#Johnny's eyes are too similar to the pits ups

[1whore1gang]

it’s the little things 🤍

In which the TF141 become toddlers.

This idea has been stirring in my brain for awhile.

Imagine some weird force of magic nature turns the boys into cute little toddlers, you and price being forced to care for Soap, Ghost and Gaz.

It makes things awkward at first, but you and him find a groove as you figured out how to not only fix this, but find a way to hide it from Shephard.

Cute little enemies to lovers in a way lol

(yes this is gonna be a series)

Part 2 here

ENJOY PART 1 FRIENDS!! 🤍

You sat up in bed, waking up from a loud bang that came from down the hall. “The hell…?” You said groggily. You swung your feet over the bed, going to investigate what that bang was.

Deep down, you knew it was just Soap in the kitchen making food, especially at this hour, but you’d usually hear a loud “Sorry!” for the noise. You approached the kitchen when another loud bang happened, signaling pots and pans had fallen, but this time it was followed with…a child crying?

Your feet quickened as you turned into the doorway to see a small boy, maybe less than 2 years old sitting on the ground, a pot over his head, muffling his crying. You panicked seeing a small child on the base, knowing none of you had children. “Hey sweetheart. You’re okay!” You cooed as you removed the pit from the child’s head, trying to comfort him. When you saw the face of the little one, you froze.

Blinking a few times and rubbing your eyes, you thought you were for sure in a dream. In front of you, sat a sad child with cobalt blue eyes and a small brunette mohawk shaved in the baby hair on his head. “What?”

You picked him up, rocking him on your hip to get him to hush down and quiet his crying. You stared adamantly. Surely this wasn’t actually Soap right? Somebody had to be playing a prank on you. This isn’t Soap, somebody just took their own baby and dressed it up as Soap to prank you, yeah that’s right. You nodded to yourself and turned to go interrogate people when the baby cooed and grabbed sweetly at your hair, smiling and giggling as you spoke. The little blue eyes looked up at you in adoration, but then his head laid on your shoulder contently, cooing again.

You shook your head and went searching for anyone who might be awake. You knew Ghost didn’t sleep much, so you went to his room, trying to find someone else who saw this little baby too, proving you weren’t going crazy.

You knocked on his door, expecting the grunt of ‘its open’, but no noise came. You knocked again and heard some of his sheets move. He’s always awake during this time, so no response was weird.

Slowly turning the doorknob, you blinked to adjust your eyes to the darkness of Ghost’s room. You prayed he was awake, and not doing anything that’d make you regret bursting in like this. “Simon…?” You said cautiously, trying to audiably scan the room. You moved your way over to his bed, the little baby who looked like Soap still contently clinging onto your side and shoulder.

Once you approached his bed, you turned on a lamp to see a little child, the same as the one you’re holding, dressed like Ghost with similar features, except he wasn’t crying or asleep, he was chewing on the foot in his mouth. “Get that out of there. Come here.” You picked him up, getting a good look at him.

You easily thought this was definitely some sort of prank now. There’s no way this is a coincidence. You shook your head as the Soap baby whined and reached out for Ghost. You froze.

The baby who looked like Ghost simply sat on your hip, his head turning as the little baby who looked like Soap reached out with grabby hands towards him, whining.

You watched as their hands met and both babies calmed against you. “There’s no fucking way.” You sat and thought a moment. “Johnny honey?” The little boy’s face perked up as you said his name. “Simon sweetheart?” The other little boy looked up at you with wide eyes hearing his own name too. “Oh god, it IS you!”

You bursted out of the room, both boys on your hips, trying to find Gaz and Price. You found Gaz’s room first, bustling through the door to find your worst fear. Gaz’s little self was spread out, mouth drooling as he slept on his massive bed. “Oh no…” You adjusted Ghost over to your hip with Johnny, the two quickly falling into a sleep being next to each other, placing a sleeping Gaz on your free hip. “You boys are heavy for being so tiny.”

You felt a panic settle in your chest as you approached Price’s room, fearing the worst.

Knocking on the wood of his door, you questioned yourself for the action until a fully adult Price answered the door, staring down at you with wide eyes. “What is this? It’s 2am?”

“It’s the boys. This one’s Soap, here’s-“

“I see that, and the resemblance but why are you doing this at this hour Y/N?” He was annoyed, I knew that. There was some sense of relief though knowing I wasn’t the only adult here.

“Listen, I know we don’t get along but something is going on. Watch this.” You cleared your throat as you cooed the boys’ names, each one responding with a giggle or a smiley wide-eyed look. “Tell me these littles aren’t our coworkers?”

Price stared down at you as you held all three of them, your back obviously hurting. “Give me Gaz.” Price reached out and took one of your hands. Soap and Ghost were awake again, but you chuckled as you watched little Gaz drool all over Price’s sleep shirt. “Have you found out who’s pulled this prank?”

“I don’t think it’s a prank Price, how else do you explain-OW!” You looked down, seeing a sad Soap, on the verge of tears. You see Ghost’s little hand still raised, entangled in your hair. “Simon!” You silently asked Price to let him come in, and he stepped aside without a word.

You set Soap down on Price’s bed, watching as he plopped back onto the bed, still sniffling. You held Ghost to where he could see your face as you spoke to him. “You do not pull hair! You know this!” Ghost just blinked and titled his head. “You hurt me!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, Soap began to cry. You sighed as you set Ghost down and picked up Soap, cooing him. His little eyes were roaming your face as his sniffled and cried. “I’m okay! He just pulled my hair!” You said sweetly. This was very much like the adult Soap you knew. If you even hissed in pain, he was right there checking over every inch of you to make sure you were okay.

You heard a little grunt as you look down to see Ghost looking up at you with little grabby hands and a straight face. The only noise coming out were little grunts. You couldn’t help but laugh as you looked at Price. “That’s actually really cute.”

Price let out a single chuckle, “That’s Simon for ya. So run me through what happened?” You look up to see him rocking a half asleep Gaz on his hip. It makes your heart ache, seeing him in such a state.

You set the three littles down on his bed as you and him sat down at his kitchen table. (Being a captian has perks). He had brewed some coffee as you got Soap and Ghost to quiet down for sleep.

You both sat as you recalled the series of events that brought you to his room. “I was freaking that I’d find you as one too.” You laughed a little.

You and Price were never really on good terms, you were too alike and hard headed that you were always arguing about something, but right now, you felt at ease. “I still don’t understand why we aren’t i. their state right now.” Price spoke, nodding towards the three toddlers dead asleep on his bed.

“Me neither.” You shook your head, scouring your brain for any answers. “What’re we gonna tell people in the morning. They’re gonna notice.”

“Luckily, if we stick to this corner of the compound and this wing’s kitchen and common areas, no one will know. We get lucky having our own private sector. Outside of that, I don’t know, we’ll have to venture away to get supplies for them. We have no idea how long they’ll be like this.”

You sighed as it hit you, “That never hit me until now. We’ll need baby food and supplies. I’ll be honest, I’ve never had to take care of any kid that little, I don’t know what I’m doing. What kind of formula to buy…” Uou turned your head to see your captian smiling.

“Did you know MacTavish was breast fed?”

Your eyes widened. “Okay first of my body can’t even do that, I don’t have any kids. Even if it did, no way.”

Price let out a chuckle, “I’m only teasin’ ya.” You looked at him in confusion, he never did this. “But we have to find a way to make this work, and try to figure out what caused this.”

You let out a large yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to work together-“

“Like that always turns out well.” You both nod in agreement as he finished your sentence. “Why don’t I watch them for a bit while you get some rest? In the morning, we’ll go to the store and try to get as much as we can to take care of the buggers.”

You looked at him for a minute, “Wake me if you need to switch out, ok?” You stood to go to your room, but he stopped you.

“Sleep on my couch, it pulls out. That way you’re not too far if I need ya.” You parted your lips in an exhale as you moved to lay down on the couch. You were confused at Price’s actions, not knowing why he was acting so kind when usually you were quite snippy with each other.

But, you would take it.

——

“Sit still!” You quietly scolded as Gaz was squirming in the shopping cart.

“I think he wants to be held.” Price said, scooping him up, which immediately calmed little Gaz. You sighed as you set Soap and Ghost in the shopping cart’s seat. The two of them were half asleep still, droopy eyes and small cooes.

“Let’s just get in and out before anyone sees us.” You said, grabbing some formula off the shelf. “I hope this one’s okay?” You turn the can to show Price and he nods.

“I never realized how expensive this shit is.” He says, running his finger over the price tag below it. “Wow.”

“I know. It’s insanity.” You give him a straight smile as you both continue through the store, having an old lady compliment how cute your boys were. You have her a cordial ‘thank you’, trying to hide the red of embarrassment creeping onto your face.

As quickly as you entered the store, you exited quicker, checking out with speed.

You had two crying babies while Price installed the car seats. You tried your best to load the groceries in, cooing the boys. “Sshh, you’re okay. Why won’t they stop-“ You stopped your sentence as you felt Soap try to latch onto your breast through your shirt. You peeled him off, staring at him. “Price.”

“Hm?” You saw his head pop up as he finished installing the seats.

“I think they’re hungry…”

“We’ll feed them at the base.” Price watched as you looked at Soap in a mix of confusion and horror. He watched you quickly load the boys in as you became quiet. He was curious what had you all locked up.

Returning to base, you and Price tag teamed unloading everything and warming up three bottles. As soon as the boys were fed, the crying subsided and you felt yourself ease into the back of the couch, your eyes closing.

“You okay? You kind of closed up earlier?” You were laying there with Soap laying drowsily on your chest, Ghost in your lap. Price’s voice made you hum.

“Yeah, just had something happen.”

“What happened?”

“Soap tried to latch himself onto my breast in the middle of the parking lot.”

Price let out a snort and your eyes shot open. It was a sound you’d never heard. “Sorry, I warned ya the lad was breastfed.” He shrugged with a cocky look.

“Why don’t we get these boys down for a nap? I could use the time to catch up on paperwork.” You said, hoisting all three boys into your grasp, struggling but managing.

You went to your room, where there was a good sized playpen, big enough for all three boys to sleep comfortably. You set them down, tucking them in, then heading to your office.

Hours had passed when Price poked his head in, Ghost on his hip, Gaz in the chest carrier he bought. “You hungry? It’s around time for dinner.”

“Uh, not really but if you made something?”

“No, I was gonna see what you thought sounded good.” Price was a sight with two of the boys clinging to him.

You parted your lips to answer, then paused before responding. “I’ll come find you when I’m finished, but don’t wait for me to eat. If you’re hungry, I’ll catch up.” Price shot you a straight smile before dipping out, leaving you to the stack of papers claddered around your desk.

You finally rubbed your eyes, submitting your final report. Looking to the time, you saw it was almost 9:30. You silently cursed yourself. It had been 5:00 when Price popped in.

Rising from your chair, you go to your room, seeing the boys asleep. Price is sitting in a chair, reading a book. “I’m sorry, I got caught up-“

“All good, did you happen to stop in the kitchen?” He closed the book and stood, tucking it under his arm.

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Did they go down okay?”

He nods, a straight expression coming across his face. “No problems. Im gonna turn in for the night, come find me if you need me during the night.” He brushed past you, leaving the room quiet as his footsteps dissolved into the night.

You stared down at the three little boys. “You sure are cute. Im never gonna let any of you live this down.”

With that, you laid down for the night, finally resting. You thought about your interactions with Price throughout the day, he was never this cordial with you, nor were you with him.

What was it about your coworkers being children that made you both act so differently?

[dea-certe]

A Cicada’s Guide to Periodical Romance

It may sound like a mosh pit out there. But to the participants, mating is a delicate, sonorous affair, fraught with potential missteps — and fungal zombies.

By Alan Burdick

The moment has arrived.

After years underground, periodical cicadas — insects of the genus Magicicada — are emerging by the trillions across more than a dozen states to molt, sing, court and mate. A casual human listener could mistake their collective chorus for the sound of a U.F.O. landing.

But to the individual cicada, what’s underway is a courtship ritual as intimate and intricate as a tango. The stakes are high; the potential missteps are many.

Review the guest list

This year, in a rare “dual emergence,” two groups of periodical cicadas are in attendance: Brood XIII, or the Northern Illinois Brood, comprising as many as three species of 17-year cicada in some locations, and Brood XIX, the Great Southern Brood, comprising up to four species of 13-year cicada. Their songs — like those of Magicicada septendecim and Magicicada neotredecim — can sound deceptively similar.

Arrive early(ish)

Female cicadas typically mate just once, so it behooves the male to emerge early — hence the mad rush from the soil to the treetops. But don’t be too early: The first cicadas over the top are ripe for slaughter, when “everything is hungry and predators discover that they’re the best thing to eat,” said David Marshall, a biologist and expert on periodical cicadas.

The odds of reproducing improve in the second wave, once what ecologists call “predator satiation” has set in. “You want to be Johnny on the spot,” Dr. Marshall said. “And if you show up late, you’re really screwing up.”

Get naked

After emerging, you may need several days to adjust to life aboveground. Right away you’ll molt, squeezing out of your nymph exoskeleton and unfurling your wings; slowly you’ll solidify and turn a glossy black. Soon enough, when the air turns warm and the sun is bright, it will be time for the males to sing.

Rattle your tymbals

The male cicada is an amplified beer can. The abdomen is hollow, and on either side is a membrane called a tymbal, not unlike a woofer: Vibrate it, and the sound broadcasts. To change the frequency, alter the shape and position of the abdomen.

Sing a little, fly a little

Courtship proceeds in roughly three phases, each with an associated song specific to a particular species. Initially, the male sings a brief, inviting phrase a couple of times, flies a foot or two, lands and sings again. “He’s acoustically trolling for receptive females,” Dr. Marshall said. The song of M. tredecim, a trill that bends into what scientists call a downslur as the male arcs his abdomen downward, sounds like an inverted question mark: bzzz-ewwwww.

Stop, look, listen

Most females will be unreceptive to male advances; either they have already mated or are not yet physiologically ready. Males, be on the lookout for subtle wing flicks, the little shrugs of potential interest. Eventually these become loud, obvious snaps of her wings.

Meanwhile, beware the buttinsky that lands nearby. Competing males can produce an interference buzz, like this one by M. tredecim: a slurred version of the invitational phrase, which jams the first male’s call, makes the female ignore him and prompts him to fly off, discouraged.

Now get closer

If the female expresses interest — if she snaps her wings within about a half-second of the male’s invitation — the male should approach and switch to the next song. This resembles the first song but comes in a rapid series with no gaps between phrases.

Until this moment it’s been hands- and legs-off, but now the male may reach out and gingerly touch the female, perhaps near the eye, as he switches to his last song, a series of staccato notes. Let the actual mating commence (and give it three to five hours to conclude).

Through all of this, the female has one job, Dr. Marshall notes: “Don’t mate with the wrong species.” With a variety of beer cans clattering all around, maybe transmitting a song physically is a good, final way of reassuring the female that she has picked the right brand.

Oh, and avoid the zombies!

As cicadas first burrow up through the soil, some will encounter the spores of Massospora cicadina, a fungus that turns cicadas into sex-crazed, spore-filled zombies intent on mating and spreading the infection. Woe unto the deceived, Dr. Marshall said: “He’ll become a hapless spore-spreader for the next generation.”

In four to six weeks it will all be over, the dance floor littered with spent cicada carcasses, the air stinking of decay — and the trees bearing small nests of cicada eggs. In another six to 10 weeks the eggs will hatch and the tiny nymphs will drop to the ground, burrow down, find a rootlet to sip on, and wait. See you in 13 or 17 years!

© 2024 The New York Times Company

[britcision]

👀

*whispers* they’re worsties…

1) oh man Jason being Johnny’s only actual challenger, both on the level of “Johnny is over the moon for punching” but also “none of Jason’s goons can handle Johnny without him and he genuinely doesn’t know why because he can punch Johnny just fine?? He’s not even a trained martial artist??”

2) I feel like Kitty’s down to visit but she does not like Johnny’s trash place and they’re trying this thing called “having space” to see if they fight less with separate haunts

(results are mixed, they don’t fight when they’re not together or when they’re out terrorising Gotham but if they meet at his place Kitty tells him to clean and they fight harder)

(When Kitty hears about Jason’s reaction to his place that’s it, instant bestie, she’s off to go find him immediately, they can go on for DAYS about Johnny’s mould collection)

Kitty fucking LOVES Jason’s place though, it’s pristine and well decorated and she keeps begging him to let her bring Johnny over so he can see how apartments SHOULD look and on the one hand no fucking way Jason wants Johnny to know where one of his good safe houses are…

But on the other hand he and Kitty can read Johnny for filth for 18 hours on the couch alone and have tea and then naked wrestle in the conversation pit that Jason absolutely has

He has joined Spectra and Ember in asking Kitty why the hell she dates Johnny at all, she is way too good for him, but she can ask Jason back why he keeps hanging out with Johnny too so he can’t say too much

She totally calls him her boyfriend’s boyfriend and Jason calls her his girlfriend-in-law to Steph once and that’s it that’s their life now

3) so Jason’s a big observant boy and that original rundown is so much fun but it is so much funnier if Tim or one of the more paranoid bats runs Johnny’s ID down first because they notice he’s gooned for almost everyone and they find… nothing

Clearly it’s a fake ID, the name goes back to some dead teenager decades ago and sure they might look similar if you squint and put on weird pale makeup, but come on

Except Johnny doesn’t show up on thermals as a warm spot

And can’t be detected by an echo mic listening for heartbeats

And DEFINITELY walked away through a wall when he saw Red Robin and figured Red Hood wasn’t coming to this bust so he just left

Tim and the bats trying to persuade Jason his worstie is dead and Jason’s rolling his eyes with the full “yeah he’s just as dead as I am” cuz Johnny’s totally joking about all the ghost stuff

(I also think Kitty cares way less about pretending not to be a ghost and floats in Jason’s presence just constantly but he assumes she’s a meta like Kori and never questions it

Johnny thinks Jason knows and is just chill, Kitty knows he’s not onto them yet, and Ember’s running book on how long it takes til one of them snaps)

This whole dynamic just gives me life and I love them all so much fucking grungy disasters

I'm not going to lie, there's some sweet, sweet allure in a premise based on "Johnny 13 ends up in Gotham just for shits and giggles only to accidentally settle down there."

This dude just happens to be Haunted as Fuck™️. His vibes are rank and he's rude as shit. Negative rizz. You literally can't pay him to do your goonery for you, but if you phrase it as a bad enough idea he'll do it for free...? But then like the whole building will explode for no reason or something else as equally as catastrophic and improbable?? What the fuck man

Just. This dead dude and his supernatural manifestation of bad luck is completely indecipherable from Gotham's natural toxicity to the point where he just...makes friends. Is a shitty upstairs neighbor. Shops at the corner store. Despite the odds, he's just Some Guy™️. He gets signed up for the Goonion. He reasonably could be any age between 19 and sixty. Two-Face kicked him out of his gang twice.

