#That I have to try and fight back with a stick

[strawberrykidneystone]

whole again

summary: sevika didn’t feel whole without her arm and it bubbles up when jinx gifts her a new one.

a/n: i need the rest of season 2 rn RAHHHH

tags: insecurity of lost limb, angst/comfort, fluff, married!wife!reader, kissing

ao3 version

thank you for the request anon!!!

sevika wasn't expecting to fight with smeech today, but she also wasn't expecting to see jinx in silco's office either. one thing she could always expect was her wife waiting for her at home, the only thing driving her to keep walking instead of collapsing from exhaustion in the middle of the street.

after sevika slumped through your shared house's front door, you were quick to guide her to a chair in your kitchen to take care of her as you usually did when she came home from any sort of fight she was injured in while she was on duty. thankfully, she didn't have any injuries this time, but she did have bright green disgusting goo all over her body. god it was going to take forever to scrub out of her clothes.

wiping sevika’s face off with a warm rag to get the disgusting green goo off of her beautiful face, she looked so peaceful having her beautiful wife take care of her. following her fight with smeech, she came straight home after dropping jinx and isha off at a safe house, eager to get home to you. you didn’t care to ask if the goo was residue from her new arm or smeech, either way, you knew that you wouldn’t like the answer.

she recounted all the details of the fight, a soft fondness in her voice when talking about the two younger girls that she would deny if you pointed it out. she smiled up at you as she continued talking, the adorable gap between her teeth showing as she finished her story.

now that she had her girl with her and a new arm, what more could a woman need?

after her face was completely clean of the sticky green substance, you smothered her face in kisses with a loud ‘mwah’ after each one. her face scrunched up initially in slight annoyance, but she couldn’t help the chuckle bubbling from her chest after the first few. glancing her body over, you nodded to yourself as you saw no external injuries or damage to her clothing. while you were distracted, she wrapped her flesh arm around your waist and pulled you onto her lap with your legs hanging off of her thighs, a surprised squeal leaving your lips.

curiously, you inspected her new arm with a grin, it definitely had jinx’s handiwork all over it.

“like my new arm baby?” she inquired with a half smirk as she bent it in half for you to admire, the dinosaur-like head of the arm proudly sticking in the air.

“well it’s was very obviously made by jinx i’ll give her that much, but i like the speakers,” you said truthfully as you ran your fingers down her arm, careful not to set anything off my accident. the head of the arm reminded you of jinx’s bombs and you had to resist the urge to pull the level on her shoulder. it was truly an impressive weapon to say the least, although it definitely didn't match the usual muted tones that your wife wore.

she groaned and rolled her eyes, dragging her flesh hand down her face in clear annoyance, “did i mention that fireworks went off when the bastard died?”

you gawked and sputtered out a laugh, “no you didn’t! that’s so cool!”

she hummed a sarcastic 'uh huh' and kissed the side of your head, “i’ll probably have her tone it down at some point, but at least i’m all me again.”

you furrowed your brows and looked at her with slight concern, “whatddya mean?”

she shrugged and slumped back in her chair, her stare suddenly a million miles away. “i mean i wasn’t really complete without my arm, it’s the strongest part of me, and without it after silco dying… i didn’t really feel like me,” she admitted with her voice getting smaller and smaller, a lump forming in her throat. she licked her lips to try and satiate the sudden dryness in her mouth with little success, a nervous forming pit in her stomach at her sudden confession. she knew that you wouldn't judge her for admitting her feelings, but it still felt strange to admit them out loud to someone who actually gave a shit to what she was feeling.

you cupped her cheeks and brought her focus back to you, her eyes finding yours overflowing with an openness in emotion that was usually guarded behind steel walls. keeping one hand on her cheek, you petted her hair with the other. she leaned her head into your hand and closed her eyes, slightly trembling in your hold.

you took a deep breath and continued petting her hair as you spoke to her reassuringly, “sevika, you are so much more than your arm, hell, you’re so much more than silco’s number two. sure, he was the main hedge but who was out there making his deals? cleaning his messes? plus, you were kicking ass even before you had that mechanical arm. you could take on all of the undercity with just one arm and come out with barely a scrape on the other side. you are the woman i fell in love with, the beautiful, handsome, headstrong, competitive knucklehead that i would choose to be with even if you had no limbs.”

sevika snorted and you noticed that her eyes were slightly glazed over with tears that she held back. she sighed softly and quietly lamented in a strained voice, “what did i do to deserve you?”

you smiled fondly at her and kissed the tip of her nose, “i could ask you the exact same thing.”

she leaned forward into you and kissed your lips which such care that it would make anyone forget that she was a seasoned killer. desperately pushing into you, she had you leaning back with an iron grip around your waist with her flesh arm. you quickly threw your arms around her neck and pulled her as tight to your body as you could. a squeak followed immediately by giggles fell from your lips as you almost fell over backward, sevika catching you in time to straighten you both back up. she genuinely smiled and leaned her forehead against yours, “i love you.”

“i love you too sevika," you replied lovingly, nuzzling the tip of your nose with hers. she surprisingly returned the gesture with a light blush dusting her cheeks.

you pulled back and grinned at her, a hint of mischief in your eye. "well, at least ask jinx to add on a hand function," you said teasingly, but with a genuine undertone.

sevika chuckled and shook her head, grinning down at you with a cocked eyebrow, “what, did you miss my hands that much?”

you puffed out your cheeks and huffed, “i just miss standing on the left side of you sometimes.”

that made her genuinely laugh from the bottom of her stomach, teasingly tickling your sides with her hand which made you wriggle in her lap with laughter. you’d clean up as much goo off of her as she needed just to hear that laugh every day.

she brought your hand up to her lips and kissed the wedding band stacked ontop of your engagement ring on your finger. she softly kissed the inside of your palm and closed your fingers around it, a silent promise.

“i’ll ask just for you,” she cooed and pecked your lips, giving your hip an affectionate squeeze.

“good,” you smiled and grabbed her hand in yours. you giggled as you led her up to your shared room with her hot on your heels, following you up the stairs like an eager puppy.

maybe you can find some other fun uses for her new arm.

[mymindisneverhere]

FAVORS

Part Four

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, SMUT, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, oral sex (fem receiving), dirty talking, explicit language, lots of dialogue, slow burn (forgive me if I missed any)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“On your knees.” She instructed. 

Terry stayed still for a few seconds before lowering himself to the ground, one knee at a time. His eyes stayed on her while he assumed the position. She watched as he took his time. Even in this state, his authoritative aura was still very present. 

Khloé made her way into the kitchen, her heels clicking against the open floor. She reached into her refrigerator to retrieve a few things before coming back into the living room. Terry kept his eyes on her the whole time, admiring the way her hips swayed as she walked over to him. 

She placed a tall can of whipped cream, a large container of strawberries and a bottle of chocolate syrup on the coffee table. Walking to her desk she rolled her office chair over and placed it just a few inches in front of Terry. 

“Since you have such a smart mouth, let’s put it to good use.” She smirked. “I told you to be mindful of who you interact with and how, remember?” 

“Yeah, but-“ He started. 

“Yeah?” She cut him off, tilting her head to the side. She stared down at him until the mistake finally registered in his mind. 

“Yes ma’am.” His hazel eyes stared up at her as he corrected himself. “But I barely spoke to anyone, just like you asked.” 

She grabbed the can of whipped cream and shook it as she sat down in the chair. She sprayed a small amount onto her index finger before licking it off. Running her tongue against her finger then using her lips to pick up what her tongue missed, teasing him as much as possible. Terry’s eyes never left her lips as she sucked the treat off of her fingers. He balled his fist behind his back as he watched her, wishing he was grabbing a handful of her hair while she sucked him the same way. 

“I told you not to interact with my cousin, Nia. So imagine my surprise when I look over and she’s laughing in your face.” 

Terry frowned, trying to instantly recall all of the people he had met tonight. “I didn’t meet anyone named Nia.” 

“Blue dress, red lip, ponytail.” She stated, refreshing his memory. 

“She told me her name was Imani.”

“Imani?” Khloé repeated with a chuckle. 

Terry nodded.

“I should’ve known. Imani is her middle name.” Khloé rolled her eyes at the thought of her. “Bitch hates her mother so much she’s going by a different name just to spite her.”

“How was I supposed to know that was Nia?” He asked, as she continued eating the whipped cream, this time placing two fingers in her mouth.

“What did she say about me?” Khloé brought her hand under his chin and tilted his head back a bit. 

“She said she was your older cousin and that you were always in competition with her since you were kids…” He trailed off as the realization set in. He recalled the conversation they had in the car shortly before arriving at the banquet. 

“I told you she was a sneaky bitch.” Khloé shook the can once again. “Open and stay open.” She sprayed the whipped cream onto his tongue before sticking hers into his mouth. They kissed, fighting for as much of the treat as they could while also fighting to taste one another. 

She reached down and caressed his dick through his pants, feeling his thick bulge jump against her palm.  Terry moaned into her mouth, as she sucked his bottom lip. He leaned further, trying to keep her lips locked onto his but she leaned back a bit, smirking at his desperation. She licked the leftover whipped cream from his lips and turned toward the table. 

“So tell me-” She opened the container of strawberries and popped the top of the chocolate syrup. “-what did you say to her that was so funny?” 

She squeezed a decent amount of chocolate into the top of the container and sat it back down. Terry licked his lips, not even bothering to try and replay any more of the conversation in his mind. He was too focused on her to care about his short talk with her cousin. He wanted to remain as present as possible in this moment, not wanting to miss a second of being like this with her. 

“I don’t remember.” 

“She placed a hand on your shoulder, which is technically my shoulder. So whatever you said to her must’ve been hysterical.” She grabbed the container of strawberries and pushed her hips forward to the edge of the chair, leaning back so that her sex was face to face with him. 

“You’ve got until I finish my strawberries to make me cum as hard as you made her laugh.” She stared down at him and lifted one leg onto his shoulder, the other hanging off the arm of the office chair. Her inner thigh rubbed up against the side of his face as she made herself comfortable. 

“How am I supposed to do that with my hands cuffed?” He questioned, his eyes scanning from her pussy up to her face. 

“Use that slick ass mouth of yours.” She spat, taking a large bite of the first strawberry. 

Terry took a deep breath while deciding how he would go about getting through the fabric that stood between him and her. She sat back watching to see what his next move was going to be. Because she knew a man like him enjoyed a challenge, she figured why not go ahead and give him one. 

He leaned forward, placing his lips against the crotch of her panties. He inhaled deeply taking in her scent before opening his mouth to hook his teeth onto the lace.

“And you better not bite me.” 

His eyes shot up to her face as his eyebrows arched. Being as careful as possible, he used his teeth to cut into the fabric, ripping it a small piece at a time. She smirked at him, enjoying every second of him gnawing at her panties, trying his hardest to get to her pussy. 

She grabbed another strawberry and dipped it into the small pool of chocolate as he continued trying to tear her lingerie with his mouth. The sight of him ripping into the thin fabric of her underwear was turning her on by the second. He was really determined to get to her. 

After a few more moments, she heard a long rip and felt a cool breeze against her wet pussy. She stopped mid chew and looked down at him, a bit shocked that he had done it so quickly. 

Without even looking up at her, he dove right in, pressing a flat tongue against her clit. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden feeling of his mouth on her. He closed his lips around her clit and sucked before licking it again. The sounds of him kissing her pussy took over the room. She rested her back onto the chair and closed her eyes, humming from the enjoyment of her favorite snack while getting head from her new boy toy. 

Terry was relishing in this moment more than he could imagine. He was dealing with a woman who he knew wasn’t easy to please but that didn’t stop him from doing all he could to prove himself. He had never been one to give up easily and little did she know this was his speciality. 

He dipped his thick tongue inside of her, before gently dragging it right back up to her clit and sucking it again. Khloé hissed, bringing her head forward to watch him in action. She needed to see what he was doing that made it harder for her to finish her fruit. She was poised for the majority of the time but it was becoming a challenge for her to minimize her reactions. Noticing how her body was reacting to him, he did it again. This time looking up at her, his eyes shifting to an icy blue, while he slipped his tongue inside her hole. 

“Mmmmm, eat this pussy daddy.” She moaned.

He moved back up to her clit and gently sucked it while rotating in circles simultaneously. Although he was the one who had been cuffed, he had her bound just by using his tongue. 

“Oooh fuck, you look so good right now.” 

Her sensual voice was music to his ears. The sounds of her soft voice caused him to moan against her pussy. The sensation from his deep tone sent shivers up her spine making her arch her back. 

“Yesssss fuck yes!” She was completely out of character at this point and ready to cum in his mouth. She had only gotten through three strawberries, the fourth one she held in her hand half eaten. 

The sounds she was making, the things she was saying, and her calling him out of his name was slowly unlocking the beast in him as he continued devouring her clit. It didn’t take long for him to become familiar with her body. She was constantly squirming, unable to take another bite out of her strawberry so he decided to stay right where he was because ‘X’ marks the spot. The more he focused on her spot, the more she abandoned her persona. 

“Fuuuck, you’re ‘bout to make me cum already.” She spoke, her teeth clenching as she watched him tear her apart. At this point she’d said fuck the strawberries. 

It had been a few years since she had gotten any from a man. Long nights of pleasuring herself with her hands or her vibrator would get her through but nothing could beat having a man headfirst in between her thighs. 

“Mmmm, just like that.” She said repeatedly, dropping the fruit from her hand and grabbing the top of his head. 

Her jaw dropped as she gasped at the intense feeling that coursed through her body and settled in her stomach. Her eyes began to roll but she fought her hardest to keep them open and on him. He set his eyes on her, while increasing his intensity as he watched her react to her body going through the many phases of her orgasm. 

