversation, and remembering to flip the eggs just in time before they burned.

"Does Spite think I'm a bad influence?"

Lucanis chuckled, "No. Although, I'm not sure if that is comforting seeing that he is after all, a demon."

Nephele inched almost imperceptibly closer. "And what about you?"

Lucanis paused before grabbing some of the spices on the counter and adding them to the pan. "No, I don't think you are a bad influence. I think you are a good friend."

A moan wafted over from behind the couch. Someone else was waking up and was also firmly against it.

"Yeah, I'm sure everyone will be thinking about what a great leader I am while they're nursing their headaches and trying not to puke in Arlathan forest."

Lucanis poured a cup of coffee and put it next to her, adding cream and two sugars. He remembered, she thought, her heart twisting tighter than her stomach.

"I think that you looked at your team and you saw two issues. One: that everyone is new and doesn't yet trust each other, which could be deadly once we are in the field. And two: that everyone has been through a lot of stress lately, and desperately needed to release some of that tension. So, you found a solution to kill two birds with one stone."

He nodded towards the couch and leaned against the counter, "I don't think anyone would have expected to see any of these people cuddling on the floor two days ago." He paused to think before adding, "Well, maybe Aleksei. That one isn't surprising."

Nephele laughed again, louder than before. "I've seen him try to hug the Caretaker."

"They're friend shaped," they heard Aleksei mumble, before being silenced by Paloma hitting him with a pillow.

Lucanis and Nephele both giggled, and Lucanis returned to his eggs. Nephele loved the sound of his laugh. It didn't happen nearly often enough. She had to keep working on that.

"So we came in here and fell asleep?" she said, desperate to keep the conversation going.

"Not exactly," He said, reaching for a handful of spinach before adding it to the pan to wilt, " You all stumbled in here at about one o'clock in the morning, and started going through the cupboards, I can only assume looking for snacks. There was a lot of shushing and giggling. I think someone broke a chair."

Nephele looked over at the dining table, where one of the chairs was on its side and missing a leg. The memory came back to her immediately.

Elspeth tried to stand on it to see if Paloma could give her a piggy back ride.

"Weird, wonder how that happened," Nephele said nonchalantly, putting her empty water glass down and picking up her well earned coffee. She took her first sip and moaned in contentment, not missing the self satisfied look on Lucanis' face as she did so. "Then we went to sleep?"

"No, then you started telling stories about traveling with Varric. I couldn't hear them exactly, but from what I could tell at least half of them had to be made up."

Nope, they were all true. Weird shit just happens to Varric. She made a note to bring him some of the coffee when they were done. That way he wouldn't have to come all the way down here.

"And then...." Lucanis trailed off and Nephele wasn't sure if he was choosing his words carefully, if Spite was talking, or both. "I'm pretty sure you played spin the bottle."

Oh the bottle didn't just get knocked over. Actually yeah, that sounds right. No, I definitely made out with Nasreen. Which might have been her first kiss. Oops.

Nephele's brain caught up to the conversation now that she had a little caffeine in her system. "So wait, we were in here talking for hours, and you were just...awake? In the pantry?"

"In my room," Lucanis corrected, somewhat defensively.

"In the pantry." Nephele stated, holding her ground. We could at least put a real bed in there.

Lucanis shrugged and plated up the next round of eggs, putting it on the opposite side of the counter. Which was definitely a coincidence, and not an indicator that he had noticed that the smell was bothering her.

"Lucanis," she said gently, "Why didn't you come out?" He didn't answer, starting a fresh round of eggs, this one with onions and tomatoes. Holy shit, is he making everyone eggs to order?

"Seriously," she tried again, "We would have loved to have you join us."

"I don't think that would be a good idea." He said flatly, pointedly not making eye contact with her. She furrowed her brow.

"What, because of the alcohol? We wouldn't have made you drink if you didn't want to. I get that you might not want to risk it, what with Spite and all...."

There was a long silence where the only sound was the sizzle of oil in the pan, and Konstantin's snoring. Seriously, his neck is going to be so fucked when he wakes up.

"I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable," he stated, keeping his eyes on the pan. "I know that not everyone is thrilled at the prospect of an abomination on the team. I don't want to crash the party."

Nephele frowned sadly and tilted her head to catch his eye. "So, instead, you listened to everyone else have a good time, and then made us individualized hangover breakfasts."

"They're not individualized," he scoffed.

She pointed to a plate to the left of the tray of warm blueberry scones. "Who's eggs are those?"

"Brenna's," he answered without thinking.

"Mhm. And why are those Brenna's eggs?"

"Because she's Ferelden," he said, glancing up at her sheepishly. "They have extra cheese."