[shojimezolovemail]

how do you think the jackass guys would react to finding out their medic has a thing for blood 🙏🏻🙏🏻

A/N: i took this in a different direction for some of them so if you’re not satisfied i apologize :”)

warnings: suggestive content, blood, pet names (doll, babe and sweetheart) and jackass level violence

JOHNNY KNOXVILLE

he’s known for getting absolutely obliterated on the jackass set

so your little blood affliction is fed often

johnny’s not clueless though, he sees the way you looked at him especially after anaconda ball pit

you looked a bit…hungry

so of course he points it out

“ya like what you see, doll?” “gotta thing for bloody men, huh?

you shake off his comments but he’ll bring it up later

probably cornering you after they’ve finished filing for the day

you won’t hear the end of it until you tell him upfront

STEVE-O

with those pictures of him covered in blood that float around twitter who could blame you?

you’d probably be the mastermind behind those pictures after watching him eat shit so much on set

and he doesn’t think much of it because he’s going for that edgier look anyway

but when you start kissing him especially hard after he smears the blood though

he’s grateful for any affection you give him but the kisses you give him are only similar to when you wanna fuck

and maybe it took steve-o a few day to put that together but when he does

lord are you in for a treat

“hey babe, are you…into blood?”

your face is immediately heating up and it’s almost as if steve-o can feel it because he gets a shit eating grin

clear your schedule for the next day and a half because you will not be walking after his discovery

CHRIS PONTIUS

honestly he probably found out because you gawked at small cuts he’d get after shoots

chris is too much of a sturdy guy for bigger, bloodier injuries (to me at least)

he laughs a little because you already seem so embarrassed and he hasn’t even said anything yet!

“Y/N?”

“chris.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

you know he knows

“sweetheart, i am not going to judge you if you’re into a little blood.”

lets say he tries to get more injured if it means he gets to spend more time with your gawking eyes on him

BAM MARGERA

i’m gonna be honest, i think bam is a little freaky so he’s probably into blood too

the guy who’s obsessed with HIM being into blood is…not shocking

you’d still probably feel a little embarrassed because you’re supposed to be focusing patching up the guys

but seeing your set crush come to you when he’s got a bloody nose is enough to make you want to pounce on him

bam is pretty observant so when you especially take your time examining what could’ve caused his bloody nose, if not for an injury

“hey Y/N?”

“yeah bam?”

“you look really attractive right now.”

that was all you heard before he presses a quick kiss to your lips

effectively getting blood on your upper lip

RYAN DUNN

ryan’s confused

because he’s friends with bam, he picks up on the little medic being excitable over blood

when it’s directed toward him is where the confusion starts

you’re attracted to HIM when HE’S bloody??

he doesn’t really understand why anyone would be into blood

ryan’s not a hater though, he doesn’t care what others are into

it’s interesting to see his favorite medic get a little flustered when seeing he’s bloody

it’s a slight ego boost when you clear out whoever you’re working with to help him get cleaned up

he’s not the kinda guy to get flustered easily but you doing that is enough to make him blush

DANGER EHREN

ehren’s also confused but only at first

he’ll admit he’s got some peculiar interests though

you being so willing to latch him up and tend to his wounds, being oh so delicate

that’s where it clicks

he won’t ask you about it until he’s certain

ehren is relatively affectionate so pulling you into him isn’t something new to you

him doing it while one of his arms is bleeding profusely is though

you’re trying to convince him to detach himself from you

but he won’t and if he’s gotta play up how much he’s bleeding for you, then so be it

DAVE ENGLAND

he didn’t even know being into blood was a thing

dave never considered it at all until he brought up unconventional turn ons while tipsy one night

“oh yeah, i’m personally into blood? not in a vampire way though.”

he’s a little taken aback but he nods along

dave keeps your interest in the back of his mind for a while

that is until he gets drunk and injures himself

he’s immediately hanging off of you, trying to stroke your face with his bloodied hand

“didn’t you say you like blood, babe? is this nice for you?”

you awkwardly laugh as you try to rest him up against something so you can clean up his wound

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

prompt 10 and mark because we all know he hates rides akdjbfnk

Oh yes, definitely, and absolutely

Thrill Ride

No Specified AU

Prompt: You were the single rider that I was stuck with on Space Mountain.

TW: None

Y/N Pronouns: Not specified

Genre: Fluff

[Prompt List] | [Main Masterlist]

Word Count: 1.9K (I had a little too much fun with this one)

"No. I'm not gonna do it." Mark stopped right before the group entered the line to the well-known ride Space Mountain. A loud sigh escaped Johnny.

"Dude, come on, you've gotta get over your fear of rollercoasters eventually," he probes.

"Well eventually is not today," Mark shakes his head. "Plus! We're an odd-numbered group, it's better if I just sit this one out."

"Plus, he can hold all of our stuff," Haechan adds.

"Shh, you're not helping!" Johnny shushes him. "Mark, you're really going to go back to Korea, tell everyone you went to Disneyland, and then proceed to tell them you didn't ride Space Mountain? This is like the ride to ride when you're here."

"I mean, why would they ask? They know I don't like rollercoasters!" Mark continues.

"So you're just going to settle with telling them that you rode Pirates of the Caribbean and thought that was the best ride ever?" Johnny continues.

"Hey, what's wrong with Pirates?" Mark crosses his arms.

"Mark," Jaehyun places a reassuring hand on the younger's shoulder. "The wait is three hours long for a reason."

"Just be glad we didn't make you go on incredicoaster, Mark," Jungwoo laughs.

"You guys aren't going stop until I go, huh?"

"Nope," Yuta places a hand on his back and ushers him into the line. The entire way, Mark felt a pit form at the bottom of his stomach. The closer they got to the ride the more he felt that dread move up. In front of him right now the rest of the friend group played Heads Up but he still couldn't focus, he was too busy mentally preparing himself for the horror that awaited him inside.

And just like that, he was standing right in front of the seats. His turn was up next and, to make things worse, he was going to sit alone from the looks of it.

"Do we have any single riders?" One of the cast members called out. You raised your hand quickly. "Come on up."

And looks like he'll be doing this with a complete stranger too.

You bounded up to the front of the line and the cast member led you to stand next to him.

"Hi there," you greeted him.

"Hello," Mark responded back.

"Sorry to butt in on your trip, do you really have nine people in your group?" You couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, uh, yeah! We came here on vacation together, we were all schoolmates and our youngest just graduated so we're celebrating that," he says.

"That's so cool! All of my friends are waiting outside."

"What? Why?"

"It's totally lame, they told me to go first to get over my fear of rollercoasters then they'd wait in line," you sighed.

"Wait, you too?" Mark's eyes lit up.

"But your friends are right there," you tilted your head.

"No, no, I mean you're also scared of rollercoasters?" He clarifies.

"Death afraid. I was steeling my nerves those entire three hours," you swallowed down your fears. "I'm guessing you are too, then?"

"Yup. Those guys are hellbent on "helping" me get over it though," Mark shakes his head. "They said that I had to ride this one since it's the ride to ride at Disneyland."

"Hm? Oh! Is it your first time here?"

"Yup."

"Whoa, then I guess I get where your friends are coming from," a small frown settled on your face. "Still, though, there are plenty of other rides I think are better. Like Pirates."

"Exactly! Like Pirates! I loved that ride," Mark laughs.

"It's the perfect ride!" You continue. You watch the cart roll in and you take a deep breath. "Well, this is a first for both of us, so let's just let loose and try to have fun, yeah?" You shot him a reassuring smile. Mark couldn't explain what it was, but he felt his heart flutter for a moment. There was something soothing about knowing that the person next to him was in a similar boat. Soon, the doors opened up. "There's our cue!" You gestured for him to go first and you soon followed. Both of you stuffed your things in the basket in front of you. "Hmm? Mine isn't opening," you muttered.

"Oh, I have some space in mine, you can put your stuff in here, if you want," Mark says.

"Seriously? Yes, please! Thank you," you handed him your Mickey ears. "My friend bought this for me and I'd hate to lose it."

"No problem," Mark places the headband carefully into the basket. You took another deep breath.

"Here we go," Mark lowers the lap bar down. "Okay, Mark, you got this, you can do this," he says to himself.

"Yes, you go, Mark!" You whispered a quiet encouragement.

"Thank you," he whispers back.

"Mark! If you shit your pants we won't let you live it down!" Johnny shouts from the front.

"Dude, shut up!" Mark's face grows beet red and you let out a strained laugh. Taeyong jabs Johnny's arm in response and the ride starts with the dreaded incline with an equally dreaded countdown. Your hands gripped the lap bar while the cart made its ascent. You snuck a quick glance towards Mark, his hands gripping onto the bar for dear life, and you felt your anxieties rise.

Then the cart stopped.

"That wasn't so bad," Mark lets out a sigh of relief.

Then the cart plunged down at full force.

Both of you shouted at the top of your lungs while the cart moved up and down and while it jerked left and right, not once did your hands ever leave the bar in front of you for fear that you'd either fly off or hit your hand on one of the bars supporting the ride. With music blasting in your ears and wind whipping around your head, you could only wonder one thing, and it was the same thing Mark was thinking right next to you: 'How the hell can anyone think this is fun?'

Not a second too soon, the cart jerked to a stop where it began. With the other boy cheering in front of you, you and Mark remained in your seats a bit longer with frazzled expressions and dazed eyes. Even after the lap bar released itself, you both stayed put.

"Well... that's the last time I'm riding that," you admitted with a bashful smile. "Thanks for letting me ride with you, sorry if I blew your eardrums out."

"Sorry? No, I'm sorry for blowing your eardrums out," Mark insists. You cracked a smile and he responded with a nervous chuckle.

"I'm going to go cry to my friends outside now, you enjoy the rest of your time at Disneyland! The fireworks show is starting soon, so you won't want to miss that!"

"Fireworks?" Mark steps out of the cart, finally, at the urging of the cast member.

"Mmhmm! It's one of the best parts of the so-called Disney-Experience," you confirmed. "I'll head out now!" You waved goodbye to him and ran up the stairs, leaving Mark behind. He joined the rest of the group waiting for the remaining members still on the ride.

"So, Mark, what'd you think?" Haechan asks.

"Uh... I'm still not a fan of roller coasters, that's for sure," Mark frowns.

"Hey, that person you rode with was cute!" Yuta teases him.

"Ah... yeah, it was both of our first time on a rollercoaster," Mark answered sheepishly.

"Excuse me!" One of the cast members walked up to the group and turned to Mark. "You left this in your basket," he hands a headband to him.

"Oh! Oh, this isn't mine," Mark answers with wide eyes. It belonged to you, he completely forgot to give them back to you. "Oh, well, they might still be out at the exit so I can give it to them."

"Can you? That'd be great," the cast member hands the Mickey ears to him and returns to his station.

"Oh-ho-ho, Mark, it may be your lucky day," Yuta continues pestering him and Mark just rolls his eyes.

"Hey! We're back!" Haechan calls out to them as soon as their cart skid to a stop and soon the nine friends were back together. They exited the ride together and they each stood by the photo area to take pictures and laugh at how everyone's pictures came out. Mark stopped by his photo. Johnny and Taeyong were both mid-scream in the seats in front of him, his head was hung low, and that nice stranger next to him had a strange mix of shocked eyes but with a wide smile. "Whoa, who's that, Mark?" Haechan rests his arm on Mark's shoulder.

"Didn't get their name..." Mark's voice had a hint of sorrow in it. Until he heard that familiar voice behind him.

"Ugh, let it go, San!" You grumbled. You were waving off another boy who was walking next to you.

"Oh, that's rich, (Y/N)! Look at your face!" San cracks up while he points to his phone. "I can't believe you rode it by yourself, you know we were just joking, right?" His voice changes.

"What?" Your jaw drops. "I went through that by myself for nothing?!"

"Sorry, (Y/N)," Yeri whines. "By the time we were going to tell you you were long gone and you said you were in line already!"

"You could've just joined me!"

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?" Beomgyu laughs.

"You guys suck," your shoulders slumped.

"Hey, you may have lost my Mickey ears but at least you had the ride of your life," San crosses his arms.

"And that will likely be the only ride of my life," you groaned.

"Hey! It's you!" Mark's voice jumped up. Your face immediately relaxed.

"Hi, Mark!"

"Ooh, first name basis?" San nudges your side and you lightly shove him away.

"I just realized that I didn't get your name," Mark says. "You know mine from my excessive self-motivation, so why don't I get yours?"

"Is this some kind of lame excuse to get my number?" You teased him. Mark's expression drops and he holds his hand up.

"Oh, no! No, I didn't mean it that way, it was just that-"

"I'm joking! Don't worry, it's (Y/N)."

"(Y/N), huh, I'll remember that if we ever run into each other again."

"Sounds good, Mark, do you have an insta? We can follow each other there!"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'd like that a lot," he says, ignoring Haechan's whistles behind him. You both exchange your users and follow each other right away.

"Have a great rest of your day! I hope we run into each other again soon!"

"You too, it was nice meeting you!"

And, you're gone. Mark relaxed again and reveled in the warm feeling the exchange left in him.

"Damn, so Mark does have game," Jaehyun laughs.

"Aw, come on, that's not what I intended at all," Mark whines. "It's not like we'll ever run into each other again anyway, we're going back home this weekend," Mark mutters.

"Who knows, Mark, maybe you will if the stars allow it," Yuta ruffles Mark's hair. "Or not."

"Whatever, dude, whatever," Mark brushes them off. Then, realization comes over him. "Oh, shoot, wait! I still have your Mickey ears!" He tried to run after you, but you were long gone.

Who would've thought that they'd run into each other again just the next week at a small café in Seoul?

General Tag List: @vickylamore @deobis-moon @mizzdivagirl7-blog @sehunnies-hunnie96 @yangsrose @bat-shark-repellant @cloudreads @raeincitizen @here-aeth @lune1897 @gaiyofanfiction @jaeminsespresso

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[darthwheezely]

grande - g.w.

Summary: George meets a mighty adorable barista in the new cafe on Diagon Alley and the man just can’t help himself... based off the song Coffee Girl by Johnny Socko! Sorry this took me absolute ages (9 days oops) to get out, guys :/

Warnings: DIABETIC FLUFF STUPID AMOUNTS OF CARDIAC ARREST INDUCING FLUFF UWU,mentions of sexism, Fred being Fred, cussing probably, alludes to sex, PG/PG-13

taglist or people that might like this but idk: @theweasleyslut @kitwalker02 @loony-loopy-lupinn @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thehufflepuffwife @monoscandal @lupinsclassroom @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @rogueweasleys @band--psycho @lumosandnoxwriting @oh-for-merlins-sake @amxrtentias @virgohufflepuff @vivianweasley

George Weasley didn’t sleep. This had long been the habit of his ever since he and his parents had discovered that his elder twin Fred had been an avid sleepwalker by age 4, then became a (minor) party animal in his Hogwarts days, and finally when he became the co-owner of one of the Wizard World’s most successful entrepreneurs and business owners.

The man hadn’t slept in about 18 years give or take. And days like this reminded him of it constantly.

It was a Saturday, the first of the month, and to boot, it was about to be Christmas in a little over a week. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was packed with everyone from couples window shopping, children in desperate need of fun now that school was out, parents trying to keep them in line, and even some old lady named Ethel (who swore she was part Veela, and therefore Fred couldn’t “escape her girlish charm.”)

“Ethel, you have an absolutely ravishing day, and don’t even worry about that moisturizer it’d be a waste of product on a natural beauty like you” Fred winked and kissed the old lady’s hand, George watching from the top of the steps rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Freddie, you know how to keep a lady young, don’t you? Oh - goodbye, Georgie! Have a good rest of your day boys!” She waved majestically to the younger twin on the stairs and he bowed royally in response.

“Bye, Ethel!” They both called as she exited the building, the bells flurrying in her wake.

“Georgie, mate, hate to say it but you are being uncharacteristically quiet and it’s making me uncharacteristically uncomfortable.” Fred said bounding up the stairs to meet him, chuckling briefly.

“Freddie, mate, hate to say it but I’ve had absolutely no sleep as of late and it’s getting to me. But I’ll be back up to my usual antics in no time.” He padded down the stairs, winking at a couple young ladies ogling him, sending them into a fit of giggles. Fred sat down on the middle step eyeing his brother carefully. It didn’t take a genius to see George wasn’t holding on much longer, the dark circles littering his eyes and the way he mussed up his already purposely messy hair just...didn’t comfort his older twin at all.

“George.” Fred sighed, George looking back at him, confused. He took his hands away from the merchandise Wonder Witch he’d been rearranging and gave him full attention.

“Take your lunch break early. And longer if possible.”

“Pffft, why would I do that when I have women to woo and boxes to juggle?”

“George.”

“Fred.”

“Stop, I mean it. You look half dead as it is, just go take a nap or get an espresso from the cafe down the aisle or something that reinforces the idea that yes, you are a human being and no, not a zombie.” Fred crossed his arms feeling suddenly a lot like Molly and dropped the cross. George pretended to ponder this tapping his chin, rather finding the mature brother role reversal funny as hell.

“Oh, alright, but can I still be a zombie when I get back?”

Fred hit him with a folder and sent him on his way.

-•-•-

You had just finished the lunch rush, finally being able to calm down and not have to worry about making one more goddamn Butterbeer Latte for at least another 20 or so minutes...until there’d be another rush. You grabbed a lemon scone, took off your apron and sat against the back counter. You inhaled the citrus scent, it was always something that you loved to savor, and took a bite.

The holidays for the Merlin’s Mochas, the cafe, had been absolutely atrocious so far. All you had for customers were angry businessmen, bratty kids and their upper class parents who let them run around the already small place being rude to everyone, your boss Lionel who had an affinity for calling every woman who worked there a “bitch” (...ok lionel) and to top it all off: you’d been pulling 9 hour days every day except sundays. Needless to say: you kind of super hated your job.

You had just finished your scone when you heard the door chime signal a customer, immediately wiping your hands on your jeans and restrapping your apron.

“Hi how can I-“ oh Jesus this is the hottest man I have ever seen. He was easily no older than 23, fiery red hair, a perfectly tailored striped terracotta suit, green tie, and the most gorgeous doe brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“How can you...?”

“Help you, ohmygod, I am so sorry I’m super-“

“Tired? Yeah me too...interesting how similar we are this early in the game hmm?” He winked at you and your knees felt too weak. No he was just a stupid hot customer that also was really hot and also? Was super hot. No worries, Y/N, just don’t die by 22 okay thanks.