The rise. 

“Oh my god!” She yelled out, as she dropped her head back onto the chair. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” He did as he was told, latching himself onto her, repeatedly pressing the button that was driving her crazy. 

The climax.

“Yesssssss, ohhhh fuck!” Her hips jerked against his lips as she let herself go. He followed her movement, his lips never leaving her button until he could sense her body becoming less reactive. He wanted to be sure he took her as high as she could possibly go… no stone unturned. 

The resolution. 

The top half of her body rose and fell as she tried to focus on catching her breath. Soft moans escaped her lips with every exhale. Her hand never left his head, she was too busy trying to bring herself back into the now. 

He licked up the sweet remains of her pleasure that leaked from the opening of her pussy. He placed kisses along her inner thighs up to the mound of her pussy and stopped along her pelvis while she tried to steady her breathing. 

She stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. Her body was exhausted after cumming so hard for the first time in a while. She sat back quietly, only her the sounds of her heavy breathing filled the room as he continued kissing her body.

“Was that hard enough for you Ms. MacArthur?” He stared up at her with a cocky grin on his face. 

Khloé finally brought her eyes down to him.

“Fuck yes.” She sat up and grabbed his face, shoving her tongue in his mouth. She wanted to taste herself on his pretty lips. They immediately fell into a rhythm with each other. Sharing moans as they wrestled in each other's mouths. She finally pulled back and stared down at him. 

“That was a minor slip up that technically wasn’t all your fault.” She started. “But I did enjoy seeing you like this.” 

She carefully stood from the chair, not wanting him to see that his tongue was still directly affecting her ability to move. But he noticed it anyway, biting his lip while she walked away. She crossed the room to retrieve the small key to unlatch the cuffs on his wrists. She removed them and stood back as she watched him stand from his position. 

She then grabbed the snacks off of the table and retreated to the kitchen. Terry watched her as her expression became very relaxed and returned back to normal. 

“Wait, you’re leaving me like this?” His eyebrows bent in frustration. She looked down at his hard dick that was now obviously showing through his pants. 

“Of course.” She smiled, tying her robe closed. “Be patient. When I’m ready to drain you, I will. And don’t even think about jacking off. I want you rock hard when I swallow you.” 

Terry stood there staring at her as she walked back over to him. She could see the sexual frustration written all over his face. She couldn’t help but giggle. 

“You did a good job.” Khloé raised her hand to rub a soft thumb over his lips. “Check your bank account in the morning. Have a good night Mr. Richmond.” 

She placed a small peck on his lips and walked into her bedroom leaving him standing there. He grabbed his things and headed home, already preparing to take a cold shower.

Terry sat at the small dining table in Summers' kitchen. He agreed to stop by before going to work to help ease her anxiety surrounding the check she had gotten in the mail. 

“So you’re telling me that a “friend” just offered to give you back the money you lost because you did them a favor?” Summer asked, pouring a cup of coffee for the two of them. 

“Yes, exactly that.” Terry chuckle at her skepticism. 

Terry decided against telling Summer the whole truth. It was true that he was doing someone a favor and that they were paying him for his help. But to tell her exactly who the money was coming from and what he was doing to get it seemed like too much information for her. The less details, the better. 

“I mean how am I ever gonna pay this back, I can’t just take it-“ 

“Yes you can.” He said taking the coffee mug from her hands. “Don’t worry about paying it back, you don’t have to.” 

“Terry, I just-“ Summer placed a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Thank you, seriously. This is gonna be so good for Bailey. I really can’t thank you enough. I feel like I’m dreaming right now.”

“It’s not a problem. You did a lot for me, a total stranger, in just a matter of a few days. I’m grateful for you.” He smiled. 

“Well I’ve already got the applications for the school filled out. I just have to turn in her tuition and once I do that she’ll be good to start next semester.” Summer smiled down at the papers on her counter. “Once they see she’s doing just fine in school, they’ll grant us the approval to move and I am getting the hell out of dodge.” 

Terry smiled at her. He was genuinely happy to see her get what she finally worked so hard for. To watch her work so hard to stay clean and healthy to ensure that she’d get to have her daughter back full time warmed his heart. He stared down at his watch and quickly stood from the table. 

“I gotta get going.” He said taking one last sip of coffee before heading to the front door. “Let me know how the enrollment for Bailey goes.” 

Before Summer could respond he was already out the door and in his truck. She shook her head as she turned to walk out of the kitchen. As she turned, she noticed the bowl of food she made for him sitting on the edge of the table.

“So what do your parents think about him?” Olivia asked. 

“My parents seem to like him, they haven’t really said much though so I’m gonna assume the best.” Khloé said, flipping through the folder filled with employee information. “Maybe I’ll get a real review once we go to my mothers birthday party.”

“That’s gonna be something. Will your cousin Nia or should I say “Imani” be there?” Olivia joked. 

“God I hope not. I can’t believe she really told him her name was Imani, nobody calls that bitch that.” Khloé rolled her eyes. “But that’s okay, I got something for her the next time I see her.” 

“Well if it is at your moms party, you better hope Terry is far away from her.” 

“Oh he will be, trust me.” The two women carried on their conversation unaware of the person standing directly in front of the desk. They were so caught up in their gossip, they never turned their heads in her direction. 

“Excuse me.” The woman spoke, interrupting their chatter. “I’m looking for Terry Richmond.” 

The mentioning of his name caused Khloés head to snap in the direction of the voice. 

“And you are?” Olivia asked.

“Sorry, I’m Summer McBride, a friend of his.” Summer said. “He left his lunch behind, I'm just bringing it to him.” 

Olivia looked over at Khloé to see her reaction but Khloés eyes were glued to Summer. Khloé stood from her chair as she eyed Summer from head to toe, trying to find some resemblance that would make her a relative of Terrys. But there was obviously none in sight. So who the hell was she to him because she clearly wasn’t family. 

“I’ll call the floor supervisor and have him come to the front.” Olivia stated. “You can have a seat.” She made the call notifying them that Terry had a visitor. 

Summer looked over at Khloé who was burning a whole through her face. She looked down awkwardly and made her way to the empty chairs that sat close to the front doors. Khloés eyes stayed on her as she crossed the floor. 

Jealousy was slowly brewing in Khloé. That was something she had a hard time dealing with when it came to the men she chose. Even if she didn’t think the women were prettier than her or more successful than she was, it still ate at her that her man’s attention was going to any other woman besides her. If it wasn’t his mother, then they shouldn’t matter to him. 

After a few moments the sound of the double doors leading to the work floor opened and Terry walked through. He glanced over at the receptionist desk and then to the entrance. 

“You forgot your lunch.” Summer smiled, standing to hand him his food. “I put extra crackers in there for you.” 

“Damn my bad. I was in such a rush, I wasn't even paying attention.” Terry shook his head and grabbed the food from her. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, I’ll call you later.” Summer said before looking over at Khloé to see her still staring directly at her. Summer pushed a small piece of hair behind her ear before walking out of the warehouse. 

Khloés eyes then snapped to Terry, who was already making his way back through the double doors. He didn’t bother acknowledging her because there was really no need to.

She was fuming at this point. She recalled telling him not to have any women popping up asking for or about him. Not only had a woman come to the job, it was the same woman she had written a check for. A woman he said was his family. He lied to her. 

Khloé continued staring in his direction until he completely disappeared behind the double doors. 

“Didn’t you have me send the check to Summer McBride?” Olivia asked, looking over at Khloé. 

“Yes.” Khloé spoke in a really low tone. 

“There is no way they are not related. I mean she’s clearly whi-“ 

“Shut up Liv.” Khloé cut her off before she could finish. She grabbed her keys and her cell phone and made her way back to her office. 

Khloé closed the door to the office and slammed herself in the chair behind her desk. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths trying to contain her emotions before she did something she would regret. 

She sat silently, trying to figure out how she would go about this situation. Terry didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would lie about something like this but then again he was a man. They all lied. 

‘Maybe I’m missing something.’ 

Khloé shook her head trying to rid her mind of the worst possible scenarios. Just as quickly as she was ready to ride him into oblivion, that desire faded. Her anger was lingering longer than she expected and she needed so badly to release it. She reached for her phone and shot a quick text to him. 

‘My place at 9’ 

She didn’t even bother to wait for him to respond, if he knew better he’d be there like she told him to. Grabbing her belongings she rushed out of the building and made her way home, mentally preparing for the night. 

to be continued…

(Forgive me for taking so long to update! I was trying to bounce back from this election chile. But we gone be alright. 😭)

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 10)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe is safe for now, and their crazy kinks come out once again

Warnings: Language, fighting, smut, blood kink, pregnancy

Word Count: 4.4k+

And just like that, your world came crashing down around you.

You swallow hard, trying to comprehend what Rafe has just said to you. He's staring at you, waiting for you to say something but the words just wouldn't come.

Rafe tried to hold back tears. This was it. You were going to leave him. He was going to prison and he would lose you and his baby and everything that brought him any ounce of happiness in his life.

"Y-you...shot..."You muttered. "I-is she dead?"

"I don't know," His voice was barely above a whisper.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. "What happened, exactly, Rafe?" You finally managed.

"She was going to arrest my dad. S-she had the gun pointed at him. I-I had to save him, Y/N." He was crying again.

"What? Why was she arresting your dad?"

"John B said Ward killed his dad."

"What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself as you lean back against the frame of Rafe's bed, leaning your head in your hands.

You knew something had happened when Ward took John B fishing. He had come back with a gaff hook wound on his arm claiming John B attacked him. You really didn't stick around to listen to what happened. You were trying to keep your stress levels down but that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Where's your dad?"

"He was still at the tarmac. He told me to bring Sarah home. She saw everything..."

"Shit."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I fucked up. I panicked, I didn't want my dad to get hurt and I-"

"Shh, baby. I know." You tell him, pulling his face to yours. "I know."

"A-are gonna leave me?" His voice was so pitiful, cracking as he spoke. The sound broke your heart.

"No. I told you, Rafe. Forever. You and me against the world." You told him before pressing your lips to his.

He brought his hands up, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. He couldn't believe it. The fact that you were still here. Still here after he just made the biggest mistake of his life. One that could land him in a jail cell forever.

"Listen to me," You told him as you pulled away. You were way more calm than you should have been, but seeing Rafe freak out somehow helped you to keep your head on straight. "We need to talk to Ward. Find out what happened after you left the tarmac."

Rafe nods between your hands. "Okay."

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

"I-I can't lose you and our baby."

"You won't. I promise you you won't."

-

You and Rafe sat silently in Ward's office as you waited for him to return home. Rafe looked over old photos and awards hung up on the walls, smiling as he ran his fingers over a photo of him and his father.

You watch him sadly. The hold Ward had over him. Rafe just wanted to be accepted and the lack of love Ward had given him has now landed him in the worst possible situation.

Rafe sat down beside you with the picture.

"You look so handsome," You tell him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiles at you. He always blushed when you called him handsome.

Ward walks in the room and your stomach drops. He stares at you both for a moment before sighing and closing the door. You're trying your best to remain calm but your head was flooded with anxiety. Flooded with thoughts of all the worst possible outcomes.

"Is...she alive?" Rafe asks.

Ward shakes his head.

"No?"

"No."

You clench your jaw and take in a deep breath.

"Okay," Rafe said, trying to calm himself as he could feel the anxiety return to his body. "Okay."

You place a hand on Rafe's bicep, rubbing his skin lightly to try and calm him down.

"What did you tell the cops? Are they coming here?" Rafe asks.

Ward walks to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before responding. "I told them John B did it."

"Told 'em John B did it..." Rafe repeated his father's words, pondering the idea. "That's good. Yes, that could work!"

You bit your lip as you watched Rafe start to get manic.

"Rafe. I need you to go to your room. Take a shower okay? Get cleaned up. If anyone asks, you were here all day okay? You were doing maintenance on The Druthers." Ward says, glancing to you. You nod your head in agreement.

"No. No, Rose knows I wasn't here." Rafe argued.

"I will talk to Rose."

"What-what about Sarah?" Rafe asks, standing up now.

"What about Sarah?" Ward asks.

"Sarah, listen, Sarah has a big mouth okay?"

"You're sister isn't going to do anything to hurt us."

"No, no, no you didn't see her in the car okay? She was freaking out!" Rafe argues back. You could hear the stress in his voice. "I have a suggestion-"

"Rafe! Stop it! I don't need your help. I didn't need it then and I don't need it now. I just need to think! So please, go clean up!" Ward was yelling now. You could see the pain on Rafe's face.

"You understand, right? Rafe said sadly. "You understand?"

"Understand what, Rafe?"

"Why I did it."

You sat silently, biting back tears. Ward turned to look at Rafe once again.

"You were in trouble and I was protecting you. Okay? Me, dad. Rafe. Not Sarah, okay? It was me!"

You couldn't help but cry now as you watched tears spill from his eyes. This wasn't his fault. You couldn't blame him for what he did. He was so broken.

Rafe backed away as Ward walked towards him. "Sorry," Rafe said softly, nervous of what his dad was going to do next.

Ward slowly pulled Rafe to him. "I know, come here. Come on, come on, bud."

You watched Rafe's face. He was shocked at the fact that his dad was hugging him. But he hugged him back tightly.

"Come on, bud, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you, Rafe. So much."

Rafe smiled at his dad's words. You couldn't help but watch them with sorrow in your eyes. The way his father's approval made him glow. How could Ward not see how special his son was?

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. We will figure it out." Ward promises.

You stand up and grab Rafe's hand. He wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Y/N-" Ward begins.