"They have three types of cheese by the look of it. Which you grated this morning. Somewhere between juicing the oranges, chopping the vegetables, brewing the coffee-"

"I was going to brew the coffee regardless," Lucanis said, stirring the pan and adding a pinch of chives from Harding's garden. "It wasn't that much extra trouble."

"Uh huh." Nephele said, looking down the counter and across the table at the piles of food. "My point is, we don't just keep you around to make eggs and stab things. We could always find someone else to stab a cloud. I happen to be pretty good at stabbing things myself."

Lucanis scoffed, and Nephele shoved him playfully in the arm.

"I'm serious! Lucanis...we keep you around because we like you."

Lucanis looked up at her, his eyes filled with such a strong emotion that she wanted to cry for him. He opened his mouth as if to say something.

"HOLY FUCK MY BACK," Aleksei shouted, before being drowned out by several groans and at least two more pillows being flung in his direction.

Nephele laughed. "Breaks over," she muttered to Lucanis. He smiled and returned to his cooking. Nope, not so fast.

"Hey Lucanis."

"Hm?"

Nephele reached across the stove to grab the closed bottle of olive oil, as well as Lucanis' attention. She placed it on its side on the counter in front of her and gave it a light spin. Lucanis' eyes followed it as she put a finger out to stop it right as the stopper pointed in his direction. With a smile she leaned over, placed her other hand on his back, and kissed him softly on the cheek, lingering just a second too long to be friendly. Through his vest she could feel him take a sharp inhale and hold it.

Perfect.

"What smells like burning?" Paloma groggily asked from across the room.

They both looked down at the ruined eggs.

"Mierda."

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Prologue

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Welcome welcome!

There is a method to my madness with the beginning half of this post on every chapter and the tea pics. I try my very best to make sure to minimize spoilers so the real content will be below this.

What I know (or don't) going into this series

Don't correct me, it's more fun if this all turns out to be wrong:

it is a love story across lifetimes

one of them wears disguises?

heavenly realms

it is painful AF

I am expecting many deaths to be honest

That's literally all I know, I didn't even really read the back cover until after I read the prologue (below) I am going in so blind.

With this all in mind; Let's gooooooooooooooooooooo:

Okay starting off strong with "the laughingstock of the Three Realms" p11

Oh god, "how to describe the prince...'unique'" p11

This man sounds so sweet "I want to help the common people" p11 but also him over here rescuing babies falling off the walls p13

Oh, I can see how the rich bitches with power would see this as problematic. The audacity of them trying to punish him for doing good. pp13-14

omg this guy, just casually meeting the Heavenly Emperor p16

this is a side note, I will say, though I have 0 experience reading actual heavenly realm lore, I feel well prepared for this due to the sheer amount of MXTX fanfics I have read that are probably crossovers with TGCF but I just didn't even know.

Good for him for ascending! Though if this is one of the protagonists of the story, I am worried for how naïve he seems p16

Well, the Rich Bitches were not wrong to fear the inauspicious start to the ceremony pre-ascension. 3 years later and ofc they are invaded AND the prince is not even there due to his ascension. p17

Poor buddy. I already know this series is going to hurt. He just wanted to help but made everything so much worse by getting involved in human things. p18

"to speak harshly, was he not just useless trash who could not do anything right?!?!" p18

What a tough blow. From god of protection and peace to God of misfortune. p19

AND banishment

Not the double ascension AND immediate banishment. p20 But i do want to know how he lasted like 30 minutes the second ascension. I'm just picturing him up there throwing hands for a hot second before being shunted back to earth double birds flying.

I also love that he's like a little weird. just a queer little man putting on street shows and acting odd as hell.

ooof. Bro. not only was he The Laughingstock for a minute, he also wasn't even memorable enough for people to recall him after a while. This story is going to ruin my life I know it. I already want to adopt this immortal man and wrap him in soft things. p21

A THIRD ASCENSION??????? p22

The canon has been FIRED

The way in which this story already started at 100. Blasted into the universe with this prologue, we had a weird little guy, he ascended descended too many times to be okay, and now we are shunted into chapter 1.

[morningsharksworld]

Oh my goodness I can't believe I didn't say this before but I just saw your piercings headcannon for Haz and oh man 😮‍💨 just THINKING of his dick piercings I'm weak. I'm imagining he's like "ye wanna see what else I got?" *wink wink nudge nudge* when talking about his piercings with him

Pin Cushion PT.1

Hazard x Reader [NSFW WARNING]

A/N: The amount of piercings that I put on this guy is insane he probably looks like a pin cushion, SHIT his pp also might look like a pin cushion. BUT AM I COMPLAINING???? No, not at all :], part 2 may be my first AO3 post.

Summary: you got curious about Hazards piercings…a little too curious…

“You’ve been starin' at me all night” he teased, one brow quirkin’. “Somethin' ye wanna get off yer chest?”

You hesitated, fiddlin’ with the hem of your shirt before blurting, “How many piercings do you even have?”