“Very funny...wait are you-“ your finger led from him to the statue outside Wizard Wheezes, realizing a simple oh shit

“Yeah, that would be me. Or my twin Fred but we never really decided, that’s why he kind of looks like both of us mixed. Although we’re twins so we basically look the same anyway. I mean because were identical. Twins, yeah.” George, what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you sweating? She’s just a simply beautiful girl in a simply maddeningly purple coffee shop can you please breathe and not make yourself look stupid-

“Oh, wow! I’ve never met a twin before - not like twins are anomalies or anything it’s just so crazy. Science. Science is crazy” You closed your eyes and took a breath

“We should probably start over shouldn’t we?” You wrinkled your nose.

“That sounds much more redeeming than anything we both were about to say” George breathed out laughing softly, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“I’m George. Weasley. Like I said, I work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the shop over there, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place before...or you for that matter, I never forget a beautiful young woman.” He said smoothly, his heart steadily subsiding - something about you had the power to not only make him scared out of his mind, but also totally at ease.

You returned the smile, warmly, the blood rushing to your cheeks at his compliment and sticking your tongue to your teeth. “Well, George Weasley, of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And yeah, we’re new around here,” you leaned further onto the counter, realizing, albeit a moment too late that your eye level was directly with his abs now, and although he was wearing a suit...you could definitely tell they were there.

“We erm, just opened three months ago. It’s honestly a bit of a time to work here.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“Well, nothing like a blatant sexist to run an entirely female employed establishment and weird stuffy rich people.” Your eyes widened suddenly, and you felt like you had said far too much far too soon. But he gasp-laughed - laugh that ended as soon as it began and burst into a smile...like you had shared a secret with him.

“What the hell is he doing here then? Got a boy’s club to run in a purple coffee shop?”

“I mean you never really know these days, George, imposters are among us at every moment” you purred and pushed off the counter, meaning it as a joke but George’s heart screamed when he heard your name. As you moved to the other edge of the counter, he followed you.

“What a resourceful and cruel young woman, I am starting to like you, Miss Y/L/N.” He clucked. “And do you think of me like you think of Mr. I-Hate-Women-That’s-Why-I-Hire-Them?” He got inches from your face, smelling the coffee beans and vanilla extract that riddled your skin.

“Hmm...Mr. Weasley, I’m not so sure.” You coyly stepped away from him and took long strides to the far end of the coffee bar by the wall. George immediately felt a pit of flirtatious butterflies and (arousal?) something more in his stomach, jaw dropped, he followed you again. He pressed his hands to the counter in front of you.

“Well, how can I convince you?” He asked rather quickly.

“Hmm...” you leaned forward like he did before and his breath hitched in his throat “...let’s get you a cuppa first.”

-•-

“Wait, okay let me get this straight-“

“Yes?”

“You have 6 other siblings.”

“Yes.”

“...because your mom wanted a girl?”

“That-that would in fact be true, yes.”

You thought for a moment.

“So you’re telling me after she made it through you two-“

“-she still wanted to have more of us, believe me, it races through my mind daily.” He nodded vehemently laughing with you. You two had taken to the empty cafe at a table nestled in the corner, him sitting in a chair across from you on a bench. You had both been cracking each other up with stories from your childhoods, like how you both had managed to never know of the other’s existence until now.

He’d discovered that you had transferred from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons early on in your fourth year. You, a Hufflepuff, loved the quiet and soft landscape of the French school. You both had absolutely no idea the other existed. How? The world may never know.

He was brash. You were careful.

He was already flying when you were just feeling comfortable learning how to walk.

But you sat there with him for the better amount of an hour and a half, laughing and interrupting each other with memories of the school years you had, some weird and strange, and especially during fourth year, hard for George to talk about.

Ginny, his baby sister, had almost died. And as he said to you in a candid and highly vulnerable state: he blamed himself for almost letting her go to this day.

“I...I really do believe it was my fault.”

“George, it couldn’t have been your fault. Hogwarts is a big freaking death trap - you and I both know that,” you had said with an exasperated laugh, eager to make him feel better in any facet.

“Yeah, but...I’m her big brother. Yes, she has five other older brothers but...we were supposed to protect her.” He swallowed and blinked back tears. “It was her first year, for Christ’s sake, and I paid about as much attention to her as a doorknob would.” He had rolled his jaw and taken a gulp of his gingerbread latte (you had said it was your favorite, and he was loathe to try anything else) and you had softly draped your hand on top of his.

“If she’s as kind and loving and funny as you, I’d love to meet her.” You quipped, a small smile growing on your face in effort to soothe. He had smiled back at you, turning your hand over in his and drawing his digits lazily over your palm.

“Funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

-•-

He had told you to close your eyes, that much had been true.

See, his coffee had started to get cold. So, like if you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll have to have some milk-

If you give a George a latte he will have to not only have another one, but also feel the strenuous need to show off for you and take you to his place of work. Naturally. And it was so lucky that by the time he’d proposed you leave, he even helped you clean and lock up afterwards.

Truthfully, it almost scared you how much he had seemed to care.

“Alright, Y/N, darling, I’m going to release my hands on the count of three, yeah?”

“Perfect, Georgie” you giggled. You’d legitimately only knew him for so long, but you just...you trusted him. He grinned widely, his strong hands only applying a slight amount of pressure as not to hurt you.

“Alright, then. 1. 2-“ he took his hands off your eyes and watched you adjust not only to light, but to your surroundings as well.

“3.” He breathed out taking in the way you smiled like a teenager, face alight with pure inundating wonder. You squealed and started to run around the store.

“Look at these! Pygmy Puffs - ugh they’re so adorable look at this one! Oh, oh - ‘Fizzing Whizbees’ - these look absolutely wicked! And Per- ‘Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder’?” You picked up the glittery stone in your hand, and heard a smooth voice perk up behind you.

“A real money spinner, that one.” You turned around and there was a man that looked absolutely identical to George, although entirely different in the same way.

“Handy if you need to make a quick getaway,” you heard George on the other side of you. He smiled warmly down at you, nodding his head up to look at the twin across from him.

“Y/N, this is my-“

“-older, much more attractive and fiscally responsible brother.” He winked and you blushed almost immediately. “Fred. Weasley.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Georgie has told me a lot about you and the shop - absolutely marvelous this place is, I cant believe you two created so much in such a short span of time. Brilliant it all is, really!” George had started to flush, rubbing his jaw to seemingly take the red away from his striking face. Fred, upon hearing the genuine warmth from your voice and the unmistakable use of “Georgie” had a small, but highly distinct aha moment:

“Well, we couldn’t have done it all on our own, one of our best friends helped us out a good lot. But thank you, really...it means so much when other people see how much we do and-” he looked directly at George.

“-acknowledge the things we love, right George?”

“Absolutely, Frederick.” Fred had given him the look that seemed to imply: “please, God, make a damn move.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to be off and woo some ladies, have a biscuit and do some paperwork” he smiled wide when you giggled, already enjoying your company.

“But I hope to see you again, very soon, yeah? Please stop by whenever you can, we’re alwYs just down the street.”

“Freddie, for your company, I’m not so sure, I’m still deciding.” You quipped. Fred laughed heartily at that and looked at George.

“Georgie, I like this one.” George looked at you and winked.

“Me, too Freddie, me too.” You leaned back on your heels as Fred padded back up the stairs to the flat, now completely alone with George. You threw your arms behind you back and forth and took a long stride to George.

“So...what are you those?” You nodded up to the array of pink bubbles in a clam shape in the corner. He hummed and reached to grab your hand.

“Love potions - c-can I show you?” He raised an eyebrow slightly, but he felt his whole body turn to mush when you accepted his hand and nodded slowly. As he walked with you, you memorized the feeling of his callouses and veins, the way your hand curled deliberately in his.

You wanted to make sure if it was the last time you felt something like that, you had that memory with you for a while.

“Essentially, if you give these to a person they will temporarily have feelings of love and attraction for you. Depending of course on the dosage you use and the weight of the person in question.” He explained. You watched the way his suit jacket pulled taut against his back muscles and instinctively wanted to honestly just take the whole thing off-

“Hmm...I don’t know about these, Georgie.” You hummed mischievously. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He scoffed placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Am i being questioned in my own establishment, Miss Y/L/N?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his arm, bowing slightly at him. “Well, do forgive my feminine insolence, Mr. Weasley, it’s not often I meet such bewitching mad scientists like you.” You watched his face grow blank for a moment at your compliment and immediately wanted to throw up.

“George, I’m really sorry, I know we just became friends-“

“Do you mean it?” He took a step towards you. You swallowed finding again his perfect milk chocolate eyes. You nodded.

“Hell yeah I did, you’re smart...and wicked hot” you both laughed at that. He took another step, the distance being unbearably harder to live in as his digits found a piece of hair and wound it behind your ear.

“Well, darling, the feeling is quite mutual.” He said quietly, taking in the whole of your face. He wanted to crash his lips onto every possible nook and crevice of your face, collide with you entirely.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, then, aren’t we?” You gently nudged his nose with yours and wrapped your arms around his neck, his strong and powerful arms pulling you to him gently. He wanted you to feel him not to break under his embrace. He leaned down and brushed his lips up to yours, feeling you whine and let out a minuscule sound.

“Got you making noises for me already and haven’t even kissed you yet, hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered close and one of your legs made it’s way in between his, snapping any chance at loose air between you two out of the way.

“Please, Weasley, pants a bit small for you?”

“Keep talking like that and they might, yeah.” You two laughed softly and with a final look to your lips he closed the last gap.

His mouth was perfect. His lips ghosted over yours one last time before wrapping every part of himself onto your frame, your lips entangled in each other like you’d never be able to taste him again.

But it was loving and slow and sweet. He tasted like gingerbread lattes and pastries and cinnamon and licking into his mouth you could feel the spice. He moaned lightly into your mouth, sending your knees buckling. He dipped you slightly, a hand traveling to your lower back to keep you steady, and his other hand coming up to nestle under the nape of your hair. Your hands caressed his face, his chest, needless to say? You wanted them everywhere. You wanted him everywhere.

The kiss broke and you and George were left breathless in each other’s hold, your foreheads pressed together as he kept you slightly dipped.

“Y/N, I’m feeling a bit tired” he quipped hoarsely, pressing a brief kiss to your lips and onto your neck. You hummed satisfactorily.

“Georgie, you’re gonna need another latte aren’t you?” You set multiple chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks, feeling him rumble with a small giggle. He caught your mouth with his and you moaned slightly.

“I’m gonna need a whole pot, to drink you in, love.”

[cagcd]

     In youth he wished for the comfort of a better family,   in adulthood he had avoided any possibility of a deeper connection,   a paradox in being that had divided him at the core between wanting and fearing,   to claim something robbed throughout childhood,   but never act upon it for fear of the ache that comes from rejection.   Out of his family there was none left but his mother that he maintained a good line of connection with,   although the relationship had long been strained in a downfall caused by arrogance and addiction,   he had managed to salvage it into something stronger.   His siblings had led themselves down worser paths,   his father,   his father                   the mere thought of the man makes his stomach churn,   the scent of alcohol and the tone of his voice were the only memories he had left,   and he aches not for those small bits of remembrance but the inevitable realization of the startling similarity between father and son.   A fault of nature he holds too harshly upon himself,   a glorified star that witnessed his own fall from grace,   pride comes before the fall as they say,   a twist in fate he regrets most terribly but is thankful for regardless,   lest he kept going down that path and truly becomes like the man he had grown to despise with all his heart.

  It was a much needed wake up call that gave sight to what truly mattered,   although nearly lost,   he held onto the bits and pieces and climbed from that deep pit into recovery.   When one is so consumed by the ailings of their own hearts,   it blinds the senses,   shrouds the world in a veil of darkness,   pitch black to the point that it seems nothing is in there,   unintentionally isolating oneself in the worst forms of solitude.   Johnny had experienced it,   &.   once he had clawed his way back into the light,   there was still that emptiness to be filled,   a whole world to get familiar with once again,   not entirely void of demons by own creation,   but lighter now that he learned to keep them at bay.   Perhaps it was for the experience that he feel a sense of sympathy for Hanzo ;   wondered how it must have been like to set foot back into a world he could not stomach but is forced to adapt into.   It was a journey for the former sceptre to discover,   and indeed,   the man had shown considerable change,   become a great ally to the special forces,   and a good father in the eyes of Takeda who had nothing but respect and admiration for him.   &.   yet,   there was still that shadow that loomed over,   a deep melancholy no controlled instances of silence or meditation could hide.   Johnny knew better than to ask,   a parent's grief was a fate he hadn't experienced but taunts him whenever Cassie would set forth on a mission without him or Sonya.   He asked despite his better judgment,   and saw how that familiar fire would spark figuratively in a glance and tone so mercilessly sharp.   He held his tongue for long,   allowing the grandmaster to make sense of himself,   he seemed to him like a wild animal driven to a corner,   but it wasn't for the sake of being forceful that he posed the question.

       ❛❛                It's because I have a daughter,   that I know.   ❜❜        he said plainly,   leaning closer by resting his arms at the edge of a chair instead of cowering away,   Hanzo ought to know better that Johnny Cage was a difficult man to be rid off.        ❛❛   ...   I was so irresponsible that I nearly drove her away.   I could still lose her,   there's not a time that goes by that I wonder if it's gonna be the last time I see her,   and that                there's nothing more terrifying than that.   ❜❜        the actor admits with a sigh,   a familiar pang of concern tugging at the heart strings,   it never gets easier,   does it ?        ❛❛   I know I have a big mouth,   but I'm not trying to get on your nerves or pity you,   just talking,   one parent to another.   ❜❜

hanzo    had    simply    watched    as    the    daughter    of    cage    came    and    went. he    knew    not    to    give    2    cage's    fodder    to    crack    wise    jokes    to    him. but    still,    he    offered    his    respect    as    both    of    them    were    good    friends    of    takeda. hanzo's    yellow    gaze    watched    solemnly    as    the    father    and    daughter    would    interact. the    dynamic    they    have    developed    from    father    and    sole    protector    to    fully    grown    and    well    off    daughter. [    there    was    something    in    the    pit    of    his    heart. he    could    no    longer    say    it    burned    since    he    no    longer    knew    the    feeling    of    fire    burning    skin... it    felt    more    reminiscent    of    a    rotting    deer    in    the    forest. ]    hanzo    was    beyond    jealousy    of    others    having    what    he    never    had. he    was    no    longer    in    a    realm    of    envy    for    parenthood... rather,    every    day    no    matter    how    well    he    seemed    was    a    day    dedicated    to    those    he    wasnt    meant    to    protect. while    seeing    johnny    and    cassandra    interact    didnt        evoke    a    need    to    have    what    he    did,    it    rather    just    left    him    sore. [    however,    he    has    gotten    better    at    not    letting    his    grief    affect    others. so    he    remained    silent    ]   

   hanzos    reliable    aura    of    steeled    quietness    could    not    deflect    everything    however. johnny's    question    as    gentle    as    its    delivered    comes    as    a    dagger    towards    him. something    seeking    to    tear    open    leather    walls    hanzo    has    placed.

      ❝    i    do. ❞   

   from    hanzos    silence    interjects    a    contrasting    sharp    tone. the    initial    rush    of    anger    comes    to    him    as    a    flush    of    warmth    over    his    skin. nothing    burning,    but    certainly    feverish. rising    temperature    usually    a    tell    tale    sign    of    his    mood. hanzo's    gaze    had    snapped    to    johnny... but    soon    he    blinks    somewhat    and    turns    his    features    away. taking    a    moment    to    get    past    this    initial    reaction. cooling    down,    figuratively    speaking. when    hanzo    speaks    again,    he    is    not    looking    johnny    in    this    eyes    this    time. a    restrained    tone. as    if    he    was    trying    to    maintain    a    easy    demeanor.

      ❝    i'm    afraid    i    barely    got    to    know    him. he    was... ❞    his    jaw    becomes    tight. when    a    fissure    of    uncertainty    rises    in    him    he    could    only    answer    with    an    edged    tone,    though    he    does    try    and    rear    it. ❝    are    you    trying    to    feel    sorry    for    me    ?    i've    had    enough    pity    to    fill    netherrealms    pools. just    because    you    have    a    daughter-    ❞    abruptly    he    stops    himself. hanzo    wasn't    sure    how    to    feel. from    one    tide    to    another. still,    he    tried    to    seek    a    center.

[thebillyhargrove]

so i need littel help, I wanna have a movie Marathon day at Halloween. And just more to wacht, soooo what is your favorit scary movies? or movies for Halloween season? pretty pleas:3 Thank you, and have a good wahtever time.

i usually just watch whatever the girl puts on. and then 20 minutes in we end up fucking.. so.. i'm not a good person to ask for movie recs

ooc// BILLY IS A LOSER BUT I LOVE THIS QUESTION SO I'M ANSWERING IT. Super long kind of info-dumpy spam of movie recs below the cut! Happy Halloween!

My two favorite halloween/horror movies are Scream (1996) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006). Scream is a classic, I don't have to talk about that one. But Billy and Stu are sexy and I love that the film subverts expectations by giving us 2 killers instead of 1.

TCM (2006) is a prequel to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) and you could watch them in either order to be honest. They're both great. I just prefer 2006 because Thomas (Leatherface) wears a half-mask in that one so we get to see his eyes and his glorious hair. Sexy chainsaw man go brr. And naturally I love The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) because I love Bubba and Nubbins. And the door slam scene and the chainsaw swinging scene and the 70s fashion and the grab/hook scene. Ugh. Amazing. That being said, the ableism in the beginning it rough to watch if you're sensitive to it. Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022) is kind of.. not great. It's watchable, but you'll probably not like any of the main characters and they made Bubba a Michael Myers clone which ruins his character. I'd say you probably won't like this one if you like the other TCM movies. If you like Halloween you might like it though? Watch this one first if you want to like it.. lmao.

I also suggest Hocus Pocus for a halloween movie because it's a classic and I love the witches.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) fucking sucks; don't waste your time unless you're really dedicated to seeing Johnny Depp in a crop top for like 3 minutes.

The original Halloween is also bad in my opinion, I'd recommend the Rob Zombie remake instead.

Saw 1 and 2 are really good but don't watch them if you hate being stressed out or if you don't like gore. A lot of people say those movies are torture porn and I wouldn't necessarily say that for the first two, but there's still a lot of gore in them. Not as much as in the other ones but... you know. Needle Pit. The Mask. Reverse Bear Trap.

The Babadook is really good and scary. It's very psychological. Midsommar is good too but I wouldn't say it's scary? Like, outright? Us (2019) is super freaky, definitely watch that. Jennifer's Body isn't scary (to me), but it's sexy so for sure watch that one. Orphan (2009) is really good and a prequel just came out that is ALSO insanely good and I beg you to watch both. The Orphanage (2007) is freaky and I recommend that too.