"Maintenance on The Druthers." You nod. "I'm all in."

Ward offers a sad smile. He's obviously upset that the three of you were now involved in this mess. But he was going to protect his son at all costs and make sure he gets the chance to be a father himself.

-

You and Rafe move in silence. The events of the day heavy on your mind. He pulls you into the shower with him and the two of you just stand there holding each other as you let the warm water wash away your worries.

The feeling of his skin on yours had you crying silently. You don't know what you'd do without him. He trailed the tips of his fingers over your spine and you drag your acrylics up and down his back.

Rafe moved a hand to your stomach, brushing over it softly. You didn't need to speak. Neither of you did. You could feel how much Rafe loved you and your unborn child. You clung to him tightly, reminding him you were still there. That you and Wolf were still there.

Rafe turned the shower off and wrapped you up in a towel, drying you off before he grabbed your favorite lotion and made sure he rubbed it over every inch of your body. You melted under his touch. The way his fingers traced the contours of your skin. The way he worshipped every part of your body, placing kisses all along your limbs.

He scooped you up and carried you to his bed. He went to his dresser and pulled out a shirt for you to wear. You slid it on, clutching the fabric tightly because it smelled like him.

He pulled on some boxers and climbed into bed beside you before grabbing his remote and flipping through the horror movie section.

He decided on Sinister, knowing it was one of your favorites. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snaked your legs between his and clung to him like a Boa Constrictor.

He ran his fingers through your wet hair as you concentrated on your movie. He never cared for horror, but he loved watching you get so focused. He worked on detangling each knot in your hair, silently praying that everything would turn out okay. He'd just murdered someone today. A cop. The Sheriff. And somehow, you were still here in his arms.

"You're with a murderer." Rafe whispered against your forehead. The guilt was starting to set in.

"I'm with Rafe Cameron." You responded. "A man that protects what he loves at all costs."

You could feel his tears fall on your face as he hugged your closer.

"Me and Wolf will always be safe with you." You reassured him. And it was true. Rafe loves with his whole heart. If he could get past your flaws you could get past his. He killed someone, yes, but to protect his father. You know he'd kill for you and his baby too.

You felt 100% safe wrapped up in Rafe's arms. Nothing would take you from him.

-

You woke up early. A lot earlier than Rafe. You crawled out of bed and pulled on your jeans. You placed a kiss on Rafe's forehead before sneaking out of his room, desperate for some food. The baby was hungry to say the least.

You could hear Ward and Sarah talking down the hall. You stood outside Sarah's room and listened.

"He shot her!"

"You have to pick between John B or your family!" Ward responded. "Nothing is going to happen to Rafe."

Ward walked out of her room, closing the door and locking it. He spotted you, giving you a look of concern.

"Let me out!" You could hear Sarah pound on the door.

"Why are you locking her in there?" Wheezie asked as she rounded the corner.

"Listen, there was an accident and your sister is very upset so we need to give her some time to calm down." Ward told her.

"Did something happen to the baby?" Wheezie asked, turning to you.

"No!" You told her. "The baby, is just fine, Wheeze." You smile at her. "Let's go have breakfast, yeah?" You ask her, leading her downstairs. You glance back at Ward with a warning look. Telling him he needs to get Sarah under control.

You and Wheezie sit at the kitchen table, nibbling on bacon and talking about the boys in her class.

Rafe rushes into the kitchen. He'd managed to put on sweats but no shirt. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you.

"Baby, where'd you go?"

"I'm having breakfast with Wheezie," You say, pulling him in for a kiss. "Baby was hungry."

He sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your stomach and the other around your neck. You offer him a piece of bacon and he takes it in one bite.

"Ew, do I have to be like you guys when I start dating?" Wheezie scoffs.

"You're not dating anyone, Wheeze." Rafe snaps.

You chuckle. "No. Never let a boy do something you're uncomfortable with."

Rafe was nuzzling into your neck now, placing wet kisses along your skin.

"Yuck," Wheezie scoffs. "I hope guys aren't like this."

"They are!" Rafe shouts as Wheezie gets up and walks away. "No boys!"

"You know, being all over me like this is gonna have her thinking all guys are like this." You scold.

"They are."

"Maybe at our age, but not at hers."

"No boys."

You roll your eyes as Rafe lays his head in your lap and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your belly.

"Rafe, this is the kitchen," Rose scolds as she walks in the room.

Rafe groans and leans up. You laugh and go back to eating your breakfast, feeding Rafe some as well as he still keeps his hands on your stomach.

"They're looking for John B." Ward states as he walks in the kitchen. You and Rafe both look up. "There's a reward out for him. $25,000."

You smile. The island was buying it. John B killed Peterkin. Rafe was safe.

Rose knew. She knew Rafe had done it. But she'd never do anything to rat out this family. Especially since Rafe was going to be a father.

You and Rose had actually gotten quite close. She had a miscarriage at a young age. It was hard. But she was more than happy that you were pregnant and she was dead set on making sure you were eating good and taking care of yourself.

She loved her step children like her own. But Rafe was crazy, Sarah wanted to be a Pogue, and Wheezie spent a lot of time on TikTok. But you always gave Rose the time of day. You liked helping her water her flowers and discussing baby stuff and preparing dinner.

-

John B was almost caught the night prior when you, Rafe, and Kelce tried to smoke out the bell tower. But Topper chose to pick his undying love for Sarah and let John B and Sarah get away.

You had found Rafe outside in the morning, starting up his bike and talking to himself.

"Baby, what's going on?" You asked him, forcing him to calm down and look at you.

"Stay here, Y/N!" Rafe snapped at you before hopping on his bike and riding off.

Oh fuck no.

You ran inside and grabbed the keys to his truck. You hopped in, backing out of the driveway quickly. It wasn't long before you spotted Rafe. You slowed down, trailing behind a bit so he wouldn't notice you. You watched as he pulled into Barry's house.

"Goddammit." You muttered to yourself. You were not wanting to see Barry after what happened a month and a half ago. You were in your second trimester now. Pulling into this house gave you anxiety.

You park the truck and sigh. Finally pulling yourself out of the vehicle and heading inside.

"I'm 100% fucked man!" You heard Rafe yell.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask as you swing open the screen door.

"Y/N," Rafe said. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

"Don't fucking snap at me, Rafe!"

Rafe shut his mouth. You scoffed and went and sat on Barry's couch.

"Look, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find John B?" Barry asked. "And when they find him, he's gonna start snitchin'."

"You know it was John B that stole that 25k from you right?"

"Exactly my point, Country Club. The hammer's comin' down on them Pogues."

"Let's go get your fuckin' money then." You say, standing up from the couch.

"Y/N-" Rafe starts.

"Rafe, I swear to God, I will knock your ass out." Your hormones were making themselves known.

"I don't got time for you two to argue. Let's go!" Barry yells.

Rafe glances at you and you give him a stern look back before following him outside. He gives you his helmet as you climb on the back of his bike and wrap your arms tightly around him.

After riding around for a bit you stopped at an intersection as you watched a ton of cop cars drive by. "Shit, they're looking for him." You mutter.

"Yo, is that Kie?" Rafe asks as you see a familiar SUV drive past.

"There goes that lil bitch ass now!" Barry said and you all kicked off and followed Kie's car.

You all hopped off the bikes as you pulled up to an old garage. "Alright you two go around that way and I'll take 'em from over there." Barry says, directing you where to go. You nod and follow Rafe.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? How you guys doing?" Rafe says as he enters the garage and walks towards Kiara. You stand off to the side and cross your arms, eyeing their movements as Barry holds a gun up to JJ.

God you wished you could fucking fight.

Barry took JJ down easily and you watched Rafe drag Kiara away. "It's not you we want, Kie, okay? Where's John B?"

"I don't know!" She screamed as she slapped him hard across the face.

You started forward, it took everything in you not to attack her.

"I know what you did! You murdered Peterkin!" Kiara yelled at him.

Shit. She knew. John B must have told her. You were too distracted by Kiara and Rafe to notice Pope sneak up behind you and hit you in the back of the knee with a tire iron.

You let out a loud cry as you feel to the floor, catching yourself just before your stomach made contact with the cement.

"Y/N!" Rafe yelled, but before he could get to you, Pope was hitting him.

JJ had tripped Barry, causing him to drop his gun and Kiara was quick to grab it, pointing it at you as you looked up at her from the ground.

You clenched your jaw angrily as you held your hands up in surrender.

"Don't touch her!" You could hear Rafe yell, trying to fight off Pope. "She's fucking pregnant, please! Please don't hurt her!"

Kiara's eyes went wide as she lowered the gun. "Pope, Pope! He's had enough dude!" JJ was yelling, trying to get Pope to release his grip on the cord wrapped around Rafe's neck.

"Rafe!" You cried, trying to get to your feet but the searing pain in your leg was preventing you from doing so.

"Pope, look at me!" Kiara screamed, finally getting Pope's attention as he let go of his hold on your boyfriend. "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

You were crying now, crawling over to where Rafe was laying covered in blood. "Rafe, baby, are you okay?" You asked, holding his face in your hands.

He was breathing heavily and coughing, pulling you close to him. He clung to you, trying to catch his breath, placing a protective hand over your belly.

"I'm okay, Rafe. I promise." You tell him, cradling his head. "I'm okay."

After a few minutes, Rafe's finally able to sit up. "Where'd he hit you?" He asked.

"In the back of the leg. He didn't hit the baby. I promise." You reassure him.

"He's fucking dead."

"We'll get them, Rafe. Right now we gotta make a plan." You glance over to where Barry was picking himself up off the ground. "You good, Barry?"

"Yup!" Barry groans as he stands up and walks over to help Rafe up.

Rafe helped you up and wrapping his arm around your waist as you limped beside him, leading you out to the bikes. Rafe sat down and you wedged yourself between his legs as you looked over his injuries.

"Sheriff Peterkin, huh?" Barry laughed. "You're better than I thought, Country Club!"

You shoot daggers at Barry and he shuts up. You could tell he wanted to say some dumb shit but he bit it back.

"Look, we're gonna get John B, aight? I'll be in touch." Barry says before walking off towards his bike.

"Hey, baby, look at me." You say, taking Rafe's face between your hands and forcing him to make eye contact. You could tell he was on the verge of a break down.

"I let you get hurt. I put you in danger. I put our baby in danger." He said as he bit back tears.

"No you didn't Rafe. I'm the one who wanted to come. I was the one not paying attention."

"I'm supposed to protect you." He leans his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer by your belt loops.

"Rafey, you do. Shit happens sometimes."

He shakes his head.

"Hey, look at me!" You say again, forcing his head up. You bit your lip as you looked at him. The blood coating his skin did things to you. You wrapped your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head back. You ran your tongue up his neck to his chin, licking off the fresh blood that dripped from his wound.

You heard him groan at the sensation, tightening his grips on your hips as his shorts tightened.

You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as you enjoyed the metallic taste that lingered there.

"Take me home, Rafe." You whispers against his lips.

-

Rafe pulled into your driveway and helped you off the bike. You'd been staying at the Cameron's for so long you were happy to be home.

You also didn't want to walk into Tannyhill bloody and limping, knowing there would be a plethora of questions about what happened.

You limped to your front door and fiddled with your keys.

"Baby, let me help you." Rafe says, taking your keys from you and helping you stand up.

Once you were inside Rafe picked you up and carried you to the couch. You both groaned in pain as you sat down.

"Do you feel okay?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, baby. Are you okay?" You run your hand over the bruising on his face. He nods. "Take your shirt off."

He does as he's told and you examine the bruises forming on his back from where Pope had hit him with the tire iron. He winced in pain as you lightly pressed his skin.

"Sorry baby..." You said.

"It's okay," He mumbles. You bite your lip as your eyes scan his body. The bruising, the blood. You hated seeing him hurt but it fucking turned you on. "What?" He asks with a smirk.

You suddenly felt shy. You felt your cheeks blush as you smile up at your boyfriend. "Tell me what you need, princess," His voice was low as he smiled and moved on top of you, placing soft kisses on your neck.

Your breath hitched at the sensation. "You want my blood, huh, pretty girl?"

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You stick out your tongue as he lets his bloody saliva slip from his lips to yours. "Swallow." He demands and you happily oblige. You could feel the warmth at your core. "Good girl."

Rafe tugs at your shirt, pulling it off over your head, leaving you exposed to him. He brings his lips to your collar bone and sucks at your skin, surely leaving bruises.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe.

He brings his hands to your breasts and massages roughly, flicking your nipple between his fingers and you could feel your need for him growing between your legs.

He left a trail of blood and bruises as he sucked and bit his way down your body. He stops at your stomach, placing a gentle kiss on the small bump starting to form. "You're so amazing," He whispers against your skin. "Carrying our baby."

You smile down at him lovingly, running your fingers through his shaggy hair. You watch as he unbuttons your shorts and slides them down your legs along with your panties. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, mama." He whispers, trailing bloody kisses up and down your thighs.

You gasp as he runs his tongue up the length of your core. He gets to work, circling your clit with his tongue. He pushes two fingers inside you and curls, hitting you in just the right spot as he pumps them in and out of you.

"Oh my - Rafe, fuck!" You cry, reaching your hands back to grip the top of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. Wrapping your legs around his head, you're sure he's suffocating but he just seems hungrier.

You could feel the knot form in the pit of your stomach as he flicked his tongue over your clit just right. He looked up and smiled as he watched you come undone. "Cum for me, baby girl."

The vibration of his words against your most sensitive area sent you over the edge. You couldn't control the way your legs shook as squirted in Rafe's mouth. He didn't stop, swallowing everything you offered him and licking you clean, sending you into overstimulation.