Hazard’s grin widened. “Aye, so that’s what ye’ve been wonderin' about, eh? Buckle up, Love. Ye’re aboot to get the full tour.”

He reached up to tap his ears first. “Let’s start simple. Got the lobes done when I was a wee bairn—thought it made me look tough.” He laughed, shakin’ his head. “Turns out I was just a wee punk wi’ bad decision-makin’ skills.”

Then, without hesitation, he added, “Oh, and I’ve got these too.” He pointed to his lower lip, where two piercings rested—snake bites. “These were more for fun than anything else. Bit o' a rebellious streak, y’know?” He grinned, the piercings catching the light.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before he lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose. “And this one” he said, tapping the thin bar of metal across the bridge of his nose. “Thought it added a bit o' character. Not exactly comfortable, but it suits the vibe, right?”

Hazard let the information hang in the air for a moment before he tugged at the hem of his tank top, pullin’ it up just enough to expose his toned chest—and the metal glintin’ from his nipples. Your eyes widened, and he chuckled at yer reaction.

“These?” He grinned as he let the tank top fall back into place. “Bet gone wrong” He chuckled. “The piercin' part sucked, but they’re surprisingly fun. Just don’t yank on ‘em, or we’ll both be in trouble.”

Ye were still recoverin' from that reveal when he pulled down the waistband of his pants just a little, showin' off the piercings on either side of his hips. “Lost another bet for these” he admitted with a shrug. “Apparently, I’m really shite at poker. But hey, they add to my charm.”

Before ye could respond, he leaned closer, stickin' out his tongue. That’s when ye noticed it—split right doon the middle. He flicked one side, then the other, the movement so precise it left ye momentarily speechless. Then, ye caught sight of the piercin' glintin’ on one side of the split.

“This one?” He clicked the piercin' against his teeth, smirkin’ as yer jaw dropped. “Got the tongue split just for the hell of it. The piercin’? That’s just the cherry on top. People never expect both, but that’s kinda the point.”

Ye stared, yer words stuck in yer throat as he flicked his tongue again, the piercin' catchin’ the light.

“Oh, and ye missed these.” Hazard grinned, running his hand over his collarbone, and sure enough, there were two surface bars on either side, the metal gleaming under the light. “Got these a while back. Had a bit o' fun with the placement. Kinda a pain to heal, but totally worth it.”

Then, his eyes twinkled as he gave a mischievous smile. “Oh, and there’s one more thing I’ve never told ye about.” He leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “A Prince Albert. Ever heard o' it?”

You blinked, confused. “A… what?” You stammered, trying to make sense of what he had just said.

Hazard chuckled, clearly enjoying the confusion on your face. “A Prince Albert, mate. It’s… well, a bit much to explain here. But hey, if yer curious, I wouldn’t mind showin' it to ye later.” He winked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Your face flushed as you quickly tried to move past it. “Uh… yeah, maybe later” you muttered, not quite sure how to respond.

=====

after lying awake thinking about what he’d said, you finally decided you couldn’t let it go. You knocked softly on Hazard’s bedroom door, your heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.

“Who’s knockin’ at this hour?” Hazard called from inside, his voice muffled.

You swallowed hard. “It’s me” you replied, trying to sound casual. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

The door creaked open, and Hazard stood there with a raised eyebrow. “What’re ye doin' up this late, mate? Somethin' on yer mind?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I was thinkin' about what you said earlier” you started. “About the… Prince Albert thing.”

Hazard’s smirk returned immediately, and he leaned against the doorframe. “Oh? Ye finally curious, eh?”

Your face burned, but you pushed through, trying not to let the awkwardness get the best of you. “Yeah… uh, I was wondering… if ye wouldn’t mind showing it to me, like you said.”

Hazard’s grin widened, clearly amused. “Oh, ye want the full tour, huh?” He stepped back, gesturing for you to come in. “Alright, mate. If ye’re up for it, come on in.”

You stepped into Hazard’s room, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The door clicked shut behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit space. Hazard was still leaning against the doorframe, eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched you closely.

“So, ye really want to see it, then?” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You nodded, still unsure if you were entirely ready for this, but something about the casual way he was handling it made you feel a bit more at ease. "Yeah, you mentioned it earlier, and now I'm curious” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Hazard chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth. “Alright, love Just don’t blame me if it leaves ye a bit flustered, yeah?” He grinned, clearly enjoying the situation.

He walked over to the side of the room, pulling off his shirt and revealing the tattoos that lined his torso. With a quick, almost theatrical movement, he unbuttoned his pants just enough to reveal the piercing. You could see the faint outline of a small metal ring through the waistband of his boxers, but it was clear he was waiting for you to take the initiative.

“Go on then” he said with a wink, “Take a closer look.”