Pan's Labyrinth isn't technically a horror movie but it can get creepy as fuck and is really good. The Dark Crystal isn't horror but it can also get creepy so that and The Neverending Story could be good to watch. If you watch those two, throw in Labyrinth (1986) as well. Add in The Last Unicorn too because it has a similar vibe as the rest of them.

Oh! Black Swan is fucking awesome too so watch that! It starts pretty normal and then slowly gets freakier and freakier. Same with Oculus, though people have mixed feelings with that one. The Ward is a movie that scared the ever-living shit out of 14 year old me. I don't know if it still holds up, but you can give it a go.

Train to Busan is pretty okay if you like zombie stuff. Warm Bodies isn't horror but it's also a zombie movie and one of my all-time faves. Fido I don't think is "horror" but I like that one too.

Okay, this is WAY too long so I'm stopping here, but if anyone else wants mun's opinions on horror movies, please ask.

[justauthoring]

a promise i won’t break.

Request: Would love a Tommy x reader with Mosley. Where he is obsessed with Tommy’s wife. And tries to make a move on her

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader Word Count: 1,275 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Warnings: Mosley.

“And who might you be?”

With a drawl, your eyes flicker upwards to meet the eyes of a man you don’t recognize. Something inside of you tells you you should, but, as you pull back a strand of a loose curl to get a better look, nothing rings a familiar bell. Your left with a dumbfounded expression on your face as you turn towards the man completely.

“Y/N,” you greet with a light nod, letting your hand fall delicately by your side, letting your eyes drag across the man momentarily. “And you are?”

“Oswald Mosley.” He greets with a tight-lipped smile and instantly, your shoulders tense. You now knew why the man had seemed familiar; strictly because of the warning, a very clear and precise warning, Tommy had given you that morning before the party. To stay away from Mosley.

You swallow thickly as he raises his hand, palm held up for your own and with only a moments of hesitant, not wanting to seem rude, you set your hand in his own gently. He leans forward, pressing a slow and careful kiss against your gloved knuckles and you have to physically restrain yourself from shuddering in disgust when he lets his eyes drag across your finger without any regard to you be acutely aware. 

“The name Y/N rings a bell,” he says finally, voice soft, a warm husk that does nothing to calm your nerves. 

“Y/N Shelby,” you finish, putting a bit of emphasis on the last name. You hope, though you feel it’s naive, that by reminding him just whose wife you were, that maybe the man would back down. You weren’t unaware of the women that were being offered to those who decided to stay, and you know that Tommy had been careful when choosing them for Mosley’s sake specifically. But, as you stood there, feeling trapped, you couldn’t help but fear that maybe someone else might have caught his eye.

“Ah,” the man recognizes with a smile, letting go of your hand and opting to take another step towards you. He’s incredibly close and by the second it makes you more uncomfortable as everything else seems to fade and you’re completely trapped by the man. “I knew the name seemed familiar.”

Nodding, you take a slow sip of your drink, letting your eyes drag across the room in search for Tommy. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when you realize he’s not there.

“You know,” Mosley continues, his voice lowering so you’re the only that can hear him. He shuffles towards you and you have to resist the small gasp that leaves your lips when he simply wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him as if you’re for the taking. He places his lips directly next to your ear, his breath fawning over the side of your cheek as you feel your breath halt, chest tightening with fear. “Mr. Shelby didn’t tell me his wife was so strikingly beautiful.”

You force a laugh from your lips, trying to appear as unfazed as possible by the man and nod up at him. “Well, i’m flattered you think so, Mr. Mosley.”

“Please, call me Oswald.”

His grip tightens and instinctively, you pull away.

“Is something the matter, Y/N?”

Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, shaking his head; “no, no, of... of course not, Mr.-- Oswald,” you force his name from your lips, smiling up at him with tight lips. “I just thought that my husband might need my help with--”

“I don’t need your help, but I was looking for you.”

You can’t help the way your body eases at the familiar sound of Tommy’s voice. Instantly, Mosley’s grip loosens from you and you’re able to turn towards your husband without hesitation and fall next to his side with his. His arm wraps around your waist similar to Oswald, but this time you don’t fight his grip and fall into it with ease, setting your hand on his chest as his free hand comfortably settles itself in the pocket of his trousers.

You don’t miss the way he carefully glances down at you, a certain softness to his gaze, before turning to Mosley, gaze hardening.

“I do hope you’re enjoying your time, Mr. Mosley.”

Mosley settles a fake smile onto his lips, and you don’t miss the way his eyes drag across your own threateningly before turning to your husband with a nod. “Certainly,” he assures, “especially with the wonderful company of your wife, Mr. Shelby.”

“My wife,” and you don’t miss the way he squeeze your hip as he speaks, “certainly has that effect on people.” His comment is light but it’s clear by the tone of his voice that there’s nothing light about this conversation.

“She’s quite lovely,” Mosley nods, and you hate the way he treats you as if you aren’t even there. And when his eyes lower, landing on your chest and holding his gaze there for a moment, you press yourself against Tommy, trying to ignore the racing of your heart. His voice is thick and heavy and it’s all too clear exactly what Mosley refers to when he speaks of you like that. “Lovely indeed.”

“I regret to inform you that my wife is unavailable, Mr. Mosley. But there are plenty of other women.” To make his point, his gestures around him.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Mosley keeps his eyes on you, completely ignoring Tommy. “It’s a shame,” he smacks his lips lightly, and you can’t help the way you tense when he steps forward, hand outstretched towards you. The tip of his fingers ghost your cheek, brushing back that unruly curl from before, and holding the touch for a moment.

“I’m sure you would have been a good fuck.”

And with that, he walks off.

Your eyes water but you bite back the tears, watching his back disappear into the crowd, never relenting the tight grip on the collar of Tommy’s jacket you somehow managed to grab a hold of during the conversation. Your knuckles turn white, slowly and gradually, with the force of your grip, but you don’t even really feel it, sick to your stomach.

“Y/N, love? Yeah, come on, look at me.”

You blink as Tommy sets his hand on your chin gently, guiding your attention on his own as your eyes flicker up to meet his eyes, gazing up at him with a blurred vision. The grip on your chin loosens and his lets his fingers caress the skin of your cheek softly and reassuringly, never letting his eyes waver from your own. “I won’t let him touch you, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice shaky. Pressing either of your hands against his chest, you inhale sharply, holding back your tears best you can as to not make yourself look more like a mess then you’re sure you already do. You have to focus on something random beyond Tommy, in order to gather yourself.

But Tommy presses a hand against the back of your head and tightens the hold he has around you, making sure you know he’s there and he’s the one who has you. Not Mosley and certainly not anyone else. And that he’s there. “He won’t touch you,” he whispers, placing his mouth directly next to your ear so he can utter the words soft and sure to only you. “And if he does, Johnny can have him. If I don’t kill him myself.”

Biting your lip, you nod, whimpering faintly.

“I promise, love,” Tommy whispers, voice breathless. “I would never let him or anyone hurt you.”

-

Let me know what you thought?

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (11)

I'm baaaaack :) Sorry it's been so long y'all but I'm finally on break so hopefully I can push out more content soon! Pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: little bit of language, mild mentions of alcohol

% approximately the last weekend of October/first week of November %

Sunday, you went wedding dress shopping.

Kinda.

It was for homecoming court. Your school had a tradition where the ladies in the running for queen wore white wedding dresses, so your mom and you went out in search of one.

You’d already gotten your dress for the actual dance weeks prior, so you started at the same store.

It didn’t take long for you to stumble upon one you liked, a slim a-line that accentuated your muscles and curves. There was a draped neckline and a somewhat low back. The entire dress had a grecian feel with the small silver accents dusted across it.

The second you put it on you fell in love, so you made the purchase and set off for shoes, easily finding a pair of heels that would put you at a similar level with Tom.

The next day, you made your way to class for another round of praise and congratulations for the tournament that weekend. The trophy was already sitting in the school display case, the plaque yet to be made with your school’s name and the year.

It was spirit week, so everyone was dressed in clothes that fit the day’s theme.

All morning, people were coming up and asking you about the tournament and homecoming, many of them pledging to vote for you.

Things felt nice.

You and Tom didn’t talk much throughout the morning, but exchanged a few jabs and laughs here and there.

Later, you sat around the lunch table with your girlfriends as usual, this time discussing the homecoming nominations.

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you won’t be queen. I’ve talked to a ton of people and all of them are saying they’re gonna vote for you,” one of them said.

“Aw shucks, you’re making me blush. Obviously I’d like to win queen, but we’ll see. It’s whatever. If Harrison wins king I’ll drop out.”

“As if. No one even likes him. I’m pretty sure he was voted in as a meme. Everyone knows Tom is gonna win,” Alexis stated. “And if Tom wins, you’ll win too with everyone thinking you’re together.”

“Hmm. I honestly hope Tuwaine gets the vote. He’s so sweet and totally deserves it.”

“I think we all know you’d prefer Tom as your royal counterpart,” one friend suggested, causing you to roll your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys! Nothing is going on! On another note, though, I got my white dress,” you mentioned, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Really? Let us see!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m saving it as a surprise for Friday. The only person who’s seen it is my mom, and it’s staying that way until the parade.”

You continued talking about the upcoming festivities and your excitement for the week, and the announcement of who would be crowned queen Friday at the pep rally.

That afternoon, you went to study hall with Alexis. Now that you were between sports, you had a free period to go do art, work out, or just “study,” so you chose the latter as a way to take a breather from everything that had been going on.

“So tell me everything about Johnny’s this weekend. Loved the costumes,” you started as you plopped down at two desks in the very back of the room.

“Not much to report. We mostly just hung out but I heard one dude had to go get his stomach pumped or something after the cops got there. We dipped out before it was busted because it was obvious they were coming. Now how was your weekend, since we’re finally alone?”

You thought about how much you’d actually tell her, especially considering that you hadn’t told her really anything about yours and Tom’s interactions in past weeks.

“Pretty good. It was mostly just volleyball.”

“Oh yeah? What all went down with Tom? Anna told me you seemed pretty close.”

Your face burned.

“We hugged after winning the tournament. Not a big deal. Oh and we maybe kinda pretended to be a couple Friday night.”

“What? You didn’t think to lead with that?!”

“It was for like a minute while we went up the elevator. This drunk couple was harassing us so we just played along for a little bit. Whatever,” you shrugged.

“Did you do anything couple-y? Don’t tell me you guys kissed.”

You tried not to cringe before somewhat telling a lie.

“I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around me. I swear it was nothing serious, Lex.”

“Hm. I still think you’ve gotta be hiding something, but I just don’t know what. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Good luck with that. I’m not about to crack yet.

%

Spirit week continued with people coming up to let you know their votes had been cast for you. The voting ended Thursday so that votes could be counted before the pep rally.

When Friday did hit, you woke up early and tucked your volleyball jersey into some jeans and tossed on your letter jacket, as the day’s theme was school colors and jerseys.

You popped on some mascara and lip gloss, then headed to school, becoming more nervous as you got closer.

The pep rally would be right after lunch, but almost everyone was so excited for the weekend festivities that teachers basically gave everyone a free day so that the students in charge of the event could continue their planning and the athletes could prepare for the rally.

The pep rally was mostly for the football game, but they were also going to recognize the volleyball team’s accomplishments, so you prepared for that and the whole homecoming court thing.

In home ec, Mrs. Flynn let those that needed to help set up for the pep rally eat your lunches in class and then leave early.

You and Tom finished about the same time and went to your lockers to grab your things.

“Ready to win?” Tom asked as you walked towards the gym.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s just because I love winning so much.”

You gave him a little shove as you continued walking. Tom had his jersey on without the pads, so it fit big on him. You admired the way it draped over his thin, toned frame.

A bit later and the pep rally had begun with the dance team doing their routine, then came athlete recognitions.

They started with the volleyball team, calling you all out to the basketball court to wave as everyone cheered. After you all, the cheer squad hyped everyone up for the football team to come out.

You stood in a corner of the gym with Zendaya, as they would be announcing the homecoming court next. You both talked a little bit, but things were somewhat awkward.

Finally came the time to announce the winners. As with nominations, things went in order from freshman to senior, eventually reaching the king and queen announcement. The six of you stepped out onto the basketball court, the pit in your stomach bigger than before.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know that this is the moment you have all been waiting so patiently for!” Mrs. Johnson looked around the bleachers at the cheering students, holding up her paper with everyone’s positions.

“We’re going to start with our third place, the duke and duchess of homecoming! May I have a drumroll please!”

Everyone stomped their feet and clapped.

“This year’s duke is Mr. Harrison Osterfield, and the duchess is Daisy Ridley!”

Cheers went up, not completely enthusiastic for the pair. You felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing the people you liked least had gotten third place.

“Now for our runners up, the prince and princess!” She paused for effect. “Tuwaine Barrett and Zendaya Coleman!”

More cheers rang out than before. Your jaw dropped as you looked at Tom.

“And that means that your senior king and queen are Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Congratulations to all of you. Can’t wait to see you at the parade, game, and dance!” Mrs. Johnson called out, dismissing everyone back to class.

Someone came and placed the crown on your head and slipped a silver sash which read “homecoming queen” over your body. You couldn’t help but slap a hand over your mouth.

“What did I tell you! I knew you’d win!” Tom exclaimed, holding out his hands. You so badly wanted to hug him, but decided not to in front of the whole school, at least not until tomorrow night.

Your friends rushed up and congratulated you, fawning over the crown and sash and laughing. Before you left, you had to return the two items to a teacher so you would have them for later that night.

As you left school that afternoon, you felt like you were floating on air.

%

You were back at the school later that evening, the game just over a couple hours away. There were families lining the street prepared to watch the parade make its way down.

Since leaving the school before, you’d put your hair in loose curls and done a full face of makeup. You tossed on some sweats and zipped up your varsity jacket, taking your dress and shoes along in the car to change there.

You waited until the last minute to slip on the outfit, causing people to fawn over you when you stepped outside to see everyone who was waiting.

Someone pinned the crown to your head and helped you slip on the sash, then led you to the convertible where Tom was waiting. You’d get to ride around sitting on the back waving like you’d always dreamed of doing.

Your heels clacked on the sidewalk as you confidently stepped. Sure, you didn’t wear heels much, but you sure knew how to work them.

It felt like slow motion when Tom turned around and you saw each other for the first time. He was wearing slacks and a sport coat and his curls were perfectly placed around his own crown. You both gasped a little.

“Y/n! You look… you look like-”

“Let me guess. A princess?” you smirked, raising a brow.

“I was gonna say queen.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, giving him a little shove. He helped you climb into the back of the car, and someone went to hand you his letter jacket.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Usually if it’s cold the queen wears her partners’ letterman over her shoulders if he has one.”

You thought about it. It was pretty chilly, after all.

“You don’t have to wear mine, y/n. Did you bring yours?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah, actually. I did. Would someone mind going and grabbing it from my stuff? It’s just inside.”

One girl ran and brought it back in a few minutes, and Tom helped drape it over just your shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” he said, giving you a smile as he fixed the neck.

A few minutes later, the cars and floats began moving and families cheered as you passed, waving with a smile on your face.

You and Tom talked to each other quietly as you looked around both sides of the street. When you reached the end, someone had you pose for a couple pictures in the daylight before the football players headed off to get ready for the game.

This was not only homecoming, but senior night, so they all wanted to be on their A-game.

Different people came up to congratulate you and you took pictures with friends, family, and even a few little kids. You were talking with the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to find the Holland family, including Nikki’s parents and a woman you assumed to be Dominic’s mom.

“Well I sure am glad to see that people have some decent sense around here,” Grandma said, giving you a warm smile. You gave her a hug then greeted the rest of the family.

“You look beautiful, dear. Congratulations,” said Nikki as she gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, y/n, this is my mother,” Dom explained, gesturing to another elderly woman.

“Just call me Nana, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled as she held your hands in hers.

“Thank you! Tom’s told me about you, too.”

Nikki shot some pictures of you with their family. It felt weird to be in their photos without Tom, but also comfortable, like you’d known them your whole life. You had to hold back a laugh when you took one kissing Paddy’s cheek and making him blush.

Eventually your parents also came over and talked to them, and everyone made their ways to the stadium.

%

A/N: omg it's been way too long since I updated TMP! I just wanted to pre-warn that next chapter will have the heaviest themes of this story. It will have adequate warnings but I want to make everyone aware!

Thanks for reading!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng

[cartasmojadas]

Dirk John HS Au part...4?

Dirk walks through the computer lab and towards the study table at the back of the quiet library. While it’s quiet most mornings, today it’s more so as most students are busy flooding the halls with oversized stuffed animals, balloons, and flowers. 

Despite it being  Valentine’s Day, Dirk is relieved to see that John hasn’t broken their routine of meeting in the library before class. He half expected John to be doe-eyed and cornered somewhere by some eager classmates as had been the case every Valentine’s Day since their early childhood. But there he is sitting across from Jane who looks up at Dirk with a gradual smile that makes him look around in case he’s being set up for a prank.

“You’re not wearing your glasses today?” Dirk slips into the chair next to John and takes out his workbook. 

John blinks a few times, reminded of the reason he doesn’t usually wear contacts. They are dang uncomfortable but he knows that not wearing his glasses changes something about his demeanor— enough that Dirk’s gaze lingers on him for a little longer. It always causes hot waves of expectation to roll over John’s body.

He’s aiming for that feeling today. 

“He got all dressed up,” Jane grins. 

“I did not,” John narrows his eyes at Jane but adjusts his shirt nonetheless. She playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother but he doesn’t miss the way her eyes dart between Dirk and John. He’s never been one to hide secrets from his sister but with everything so undefined between him and Dirk, he didn’t want to share anything that might make her meddle any more than his other friends already did…

John wouldn’t say he’s much of a planner but in this case— when it comes to Dirk— he wants to get things right. 

He swallows hard and turns to look at Dirk. Unlike John who has to put in the work, Dirk looks effortlessly put together. He doesn’t doubt that there are probably a few people planning on confessing to him today. Dirk has always been pretty popular but now that he has brought himself back from the deep-end with praises for getting on the InventTeam, classmates see cold prince Dirk as attainable and within their romantic reach. 

The thought burns like a mild acid in the pit of John’s stomach for the briefest of moments.

Jane adjusts her own glasses and leans forward. “Anyway, did either of you make up your mind about the dance tonight?” 

Dirk fidgets with one of the studs on his ear lobe and shrugs. John feels warmth creep up his cheeks as he remembers the night he pierced Dirk’s ears. 

“I think Kanaya and Rose are going. And since Dave is going to that teacher conference with Vantas I think I’m just going to hang out at home until Roxy drives down from campus.”

Jane sighs, “That sounds so boring. Are you sure you don’t want to go? You can be my date,” she teases. “Or you could take John? John, you’re going, right? For student leadership stuff?”

John steals a glance at Dirk who seems to suddenly find the problems in his textbook a lot more interesting than their conversation. 