You laid speechless, trying to catch your breath. Rafe looked up at you with a shit eating grin, proud of himself for making you feel so good. Knowing he's the only one that's ever made you feel that good.

He crawled back on top of you, picking you up by they hips and laying you down on the couch beneath him. He sat up, quickly undoing his belt and shorts. You watched him, still trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm you just experienced.

"You're my girl, you know that?" He asked you, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him. He leaned over, lips hovering above yours as he lined himself up at your entrance. "My girl. Carrying my baby. Yeah?"

He was being possessive. Dominant. His eyes were crazy and you melted under his spell. "Yours." You promised.

He wrapped his fingers in your hair, cradling your head as he pressed his forehead to you. "My family..." He whispered, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. "Mine."

You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Rafe. I'll always belong to you."

He groans into your neck as he pulls out and thrusts into you again. "Say it again,"

"I belong to you, Rafe Cameron."

He looks into your eyes as he thrusts into you harder. Small whimpers escape your lips as you stare back at him. The feeling of him inside you made you want to cry. Not in a way that it hurt, no. In the way that this was the closest you could possibly be and it still wasn't enough. The way he made your entire body tingle. The way the two of you fit together like a puzzle. It was the fact that you both knew you would absolutely die without each other. Like the world would simply stop turning if you were apart. And it was the way the love you had for one another created something new. The life growing inside you, belonged to you and Rafe and it was sacred. Something you would protect at all costs.

You didn't realize you actually were crying until Rafe's tears fell on your face. You were both crying silently as he continued to make love to you. The feeling of him sliding against your inner walls was pure ecstasy and you could feel yourself reaching your high once again.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him into you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled inside of you, your walls pulsating around him as you came too.

You both sat silently, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. Rafe cupped your cheek and placed a kiss gently on your lips before pulling out of you and rolling to your side, pulling you tightly against his chest. You were both overwhelmed with emotion. You laced your fingers between his and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

"I love you forever," You whisper before drifting off to sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[luimagines]

Wind Calls You Mom

Another commission!

They asked for Wind calling Reader mom and then gets embarrassed about it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When you first started traveling with the boys, you thought you were about to jump off a cliff.

Don’t get it mixed up. You adore each and every one of them, but you were sure that their antics were going to make you go gray before thirty.

You had known that teenage boys were a pain even on the best of days. But you didn’t realize how quickly you would have been singled out as it was. And because they were all nasty, testosterone filled menaces, your poor nose was about to keel over and call it quits.

So! Much to your behest, you took it upon yourself (by gently bullying them) to be the one to actually keep them on top of their cleanliness and their hygiene because you refused to baby these nearly fully grown men. Honestly, you could have started crying by the stench alone if you had the misfortune of being down wind of them.

“Take a shower.” You held a hand up, shutting the poor boy down before he could say anything else.

“Oh come on!” Wind whines, dramatically pouting and throwing his hands by his sides. “It’s not even that bad-!”

“Because you’re the one living in it.” You press, keeping your hand up between you both. “Either go jump in the river or change your clothes- for goodness sake-!”

Wind turns to one of the other guys for support but they all collectively shrug. This isn't a battle they’re willing to fight. You’ve been quite adamant about it over the weeks you’ve traveled with them. Time in particular isn’t going to fight you on this and you know it.

Teenage boys smell the worst.

“Next town we go to I’m getting all of you some sort of odor neutralizer.” You grumble and turn back to cleaning your weapon. “It’s a miracle I haven’t dropped dead.”

Wind groans even louder. 

Hyrule snickers in the background. You turn and point a finger to him, fighting to keep a straight face as you speak again. “Don’t you start! You’re one of the worst offenders!”

“Who am I offending?” Hyrule puts a melodramatic hand to his chest.

“My nose!”

“Tough.”

You stand, ready to fight the boy before Wind flops over, dragging you back down to your spot. He doesn’t actually smell that bad. If you think onions aren’t that smelly to begin with, that is. You don’t even know why he smells like onions. You didn’t even eat onions today!

“Wind! Get off! You smell!” You groan and try to push him off. He chooses violence and latches on instead. 

“I don’t want to now.” He pouts. “You’re being mean.”

“I am not!” You try to push him off again with more force. “Wind!”

“Wind.” Warrior comes to your rescue. “Come on. We have to do laundry anyway. We can clean your clothes and it’ll solve the issue.”

Wind rolls over, covering himself with dirt as he hits the ground. “You’re no fun.”

Warrior chuckles. “And you smell.”

“HA!”

“Warrior, you traitor.” Wind grumbles and gets up. His whole back is filthy and it makes you laugh.

“Hold on, Sailor.” You take a rag and brush him off. You turn him around and wipe the rouge dirt on his cheeks as well while you’re at it. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re not sick after all of this.”

Wind sticks his tongue out. “Whatever mom.”

You roll your eyes and put the rag away. When you look back at Wind, you see that his cheeks have gone pink and that his ears are pinned down. He suddenly refuses to meet your eyes. The change startles you. What happened? You bend a bit to look him in the eye. “Wind?”

“I’m going!” He turns on his heels away from you and dashes off to where you know Wild and Legend were doing the laundry.

You tilt your head in question. Strange. What came over him? You turn to Warrior with an eyebrow raised to sell your unvoiced question.

Warrior snickers and covers his mouth with his hand.

Well that doesn’t answer your silent question at all! What are you missing?! You level Warrior with an incredulous look. “What? What’s so funny, Mr. Chuckles?”

Warrior meets your gaze easily with a charming smile. The laughter in his eyes is borderline obnoxious. “Really? Did you miss what he said?”

“Wind?” You say for mere clarification. “I happened to be a bit preoccupied at the time if you missed it. Poor kid covered himself with nothing but dirt and didn’t even care. I’d hate for his clothes to stain.”

Warrior snickers even more but doesn’t comment on your words. “He called you mom.”

You pause. 

He did, didn’t he? Huh… You heard for sure, but it just seemed like the typical teenage response for someone who was being a bit bratty. You can recall the amount of times you’ve done that yourself on a friend or over doting well meaning acquaintance. Heck, even sometimes to your own mother. But that was usually less funny than if you did it with other people.

You had thought that Wind was being sarcastic and didn’t want to bother with acknowledging it. Some battles just aren’t worth it. And you knew it would have been well deserved anyway.

However his reaction wasn't what you thought it would be. He looked embarrassed and awkward. He hadn’t meant to call you that at all.

You know that your silence doesn’t read well while you’re thinking but if Warrior hadn’t pointed it out, you fear how long it would have taken you to figure it out.

You cough, feeling your own cheeks go a bit pink as the realization washes over you. “I see.”

“Do you?” Warrior smirks and crosses his arms. “No shame in it if I need to further spell it out for you.”

“You have something in your teeth.” You say instead.

Warrior perks up and instantly goes looking for the mirror shield.

You try to keep from laughing, wondering how or if you should bother bringing up Wind’s little slip of the tongue. He called you mom- he’s probably mortified. 

You rub your knuckles against your forehead. Ok. This can’t stand. You’ll talk to him. Maybe not immediately but you don’t want Wind to shrink into himself and lose his confidence.

You wait until after dinner.

Instead of waiting for the right moment to make your move, you decide to simply sit yourself next to Wind once the boys had gone around amusing themselves by the fire. The resident pirate was moments from joining in but your presence seems to have embarrassed him once more.

So he’s also still thinking of his little slip up.

You tilt your head, trying to appear nonchalant. “...Everything good, Wind? Did you like dinner?”

He nods. 

You wait for him  to say something but he struggles to meet your eyes even now. His cheeks go pink again and you’re forced to think of a solution on the fly. You told yourself you were trying to avoid this! This is not avoiding it!

“Wind-”

“I’m sorry.” He says instead, rubbing the back of his neck. The poor boy finally turns his head to you. “I didn’t mean to call you that. It just came out.”

You sigh. Ok. He beat you to it. This is fine.

You sling your arm around his shoulders and ruffle his hair for the heck of it, trying to keep the energy casual. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even notice.”

Wind turns toward you with wide, almost hopeful eyes. “Really?”

You nod. “Granted, I heard it, but I thought you were being sarcastic at first. I didn’t see a problem with it until Warrior decided to make it a problem.”

“Warrior?” Wind tilts his head, looking over to where the Captain was losing a card game to Four. It’s not even a close game. Four is wiping the floor with him. “What did he do?”

“In his words, he spelled it out for me.” You grumble. “He was laughing that it went over my head so easily.”

“...Oh.”

“...”

“...”

“I hope Four wins that game.”

“Warrior always loses anyway.”

You chuckle and ruffle his hair again. “You ok? Feel better?”

Wind laughs a little bit but nods.

You also feel a bit better, but there’s one thing that you want to ask now that you’ve thought about it. “I don’t smother you boys, do I? I’m not that bad, am I?”

“No, you are.” Wind answers honestly. “...But it’s nice.”

“You think so?” You say, ignoring the mild sting of his blunt honesty.

Wind nods again. “I think… that having someone to keep us clean and someone to make sure we’re all taken care of is helping us a lot…” You watch him think for a moment longer. Wind bites his cheek. “It… actually would’ve been nice to have someone give me snacks when I was on my adventure.”

You smile. “Happy to help.”

[scribeofmorpheus]

Veilguard Review: Doom Upon the World

Warnings: Spoilers for Veilguard, very political review (considers race, gender, religion and choice consequences centred around established Thedas).

Another long post: 4k words

In my first review (Love, Wisdom and Pride), I focused on the relationships most pivotal to Solas’ arc reaching resolution: Inquisitor and Mythal (though heavily Solavellan inspired, I tried to be aware of how the Inquisitor’s role as a rival/friend outside of romance was still considered as an important relationship in his story). This review, on the other hand, will focus on the worldstate and what we lost [x], as well as my speculations on which story beats/companions/advisors I feel should have been integrated into the story for a deeper emotional payoff for past Dragon Age players (and overall story cohesion).  

N.B: This review is definitely a critique of something I love, born from love, because—yes, I had expectations; yes, they were high; no, I don’t think that’s a problem; no, I do not hate the game we got, but I mourn for what the devs clearly were building towards with the last 3 games in the series, and from what we know from the internal struggles with Bioware under EA’s helm (as evidence from the development time, layoffs, staff’s disappointment, and the differences between the final game and the concept art) the only thing getting in the way of a truly epic game was corporate meddling and greed.

Spoilers below the cut.

Without further ado, the primary criticism I have is that Varric should not have been our advisor! I read a post somewhere that succinctly surmised the that Varric was chosen as our Advisor so that:

Solas would make an “irredeemable” mistake for all the Solas haters to use as an excuse to simply view him as an antagonist, simplifying the goal of the game to: stop the elf from bringing down the Veil.

Varric was used for marketing purposes rather than story depth choices; he’s popular, beloved and an easy carrot for the EA stick to dangle in front of loyal fans.

His writer has literally been trying to kill him off for the last 2 games! Varric was supposed to die in Inquisition! (lol)

I firmly believe he should have been holding the blight back in Kirkwall, and that his position as Viscount of Kirkwall should have affected the outcome of the blight spreading in the South!

Advisors in the North

Right off the bat, the two best choices for advisor, (excluding the Inquisitor out of favouritism) should have been Dorian and Morrigan.

Dorian: because we’re in the North, the Shadow Dragons are by far the more “grassroots organisation against imperial power” kind of organised body the Inquisition started out as. Since we don’t have a calling to fight against like the Wardens in Origins or a family to try and keep together in a city on the brink of implosion like Hawke, or a pseudo religious-political body to inspire Hope in the faithful like the Inquisitor, Valour, Love and Hope cannot be at the heart of this story. It has to be JUSTICE [x].

Justice for the culmination of Anders’ story; for Merril and everything she endured to repair the eluvian; for Fenris, the origin of his lyrium tattoos (which according to GhilDirthalen’s post, there was a plot point linked to elves whose lyrium bodies did not possess latent magical prowess) and the slaves in Tevinter; for the rebelling elves that should have formed factions as the Dread Wolf’s Agents like the Trespasser epilogue hinted at; for misunderstood spirits hurt by mages like Cole; for the ancient elves like Abelas; for the templars who saw the corruption in their ranks but had no way out because of lyrium addiction like Sampson; for those corrupted by red lyrium that was spreading throughout Thedas with no cause or cure; for the dwarves like Branka, obsessed with the answers held in the Anvil of the Void, or Harding, or Shaper Valta who saw a Titan and witnessed the death of the Legion of the Dead; for Sandal’s prophecy!; for the qunari oppressed by the Qun, turned talvashoth, searabas, hisraad like Bull! Justice for two decades worth of worldbuilding on the part of the writers and the devs who loved telling these stories.  

Morrigan: is self-explanatory to the story they were crafting between Solas and Mythal. And what would have been even better is if they actually just explained away the Well of Sorrows’ choice unaffecting the Inquisitor because Morrigan eventually had to assimilate the essence from the well to keep the Inquisitor from going mad—like the anchor had to be tempered by Solas in Trespasser. Easy as that!

The best part is that pitting Morrigan and Dorian as foils of each other further allows the game to have greater stakes and tension because Morrigan (changed by Mythal’s righteous anger and need for justice for what was done to her by the Evanuris) could champion making choices more detrimental to Thedas but ultimately in line with Solas’ plans. And Dorian could make choices that put the safety of Thedas’ citizens at the forefront by sacrificing headway in stopping Solas and his Agents from advancing with their plans!

Best yet, we could have had a hardened vs softened Dorian depending on whether you recruited him in Inquisition, and/or did his quest.