“Yeah, but I’m just doing set up. I don’t plan on staying and watching some guy shove his tongue down your throat.”

Jane yelps in offense and glares back at Dirk who has let out a quiet chuckle without looking up from his book.

“You’re both so crude!” She hisses, “As if you two haven’t been all up in each other’s business!”

Dirk flinches and his face turns bright red— enough to hide his freckles. He can’t help look at John from behind his shades and finds some comfort to see his face equally red. But unlike Dirk’s own internal meltdown at the realization that Jane is aware that they have started to teeter on the line that could be best described as doomed-friends-with-benefits; John’s jaw is clenched as if he is about to tear into an argument with his sister in the middle of the library. 

“Oh come on, you were not being subtle,” Jane rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Janey?” John’s voice is tense.

She gets up and waves him off, “Be nice to me, Johnny, You’re bound to need me to cover for you one of these days.” 

Jane doesn’t wait for a response before picking up her bag and heading for the exit. 

“Sorry,” John whispers, sheepish, in the way that Dirk finds endearing.

Dirk pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his shades up just slightly. “It’s cool. You probably don’t want Jane to get the wrong idea, though. I’ll talk to her later and explain—”

John’s eye twitches and Dirk feels the anxiety in the pit of his stomach surge forward. As much as Dirk has tried not to read into the fact that he’s been making out with John on the regular, he can’t help the disappointed rejection that wells up whenever he sees John react to the possible implications. 

“Fuck,” John groans.

Dirk tries to swallow and finds that his throat is suddenly painfully narrow. 

“As I said, I’ll talk to her.”

John huffs and places a  hand on Dirk’s shoulder sending a reactionary shiver down Dirk’s spine. 

“Explain what, dumbass?” John blinks hard a couple of times.

“That you’re not gay that we’re just— hey, are you okay, man?”

John’s right eye stings. He tries to blink his contact back into place but his mind is simultaneously trying to sort out Dirk’s comment. 

“I need a mirror.”

Dirk straightens up as misguided relief clicks. His mind doesn’t wander away from the fact that John hasn’t moved his hand away and is actually gripping him a little tighter in a way that is reminiscent of something John does when their make-out gets a little heated. Like he’s trying to make sure Dirk stays in place and won’t run away.

He hands John the old compact he stole from Roxy. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Why don’t you just wear your glasses?” 

John looks at Dirk with one eye, “Because you like it when I wear contacts.” 

The words  (as often is the case for John when it comes to Dirk) simply roll out of his mouth of their own accord. 

“Uh,” Dirk drawls. “No? I mean, what does that matter? When has wearing contacts gone well for you?”

John’s shoulders slump, foolishness, and embarrassment finally overcoming his earlier determination. He can’t bring himself to tell Dirk that he wanted to look good because it is Valentine’s day, and even though they don’t have any plans and aren’t actually dating, John wanted to do something to mark the occasion even if it was just getting Dirk to do that little thing where he stares at John for a little too long and licks his lips. 

“Well, too freakin’ bad because I didn’t bring my spare glasses.” He is more annoyed at himself than anyone else. 

Dirk doesn’t hold back a rare wide, closed-mouth smile. It makes him look more open like he used to be when they were younger and his life hadn’t gone bat-shit overnight. 

John curses his predicament as he can only properly take in the sight through one eye. 

He blinks hard and shakes his head until he finally feels his contact pop back into place. John makes a celebratory sound and gesture that pulls laughter out of Dirk.

Surprised, Dirk tries to hide his laughter behind his fist turning away with his shoulders shaking slightly. 

Whatever embarrassment John was feeling before dissipates and is once more replaced by a small but hot flicker of determination. His goal suddenly clear before him.

He reaches over and pulls Dirk’s hand away from his face.

Dirk is startled only for a moment until he sees John’s bright blue eyes staring back at him along with his classically goofy grin. 

The conflict between hope and regret stirs in Dirk’s chest as it always does whenever John looks at him like he can actually see Dirk.  A tension of hot and cold stretches across his skin; the same tension he’s felt since they were kids and Dirk had already decided-- made peace with the fact that he’d never be anything more than John’s best friend. 

Dirk hones in on the regret, reminding himself again, that to give in to the hope and delusion can only lead to a bad path. One where rejection is all-consuming and will inevitably taint their friendship all over again.

John, on the other hand, oblivious to Dirk’s struggle, leans in closer. His eyes are half-closed and  he is still clutching onto Dirk’s hand as he lets their lips hover over each other. 

Dirk doesn’t move. He stays still feeling the warmth of John’s breath as it hits his face. 

He clutches onto his regret wrapped in fear and finds that he is actually holding onto delusion wrapped in anticipation. 

He doesn’t pull away when John finally closes the small space between them and connects their lips. 

John squeezes Dirk’s hand and holds it close to his chest. He keeps it there when he pulls back, making this kiss shared in the corner of the school library the most chaste of any of the kisses he’s shared with Dirk. 

“Well, you’re definitely getting a lot more confident,” is the first thing to come out of Dirk’s mouth. 

John’s face burns. He drops Dirk’s hand and covers his mouth and lets the mortification consume him. He almost expects regret to follow but when he looks up at Dirk who is looking away and rubbing the back of his flushed neck, John can’t find it. The only thing he feels is the now-familiar butterflies in his stomach that come to life whenever he’s with Dirk. 

The first bell, reminding the student body to head to class, rings. Dirk clears his throat and starts to pack up his books, whatever homework he was trying to work on continues unfinished. 

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he doesn’t look at John while he speaks. “If someone sees they might get the wrong idea about you,” Dirk does his best to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

John freezes.

“Wait, are you worried that people might think I’m gay?” John can’t help the gurgled laugh that escapes. Now that John thinks about it, this is the second time Dirk has brought the concern up in the past twenty minutes and if he really stops to consider it, Dirk has made similar comments in the past. 

“Dude, at this point, I gotta admit that I’m a little gay, right? I don’t think it’s very hetero of me to make out with a guy on a regular basis.”

Dirk’s head twists to look at John with enough ferocity that his shades half fall off his face. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Dirk. I’m—I’m kinda gay.”

The admission comes out softer than intended. It is a surprise to both of them. For John it’s the ease with which the words manifest, and for Dirk, it’s hearing John come out as if he had never given him any indication (despite all of the kissing).

They stare at each other— John fidgets with his hands and Dirk is stiff as a board— until the librarian runs through yelling at them about being late. 

“Set up for the dance ends pretty early right?” Dirk asks once they are standing outside of the library. The halls are full of shades of red. Hearts are plastered on nearly every available space that the already crowded walls of the school have to offer.

John bites down on his bottom lip and nods. 

“Okay, Do you want to come over and watch a movie? Roxy won’t be back until late.”

John has to clamp down on his lip to keep from grinning. He manages an emphatic nod. 

Dirk clears his throat. “Sweet. I’ll see you later then.”

[gwynposting]

All Along the Watchtower (Ch. 1)

This story takes place after the “All Along the Watchtower” ending of Cyberpunk 2077, so spoilers ahead.

NSFW fic, but not centered on smut.

If you prefer reading on AO3, click here.

Silence hung over the camp, draped upon the nomads like dewed grass on a summer morning - naught but the gentle sound of air rustling through the bushes disturbed the encampment. The merry sounds of laughter and companionship drifting ever so slowly over the evening, fading away as one by one the members of the Aldecados said their farewells and returned to the seclusion of their tents.

V stood on the porch to her makeshift abode, leaning against a metal railing that had seen far too many summers, slowly weathered down through corrosive sandstorms. She felt the cold metal of a small container in her hands, running her fingers along the ornaments that adorned it. V gave a practiced flick, unlatching the cigarette case and allowing it to unfold. A few of Evelyn’s original cigarettes still remained. On more than one occasion, V had eyed those nicotine sticks, overwhelmed with the stresses of Night City that seemed to perpetually weigh down on her. Though, she wasn’t sure if that was her or Johnny that constantly itched for their chemical release. But she always felt like she couldn’t disturb them, in a way. Whether it was for hers or Judy’s sake, she didn’t really know. She would only pass Judy along the occasional smoke when she asked.

The creaking whine of buckling metal sheets prodded the gentle serenity of the cloudless night awake. V need not even turn her head before a knowing warmth crept about her waist, pulling her close, allowing her entire backside to be pulled into Judy’s caress. The sudden heat of Judy’s breath passing along her ear and neck sent a wave of ease through V. The muscles she had not even realized were taught began to slacken and the pestering thoughts that clouded her mind cleared.

Neither of the pair were quite sure how long they stood there, nor did they care. They were both free, truly free. Free of the accursed city that had claimed so many of their loved ones, the corruption and greed and hatred consuming them all. For the first time, they felt complete.

Judy’s voice, dancing soft whispers against V’s ears, sent shivers to her core, “I still never get used to how different the sky is all the way out here.” V followed Judy’s gaze upwards to the night sky.

“Looking up at it, I just get the overwhelming feeling to lie on our roof and get lost in the cosmos with you in my arms, wasting our nights away,” V mused, nuzzling her cheek against Judy’s.

“Makin’ up for lost time eh?” Judy joked.

“Something like that,” V muttered back, a smile across her lips. “It still blows my mind that something this amazing has eluded me my entire life.”

“Didja not get much starlight before you dove into Night City?” Judy questioned.

“Nah,” V replied, “the light pollution from NC was too intense, even out where the Nomads set up. Best we could see were the major stars and constellations,” she paused, “on a clear day, at least.”

“Makes me feel special,” Judy floated back, “to experience it all. Together.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” V replied.  

The pair stood by each others’ sides, pointing out particularly pretty stars or interesting shapes in the night sky. Each sparkling speck was given its own little personality and ecosystem, and they giggled and laughed at all the crazy alternate worlds that could possibly exist out there in the vast expanse of space.

“Hey, you see that big cluster of stuff right there?” V pointed to a particularly dense region of what she assumed were stars, “what do you think their story is?”

But her only response was the telltale slump of a Judy succumbing to the vestiges of exhaustion. Judy gingerly tugged the material of V’s long sleeve shirt, a silent request that V met. “Of course, hun,” V met Judy’s drooped eyes, half lidded, half clinging to the presence of her partner. Without another word, V placed a hand upon Judy’s back, and one in the cradle of her knees, scooping her up in a careful embrace. Judy’s fingers found purchase in V’s shirt, not so much for support, but to just feel more of this overwhelming being that she was blessed to have in her life.

Just as easily as she’d been picked up, Judy was placed down in bed. Each moment’s pass, Judy could feel the sleep take root, with every breath she felt herself sink lower and lower into comforting sleep, the soothing gaze of V’s eyes the only thing keeping her afloat. She looked up expectantly as V slid in beside her, bringing up their blankets to enclose them both. Judy could feel her guards slipping once more, overridden by the warmth of V’s presence.

“I…” she felt herself hesitating for the first time that night. Something caught her breath, her chest refused to give life to the words that wrestled within her heart. But before she could resolve the tension, V silenced her with pillowy lips, “Goodnight, Judy.”

***

Vulnerability, trust.

It was difficult to get used to the feeling again after everything fell apart the first time. To be trusted, to trust. To open yourself up to someone and have them share every piece of themselves with you. A piece of V died that day, when the Arasoka tower job fell through. She had never realized how much she had needed that closeness, how much she had missed it, until she began falling for Judy. The relic gave her a good distraction to ignore the incessant despair and loneliness. Every day she would wake up in one of the most populous cities on earth yet experience such soul-crushing isolation. It gave her a task to do, it was a matter of life and death. Nothing else mattered besides tracking down Hellman, or Hanako, or Evelyn. But her time with Judy cracked that facade.

And in her time in the Badlands helping the Aldecados, she couldn’t help feel jealous at times. The gnawing vice of self-doubt and isolation constantly weighed on her when she saw their family, albeit dysfunctional at times, together. Every night she would go to sleep questioning her own decision to leave her tribe, beaten back by the guilt of ‘losing’ the loved ones she’s made in Night City had she never made the journey.

Even now, as Judy lay next to her, wrapped up in her arms, she couldn’t help the fleeting thoughts that pinged the back of her head - someone close to you meant vulnerability, someone the bastards can take from you, or get to you through, someone for you to lose once more. It was a viscous feeling to wrestle with - live a miserable life of isolation yet remain safe from traumatic loss? Or open yourself to someone dear to you, but risk losing everything once more and fall even further into the black pit of despair that Night City lays out before you. Or even worse, lose yourself and leave them behind to suffer that miserable fate.

But even still, the thoughts were just that, fleeting. She did not care to entertain the thought of living life on the road without Judy, or anyone for that matter. She considered herself the luckiest person in Night City that she happened to be paired with Jackie Welles that fateful job, and now she considered herself infinitely more so now that she felt like she had a true family again, even if it meant dealing with Deshawn and Arasaka in the process. The loss of good people like Jackie, Saul, or Evelyn weighed down heavily upon V, but the lucky part about family is that they’re always going to be there to help share the burden.

V carefully ran each finger of her lover through her own. If she were still, V could detect the faint beat of Judy’s heart pumping blood to her finger tip, the rhythmic thump like a faint echo.

“I wish we could stay like this all day,” Judy called out softly, her voice laced with the gravely undertones of a night-owl caught in the morning.

V brought her lips against the bare shoulder before her, lingering, not wanting to break contact. “Hope I didn’t disturb your beauty sleep,” she said with similar exhaustion.

“Oh no, I’m a beut 24/7,” Judy instead took V’s hand in hers, bringing them to her lips and placing a kiss upon them.

“Oh yeah?” V’s lips curled up into a smile, “must explain why I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Judy lifted V’s arm up, just enough to allow her to maneuver, before flipping over to face V. Once again, she was caught off guard by her beauty, and it sent butterflies through her core merely gazing up into the half-lidded eyes of her lover. The feeling amplified as V brought a hand to her forehead, brushing aside the bedtime mess of a hairdo behind her ear.

“Y’know,” Judy began, “a little birdy told me it’s someone’s birthday.”

V rose an inquisitive eyebrow, “Oh yeah? And who’s that.”

Judy looked up at her with innocent eyes, “Oh, Misty and I have been talking lately~”

“Misty eh, she knows how much I don’t like to celebrate it. You haven’t been getting any ideas in that pretty head of yours have you?”

Judy looked off to the side, a cheeky grin on her face, “before I say anything else, I’d like to formally implicate Panam as well.”

“Tsk tsk, already placing blame. What am I going to do with you,” V said, climbing on top of Judy, pinning her arms to either side. Her hair fell gracefully over her face.

“Do what you must,” Judy said in a dramatic voice, “I have already won.”

“Later,” V closed the distance and placed a tender kiss on Judy’s lips, “let’s go and grab some breakfast mm?”

“Aww, you’re no fun,” Judy whined.

“I said later, not never,” V smirked, “c’mon.”

***

A dry heat radiated out from the fire pit, a bastion of warmth pushing against the encroaching cool of the desert evening. The mood was quiet, disturbed only by the crackling of wood and the melodious strings of the guitar. The familiar weight of Judy’s head rested upon V’s shoulders. Judy closed her eyes and listened closely, her ear pressed against V’s skin, to feel the soothing rumble of V’s hummed melody. Together they swayed, it had been a perfect day for V, a day with family.

She saw Panam get up and move next to her, a glowing smile upon her face. “Now I know you don’t like doing stuff for your birthday, but we all wanted to give you something. As thanks for being such an important part of our family.”

“Ah jeez, I don’t know what to say,” V replied with a nervous chuckle.

“It was Judy’s idea, I just sort-of ran with it.” Panam smirked.

“Sounds about right,” V chuckled.

Panam reached back into her pocket and pulled out a small shard, thrusting it forward.

“What’s this?” V questioned, reaching out and taking it.

“You’ll see,” Panam replied.

V placed the chip in her slot and the files began uploading.

She felt Judy take her right hand in hers. The chip displayed an image - no, a video. Viktor. Working in his shop.

“Hey V!” his familiar voice filled her ears, as if she were standing right there next to him. “How’s life out there in the desert? You gettin’ some sun, some fresh air in those lungs? Don’t forget to get yourself a checkup every once and a while. Any dust or dirt gets under that insulation, you’re done. ‘Course, decent ripper’s harder to find out there than a four-star hotel. So actually - how ‘bout you just stop by when you’re back in the city, hm? Think I could swing a little discount for an old regular like you… ‘Till next time V.”

V hadn’t realized until after his message came to a close that she was already bawling - tears streaming down her face, clutching Judy’s hand tightly. God, she had missed Viktor. He had been there for her every single step of the way, through all the good but especially all the bad. She chuckled through shaky breath, that’s just the kind of message bashful ol’ Vik would send too.

But soon after the message closed, another appeared. It was Mama Welles. Then after her, Mitch, then Judy, then Misty. All people who had been so influential in her struggles through Night City. As Misty’s message, proclaiming a wonderful life ahead, came to a close, V was a complete mess. Her friends held her close, Panam leaning on her left shoulder and Judy her right. They gave her time to work through all the complex emotions she was going through. “I’m so lucky,” she stuttered through her breaths, “to have all of you.”

“Nah V,” came Judy’s smooth voice, “we’re lucky to have you .” She kissed V’s cheek and whispered, “Happy birthday babe.”

“Thanks, Judy. Thanks Panam, just…” she paused, “thank you every single one of you,” she looked around the bonfire circle at the other Aldecados.

And there Judy and V sat, letting the bonfire slowly wane over the hour as the others slowly began to return to their tents for a night’s sleep. Not a word was said, they didn’t need to. It wasn’t until the dying light of the fire dwindled to gentle cinders in ash did V finally break the silence, “I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

“I know,” Judy replied, “nothing better than family.” She allowed the silence to linger, “Though, I did have one more thing. From me to you.”

“Judy,” V whined, “you’ve already done so much for me today, you really didn’t need to.”

“Hush now,” Judy shushed, removing herself from V’s shoulder and standing up, holding V’s hand. “Come with me.”

V stood, her legs aching from inaction, and followed Judy’s lead back to their room. It was dimly lit, with colorful mood lights giving her eyes a gentle embrace. V knew where this was going, “Don’t remember seeing a bow wrapped around you.”

Judy let out a little chuckle, “Pssh. Later.” She pointed to the bed, “Sit, I got something for you.”

V obediently did as she was told, taking off her boots and tossing them to the side, getting comfortable. “You know how in my message, just then, I was talking about how I’m bad talking about my feelings?”

“Yeah..” V said.

“Well, after I recorded that, I came up with something that maybe can help you understand. It seems so obvious lookin’ back.”

V tilted her head in curiosity, before Judy pulled out the braindance headset. Then, it clicked.

“I uh, went and scrolled something for you. I went through to make sure nothing went wrong with the recording, but I didn’t edit anything. So, what’s in there is what’s in here,” she poked at her chest.

“Judy… I don’t know what to say,” V said.

“Heh. Apparently neither did I, which is why I wanted to do this.” Judy sat herself besides V and handed her the headset. “I’ll be here the entire time, if you want to do this.”

“Of course, Judy. This means so much to me.” V put the headset on and leaned back on the mattress as Judy looked over her. When she looked up at Judy, she noticed some of the classic tells she gave off when she was nervous - her bottom lip caught between her teeth, the rhythmic tap of her foot, a hand continuously sweeping through her hair. V outstretched a hand to Judy, who readily took it in her own.

V started up the BD, and instantly the lights began their sequence, whisking her away.

She was a bit disoriented, but she felt something very familiar to what she had before. She was in bed, warmth clutching her, surrounding her. She felt the light tickle of breath against the nape of her neck. But it ran deeper than that, it was more than physical. She felt things, familiar, but different. She felt… free. Safe. Loved. Like she would be protected from every problem in the world, as if she had finally escaped the tangled and matted web that controlled her for so long. And then she turned around.

And she saw V, and her heart fluttered. Her breath hitched, her pulse quickened. She caught the bottom of her lip between her teeth. It was as if she fell in love again each time she looked upon V’s face, her face. She felt a thousand different emotions at once, part of her wanted to jump V’s bones, and the other simply wanted to gaze upon her striking features for hours.

This moment was perfect. She was perfect, and she didn’t want to ever let go.

And then, it was over. V felt herself come out of the trance. She was back in her own shoes, a bit disoriented. Judy was looking down upon her, nervous as ever, grasping her hand.

V removed the headset and surged forward, embracing Judy in a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” Judy whispered, a pleading request.

“I fucking love you too,” V replied, taking Judy once more. Judy was hers, and she was Judy’s. Their lips were like fire, emblazoned with passion. Each kiss along each others’ lips and jaw leaving smouldering marks of love. They breathed and moaned out as they found purchase upon one another as hands began to roam across each others’ bodies. Nothing could fulfill the desire each other felt, so they grasped and clutched for more and more .

Without breaking their kiss, V scooped Judy up and placed her down on the bed, straddling her. Judy instantly wrapped her legs around V and brought her close. V leaned in and found the crook of Judy’s neck. Judy moaned out and held V there, urging her to never let go. But V had other plans, unclasping the straps over Judy’s favorite suspenders and rolling them off. Then followed her shirt straps, slowly unfurling until Judy’s chest lay bare, her excitement visible. Judy looked up to V, pleading with her eyes.

“God,” V muttered under her breath, “you’re so fucking hot.”

Judy’s flustered smile turned into a gasp as V took a nipple in her mouth, her fingers capturing the other. Judy shot a hand through V’s hair, more as a handhold than a guiding hand. V would be taking the reins for now, and Judy would be putty in her hands. Each soft mewling and gasp for air sent electricity through V’s core. She wanted more.

Every inch she descended down brought more sounds prowling out of Judy. As she reached the end of Judy’s expanse, where skin met clothing once more, she looked up to Judy. She was going to get her way.

She was met with a wordless request for more - Judy’s face was lined with desperation. But V wanted to hear how much she needed it, how much she wanted to be taken then and there. A wordless response was given to a silent request, as V looked up with a knowing smirk and raised eyebrow.

“Please,” was all Judy could muster, drawn out with longing.

“We both know you can do better than that, babe.”

“God V, fucking please.” Judy cried out as V teased a passing hand over her crotch.

“Good girl,” V cooed. She carefully unfurled Judy’s overalls, bit by bit exposing Judy’s tender skin to the air, revealing goosebumps.

V lazily placed kisses along each inch of skin. As she reached Judy’s pelvis, she began to feel the excitement and needy response as Judy began to push into V to get more than V’s oh-so-gentle contact. But V saw it fit to torture the poor women.

V had to hold herself back from going straight for Judy’s sex. As much as she wanted it, right now she wanted to see Judy become unraveled under her, to watch her become needy and desperate for release. Instead, V began to work around Judy’s inner thighs, oh so cheekily dancing around the throbbing wetness. The eruption of eager moans were music to her ears as she continued. But she didn’t stop there, V began to move away and travel further down.

“Nooo,” Judy whimpered, reaching out after V’s descending head, finding nothing.

“Oh?” V cooed with a knowing smile, “is there something you needed?”

“Fuck, V,” Judy vented.

“Well yes, that’s the idea.”

“ Please ,” Judy responded more forcefully than the last time, “I need this. Please.”

“Now how can I say no to that,” V quickly returned back and began rolling down Judy’s pair of cotton panties, no longer wanting to waste any more time on teasing or foreplay. With them finally loose and discarded, V placed a loving kiss at the sole of Judy’s feet before returning.

V brought her tongue along Judy’s sex. Judy gasped out and immediately found purchase within V’s soft locks. V sent shockwaves through Judy’s body with each brushing pass of her tongue over Judy’s clit. Judy’s toes crinkled and unfurled as she tried to comprehend the pleasure coursing through her body, her legs writhed left and right. With every second she desired more, needed more. Her motions began to reflect the base hunger that surged through her as she began to grind back into V’s waiting maw.

Judy’s rut continued until she felt herself reach the tipping point, and her entire body flexed and ached as she came unraveled, her hips arching up, seeking every single ounce of pressure possible against V’s deft tongue. V eased Judy through her through her orgasm, letting her partner use her almost as a toy, letting her grind and push against her as her body convulsed.

Soon after, Judy began to relax and collapsed back onto the mattress. Beads of sweat lined her body, slowly rising and falling to the tune of her slowing breath. She brought a hand and swept it through the hair that had begun sticking to her forehead. She looked down to a smiling V.

“I will never get tired of seeing that,” V cooed, running a hand along her messy jawline, wiping it dry, before crawling up Judy’s exhausted body and looking her in the eyes. Judy bridged the distance and immediately pressed her lips against V’s. The two embraced for what felt like hours, allowing the emotional high last for as long as possible until their kiss became slow and methodical. Judy accented their embrace as she caught V’s bottom lip in her teeth, before slowly moving away. V let out a small whimper, attempting to follow Judy’s retreat, but she was pushed back up by Judy’s hand.

“Time for the birthday girl to get some love, hmm?” Judy smirked. With a smooth motion, she rotated them both so that Judy was on top. “I think you’re a little overdressed,” she smirked. Judy began by stripping V’s shirt, and gave her left nipple a small love bite before traversing down to her skintight pants.

“What have we here,” Judy cooed as she pressed a hand against the prominent bulge of V’s cock, aching against the straining fabric, “it feels so angry~”

“It’s cause you were such a tease today,” V gasped, thinking back to the sneaky flashes and glancing touches Judy subjected her to throughout the day.

“Revenge for this morning,” Judy replied smoothly. But now was no time for prolonged torture, they both knew what they needed. Judy deftly unzipped V’s jeans, and helped her shimmy out of their tight embrace.

V’s cock stood rigid at attention, pulsing with need and want. Normally Judy would like to have spent a good while making V desperate for her before finally giving in, but neither of them could stand to wait a single second more. Judy carefully straddled V’s hip and aligned her cock before making her descent. Both exhaled deep, low growls as Judy sheathed herself to the hilt.

V’s hands began to roam across Judy’s hips, letting her fingers squeeze down and grab, making slow pushes and pulls that sent electricity through her cock. Judy gently collapsed on V and took her lips against hers once more. Together they maintained a slow and steady grind, their passionate kiss only to be interrupted by sudden moans and gasps of pleasure, as each brought the other closer and closer to the edge.

With each slow thrust, they began to get increasingly impatient, as each began to feel the edge draw near. V’s hips became less and less disciplined and Judy responded in turn. Their rhythm became disjointed and out of sync, fueled by sheer desperation, until Judy pushed down one last time and came undone. She gasped and her entire body tensed up, bringing V along with her. Together they unraveled, sweeping each other in their arms and bracing themselves through the electricity that seemed to pass through each others’ bodies. Judy moans were muffled in the crook of V’s neck as V deposited her seed with short but powerful thrusts.

They remained in each other's embrace, their skin flushed red and their hearts racing. V could not help the tears that formed in her eyes. Before she could blink or swipe them away, Judy noticed and looked down with worry. V closed her eyes and shook her head with a smile on her face, understanding the worry in Judy’s eyes. “I’m okay, Judy. I just fucking love you, is all.”

Judy let out a silent laugh, a light-hearted exhale of relief, “I love you, V,” she said, before leaning down once more to press her lips against V’s.

[toovirgins]

Le Rêve - Part 1

Summary: A series of sticky situations causes John and Paul to redefine their relationship with a curiously fresh perspective.

Warning: R-rated

It was late.

Paul watched her dark shadow leap up the wall as she lowered herself onto the bed. She scanned the room slowly, taking in all of the intimate aspects of living: the scattered newspapers, the dirty laundry, the haphazard boots, notes scrawled on empty wrappers and used napkins and hotel stationary. He wasn’t necessarily proud of the conditions, but the present circumstances made it hard for him to focus on any chore of cleaning his room.

The room was bathed in a golden glow, the only radiance provided by a gentle crack of the bathroom door. She looked up at him through coy lashes and reached out to tug at the hem of his dress shirt. An invitation.

Paul was quick to accept. He sunk down beside her on the mattress, close enough to where their sides were touching. Their proximity quickened his heart rate, and he fought to keep his gaze from the skirt riding high on her thighs.

“So.” She spoke slowly, fingering a loose scrap of paper on the bed. “Is this where the magic happens?”

Paul fought off an eye roll, telling himself there was nothing wrong with the bird wanting a bit of small talk beforehand. Most fans did, and while normally he wouldn’t mind, he was in a particular state this evening.

“A bit.” He shot her what he felt was an authentically cheeky wink.

“Oh,” she responded, audibly disappointed in the lack of proper response. “That’s nice.”

“Yes,” he replied.

Paul didn’t know her name. He didn’t need to. What he did know is that he should feel more guilt at his misguided intentions. It was still up for debate as to whether he would ever entirely get past the icky twinge of using birds for this—ahem—purpose. But the more he had seen his mates do it, the easier it became. Now, the icky twinge was nothing more than that: a twinge. A quite easy feeling to justify and overcome.

The bird was pretty enough, though it was hard for him to focus on more than one feature at a time. Her hair was short-cropped in the way that Astrid had recently cut hers, and a spray of light freckles decorated her upturned nose. He couldn’t tell if her cheeks were still flushed, or if it was the heavy makeup she had painted on. Thick clumpy eyelashes juxtaposed the rest of her fair features, and her lips were a bright red. Paul subconsciously ran his tongue along his teeth when she flashed him a shy smile, revealing a smear of lipstick on her front tooth. Her eyes weren’t any particular color.

She blushed and let out a nervous chuckle, gaze drawing to where Paul’s delicate fingers had begun drawing circles on her knee. She had stilled, and he waited patiently for her to pull away, or gently push his hand back to his side. His movements were suggestive enough, but the girl was quite reserved. She offered him only playfully pouts, her teeth pulling teasingly at the bottom lip. Her own hands remained motionless on the bed, but she kicked her feet on the edge, bouncing herself up and down just enough to scatter Paul’s thoughts.

He felt himself growing impatient, and chewed his lip as she let her wide gaze rest on the half-awake bulge in his trousers. He was never one for teasing.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurted, drawing his hand back. If she wouldn’t get this started, he would. They both knew what they were there for. Not that the explicit conversation hadn’t been had, of course. Paul didn’t remember where or when, but she had blushed and averted her gaze at his forwardness.

Now, she nodded and scooted a bit closer, her thigh pressed deeper against his own. “Oh, please do.” This time, when she spoke, he thought he detected an American accent; though, the moment had passed, and there was no way to be sure.

Paul drew a sweet smile to his face and grazed her cheek lightly, taking her chin between his fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and Paul was quick to bridge the space between them. In the split second before their lips collided, the face suddenly seemed eerily familiar. It nearly froze Paul in his tracks, but the flash of recognition was over as quickly as it had struck. Just as before, he had no reaction to the simple girl’s face besides a warm hum of arousal at the prospect of what was about to occur.

The kiss was a bit messy. Not that Paul minded too much. Despite her mild temperament, the girl’s movements were rough—calloused fingertips came up to grip the back of his neck, and teeth clashed together on more than one occasion as her tongue desperately tangled with his own. One hand reached low to tug encouragingly at the hem of her skirt, but Paul frowned when he found the skirt no longer decorating her thick thighs. She was wearing slacks now—nicely pressed ones, at that. For a moment, their eyes met, and Paul realized with a start that her eyes were a golden brown.

They weren’t objectively spectacular, and yet they were. Something in the pools of pupil-dotted honey reached out to him, pulling him into their warm embrace. He could see nothing but her eyes. There was something incredibly enticing about the gaze, and he felt the similar stir of recognition in the pit of his stomach. She smiled—or at least, he thought she did, the eyes sparkling knowingly as crinkles twitched at the corners. He felt a hand on his thigh, impossibly close to the inner junction of his leg and hip, and let out a soft moan. Encouraged, the hand found its way to his clothed erection and gave a tentative squeeze.

Paul gasped and clawed at her waist to pull her into his lap. When their eyes met again, hers had lost color.

She began to rock slowly on top of him, peppering his lips with soft, open-mouthed kisses. Paul snaked a hand around her hips and shifted them up the bed, giving them more room to lie down. Her lips found their way to his neck, where she began sucking and nibbling at his jawline, hands coming up to caress his chest. Heavenly hips never ceased their magnificent movements.

With a groan, he fumbled for the clasp and zipper on her skirt. As he hastily dragged it down, something odd tickled the back of his mind about the article of clothing. He quieted the thought, frustratingly unable to place the feeling. Once she had momentarily lifted herself out of his lap and shuffled out of the skirt, he cast it aside like the damned thing had caught fire.

She caught his wrist when he reached for her knickers. “Uh uh uh,” she warned, back with the teasing smile. “I want to do you first.”

He was never one for much complaining.

The bird’s fingers began to play with his zip. They were thin and delicate, pretty in a way only a woman’s hands could be. Soft, light. He tried not shift too needily, his mind desperately begging her to speed up the process.

After what felt like hours, the pair of them worked his suit pants off. Gentle intermission kisses woven in the process left his shirt buttons halfway undone and his tie hanging loose around his neck. Paul was sure he looked like a randy wreck, a mess of odds and ends and half-finished projects. At this point, he hardly cared. The only goal was to get the bird to do something to the needy swell in his trousers. His hopes were heightened when she shuffled lower on the bed, gently pushing his knees apart and ducking in the space amid them.

A low moan sounded between Paul’s thighs. He instinctively curled his fingers tighter into the hair, which was longer now. Thicker, too, with an auburn tint. Hadn’t it been blonde before? Paul sat up on his elbows with a frown and a grunt of effort. Vision blurred with arousal, he blinked rapidly and tried to attend to the bird that was so exasperatingly playful and slow. When the figure sharpened into focus, Paul’s breath hitched.

Two amber eyes peered up at him, heavy-lidded and lustful. They were the same as before. Paul swallowed hard as he watched the lashes flutter closed, and the chest expand with a deep breath. The brow was knitted in concerned apprehension.

There was no ambiguity about who he was with now.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Macca?” John whispered. “We’re getting a bit carried away, do you think?”

Paul only let out a reserved hum and tugged at the hair, pulling John closer to where he wanted—no, needed—him the most. His thoughts were muddy, and he didn’t have the time nor energy to ask himself all the important questions drowning in the back of his mind.

John surveyed the tent almost curiously. He nudged it with his nose, causing Paul to let out a frustrated groan. “Johnny—”

“You really want this, don’t you?” John interrupted, his tone amused. He quieted a bit. “You want me to…” Paul blinked at him, blushing furiously as he waited for his friend to finish the desire. It took John a few beats and a cleared throat, but he finally continued: “You want me to suck ya off.”

Paul couldn’t help but nod. A pained expression overtook his pretty face when John reached up to trace the outline of his cock, still imprisoned in the confines of his underwear. John glanced up at him with piercing eyes, before tugging Paul’s underwear down just enough to allow the erection to pop free.

When John’s tongue traced a firm stripe up from the base of Paul’s length, a bit of a once-over, Paul shuddered shamelessly. He couldn’t bite back the gasp. “I—Oh, God.”

“Good?” John questioned, intrigued. When Paul nodded hazily, he did it again.

Paul scowled a bit as the familiar feeling of being kept on edge resituated itself.

“I, er…” Paul cleared his throat. “Good, but not enough. Need… need more.”

“Aye.” John grinned goofily in a typical Lennon-fashion before reaching to grasp Paul in his palm. The calloused fingers were back, almost ticklish as John lazily began stroking the shaft. Paul squirmed under his grip, heavily focused on the intrusive thought that noted that this was somehow better than any bird he could dream up.

John studied the budding drop of precum with great attention, like it was a newly arrived guest. When he seemed to reach some sort of internal consensus, John’s tongue dipped down, causing Paul’s hands to twist violently in the sheets.

Paul wanted to strangle the man, or perhaps cry, at the way his face contorted in electrified disgust. A wicked smile tugged at John’s features immediately after, accompanying perhaps the worst sentence that Paul had ever heard out of his mouth.

“Not bad.”

—

Paul shot up in bed.

There was no bird, no skirt on the floor, no shrugged off trousers or half-done shirt, no salacious glow of the hotel bathroom lights. His breathing was rapid, but the material that heaved with his chest was the white cotton of his pajamas. The room was bright, white rays of early morning sunlight snaking through the cheap blinds.

“All right, princess?” John groaned from beside him. He had sat up with a start as well, in response to Paul’s frantic awakening.

“What’s going on?” Paul’s voice was shaky.

“I dunno,” John answered with a sleepy shrug, yawning as his head fell hard back onto the pillow. “You came here. You tell me.”

With a start, Paul realized that he really had joined him there, and that his bed was lying willfully unoccupied on the other half of the room. “Bad dream,” he mumbled thoughtlessly.

John grunted in response.

As Paul’s breathing slowed, he tried to recount everything that had happened in the dream and pinpoint where exactly it had gone awry. It had been a fine dream before John showed up. And then it had been…

He shook his head. Millions of questions and fears flitted through his mind, a whirlwind much too intense for this time of morning. The second most important concern was why it happened. The most important concern was how Paul felt about it now.

A light snore drew Paul’s attention to the re-slumbering man beside him. A hollow feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t go back to sleep now, especially not in the same bed.

Fuck.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

Where is your love?

Dedicated, first and foremost, to @sxvethelastdance, whose dreams inspired this. I’ve been sitting on this for ages. It’s a crime that I’ve not posted it yet. 