[Inquisitor concept art by Matt Rhodes]

Favouritism Bonus Round: The Inquisitor (or alternatively Morrigan) should have been the voice to champion Rook to seek out the wolf statues, and they should have been present when discussing the memories, as it would have given them more gravitas when uncovering the literal story of "Solas is Andrastian God creating the Veil" or "the Dalish Dread Wolf is being proven to be a saviour" or "Elves originally being spirits in the beginning", or "Titans were at war with the elves" beyond comments like: “Oh, Solas regrets this” or “They were doing it”. (This is the issue with having a “couch setting” for a “war room”—discussions feel less intellectual, factions don’t necessarily bring their own unique viewpoint into the interpretation of Solas’ decisions/Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s presence, etc.) Everyone is not digesting the material given like it’s a clue to stopping the world from ending but rather like gossip. With the Inquisitor, as either a friend to Solas, a rival or a romanced Lavellan, finally finding the Dread Wolf’s Achilles Heel after vowing to stop him would have rung true, closed the loop.

Sigh.

This is also why I feel the Inquisitor should have been the one in Varric’s place—like literally. I mean recovering from an injury after failing to catch up to Solas in ACT 1, possibly dispatched by Agents of Fen'Harel! Because they could then be forced to pass the mantle to hunt down Solas to “Rook”. Not dead. Or a blood magic illusion. Just, Inquisitor, wounded, making small talk, sometimes bringing up plot points from Inquisition—your Hawke on the battlements in DA:I or Alistair in the gardens with Morrigan and Keiran.

It would also make more sense for the Inquisitor to be able to use the eluvian to travel between Skyhold and the Lighthouse, allowing for believable absences during plot points where their lack of action inspite of their presence wouldn’t make sense. Not to mention more gut-wrenching if we heard about the South from Inky rather than reading 4 letters!

Previously, I stated how the Inquisitor’s presence needed more weight in the non-Solavellan endings! Some people’s Inquisitor befriended Solas, some hated him, either way, the Inquisitor should have been present for the final showdown beyond a passive observer! If the Inquisitor ended up being the last friend/former love that Solas destroys (in a bad worldstate end where you don’t collect Mythal’s essence), which then prompts Rook to fight him because Solas’ last tie to empathy failed to redeem him, that would have added so many layers! The Inquisitor falling is the last straw for Solas too, whether friend, lover or foe, he fought beside them, stopped Corypheus with them! The Inquisitor was partially his making of a hero; his first “good” mistake! It would then make sense for him to snap, choosing to be a villain in the hopes of being stopped because he can’t stop himself, he’s come too far! Rather than the ‘I am a God’ ending they gave us.

Agency of a “Rook” on an Empty Chess Set (Factions and Backstory)

Personally, from both a writing and a viewer’s perspective, I think our protagonist should have always been linked to the Shadow Dragons (and the factions choices shouldn’t have been incorporated. This is more because, framing one’s backstory as being a member of a faction—not a people with established political positions in Tevinter—siphons the narrative of personal stakes. Imagine being a mage who could have begun with higher approval in Tevinter but lower elsewhere, maybe they’d be saved from the Venatori’s thrall that was linked to Neve’s companion story—again linked to Ashur and the Dragons. Or an elf mage could begin a storyline like that of the city elf in da:o but focused on the Shadow Dragons’ tackling slavery’s presence in Tevinter. A Qunari origin could explore being a refugee aided by the Shadow Dragons as they flee the Qun because they don’t fit in the dogmatic religion. A warden could be a criminal in Tevinter, showing us what is considered ‘rules for criminality’ in a city that corrupt and extremist.

Overall, the factions don’t add much diversity to Rook’s background, backstory, dialogue tree or influence on the world state beyond a last name that doesn’t really matter. With a Shadow Dragons’ background, the very ethos of “Rook” would have been about overcoming oppression, and then the nickname makes sense too, a name to stay concealed, to keep loved ones safe while DAV’s protagonist battles politics, blood mages and blighted gods. It would have been even more meaningful if the nickname “Rook” paralleled “Dread Wolf”, in that it was bestowed by your origin-based backstory antagonist and then used as a call to freedom (we wouldn’t even need a cutscene, this could have been revealed in part of their banter/dialogue). This simple choice would have allowed us to focus on Treviso and the Antaam’s occupation and Tevinter and the Venatori’s rise to power on a more personal level. It would also place our Rook in a position to be a foil to Solas’ “do what is necessary for the greater good” vs “be better than those that came before” plot lines. Building off this, the hardened companion status between Neve and Lucanis should have formed a parallel, with one tilting towards understanding Solas’ extreme efforts to stop the Gods, whereas the non-hardened character should have taken the role of foil. Both of whom would add balance to the tension when discussing Solas’ memories or even in exploration banter during missions (one the “devil” on your shoulder, the other your “angel” depending on where Solas’ actions stand for you since Inquisition).

Finally, the Shadow Dragons' should have been linked to Dorian more directly, potentially created with backing/support from the Inquisition’s advisors/Inquisitor directly (since their default attire is the Shadow Dragon apparel).

Companions: Cole for Compassion; Briala for Rebellion and Revenge

Cole

In my review Love, Widsom and Pride, I briefly touched on the fact Cole (whether recruited, not recruited, kept spirit or changed human) was absolutely necessary as a companion. Because it doesn’t matter which version was present in the world (RIP the tapestry), every iteration of Cole works synergistically with appealing to Solas’ spirit side:

If he wasn’t recruited in Inquisition, he could simply have his default origins as a compassion spirit that ‘follows’ the greatest pain in the Fade that yearns to be healed, giving a compassionate viewpoint to Solas’ folly.

Recruited-to-the-Inquisition Spirit Cole could have a greater connection to Solas than even Varric, seeing as Cole was most likely a literal representation of Solas rewriting his own history of corruption by preventing a spirit from becoming something against its nature.

Human Cole would have a deeper connection to the world of Thedas, and could have been a great tool to prove how change was inevitable, not always a bad thing, and inevitably out of even Solas’ control. And he could still offer insight into Solas' mind via 'remnants' of the time he was more spirit.

Briala

What I enjoy about this companion head canon is that Briala is literally Solas’ direct parallel story-wise:

She’s in love with Celene, the ‘best’ choice for ruler in Orlais even though she burned Briala’s alienage. They share a great power imbalance, with Celene able to affect the fate of all elves in Orlais, yet is unwilling to free them, return the Dales, or concede power even though she claims to love Briala, too. Briala is a rebellion upstart, raised by Felassan for crying out loud. She controlled the eluvians and knew how to get around the crossroads, she has more of a bone to pick with Solas than any other NPC not close to the Inquisitor! (Celene and Mythal share many similarities as well, with Celene seen as the more benevolent of rules when compared to Gaspard the Warmonger; and if Gaspard is in power but controlled by Briala, her being dethroned from her seat of power by Agents of Fen’Harel when she lost access to the eluvians would have been a great story arc to explore).

Sidenote on DAV's Romance, Companions and Choice Consequence

Building off having either Cole or Briala as a companion, I do think it would have been nice to have them as non-romanceable too. Don’t get me wrong, I know it's great to have options, but I do feel making everyone “pansexual” wasn’t the right way to go for all the companions. It takes away character choice, personality, taste and individualism from the companions. Dorian’s story would not be nearly as impactful if he could have been romanced regardless of gender. Solas being unwilling to romance any race besides elf (though a direct correlation to the developers being afraid of the ‘evil bisexual’ trope that was popular in the 2010s) also adds to his story; where he’s reluctant to see the world as real, to accept non-elven people as having agency, because that would mean he wasn’t walking through a see of Tranquil, but instead, he was the Forgotten One out of time.

I also firmly believe that a possible reason Cole wasn’t a companion despite there being plans in place that he’d return (Trespasser epilogue slide, I remember you), is because I can 100% see an EA big-wig being like: “He’s unfuckable. Give us someone hot and brooding and slap a demon in them and you’ve got fuckable-Cole” and then we got Lucanis.

I like Lucanis. I’m not crazy about him, but I enjoy the Machiavllian family drama. Very Renaissance Medici story beats. I adore Mary Kirby as a writer, too, but I feel the introduction to the Crows of Antiva should have been Zevran’s mantle, or he should have at least haunted the narrative and missions related to the Crow factions (of which there should definitely have been factions within the Crows). Considering the fact I romanced Lucanis, I couldn’t shake the fact that a lot of his “acceptance for being bound to Spite” beats paralleled a Human Cole having been ‘cured’ from Compassion.

The romances seem less… memorable to me than past games. The importance of choice means you have to accept the story unfolding based on the consequences of your choices; and gender-locking at least one companion would show the cause and effect of beginner choice. Taash is actually written to prefer women over men, which is vital to their arc around gender dysphoria and being non-binary, they would have been a perfect candidate! I imagine their story would also be a great way to explore how being one race attempting to romance another could have a slower progression rate (again, because of Taash’s multi-cultural background, and their complex feelings at having been raised by a mother so tied to the Qun, them being cagier around a qunari Rook romance would also have added layers!) But with everyone available to be romanced, and having no initial repercussion for early game choices despite which character model would have bruises or cuts (Neve or Harding), genuinely roleplaying as Rook, and not as someone using Rook as a stand-in for ourselves, is more disconnected than previous games. This is why the romances feel off to me. Doing the romanceable companions’ storylines seem like I’m the one trying to date them, not Rook. Maybe it’s because Rook’s established personality is the direct repercussion of a sanitized worldstate!  

Foibles of being ‘Unproblematic’: A Sanitised World

The issue with trying to make a game that won’t touch on difficult topics, is that, when you make that game a sequel to a series that was literally built on the backs of tackling real world politics, it makes a lot of the world seem plastic. A poor imitation perhaps.

The World of Thedas book actually tells us that Thedas is a fantasy setting that uses the real world as its backdrop for conflict and world building. Andraste is Joan of Arc. Andrastian faith is Christianity founded by a woman. Orlais is the French bourgeois era. Fereldan is more Highlands/Celtics region if it never had a chance to expand because of the blight. Elves are the disenfranchised (and a direct parallel to popular elven cultures that were often portrayed as the pinnacle of advanced magic/civilisation). City elves live in alienages (literal ghettos). Dalish elves (native to the land) are being run out of their homes, the Orlesian’s are trying to claim the territory for their Empire, and their numbers are dwindling, their culture and language a poor imitation of what it had been, barely surviving colonialisation! Dwarves have a caste system that determines everyone’s future! Dagna had to leave her home! Harding grew up on the surface. Varric’s whole plot thread anchoring him in act 1 of DA2 is helping his brother discover Deep Roads riches so they can get their family’s title again.

And through all 3 games prior to Veilguard, we’re told the Ventaori are monsters, the Imperium is crueller to its elves/slaves than any place in the South! The best option beyond turning Feynriel tranquil in DA2 (one of the few Dream Walker mages) is to send him to Tevinter. What becomes of a half-Dalish mage in Tevinter? Neve, our first companion beside Harding, is determined to make Dock Town a place worth living! So, to walk into Veilguard and have no slavery storylines in a place called the fucking TEVINTER IMPERIUM (modelled after the fucking Roman Empire close to collapse) is so jarring. So unbelievable. What injustice is Neve battling? What woes has Dorian been dealing with in the Magisterium?

The closest we get to seeing the darkness that exists in the world (besides the hanging corpses lining the streets of Dock Town if you save Treviso, is the side quest where a father makes a deal with a demon to keep his child alive by sacrificing so many innocents).

And then there's Tevinter's "savage" neighbours, the Invading forces of the Qun! Frightening, right? But from the blasé manner the Qun's rigidity is discussed, it is framed as though anyone can simply up and leave the Qun if they so wished it, according to Taash’s mom. Yes, Taash is being hunted, and their mom is taken prisoner, but it was all in service to a tablet that discussed fire-breathing, not about returning to the Qun. Iron Bull being deemed hisraad holds less severity when the consequences of leaving a subjugating, dogmatic, religious-political society are simply... nothing. There's no anchor to Taash being raised in Rivain for safety reasons beyond keeping their fire-breathing secret. And what of all the elves that commit to the Qun? Why are there no elf converts among the Antaam? What about the fucked-up stuff the Dwarves of Kal-Sharok were doing before Veilguard? Kal-Sharok dwarves apparently were changed by the First Blight, and are supposed to have a ‘tainted’ appearance according to the World of Thedas concept art book. Why are they just... normal dudes in booby armour (lol)?

[Imshael! A demon/spirit of choice & Calpernia as potential companions is insanity>>!]

I possibly wouldn’t have these strong opinions if the games gave the companions more… just more ‘controversial’ stories with harder choices! Veilguard in a way feels like playing a game with child-lock on. Yes, what happens to Tevinter or Treviso looks awful when you see it, but the side-quests, companion stories, NPC dialogues and world around the ‘mise-en-scene’ don’t reflect this--it's like set dressing. The “I can’t believe the Venatori are evil” side comments by Rook in Tevinter when the Venatori takes over become whiny, child-like and “hopes and prayers” coded. Do something then, Rook. You are the hero of this story, are you not?

I am forever grateful that Lucanis is actually hardened and removed as a romance interest if you sacrifice Treviso (finally, good old dragon age consequences).

Now onto good criticism of our companions!

Companions: The Good, the Balanced and the Essential

Good: Neve and Davrin.

Neve is our eyes and heart to Dock Town, our humanising presence for the Tevinter Imperium. She is also written in a way that I find her to have the best agency as a non-romanced character than most.

Davrin is a breath of fresh air for the reputation of the Grey Wardens, he’s the genuine article. Him owning up to being young and foolhardy when he rejected the Dalish ways in search of adventure, only to be battle-hardened and then become more appreciative of the fact he was taught to live in harmony before he was exposed to the discord of the Deep Roads is such a good character growth moment.  

Balanced: Harding. Harding grows into a much more invaluable story piece when she unlocks the Stone Sense and uncovers her people’s history. It’s a rather short-sighted choice to have her be one of the Ultimate Sacrifice characters because what becomes of the story of the Stone? Who hears the song? Who will speak of the Titans to other dwarves if she is chosen to go on the final mission?

Essential: Antoine and Evka! No notes, they should have been conditional companions in a side quest! They’re fleshed out so well, and their relationship is real and built into their character, but it’s not all they are! Antoine is smart, hopeful and also tortured by the new blight. Evka is powerful, pragmatic and also caring.

The Red Herring that should have been: Bellara as an Agent of Fen’Harel! Her storyline would have worked with the concept of being found ‘suspicious’ by players if the Agents of Fen’Harel were an active group. A Veil Jumper in Arlathan whose brother got entabgled with a Forgotten One? Someone who is an outright believer in the elven pantheon? O, Bellara, the power you would have had as a possible double-agent in our midst, only for us to have been wrong in doubting her and having it be someone else! Race and position to power should have inforced so many story beats in this game, man!

Finally: Religion, Where?

I’m a little exhausted, so I’ll wrap this part a little quickly. Religion is paramount to understanding the decisions and states of mind of so many characters in Thedas. Leliana’s arc alone is one of the most intimate insights into Andrastian faith! The Inquisitor is literally responsible for appointing the Divine! The Divine can call for an Exalted March! The Black Divine is a huge plot point when discussing the differences between the Southern and Northern iterations of the Chant. Tevinter’s Old Gods (Archdemons) are blighted dragons linked to the Evanuris that whisper the will of their masters to humans. Archdemons are responsible for the Blight, our first “save the world kiddo” moment in da:o! So where is the disbelief in the streets that Elven Gods exist? Why is it always “Our Gods” are back? What about city elves who believe in the Chant of Light? Where is the Black Divine? Why is everyone okay remaining Andrastian when the fact Solas made the Veil is revealed? Where is the politics and religious civil war in the streets between NPCs?! Between companions? Why isn’t there a cultish, zealous group of extreme Andrastians following Solas around? Why isn’t there another version thinking of Solas and all elves as the second coming of Maferath? How are city elves fairing compared to Dalish elves at the reveal it’s their pantheon gunning to end the world? Again! RACE AND POLITICS MATTER! They always mattered in Thedas before, yet here they are anecdotal at best.

The Veil Should Have Come Down

It’s apparent to me, and numerous others, that Veilguard was stunted by its attempts to be an entry piece that wasn’t alienating to new players of the RPG game format, but it was also haunted deeply by it’s very EPIC tapestry mechanic (chocies mattered!). Ironically, Veilguard served to be a soft re-boot of the series. This, I think, was the grandest mistake. If they meant to reboot the series for future instalments, we should have fundamentally changed the physics and rules of Thedas completely to allow the next instalment to start from the literal ground up. By bringing down the Veil, we’d finally free the Titan’s, introduce the concept of Dwarves with magic, awaked the Forgotten Ones and maybe allow for new species/lore/concepts to shape the future. And to work around the tapestry, they could have simply set the next sequel 200 years later. Sent our heroes to rest. Ended with a new canvas.

It should have concluded with the very ending that was prophesied by Sandal in DA2:

“One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, the skies will open wide. When he rises everyone will see.”

Bonus: Anaris should have been a DLC boss with Fenris involved!

Why, you ask? Just this data-mined codex entry still present in the game:

Truth be told, like they did with Corypheus in the Origins DLC, I think they could very well bring him back as the big bad of DA5—which I think should have always been about fleshing out the war between the Titans / the Forgotten Ones / Evanuris!

Anaris and a waking Titan?! That would have been beyond amazing!

Which… again, is why the Veil should have COME DOWN!

P.S.: I know a lot of these criticisms seem like unhappy nitpicks, but I did enjoy Veilguard, I got an ending I could live with. BUT I am so angry by how many roadblocks are placed before game devs with a clear story in mind--as is obvious with the concept art book. Obvious threads were leading to Veilguard having always been the end of the Dragon AGE! We kill the last Archdemon! The last dragon linked to the Gods and the blight! The game developers have even alluded to having fought tooth and nail with EA's suits, but could only manage to give us the game we got. And I'm beyond grateful. But MAN does it hurt!

Remember to say thank you to the writers/artists/voice actors on their socials, they deserve a little love too.

Fin!

[aayakashii]

Some people asked me to make a pt.2 of collared with pegging and well. This is not it (⌐■-■) I just like to bully Leo, sorry... have the twink being tortured yet again 🫳 not really femdom content this time around like the 1st part BUT he still suffers (∗´艸`∗)

WARNINGS: this is a part 2 (?) to collared, so read that one first! This is smut and has explicit language, NSFT !!!!!!! Do not engage if it makes you uncomfortable <3

Leo grunted, fist wrapped tightly around his length as he leaned against the wall of his spacious bathroom. His tip was a furious red as he jerked his cock, desperately seeking a release that seemed far away, gritting his teeth at the frustration that washed over his body.

His hand stopped, and he gasped for air, chest heaving up and down and hair sticking to his forehead after exerting himself. He slammed his fist against the wall, furious.

He had been like that for weeks. Unable to relieve himself of his pent-up stress and unable to ignore the desire that kept on pooling in his core.

He had tried everything. Watching porn, using toys, hooking up with some students – but nothing worked. He would get so close, so fucking close but then his orgasm would ruin itself no matter what. It was like something was broken and he didn't know why.

Actually, Leo knew what might have caused it. But he also tried to avoid thinking about it at all costs.

He dry swallowed, throat bobbing up and down, as he waited for his heart rate to slow down and his breathing to even out.

Meanwhile, his mind raced, trying to find anything to think about, only to run away as fast as he could from those memories. He'd conjure up thoughts of old parties, old hookups, bad hangovers and mundane shit that didn’t matter at all, only to escape from unconsciously recollecting that day.

But the ghost of the sensations remained on his skin, on his nerves, on his cock.

His breathing got heavier again and he pushed himself away from the wall of his bathroom.

That was all futile. He needed some fresh air. With some luck, he could find some stupid student to bully and maybe get into a fight and just have someone rip the horny out of him through punches and kicks.

Yeah. That's what he needed.

Instead of following the flawless plan he had hurriedly concocted before leaving, however, Leo found himself in front of the old, beaten down Cathedral. He heard rumors of how it had been another dorm before, but now it only housed the stupid NPC.

Leo cursed under his breath.

Why the fuck did he find himself there? He had no business with you. He didn't want ANYTHING from you.

And yet, his gaze locked onto the only window that was open on that large building, with faint candlelight flickering inside.

You were right there. He knew that. And he fucking hated the way his mouth dried up and his heart picked up speed yet again.

God fucking damn it.

Wasn't your "revenge" something that should have happened only once? (Even though for the first days he kept waiting and waiting, sitting on pins and needles, for you to come back and show him how else you could fuck him).

If it was just that one forsaken moment, then why should he keep on being so fucking frustrated all the time, rubbing his thighs together in a futile attempt to ease the annoyance, all because he can't cum like before?

He groaned as he felt his cock stiffen once again as the memories of your hands roaming all over his body became, finally, inescapable.

Leo stepped out of the paveway and into the trees and bushes, still keeping his eyes locked at your window.

It wouldn't hurt to try and relieve himself right then and there, right? Just that one time. Just to get the edge off and then afterwards he would do anything in his power to erase the memories of that stupid fucking NPC making him feel pleasure that he had never felt before. Even if he had to create mesmer matches that worked only on him, just for that.

He palmed himself through his pants, breath faltering and labored as he felt how painfully hard he had become. All to the thought of you.

He felt pathetic.

And still, he pulled his pants down and leaned against a tree, trying to control the small moans that began spilling from his mouth.

Against his better judgment, however, Leo gave in to his curiosity.

"Haxs." He whispered through his sighs, and his half-lidded eyes immediately widened as he heard the telling sound of your labored breathing and the wet noises of your fingers thrusting deep inside yourself.

Leo's eyes rolled back as a strangled moan caught on his throat as soon as he realized you were masturbating just like he was. His hips jerked forward, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he bit his other fist in order to muffle the sounds of his mewls.

He fucked his fist at the same pace of your moans, desperately trying to picture you with your legs spread open wide, shoving your fingers deep inside your pussy in order to teach him how he should fuck you – just like you taught him things he wouldn't ever forget the last time.

Leo was too caught up in his fantasies and the sensation of finally – Finally! – being able to quench that awful thirst, that the next sound you made caught him completely off guard.

As you reached your own peak, your mewls and whines grew louder and, in your orgasm, you moaned another ghoul's name.

His hips stuttered and he thrusted one last time, his release gushing out of him in thick ropes before he could even notice. A loud whine ripping out of his throat without restraint.

He panted, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes due to the wave of pleasure he so desperately seeked finally washing over him.

But his eyes were sharp, glaring towards the only lit window in the Cathedral.

You fucking moaned someone else's name.

Leo inhaled deeply, trying to keep the confusing swirl of emotions at bay, blinking fast in order to get clear headed quickly.

What the actual fuck.

So you liked someone else? Apparently yes, since you fucking came with someone else's name on your lips.

What was all that happened between you two then? Did you REALLY just want to fuck with him as a punishment?

... Nah, he didn't believe that. Not when he could so clearly remember the way your eyes ran all over his body and how you looked like you would devour him at any given moment.

He would know.

Every single time he closed his eyes, he could still picture you hovering over him, touching him, praising him.

So why the fuck were you touching yourself to the thought of some other fucking ghoul?

Why not him? Why weren't you thinking of him while you masturbated, when he could only cum to the thought and sounds of you after you completely ruined him?

Were you really not as affected by all that as he was? Was he the only stupid moron that really couldn't even jack off properly if he didn't have you around somehow?

Leo bit his lip, brows furrowing as he felt his chest tightening. He haphazardly wiped his hands on the grass below him, and buttoned his pants.

Was this the actual punishment you were talking about?

Leo felt his throat close painfully and the back of his eyes sting as furious tears threatened to pool on his eyes.

He stumbled on his way back towards Vagastrom, confused despite the clarity brought by his orgasm, and, much to his dismay, feeling a type of hurt deep inside his chest that he had always thought was pathetic.

Leo felt discarded, like trash, for the first time in his life.

Kudos to you for flipping the script on him so perfectly without even trying.

But not to worry. When it came to cruelty and breaking hearts, he would always get first place.

He just had to think.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Final Respects

Smokescreen was set to aid Optimus Prime in reviewing an abandoned Decepticon mine. He imagined it was largely going to be guard duty. Instead, he found his views of the dead challenged by his idol.

Previous Smokey related thing can be found here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Optimus, what are we doing here?" Smokescreen walked a few feet behind his Prime, observing the abandoned battlefield quietly. The Decepticons had fled long ago, leaving behind only their useless mining excess and the bodies of the Vehicons who were killed in the fight for the mine less than an hour prior.

"We are here to offer the dead their final respects." The Prime answered quietly, almost solemnly. He didn't pause in his steps, instead marching through the rubble and into the mine to assess the damage. Smokescreen followed without question, his gaze falling upon the abandoned furnaces and strip mining tunnels just inside. The Decepticons weren't trying very hard to hide this particular operation.

"Why? They are Decepticons-" Smokescreen attempted to voice his concerns, but Optimus silenced him with a weary sigh and by halting his steps.

"Smokescreen, I lived before factions were even a murmur on the wind. Many of these soldiers were born into this role. They had no choice in the matter." The Prime gestured to the devestation, the bodies strewn in and out of the mine. Smokescreen followed his gaze, but he didn't find his spark swelling with any kind of pity. He saw the badges and the masks. They were Vehicons. Not Autobots or civilians.

"Still doesn't change the fact that they are enemies." He tried to state his objection to this whole mess, but Smokescreen found his voice came out weak and uncertain. Under Optimus's gaze, he felt like a sparkling being schooled after having stolen from a store.

"Neither does it disregard the fact that each and every one of these Vehicons were forged Cybertronian." There was a certain undertone of sterility to Optimus's glyphs that made Smokescreen want to vanish into the ground. But he managed to reset his vocalizer as he looked at all the bodies again. What was the point of it all? Why give funeral rites to enemy soldiers when energon was already scarce and they were so overworked?

"I don't get it. Why waste energy on Vehicons? I mean, I'd get it if they were alive, but they are obviously offline." Again, Optimus sighed. Smokescreen felt like even more of a discrace to his non-existent bloodline as he watched the Prime rub his face and then gesture between them both.

"If your comrade fell in battle, would you honor him?" The question hung in the air mockingly for a moment. Smokescreen took the chance to contemplate whether or not it was meant to be a trick question as he nodded.

"Of course. Autobots stick together, especially a soldier who goes down for the cause." Touching his badge, Smokescreen showed it off with an expression of uncertainty. Optimus remained as composed as ever as he fired back with another inquiry.

"What about a civilian? A neutral caught in the crossfire." Smokescreen hesitated a bit longer with his response. He was not liking where this line of questioning was going.

"Sure, I mean they didn't do anything wrong." He almost grumbled but fought back the response as Optimus's optics cycled, as if preparing to land the killing blow. In their verbal spar, he might as well have been as he again gestured to the dead around them.

"Then what sets a Decepticon apart from an Autobot or a neutral? Why are they unworthy of a funeral?" There it was. Smokescreen actively winced as he found his worldview attacked. His drill sargent always said to see the enemy before the mech. It would make shooting them down easier.