Warring exes, Caged Heat (aged heat, tbh), ft. Thunder God Johnny Cage~

The atmosphere is somber, solemn, and respectful as they—the very few who are in attendance—gather themselves upon finely-carved chairs facing a beautifully peaceful, tree-filled grotto. In it, a small waterfall plays down the rocks and catches silvery white moonlight, sparkling like a thousand diamonds and pearls. Fire God Liu Kang, seated near the right side of the grotto, shifts in his seat and turns his glowing eyes upon his small pantheon. Fujin, Kung Lao, Kitana, and Johnny Cage all are seated in similar chairs. He makes eye contact with the latter, who gives an “okay” sign, more subtle than his usual finger guns, and then elbows Kung Lao, who is speaking quietly with Kitana. They both shift and turn their attention to Liu Kang, who makes meaningful eye contact with each. Fujin is the only one who is still facing forward, hardly having moved since his arrival.

 There are other seats and soon, they are filled—some faces are familiar, hauntingly so—and some are wholly new. Kung Lao sees this timeline’s version of his ancestor, rightful winner of several consecutive tournaments and still looking young and spry, like a man of twenty, though he is far older. Kitana sees her clone sister—or the woman who might have been her clone sister. Mileena Kahn has taken the throne from her treacherous “father” who, similar to Kitana’s recollection, stole Jerrod’s throne and wife, leaving Edenia a smoking husk; that Quan-Chi was her creator rather than Shang Tsung seems to have made little difference in appearance, though perhaps it has in personality. 

 Johnny watches for any hint of what his family might have become in this timeline and sees nothing, thinking it may be for the best, though he recognizes the uniforms of Scorpion and Sub-Zero, looking just as ornery as they do in his timeline. Some things never change. Fujin, whose gaze finally strays, catches sight of Rain, who, as the demigod son of Argus of Edenia, is acting as a diplomatic liaison between the restored realm and Outworld. Mileena Kahn is evidently a just ruler, which has surprised everyone, though they cannot show it. A few more trickle in and are strangers, but must have been involved, in some way, with the events which take place on this island once a generation.

 The mortals in attendance seem to want to move and pay respects to the pantheon sitting clustered in a small group, but the occasion is so unique, nobody seems to know what the protocol might be. Before anyone can make a social blunder, however, a flash of green light and the distinct whiff of fairly dark magic fills the grove. Liu’s gaze snaps forward first, though Fujin’s is not far behind. Only the gods seem disturbed by this, however, as the other guests remain silent and somber. Johnny feels a hand moving to where his mortal heart used to be. He curls his lip a little, but stows the urge to offer comment—a gargantuan effort—when a woman appears from the green stuff, her sharp, angular face set with glittering eyes that seem to catch the moon light and are framed by glossy, Stygian hair: Shang Liu Kang.

 “Too long has it been since I have had the pleasure of hosting so many venerable guests,” she said, lifting her arms. “I, and my parents, thank you for coming.”

 The applause is quiet and polite. She follows it with her eyes, almost gauging when it will subside before putting her hands up. She moves with the grace of a jungle cat, or a serpent, not unlike her “Baba”, Shang Tsung. With that same liquid grace, she gestures to the tiny, sparkling pool and, with an almost casual wave of her beautiful, bejeweled hand, summons from it a slab of what looks to be pure obsidian, shot through with lightning-bolt shapes of gold.

 “My Baba—Shang Tsung—led a strange life… but what I experienced, that for which I was fortunate to be present, was good,” she says, turning her wrist a little and then flicking her hand, as if freeing it from some tendril. The slab continues to float, unhindered. “He taught me magic, martial arts, fashion, how to get more of my food into my mouth than on my clothing—which may also count as fashion.”

 The laughter is quiet, but present, and genuine. She smiles and, rather than sinister, her smile is radiant, lighting up her entire face, her whole countenance. Her eyes sparkle with the well of tears that is hidden so well just behind them. She draws herself up and nods, as if reassuring herself that going on is acceptable, that it is the appropriate way and not just the only way. Her throat clicks audibly as she swallows and breathes deeply.

 “I am a scholar and an engineer, thanks to him,” Liu Kang continues, “and so much more than that.

 “You know, he left me this island… well, of course you know; many of you have attended the tournaments since I began hosting them. It is… a tremendous effort, I assure you, but worth every moment. Is there anything more beautiful than testing one’s might against warriors from other realms?”

 The question rolls out over the small crowd and there are murmurs of approval in the responses. She smiles. There is bloodlust in them yet, civil as even the gods in attendance pretend to be. There is purity in it, she thinks, pitting one against the other.

 “I am honored to carry that tradition and, as I am Edenian, you can be certain I will be here a while longer.” Again, there are murmurs of laughter and even a few smiles. She smiles as well, reassuring the attendees that it is quite all right to celebrate the life of someone who has passed, right alongside his beloved daughter.

 “Baba was not Edenian,” Liu Kang continues, “so his time was more limited, but I think we can all agree that a few dozen centuries is a long, fulfilling life for any mortal.” She does not pause for any response here, but moves on, her focus now upon some space behind them, as if looking into anyone’s eyes will bring tears to hers. This one thing, she cannot bear.

 “He always joked that it would be his luck to outlive my father—you can imagine his heartbreak when he was right.” Tenacity keeps her going and little else. “He wanted so desperately to follow father… he swore to me… ‘child,’ he said, ‘I cannot live this way, without him, so forgive me if I do not try’… and it broke my heart—which of course he could not bear, so he said just this one last thing, gave one single request: ‘Do not bury me with him; I was not worthy to share his space when he was alive and I will not become worthy in death’.”

 She turns, gesturing to the pool and then throws her arms out in a wide, gentle arc to indicate the trees. “This place,” she says, “is a replica of the grove in the foothills of a certain mountain range where he first met my father—and you, Lord Liu Kang, for whom I am named—and he had it constructed shortly after my father passed.”

 Shang Tsung had, of course, not needed a reminder of his lover’s radiance, but he had taken much time in this grove, sitting quietly and meditating, or speaking to Raiden, always holding one of his beautifully-worked, ornate hats, clutching it tightly and choking back tears. During these times, Liu Kang recalls, she would leave her father be, posting silent guards all about to ensure no disturbance. 

 She had once asked him why he did not go speak to Raiden directly; his resting place is within the palace itself, at the highest tower, far above even the sorcerer’s throne room and the chambers he had long shared with the god of thunder. He had not answered her. She supposes now that he had not needed to and that her asking was a strangely childish cruelty on her part, striking out at him because she would visit him alone, almost every day.

 “We grieve in different ways,” she continues, “and I think that coming here was his way of mourning my father’s passage and also celebrating his life—the life they made together. Father was enigmatic, but Baba always craved a puzzle, a new challenge and he remained fascinated until the day he… left me.” She swallows hard. “I believe the fascination has not ended.”

 She is no longer facing the small throng, instead watching the reflection of the slab and the moon in the dark pool whose stirred waters toss the images about like a kaleidoscope. She breathes deeply and lowers her head, sighing. The grove is still and quiet, reverential for several minutes and in that silence, Liu Kang feels the wind pick up around her, shaking the leaves of the trees. Distant wind chimes respond to the breeze and ring out softly. In a place that may not be this nexus of realms, but an echo of others, thunder rumbles, far off and quietly, barely a whisper. She hears it and only then do the tears begin to fall. Her shoulders shake and, though her jaw is tight, they sag and soon, her whole body feels as if it might collapse and she will join her beloved parents.

 All at once, however, there is a powerful arm about her shoulders. It buzzes strangely, almost familiarly, with a strong current just under the skin. Without thinking, she turns her body in toward the owner of that arm and allows him to envelop her. “Easy kiddo, I get it…” Johnny’s voice is soft, soothing, and fatherly. It carries none of the pontificating authority of his predecessor, but that is not what she needs right now anyway. She is sobbing against his shoulder, hard, her body at once tight with rage and frustration and threatening to go slack and collapse.

 “The mistress of the island would like a few minutes alone,” Lady Kitana instructs, standing from her seat and herding the attendees gently toward the path which will lead away from the grove and to the palace, where a feast has been prepared. No one seems to object. Mileena, bowing deeply, speaks to her twin from another timeline; it is like looking into a mirror, but with a few more teeth.

 “Outworld mourns his passage, Lady Kitana; please express my condolences to Mistress Shang.”

 “The Shirai-Ryu and Lin Kuei grieve with Mistress Shang, as well,” this world’s Sub-Zero adds. Johnny has not spent much time—any, if he is being honest—in this timeline, preferring to leave Liu Kang to his own devices here, helping where he is needed, but not really interfering, but he knows Kuai Liang’s voice when he hears it, even from a distance. Johnny finds himself wondering just how similar this timeline is to his own. He then begins to do the math and realizes why he has seen none of his family or people resembling them. This saddens him greatly, but now is not the time to consider his grief. 

 Kitana nods solemnly to both, her silence appearing deified, but really, she is shocked at this parallel “sister” and her mannerisms. If Mileena has noticed any kind of resemblance, she does not make it known, likely chalking it up to Quan-Chi’s hubris. She turns then and moves to join her small retinue further up the path. 

 Lord Liu Kang hesitates a moment before leaving to join the Great Kung Lao, his chosen, as well. Take care, Johnny, he thinks, this is the daughter of our greatest adversary. Since becoming keeper of time, the crown has never lain heavier. He now thinks of the realms in terms of epochs and eons, though among these, there are certain individuals and strokes of the cosmic brush which must be maintained.

 When the grove is silent but for the murmur of water and Liu Kang’s soft sobbing, Johnny relaxes a little. She is still crying on him, but he no longer feels all those eyes on the two of them. For being a man of the stage, accustomed to the limelight, he had not wanted to be observed comforting this woman in her time of mourning; something about it feels too intimate and he is uncomfortable with the idea that others might simply look on, even respectfully.

 “You,” she rasped hoarsely, sniffing like a child, “called me ‘kiddo’… But I am ancient, Lord Johnny Cage.”

 “I’ll never get used to that,” he says, responding in his usual, casual manner, not at all like a god of any kind. “Listen, when you get to be my age, everyone’s a kid, even people who aren’t kids—they’re kids. I don’t make the rules… and you’re a kid who just lost her dads.”

 “You are a god,” she reminds him, pulling away and, like a child once more, wiping her eyes with a fine silk sleeve. Only now does Johnny notice the beautiful damascened embroidery upon her clothing. “Do you not make the rules?”

 “The ah… universe makes its own rules, Liu Kang,” he says, the name sounding funny in his head, as he is not addressing the chesty monk-turned-god, but a beautiful, dragon-like woman with glittering, somehow serpent-like eyes, reddened from tears of grief. I’d kiss her if this was one of my movies—thank GOD it isn’t. “We’re just here to… y’know make sure people don’t break ‘em.”

 She nods, finding this acceptable an answer as she is bound to receive from a deity. He had been in attendance at her fathers’ wedding, and at Raiden’s funeral—she recalls him being quiet, but inconsolable the entire night—but she does not know Lord Johnny Cage well. She knows none of the gods terribly well—after all, how well can gods be known? Very well, if one asked my Baba, she reminds herself. She has her suspicions about her father and has had them for quite some time, though out of respect for them both, she has held her tongue. Now might be her only chance to ask, and she cannot even form the words.

 “I am glad you came,” she says, whispering hoarsely and turning toward the hovering monument to her Baba’s life. “And I have… a favor to ask of you.”

 “Shoot.”

 A brow rises, though she understands the parlance. She has heard people who speak like him, but not for some time. Liu Kang is no fool, noting everything about everyone upon her island. She has more suspicions than ever about the current pantheon, but at the moment, is too focused upon her grief to satisfy that curiosity either. It is a good thing for Johnny Cage, who would fold like a cheap suit, if pressed, thought one he currently wears is Versace.

 “I wish to carve something… an epitaph upon this stone—it is not that I lack the means, but…” She trails off, pausing to think. “I wanted it to be carved by my father’s hand—by his thunder.”

 It is Johnny’s turn to raise a brow, understanding, at least in part, that the unspoken words are: And I know you have it.

 “When I was a child, I would ask Baba where he kept all his love for Father—you know, as children do, I could not understand the abstract concept of love and when Baba said he had so much to give, I wondered how he might give it, and where he kept it in the meantime; I could not have been more than four.”

 Johnny envisioned a tiny Liu Kang—this one—running barefoot about the palace, clad in finery, her hair done up with gold and jewels, terrorizing the serving staff. He is hilariously close to the truth.

 “And what’d he tell you?” The idea of Shang Tsung loving something or someone other than his vicious ambition had been unconscionable to more than just Johnny Cage before the spectacular ceremony that had been the sorcerer’s wedding to the guy Johnny thought of as the “real” god of thunder. Seeing the way they looked at each other had utterly sold him and he never questioned again.

 “He said ‘my love is where the lightning strikes’,” says Liu Kang simply, and then gestures toward the tallest tower of the palace. Atop it, Johnny now notices a rod that must be at least ten feet high, topped with some ornament he cannot see. Once more, distant thunder rumbles and Johnny resists the urge to insist it is not him. Weather control is, of course, well within his abilities, but this one is simply whipping itself up naturally. Or supernaturally. Big guy, if you’re up there, you’re the most dramatic sonuvabitch I’ve ever met.

 “You want that on your rock here?” Johnny gestures toward the floating tablet. Liu Kang summons it closer, the glossy black and gold surface begging to be written upon. She nods.

 “Please,” she says, with no pleading in her voice. She has no doubt he will do it. The asking is a courtesy.

 “Y’know, I didn’t… really know your… err Shang Tsung well—but I knew Raiden,” he says, pressing one sparking finger to the stone. “He saw somethin’ in this guy, in his heart—he wasn’t stupid, Raiden… he was… honestly the best of us, I think. It’s… hard to believe he’s gone. That they’re both… Feels like the end of an era.” He presses the final curve of the ‘s’ at the end of the phrase and pushes the hovering tablet so that it faces Liu Kang. “How’sat?”

 Without thinking, Johnny stretches a canopy of electricity over their heads so they stay dry. Only Liu Kang’s hand upon his stops him completing it and it falters, the rain splattering them and soaking them instantly.

 The letters catch the moonlight, sparkling subtly, and perhaps glowing a bit, written by the finger of a god. She nods and sends it back to its position, hovering over the pool. As it reaches the center of the pond, thunder roars almost over their heads. Johnny and Liu Kang both look up and then toward the palace instinctively. A single bolt of lightning hits the rod at the top of the highest tower. My love is where the lightning strikes, Johnny thinks. A gale must have pushed the storm in quickly off the sea and it is now roiling over them. In the distance, a sheet of rain comes pelting toward the pair in the grove, making a mist of anything behind it.

 “My father once told me that life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, but finding contentment walking in the rain. Walk with me, Lord Johnny Cage, to the home of my fathers.” She offers her arm. He looks at her, meets her eyes, which, now that they have emerged from the dim haze of desolation and grief, are actually a beautiful hazel. He takes her arm and she smiles. “He chose well, I think.”

 “Wh?” Johnny’s stutter is so far from godlike, it makes her laugh. She shakes her head.

 “Your secret is safe with the Shang family,” Liu Kang assures him, moving forward and leading him. “Baba always knew what father was, perhaps what he had been… To Baba, he never wasn’t a god; certainly, he worshipped him as one.” The thunder murmurs overhead, almost like a distant, deep belly laugh. The rain disguises their tears as they join it, nodding and smiling. Their grief is real, palpable, directed this way and that, her for Shang Tsung, Johnny for the era this death represents, but united, at least, in this space and time.

 When the servants open the great doors for Lord Johnny Cage and Mistress Shang Liu Kang, both are soaked to the bone and smiling ear-to-ear. The other gods look between themselves in bafflement, but Lord Liu Kang meets Johnny’s eyes and with a minute nod, the new god of thunder reassures his friend that all is well—very well, indeed.

 Later that evening, they join each other on one of Shang Tsung’s many ornate balconies. Lord Liu Kang lifts one hand to the skies and Johnny mirrors it. The storm has passed and the heavens above are clear, save for the weird aurorae of many worlds clashing overhead. 

 “They will be remembered,” says Liu quietly, forming one half of a two-part constellation, his free hand clasping Johnny’s. As Johnny’s half of their work joins his, the former Hollywood superstar adds:

“In every realm.”

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 15

Love Wins!

Welcome to an insanely chaotic episode of Fantasy High--even by the very high standards of this show.  How chaotic you may ask? Well, the first thing that happens is that Bill Seacaster point blank shoots Gilear to death for being in a relationship with Hilariel. Full dead. He is full dead. Strangely, his plan to bring him back as a janky devil does not do much to comfort Fig. Imagine that.

Bill’s pirates are looting the Bottomless Pit (Gorthalax’s domain in Hell) and Vraz orders Fig to make them stop. When she instead orders Vraz to eat her ass, Vraz nullifies all warlock deals Gorthalax made and brings none other than Johnny Spells (and his greaser pals) to join the fight!

Really, this fight is insane and it’s better served by a highlight real than a play by play so I’m just gonna give you some bullets:

All the PCs rolled super low initiative this fight which really kinda screwed them. Like Fabian was down to 16 HP one point and it was like, “Lol, this is the end of round 1.” YIKES.

A big part of this fight was just surviving long enough to get to the second level of hell and rescue Riz’s dad which I think was probably good for morale because the thought of this fight dragging on for more than a couple of rounds exhausts me. 

Fabian rolls off against Johnny right off the bat for the Hangman’s loyalty and Fabian wins with a 25 (and by coming out the gate with the word ENSLAVED which isn’t the word *I* would have used but a 25 is a 25 I guess).

He also has to contend with fighting Allistair who has a massive hole in his head filled with fire from Wicklaw eating his brain. It seems like Chungledown Bim is in hell too based on how Allistair keeps saying he’s gonna get him so he can shit in Fabian’s mouth. Of course, Fabian gets the better of him, but not before he deals out a fair bit of damage. 

Adaine uses an Arcane Hand plus her portent roll to just whole-ass throw Johnny off the ship. Like, he gets back up but it’s so funny to instead of fighting an enemy to just throw him off a set piece (see eg: Bloodkeep ep2).

Kristen Revivifies Gilear and Bill, the mercurial sunuvabitch is like, “We love the same woman! I just want her happy!” and gives him a gun. Kristen immediately is like, “Bro, you need to hide,” and Gorgug protects him while he does so (in a sarcophagus that has a 50/50 shot of being launched as ammo). 

Penelope shows up to the fight, eyes all black, wearing a shredded prom dress, and with shards of silver embedded in her forehead like a crown. Dayne and Daybreak also join the fight as messed up Harvestmen! It’s a veritable Smash Bros lineup of people the Bad Kids have killed!

Adaine and Fabian are christened the “Posh Squad” which is important to me, not to the fight. 

Adaine gets to counterspell a counterspell from Penelope, one of the sexiest things you can do in D&D.

Fabian declares toxic masculinity dead. Shortly afterward, he makes Brennan eat a die when Daybreak tries to Frighten Fabian, a condition he is immune to due to his eyepatch I gather based on the table reaction. 