It wasn't exactly fun to have to consider things from a moral perspective.

"They are the enemy. It's not a good use of resources to give them funeral rites." Not really wanting to deal with the emotions involved in dealing with the dead, Smokescreen opted for logic. Optimus, however, didn't seem very inclined toward it as he knelt beside the nearest Vehicon, removing the mech's mask to show a face frozen in terror.

Smokescreen was unable to stop himself from grimacing.

"I understand that being raised in a time of war has made seeing our people as one unit effectively impossible. But I would implore you to look beyond the badges of your fellows." Optimus reached out, tenderly closing the optics of the dead mech before carrying it over to the nearest furnace and laying the Vehicon's body inside.

"They have faces." He picked up more bodies, always taking care to remove the mask in order to assess each and every face. Some were relatively peaceful, as if they'd expected their end. Others were forever stuck in a state of horror or pain. A few select ones even seemed sad, with dried tearstains on their faces. Optimus wiped the marks away from those fallen bots, his expression solemn but not unkind.

Smokescreen felt sick to his tanks.

"They have names." As if to rub rust in the wound, Optimus held up a Vehicon's arm before he gathered up the body. Smokescreen was met with the sight of numbers burned into the mech's very plating, a designation in a sense. He couldn't help how his spark clenched in its chamber at the sight. They weren't proper names, but these mechs still had something.

"They have sparks." Optimus gathered up more of the bodies, showing the ones with torn chassis plating so reveal their cold and lightless spark chambers. It really shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. But seeing the dead be so empty… it made something instinctual in Smokescreen recoil.

"Look at them and tell me once more that they do not deserve to be given their final rites." Optimus's voice rang out as he continued to move bodies into the furnace, his tone neither harsh nor particularly soothing. He was teaching Smokescreen a lesson, one which he was not enjoying all that much.

"They carry scars just like we do." Optimus held a body in his arms, one mutilated from battle and the explosion that killed them. Smokescreen's devotion to his viewpoint faded futher and further with every motion the Prime made.

"They had wants and wishes just like every other living being." As the last body was loaded into the furnace, Optimus came up and clasped Smokescreen's shoulder, breaking him from his reverie. He should have been helping… and yet here he was. Rethinking life or something like that.

"No matter which side they stand on, they deserve to be laid to rest. If only to honor the lives they could have lived if they were not cut short." With that, Optimus moved away to start a fire. Smokescreen wasn't paying much attention to the whole affair. His focus was on Optimus and the machinery he was forcing back into functionality to get the fires burning.

"Why'd you pick me to help with this?" He found himself murmuring as the flames began to rise up, covering the bodies in the furnace. He wasn't doing much on the helping front, but he couldn't help but wonder why he was shown this at all. Logically, he assumed it was for the sake of learning a lesson. But why bother? He was just a rookie.

"Because you are the only one who has not yet seen the horrors of war as we have. I wanted to teach you to honor your enemy before you grew too bitter to see them as kin." Optimus moved away from the furnace to stand by Smokescreen's side. They both watched the bodies start to melt under the intense heat, metal and internal components turning into liquid that would soon be mostly useless to any organic who came across it. Without protomatter or energon, cybertronian steel was only somewhat stronger than human metals.

The dead would not be able to be used as a weapon.

"Records from the archive said that traditional rites would have the dead be turned back into parts for the living, or used as sentio metallico for a newbuild." Smokescreen spoke up softly, voicing the old information that came to the front of his memory banks. Optimus hummed beside him, his optics trained on the flames.

"Normally, that would be the case." Looking up at him, the Prime seemed so very tired. His optics held depth that was impossible to fully comprehend, but within the haze of age old knowledge, there was what Smokescreen could only assume was grief. How Optimus managed to care for so many mecha after so long being embroiled in war was behind him.

"But on this foreign world, in a place so far from our home… it is safer to destroy that which we cannot salvage. That way, no others may use the bodies of our dead to create more devestation." Optimus's response was not heavy, although there was a not of regret in his tone. Somehow, it made Smokescreen's spark pang in sorrow. He couldn't imagine being left as a pile of slag on a foriegn world, forgotten to everyone.

"That's… really sad. It almost feels wrong to just have them all burned up like this." Every part of his training screamed at him, demanding Smokescreen return to the mind of a soldier and witness his foes for what they were. But seeing the bodies burn? He just… couldn't do it. It was not an honorable end. Burned up into liquid metal and left to clump and become soiled on a world that was not their own.

It wasn't right.

"And now you see the worth of a life, Smokescreen." Optimus's voice was little more than a murmur, but Smokescreen caught it anyway. He said nothing else as they watched the flames, waiting until everything was fully melted before dousing the flames. Once they were done, they exited the mine, at which point Optimus shot at the entrance until it collapsed.

Smokescreen winced as dust and rubble rushed past him, but again, he said nothing. What a sad way to die. A mere number, then abandoned in a slagging mine of all places. As much as it bothered him to admit it… not even Decepticon deserved to be forgotten.

"We honor our dead as best as we can, but in the end, we are still at war." Optimus's servo fell upon his shoulder, heavy and comforting all at once. Smokescreen could faintly hear the ground bridge opening behind them, but he couldn't help but stare at the collapsed mine for a little while longer. Part of him wondered, distantly, what the world would have looked like if there hadn't been a war. Would he have known any of those Vehicons?

Slag, Optimus had a way of making him rethink his entire life's purpose.

"Guard the living, remember the dead. Honor the fallen, and fight in their names. That is all we can do to ensure we do not lose ourselves in the haze of eternal conflict." The Prime's commentary was grim, but it was not without wisdom. Smokescreen could only sigh in response, his vents fluttering as he watched for a moment, and then turned to follow Optimus back through the ground bridge.

No one deserved to be forgotten.

Not even enemies.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Reunion - Falling

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, miscommunication, hate sex, crying, angst, misunderstanding,

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》You and Dick have fallen into the rhythm of best friends.

He's been careful, though - didn't push things too far, especially after what happened between you two in the past.

Still, there were moments that messed with him. Like seeing other men try to flirt with you or being out in the club and overhearing you with some random guy in the bathroom. Hearing your laughter, become moans and whimpers. Every sound felt like a mini punch to his gut.

He he would unconsciously clench his hands into fists, fighting the urge to storm in and pull the creeps away from you. He’d give anything to just walk up to you and shut it down. But he knew better; he had no right to feel this way.

Tonight felt different.

It was late, and you were at his place, gathered with the rest of your mutual friends. There were half-eaten bags of chips, and beer cans scattered around the coffee table. The living room was warm, almost too warm with everyone packed in, and you were all flushed, hair sticking a little to your forehead from the effort of trying to beat each other on Mortal Combat.

“Aaaand that’s how it’s done.” Dick leaned back, grinning wide as he popped another chip into his mouth.

"God, seriously?" Your friend friend Anna groaned, tossing you the controller in defeat. "Please, show this man up."

You took the controller, making a show of cracking your neck to orepare yourself. "Alright, prepare to lose, little boy."

Dick’s eyebrow quirked as he gave you this smug look. "Think you can beat me, little girl?"

You smirked back, already selecting your character. "I know I can."

The first round kicked off, and you were on it. Fingers moving fast, you took him down easy, shooting him a wink.

He got the upper hand in round two, smirking right back at you.

By round three, it was on. Both of you were focused, neither willing to accept defeat. You stretched the game out longer than necessary. Then - out of nowhere - you felt a quick jab at your side. You jumped, letting out a surprised yelp as you glanced down to see his fingers pulling back from your hip.

"Dick!"

"What?" he asked innocently. His eyes were still on the screen, but his grin was out too.

Before you could say anything, he did it again - a quick poke that had you biting back a laugh, trying to keep control of the controller. "Quit it - "

Another jab.

You were cracking up, barely able to hold the controller, so you turned and went for revenge, tickling him back.

He let out a deep laugh, his eyes squinting as he smiled, and before long, a tickle war broke out, both of you abandoned the game completely.

Somehow, you ended up straddling his lap, both of you breathless and grinning like idiots. His arm stayed loosely around you, keeping you from tipping over.

"Do you want us to leave the room?" Tony cleared his throat from the couch, his brows quircked up.

Your eyes widened as you caught yourself, and scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning. But his hands settled on your hips, holding you in place just long enough for your gaze to meet his. There was a hint of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite read.

Unbeknownst to you, this is the happiest Dick felt in... a while.

You swallowed hard, tearing your eyes away and forcing a laugh as you climbed off him. "Uh… sorry."

Dick cleared his throat. "No, you’re good."

You stood up, smoothing out your dress and sweater. "Does anyone want something from the kitchen?" You asked the group.

"Just some paper towels." Anna asked.

You nodded and walked out of the living room. Heading into the kitchen, you grabbed a glass of water, taking a long sip to steady your nerves.

"Alright, Dicky." You heared your friends begin to pack up. "It’s been fun, man, but we gotta go."

Leaving the glass in the sink, you made your way back. But just as you were about to step back into the living room, a hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned, and there he was, blue eyes locked on yours with a deep intensity. His hand slid slowly up your arm until he cupped your jaw, his fingers warm against your skin. The front door shut, and your friends' voices faded. It was just the two of you now.

He hesitated, lowering his face until he was hovering just an inch from your lips, close enough that you could feel his breath. Your gaze fell to his mouth, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, barely audible, his voice carrying a rawness that catches you off guard.

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. Without thinking, you rose onto your tiptoes, your lips pressing softly against his.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Dick wanted to pick you up in his arms and spin you around. That kiss, that perfect kiss felt like a breath of fresh air, like the whole world had narrowed down to just this moment.

But then you pulled back. "Dick, wait i," you breathed, your hands coming up to his chest. God, your scent, your beathy voice, your warmth. He could listen to you speak his name again and again... if he could only stay this close to you forever.

His skin cried for your warmth as you stepped back timidly. Worry crept into your gaze. "I can’t do casual with you. It’s… different."

He lowered his gaze, stepping closer, hands braced on either side of your head against the wall, eyes shadowed with something like regret.

"I get it," he says, his voice hollow. "But I can’t promise you more."

If he wasn't sure before, he was certain after Christmas Eve. He wasn't worthy and wasn't responsible enough to protect everyone. That included you.

You swallowed, feeling a familiar pang in your chest you'd promised yourself you'd avoid. "Why not?"

He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "It’s… complicated." His hand brushes your nape, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Dicky…" You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. Up close, you noticed the weariness in his eyes, the faint creases of stress around them. "What happened?" You whispered. "Talk to me. We can fix it."

"No," He shook his head, his expression conflicted. "We can’t," he said, voice tinged with sorrow. "It’s not that simple."

A silence stretched between you before he confessed, "I just… I just want to forget."

Without thinking, you murmmered, "Then do it."

He blined at you. “What?”

You nodded, swallowing down the tightness in your throat. "If… if it helps you forget, then… use me."

His face contorted, somewhere between frustration and disbelief. "Sweetheart, no, you’ve got it all wrong -"

"It’s okay." You nodded, trying to hold on to your composure. "I want to help you… however I can."

"This isn’t what I wanted," he whispers, his face pained. "I don’t think of you like that."

Your laugh was bitter. "Spare me."

His expression shifted, a frown creasing his brow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Dicky." You rolled your eyes, feeling a spark of anger rising. "I give up. You win."

"Win?" He asked, tone incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, congratulations." You said. "I mean, pity’s a pretty creative way to get someone in bed.” You crossed your arms. "But hey, it worked. You’re a good actor."

Before you could blink, his hand wrapped around your throat, gently but firmly, his eyes burning with hurt. "Pity?" he asked, disbelief thick in his voice. "I was being sincere."

You scoffed. "Right, and you just happened to pull out some tragic sob story to convince me."

He growled, the sound low and angry. "You were more than willing to be ‘used’ a second ago. Didn’t take much convincing."

"Yeah, well." You felt the anger simmering beneath the surface, almost boiling over. "You’re good at sex, and I’m bored. So, what do I have to lose?"

His eyes narrow. "When did you become such a-"

“Bitch?” you snapped. “Probably around the time you hooked up with someone else a day after being with me.”

He rolled his eyes. "It wasn’t a day after-"

“Doesn't matter.” You threw your hands up before crossing them in front of you. “Are we doing this, or not? Because I’m losing interest.”

The insult hung in the air, sharp and tense.

And just like that, something in his mind snapped. All of the worries of the past month came crushing down on him. His harsh training, his sleepless nights filled patrols, his rigurous studies, his dramatic family, and now you with your smart mouth. After a minute of heated silence which he used to calm his breathing, he quietly said. "Strip."

You swallowed. You felt angry and betrayed but at the same time couldn't help follow his command, cowering at the heat in his gaze. This whole situation messed with your mind.

Slowly, your hands rose to lift up your sweater, discarding in onto his floor behind you, leaving you in a frilly, soft white dress. Before you could get your hands in the material, his hand reached out to grab yours and pull you into his bedroom. Not a moment passed before you were pushed onto the bed.

"Pretty," he muttered, eyeing the white material of your dress as it slid up your thighs. "You like this dress?"

You raised a brow. "... yes why-"

"I dont." He's seen you wear that dress enough times to the bar. Seen frat boys drool as they oggled you in that dress. It had a doll like, innocent appearance to it. Held a promise of submissiveness. But the way you were speaking to him now revealed the real you. Revealed the dress was a fucking lie. And if you wanted to be treated like a doll, all you had to do was ask.

You gasped when he tore the hem of your skirt up to your neckline.