Daybreak’s punishment in hell is a complete lack of self-awareness of why he’s there. He still thinks he should be sipping Mai-Tai’s in corn heaven with Helio while Kristen and Ragh are attacking him with gay spit (their words, not mine). Gay spit and, also, a ton of radiant and thunder damage.

Ragh gets some emotional catharsis by getting to body Dayne before Gorgug decapitates him. Very important step in the stages of grief. Decapitating the source of said grief. 

Penelope gets Sparta-kicked off the edge of the boat by Fabian after Ayda dispels her protective globe and Riz shoots Daybreak again for old times sake. Unfortunately, Penelope Misty Steps back up and Daybreak is hurt but not killed. Ayda does a cool Dr. Strange teleportation thing and does a bunch of damage to both of them. Fabian finishes off Penelope with a sheet/sword combo and between Booming Blade and a Psionic Blast (does she have this ability as a Bard or as a Warlock? Relatedly, when she felt something leave her was that her Warlock deal being nullified or was she feeling the deals leave her since she is sort of the temporary Gorthalax?) Fig destroys Daybreak. Johnny just falls off the ship with no PC intervention because he sucks. 

Bill also falls off the ship but Fig (with an assist from Gorgug) saves him and steals a scroll from Vraz on the way back up. By the by, earlier in the fight, she also had Baby Invisbly steal a random item from her. 

Anyway, as they reach the end of the end of the fight, Bill loads Riz into a canon (!) and shoots him into the city, hopefully towards his dad (to the distress of his party). He crashes through the window in a familiar looking building and, when he finds a hallway that he’s pretty sure leads to his dad, he goes towards it. 

He sees a familiar light coming out of a doorway (the interrogation room light) and a doorway next to it that is slightly open with steel thrones in it. There’s a two-way mirror between the two rooms and if he goes into the open one, he can see who is in with his dad. After checking for illusions and finding none, he stealthily walks in and sees, in the other room, his dad with a hulking pit fiend (30 ft tall, winged, almost dragon-y devil).

The pit fiend is questioning Pok about any regrets he had in life and Pok answers very uncharacteristically from the man we saw in the video saying he had nothing but high hopes for baby Riz. He says he had no regrets, his job was just a job, and that he only had a kid because Sklonda wanted one before going into a snarling goblin rage. The pit fiend smiles at that and says that Pok has promise so they won’t create a lemure out of him (a lemure is a weak, blobby devil). Two devils in the room with them whip him unconscious and then leave the room to go send more people to deal with Bill.

Riz Misty Steps into the room and does a self-imposed Wisdom check to steady himself after what he just heard--Nat 20 baby. Then, he opens his Briefcase of Holding, ready to scoop his dad into it when, the two lesser devils open the door and catch him in the act. But Riz persists in the scooping. They try to grapple him and he rolls a Nat 1 to avoid it. He *still* tries to get him dad. But then he notices, his gun is missing.

BLAM. The devils heads are blown clean off. He turns and he sees his dad has taken the gun--his gun originally--and shot the devils. Pok, who is amazed that Riz is there and no longer feigning apathy for the situation asks for an extraction into an earpiece, causing a halo to appear over his head and a beam of holy light to come down like a tractor beam.

“Wait,” says Riz. “You’re an undercover angel?”

“You got it, kid.”

Murph goes feral. The table goes feral. I go feral. What a way to end an episode!  

And now for an all-Dad round of superlatives:

Detention

Bill Seacaster for KILLING GILEAR 

I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain myself here. 

Honor Roll

Pok Gukgak for Officially Joining the Fantasy Fathers of the Year Club

Here either. 

I will, however, add a Hell Yeah!

Random Thoughts

If you haven’t seen it yet, the trailer for S5 of Dimension 20 just dropped and I won’t spoil it but, from the looks of it, it is gonna be a doozy.  

“Do not metagame with my freaking Dad!” Oh to have the support of an NPC Emily Axford has decided to imprint upon.

Gorgug: It’s been one year. We’re sophomores. 

“We support you as a DM and as your friend but also you’re our enemy.”

I think it’s very interesting that with just a little space and time from his dad, Fabian is finally having the proper reactions to his dad doing what I will charitably call shenanigans.

The level of distress and outrage from Emily when Gilear got shot was just *chef’s kiss*. I aspire to create an NPC that provokes that level of reaction from one of my players. Similar energy in a different direction from Ally when Daybreak attacked Tracker.    

“Adaine, the jocks are being feisty! Get out of there!”

Vraz calls Fig “the Faithless” as her devil title and she insists on instead being called, “the InFaethable”. I wanna know how long Emily’s been sitting on that one or whether she came up with it on the spot. 

Fabian upon seeing Johnny: Fuck off dude. I have too much going on right now. 

Brennan being the eternal DM mood: How do I get out of this?

Very wild how little time has passed since Leviathan. Like, Fabian’s had this whole arc and grown so much but, like, OF COURSE Allistair still wants to murder him! It’s been like two days. 

“I want to crumple up Gilear like a wrapper.”

A seven is a Murph 10.

The very specific way Brennan does foley for sword fighting (“Clang! Cling! Clang!”) is so funny to me. 

Cannot overstate how much of a power move it was for Kristen to go, “I’ve been PRAYING FOR YOU,” at Daybreak and knock him on his ass. 

I feel like I bring this up all the time but I love when Brennan is counting dice for a ton of damage and all the PCs are BSing reasons that it’s not a big deal like, “He’s just getting D4s,” or “Well I should get advantage for the reason just made up,” with everyone else fully playing along. ”

Allistair Ash, man. He is fascinating to me. I am so curious about what Brennan had planned for him originally because I feel like we barely scratched the surface before things took a TURN. He had two little moments in this ep that made my heart break for him a little: (1) When he says to Fabian, “If I die, I just come back a little bit worse but, if you die, you’re stuck down here with me.” and (2) when Fabian kills him and Bill grabs his soul and is like, “You know it’s gonna cost you X gold to revive you,” and he sighs and says, “Put it on my tab I suppose.” Like, I know he spent all ep trying to kill Fabian but I can’t help but be like, poor guy. He just has this pathos in his haplessness. I’m surprised Fabian didn’t make more of an effort to connect with him instead of being like, kind of like, “I will throw hands if I must.” Talking is a free action my dude. Anyway, I would love to see Brennan’s DM notes for this guy.   

Lou was really doing some expert D&D with all the second winding and bonus actioning and burning spell slots for extra damage he was doing. He was like, “My initiative is trash so I have to do approximately a million damage per turn.”

Lol at Ayda asking if it’s weird to talk about sex stuff in front of friends in a group that involves both Kristen and Adaine. 

Fig wishing she could do something cool in front of Ayda as if Ayda didn’t try to flood Hell on her behalf last week. My girl. You’ve already locked that down.

Not really an issue that’s we’ll run across during the run of FH but tieflings live 20-40 years longer than humans according to the official D&D lore. So lets say Fig lives to be 120 years old. And let’s say she sticks with her high school girlfriend and marries her. It’s possible they die at around the same time and then Ayda has to Deal With That in her next life but that’s not what I’m interested in. What happens if you’re a full elderly woman and your partner phoenixes into a child? What are the ethics of that? How do you deal with that? Chronomancy?

The horrified, “Love wins!” from Daybreak.

 Is there a reason the viewing room Riz was in had thrones in it or is Hell just very about the ~aesthetic~

Every time a DM asks for a HP total, my entire being clenches in prep for a Power Word Kill. 

“I’m gonna need a Dexter--”/”Counterspell.”

“You guys murdered me too but we hashed it out.”

I totally forgot that the Bad Kids lied that Ragh had shat his pants until the moment Adaine was saying it this episode. Freshman Year was WILD.

Also, just wanna take a second to talk about the elevation of Ragh from this side-note bully to a fully fledged, likeable character with depth and and an arc and gay spit. D&D is crazy. 

Summoning Boggy via Bloody Mary is such a delightful image. 

So, Kalina is the one that led Riz down the path that led to him finding out Pok is an Undercover Angel (!!!), which means one of three things: (1) She knew but miscalculated hard, (2) she didn’t know and made a different but also big miscalculation, (3) she did know and she’s doing some kind of 4-D chess thing we don’t know about yet. 

Ayda hitting Fabian with a portent and then swooping in and saving Adaine. So clutch. What a good NPC to befriend.

Speaking of, I think we all kinda figured, but Brennan officially said on Twitter or the Discord (I don’t remember which) that Ayda is autistic. Like, I was pretty sure but I didn’t wanna assume.

Lol at the absolute lack of respect Kalvaxus got in this episode. 

Pok as an Undercover Angel is SO GOOD. Like, I didn’t think he was really bad for a second but I never could have guessed he was an UNDERCOVER ANGEL. That’s such a dope combination of words. Undercover Angel (which my computer keeps trying to correct to undercover agent which isn’t wrong to be fair). Man. I love this. I love this for me and I love this for Riz. Riz deserves this. After so much crap in his life and so many mind games from Kalina and all this turmoil, he deserves to know that not only is his dad a good person who loved/loves him, he’s SO good that he’s an ANGEL and he was such a good spy in life he still is a secret agent in death. God, what a reveal. I can’t believe Riz got Spy Kids-ed TWICE by the same parent. Can’t wait to hear what exactly is going on with him.

Wait, what’s goblin heaven like? Which god is sanctioning this? Who is he working for exactly?

This episode, Kristen and Gorgug rolled 1 Nat 20 each, while Riz, Fabian, and Brennan each got 2. On the flipside, Adaine got 2 Nat 1’s, Fig and Fabian each rolled 1 that was cancelled, and Riz rolled 1 (in addition, Murph rolled two more which were lair actions and one of which was cancelled by a luck point so they don’t really count but it was very funny so I wanted to note it).

[hermitreunited]

TUA Feedback Fest!

💜💜 Favorite Fic Writer 💜💜

I could have split these all up to go under various rec theme posts, and maybe I will, but the gosh darn truth of it is that I love every fic by @sunriseseance​ aka Oceansweather so dang much that I needed to make a post about all of it. A very detailed post. It’s long, but she and her work deserve it. <3

A Hard Rain’s A Gonna Fall

Summary: In 1963, most citizens of Dallas had no idea where Vietnam was. He knew that because none of the people he passes as he walks look particularly dead inside. The sidewalk scorches his feet even though the sun hangs low in the sky. The air is hot and wet and it feels like a jungle growing in his chest.

aka, A Fourth of July fic about Klaus, trauma, family, and history. Takes place in 1963.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Implied Klaus/Dave⎜Word Count: 4k+⎜Complete (1/1)

This is true for all of her fics - the writing style is so engaging and good and smart! This fic in particular, though - WOW the narration is incredible. Gets you very deep into Klaus’ headspace for a gripping, panicky experience. He’s dealing with the fallout of a traumatic event that is about to happen to most of the people around him. So complicated and sad and intricate!

He wants to warn her that, hey, in 6 years your little boyfriend is going to get drafted and he’s going to go to a country you couldn’t pick out on a map and he’s going to kill people who he shouldn’t kill and every week he’ll write you a letter promising you that when he gets back you’ll move out of the city and your baby will have a real forest to play in and then he’ll kill some more people he’ll go to hell for killing if there’s a hell to go to, and then, well, he’ll get shot in the chest and the blood will come out of his mouth, too, and you’ll have to know that you weren’t there, weren’t fast enough to hear his last words or offer him some last comfort and he’ll be dead and for what? 

Happy Birthday, Johnny

Summary: It’s a nice place. Allison made sure of that when she chose it the first time. Three stays ago. God, they’re only 23 (And they are 23 now, or close enough). Three times? She may as well be lighting her money on fire.

Still, the chairs are comfortable. The visiting room is empty, of course, apart from a man with deep, heavy bags under his eyes. Fluorescent lights hum above her as she waits. They wash everything out, cast everything in a harsh shadow. Not that anything about the experience isn’t harsh. This is stupid. She knows it, now, as she feels her heart beating in her throat and the backs of her legs and her fingers.

What if he doesn’t want to see her? What if he was asleep for, what, the first time in 13 days? That’s how long it’s been this time, right? What if he hates her? (What if he’s right to do so?)

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Gen⎜Word Count: 3k+⎜Complete (1/1)

Get ready for your heart to break from the Allison and Klaus feelings (and hold onto them, because she’s going to do this again, Allison and Klaus feelings is her brand). Being Hargreeves siblings is complicated, so so complicated, especially for these two, whose circumstances could not be more different, but when it comes down to it, they are quite similar. It’s pre-series, so it’s Sad, but boy is it ever a detailed look into these two excellent characters.

On their 13th birthday, before everything went wrong, Klaus snuck into her room at midnight with a magazine he stole and a cake he made. The smell of smoke stuck to all of his clothes, his skin, his hair. He gave her the cake, all of it, and the magazine. The smile that accompanied them haunts her.

He asked if he could sit with her, and she said yes. He asked if she’d ever smoked before, and she said no. He asked if she wanted to, and she said yes. He asked if she wanted weed or a cigarette, she said cigarette. That’s what the movie stars did. He gave her a look, a laugh, and showed her how to hold it so it didn’t burn her fingers. Not that he’d lit it yet. He wanted to make sure she had it down before he set her on fire.

Slow is in My Blood

Summary: Dave touches him, sometimes. In dances through root systems lit by a diffused moon, Dave puts a hand on his lower back, his arm, his shoulder. To help, he says. Your balance, he says, it isn’t good. I don’t want you to fall. These pits are endless, he says. You don’t like the dark. A touch to help. It helps.

aka, A meditation on Klaus and allowing himself to be loved. Dave doesn't die at the end.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Klaus/Dave⎜Word Count: 1k+⎜Complete (1/1)

I am biased, I suppose, because this fic was a gift to me. But like!!!! This fic!!! It’s sad and beautiful and lovely and so perfect. I can’t not think about Klaus and Dave’s relationship without thinking about the dynamic in this fic, about how Dave initiates and Klaus keeps himself from running away. It’s gorgeous.

Maybe it’s not one sided. Maybe he touches Dave on the back of his neck just to watch his skin react. Maybe he hopes the reaction comes from the touch itself, and not the chill Klaus carries with him. Maybe he lets the touch linger long enough for Dave to smack his hand away. Maybe he knows, somewhere, that smack is the wrong word. Dave doesn’t smack. He holds, and moves. He lacks a violence somewhere at his core. Maybe it’s the only way Klaus has something Dave lacks, and maybe it’s the only thing Klaus wouldn’t share if Dave asked. 

I’ll Be Cleaning Up Bottles With You on New Year’s Day

Summary: Sitting behind him on the windowsill, in a truth that still feels false, is Dave. Quiet, right now. Rubbing Klaus's neck. Kissing it occasionally. New clothes, even, though still only things Klaus saw Dave wear in life. The closest he came to fancy enough for New Year's was the outfit he wore on the night they first kissed. The dates still get muddled in his head.

Dave still smells like Dave. Klaus can bring that back, too. The earthy-clean skin, the slight scent of sweat, the cotton of the polo. Something else, underneath all that. Something that Klaus could recognize anywhere, could follow to the end of the world, could die to protect.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Klaus/Dave⎜Word Count: 1k+⎜Complete (1/1)

OKAY Okay okay. This fic was the equivalent of a bottle of wine when I read it on New Year’s Eve, because it just took these 1092 words, and suddenly I was crying and telling my friends how much I loved them. Me talking about it here is not going to do justice to the warmth and love that you will feel from this. You just have to read it. If you want to experience a moment of perfect contentment and peace that will probably put happy tears in your eyes, read this.

His family is together. Really. They sit in the living room, wearing out couches that have lasted centuries. Allison spills her champagne. Luther only moved Klaus to the slightly-opened window when Klaus started smoking.

Diego's puzzle, which he insists isn't his, keeps finding more pieces. Five and Diego work on it together. He watches them work on it together. He watches Luther help, before getting up to change the record on father's phonograph.

Karma, Leave These Kids Alone

Summary: Klaus is right, because he usually is. Their childhood was worth fearing. But it wasn’t all bad, she thinks, and some guilt pangs her. I wouldn’t wish this on us, but I’m glad I got him out of it. I’m glad Claire is safe.

She holds out her hand for him, and he takes it.

aka, A meditation on Allison and her traumas, guilts, fears, and loves. Centered around her and Klaus, their love for one another, and how that changes her love and fear for Claire.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Gen⎜Word Count: 2k+⎜Complete (1/1)

Allison and Klaus complicated feelings part deux! Now with added Claire feelings! The story centers around Allison’s fear of her daughter having powers, which I would read 100 fics about, and because it’s an Oceansweather fic, it doesn’t stop there. The Hargreeves are adults now who are trying to understand their childhood, and how they relate to each other. It’s complex and sad and it hurts but also it’s healing and growth and love.

He laughed that familiar laugh.

Why would she see the dead? Well, she has an imaginary friend like you used to. She has nightmares. Klaus, I am terrified for her. How did you know it was real? He was quiet, and then he said, well, I could see them. I always could. If she doesn’t see them, she doesn’t see the dead, right?

And Allison said yes. That makes sense. And then Klaus was quiet for a while longer, and then he gagged, and then he said, well, why are you terrified for her? She heard the venom in his voice.

Same As It Ever Was

Summary: He tries to love the heels. Really, he does. He knows Dave loves him in them. He knows, hey, it’s his job to look good. Right? Dave fixes cars and Klaus fixes dinner and cleans the house and looks oh so pretty. So, yes, he has to wear the heels. He doesn’t own any other shoes and he can’t go walking around barefoot. Not with his toenails painted black. Why were they black again? And, say, why did his wrist look so blank? He traced a shape that he couldn’t place onto his skin and waited for something to appear. Like invisible ink. aka, Life is perfect for the Hargreeves, which must mean something is wrong. How fortunate that Klaus is smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

Rating: NR⎜Pairing: Klaus/Dave, Diego/Eudora, Five/Delores⎜Word Count: 8k+⎜Complete (1/1)

This fic is so. freaking. cool. It’s closest probably to a horror story? It’s definitely creepy and uneasy, but it’s also melancholy and thrilling and - very importantly -it features Smart Capable Underestimated but Badass Klaus! I am willing to bet you have not read anything else in the fandom like this, and that you are going to be absolutely captivated. I know I am!

Klaus doesn’t want to see Dave, which is not a feeling he should have. He knows this. He knows he wants to see Dave every day for the rest of his life. So why is he running? Why are his feet carrying him to the bathroom? Why is he locking the door? The tumblers clang into place. His hands shake and he’s going to fall over and brain himself if he doesn’t catch his balance. He can only remember feeling so terrified twice in his life—except he can’t. He can’t remember it at all. So he can’t remember ever feeling this terrified.

It’s just Dave.