Mouth agape, you stared wide-eyed at the damage. The wide tear left your bare skin on display, the only coverage provided by your pink bra and panties. You swore you heard him mutter. "Lucky me, a matching set..." Under his breath.

You grinded your teeth together, half with anger, and half with... you weren't sure.

You really did like that dress. Partpy because of the looks wearing it earned you from everyone - him included.

Your angry gaze shifted back up to his. Dick wore a smug expression on his face.

You huffed, "When did you become sunch an-"

"Asshole?" He supplied calmly, raising a brow. "Probably sometime around when I 'hooked up with someone a day after being with you'." Shooting your own words back at you.

You opened your mouth to retort that it was actually much earlier than that, but he grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him to the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor before climbing up on top of you slowly. You caged my muscle from your sides and from above. And you couldn't help but be distracted by ridges of scars and marks lining up his skin, wondering - not for the first time - where they came from. You felt like a deer in headlights being approached by him in this state, and you couldn't fight the way your breath grew shallow as your pulse spiked.

"So that's it? Not even gonna prep me?" You hated how out of breath your voice sounded with the question.

"Do you need it?" He deadpanned. "After the forplay session we just had?"

"What forplay-" Your protest caught in your throat, exchanged for a whimper when his finger pushed aside your panties and slid into you with ease.

He groaned, closing his eyes and biting his lip. You watched with envy, wanting to be the one to bite it instead.

"Oh baby," He muttered darkly, lining himself up against your entrance and sliding into you in one swift motion. "Does arguing with me turn you on?"

You tried to bite back your moans, but he used his finger to spread his slick across your folds. It rose to rub your sensitive clit as he entered you slowly, again and again.

Your back arched against the bed as you tried and failed to hodl back those desperatenoises.

"Answer me." He ordered.

"No," you moaned, but neither of you were convinced.

"Liar." He exhaled as he thrusted into you, frustration mingling with annoyance in his expression. "I wonder, when all those pretty boys from the bars take you home, do they make you as wet as I do?"

You resisted the urge to slap him because, unfortunately, he was right. "Can you hurry up already? Im about to fall asleep" Was all you said instead.

Dick laughed. You thought you were sleeping tonight. That's cute.

Your jab was his response. "Didn't think so," he said with a grin you could only describe as evil.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

A couple more orgasms later, the two of you were exhausted, panting into each other's mouths as he continued fucking you. His movements had grown sloppy, but he still hit the right spots that made your flex to chase that high.

In another attempt to be condescending, he huffed. "Thanks for letting me use you, babe." As his fingers relentlessly rubbed your clit.

Your hands grasped at the sheets as the orgasm built up in your belly. But you weren't too far gone to throw a jab of your own. "Be sure to thank the next one tomorrow, too."

Dick’s jaw muscles flexed, and you knew you hit a nerve."I’m sorry if my ‘lifestyle’ doesn’t fit your precious worldview."

He was hitting every spot, and his fingers only added to the overstimulation. As your body shook with your nth orgasm, your mind flooded with thoughts of him with other girls, thoughts of him moving on, forgetting you exist. With the snap of his fingers. Forshadowing what was to come.

You shook your head, biting back the sting of tears. “No, you’re not.”

Then, as if to drive the point home, he cupped your face and leaned down to deliver an earth-shattering, heartbreaking kiss.

You pulled apart, your breathing coming down. Your need to pass out was hard to resist, your mind clouding eith exhastion, but the need to leave was stronger.

Turning away from him, you slid out from under him, not daring let him see your tears.

Not saying another word, you slipped on your torn dress, followed by your fiscarded sweater, then your coat. You stormed out of his apartment before either of you uttered another word.

[aboutcustardcreams]

We walk the wind-y road

Another glimpse into the past: Nicky's six, and you and Agatha are trying to make the most of your days together, constantly pushing away the nagging feeling that, sooner or later, everything was destined to change.

warnings: none, just fluff and tickles.

You, Agatha and Nicky were walking the path through the forest. It was a beautiful sunny day, with birds chirping in harmony mingling with the wind rustling through the leaves on the trees. Blades of grass crunched softly under your feet, adding to the peaceful sounds around you, distracting you, or more likely trying to. 

You glanced over at your son then, the sight of him enough to put your heart at ease. It took you a second to recognize the song you three made up together coming from him. 

Walk, walk, walk the Road,

I walk the windy road

Agatha’s lips tugged into a defiant smile, she lowered the book she was reading to focus completely on Nicky, who was strolling beside you, “you happen to walk this windy road all by yourself?” 

The boy lifted his chin up and returned her smile, “no, mama.” The way he scrunched up his nose made it impossible for you to resist the urge to lean over to peck his forehead affectionately, “can we join you then, big man?”  

His long brown hair swayed a bit in response to the wind blowing against his face. He nodded his head and cleared his throat to restart the song. Agatha scooted closer, humming along with Nicky right away, words lingering in the air, as to seal the promise to always stick together as a family. A vow you were desperate to keep, no matter the cost. 

Walk, walk, walk the Road, 

we walk the windy road.

These moments of peace, of complete domesticity between you three meant the world to you. Nicky was your whole world, yours and Agatha’s. And your life was apparently perfect, thanks to his presence, to the chance you were given in life to be his mother. A privilege you never once took for granted. However, your heart wasn’t whole. When Rio left you three, about six years ago, she took a piece of your heart with her, probably one of Agatha’s too to be honest. Despite missing her with all your soul, craving her affection and silly jokes, you lived with the hope that your reunion would happen years and years from now. Because you knew what that would mean for you three, then. 

There was so much of Rio in Nicky: the shape of the eyes for starters, the tip of the nose, even the way his mouth curled at the corners whenever he smiled. You weren’t sure if that resemblance helped you cope with the separation from Rio, or it only made you crave her presence more and more. Maybe it was a mixture of the two things. 

You knew that this idyllic frame wouldn’t last forever. This sense of… apparent bliss, calm even would stop someday. You knew you’d have to fight for your son to stay alive when that moment came. Your magic was strong, it sparkled in anticipation just to the thought of being put to use as if it was only made for this purpose. But neither of you knew when Rio would show up to claim Nicky’s soul. And no matter how many times you told yourself you were ready, the idea of having to face the challenge was terrifying. Because you were the only one able to actually do something to change Nicky’s course of life. 

Whenever it may bend

Agatha tugged at your hand gently, apprehension written in her blue eyes. She could always sense when your mind was elsewhere, you’d scrunch up your face then, stare ahead of you, without really looking at anything in particular, and your magic would intensify, getting heavier around you, and affect everything near you. When she touched you, she felt a warm sparkle tickle her digits, you felt it too, making you quickly shift your focus, come back to the present, see her seeing you. You attempted to smile, “did you say anything?” Her thumb grazed against the back of your hand, and when she nodded her head, she repeated, “the song…”

You noticed that even Nicky was patiently waiting for your voice to mingle with theirs. So you gave him an apologetic glance and added your line. You needed to be there, to be present for Agatha and your son. Your worries could wait until night time to surface. 

I’ll be there at the end

You three sang the song again, and this time you hummed along from the beginning. Your focus shifted with Nicky being at the center of all your thoughts. He was only six years old, and yet his intelligence and empathy was above your comprehension sometimes. Agatha told you often, with pride filling her voice, that you and Nicky shared the same braveheart, along with a generosity so rare and unconditional towards every living thing that caused her eyes to water if she lingered to think about it for a second too long. Even that cute dimple, just underneath his right cheekbone, came from you. Everytime he smiled, even more when he laughed, it would show up and light up the entire space around you. Agatha would call it ‘happy little bottom’, causing both you and Nicky to laugh at how cheesy she could be. She would make sure to see that dimple every single day, because that would mean that despite all the horrible choices she had to make to keep Nicky alive, at the end of the day he was happy. 

Another incredible thing about Nicky was the fact that he knew to be different. He always did. And yet, he never asked questions about his condition, about why he would fall sick much easier than other kids. 

He might not question that specifically, but he sure questioned more often than not why so many witches had to die every other day as if it was a natural chore to be completed. 

And that happened to be one of those days. 

“Mama, why do you kill witches?”

Agatha stilled for a moment while you clenched your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath; his timid voice replaying in your head and no matter how many times you came across the same topic, it would always shock you the same way. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to know the truth, nor could Agatha, however, it wasn’t an option to be honest with him about it. Because he was like you, too considerate, his heart too good for his own sake. If Nicky were to know all those killings were necessary to keep him alive, he surely would have something to say about it, despite his young age. 

Agatha glanced at him only briefly, before coming up with a response, you knew it wouldn’t satisfy him, it being too simplistic, “to survive.” 

You pulled the boy closer to your side, and he lifted his chin, this time looking at you. His eyes squinted, and you spotted the confusion filling his hazel eyes. He wanted more, he searched for more. 

“Could we not stay with the witches and survive with them?” 

Your steps came to a halt at this point and as you did, Nicky stopped too. Agatha watched in silence as you crouched down in front of him, so that you could speak to him face to face. 

“I wish it was possible, my love,” you muttered with a hint of sadness lacing your voice. When he frowned, you ran both your hands to cup his cheekbones, thumbs gently stroking his skin, now slightly paler, and you knew he would need to feed on more magic soon. Not a single day passed without you wishing to take his illness, to transfer his condition and make it yours, but that was beyond your skills. You could do so many things, and yet the thing you wanted the most was beyond your limits. “Sometimes, as your mama said, in order to survive, tough decisions must be made. Decisions that don’t depend on you, though. I want you to always remember that, okay?”

He nodded quietly, eyes boring into yours, as a veil of understanding started forming in them. Agatha nibbled on her bottom lip, lashes fluttering quicker to ward off those angry tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. It was harder for you to kill, but you never backed away from doing it. You even resurrected a couple of them once, tried to apologize with tears in your eyes, mortified by the things you had to do, but they wouldn't listen to reason. All you found was hatred in their eyes, and not only they didn’t accept your apology, they also threatened to take yours, Agatha’s and Nicky’s life. You knew there was nothing to be done then, with your magic weakened by the effort of bringing those witches back, Agatha would shield you and Nicky and absorb their magic all over again, making your act of mercy completely vain. So eventually, you stopped doing that. Agatha begged you to, noticing what it was doing to you. 

“You and mama are witches, right?” 

You nodded your head, unsure where he was going with this. 

“And you live together,” he reasoned, “You don’t try to kill each other-”

Agatha let out a quiet, sad chuckle at that. Nicky was clever, so much so that sometimes, it was hard to keep up with him. 

“It’s different,” you quickly said, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I love your mama,” Agatha’s heart swelled at your words, she licked her lips and nodded, glancing down at the two of you with immense love, a hand lingering upon your shoulder. Then you scooted closer to Nicky, lips against his ear as you whispered, “but I love you more.” 

The boy giggled. It caught Agatha’s attention, and that’s when she crouched down next to the two of you, she asked with a cocked eyebrow, “what was that?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying so hard to suppress a grin from curling your lips. It only caused Nicky to squirm and chuckle more, so you pulled him in your arms, “Nothing. Our boy was just craving some cuddles, right?” Agatha’s eyes lingered on those two dimples as they both popped out at the same time. She watched him wrap his arms around your neck, snickering and nodding at the same time.  

“Momma said she loves me more,” your eyes snapped open at his confession. 

Agatha let out a defiant sound at that, “Oh, did she now?” There was a playful glimmer in her orbs when she locked eyes with you. 

“You little snitch–” you started, voice morphing in a teasing and silly tone. Nicky dropped the rope the moment your fingers wiggled up and down his sides, tickling him immediately. The sound of his laughter soon echoed throughout the forest, muffling all the others and giving you the illusion that everything was fine, that your son was healthy with no invisible countdown threatening his life. 

“Mama! Mama– help!” 

“Oh no, big boy, now you face the consequences of your–”

Before you could finish that sentence, you felt Agatha’s hands slip down your waist, pulling you against her with such unexpected force, both of you stumbled backwards in the soft grass behind you. “Agatha, what in the world?” You chuckled and tried to break free, but she didn’t let you go, “I do believe I deserve an explanation, my love–” her voice sounded like a soft murmur against your ear. Her long wavy hair tickled your face as she drew closer, raising you soft goosebumps over your skin. 

In the meantime, as Nicky’s laughter quieted down, his grin stayed, “get her mama! Use your purple!” 

Agatha seemed tempted by the idea, whereas you not so much, “my purple, huh?” 

“No, no, no– don’t you dare!” 

Despite your warning, your voice carried more amusement than alarm, and Agatha didn’t miss it. In a heartbeat, she turned the tables— quite literally. She spun you around, and the world tilted as your back hit the cool blades of grass underneath you. A startled giggle escaped you, and you locked eyes with her, “Agatha Harkness, I am serious–” using her full name as warning, only fueled her intent to ruin you. 

“So am I, baby,” Agatha grinned down at you, her knees on either side of you, pinning you effortlessly. She wiggled her fingers in mid air and that’s when you spotted a glimpse of purple over them. 

The moment Agatha’s fingernails brushed against your sides, you couldn’t help the sound slipping from your lips– a mixture of a squeal and helpless laughter, light and almost childish. Another thing you had in common with your son was your ridiculous ticklishness. 

She found out by accident, to be honest. Nicky wasn’t in the picture yet. There was Rio, though. You were lying on your stomach, nestled against Rio’s side in bed. Agatha’s arm lazily looped around your middle, her fingers tracing soft, absent-minded patterns along your skin, a sweet cuddle before sleep. When suddenly Agatha’s fingers skimmed your side, near your hip bone, your body jolted and a high-pitched sound slipped from your lips, which involuntarily startled them. 

Rio’s chin lifted from its resting spot atop your head and almost laughed in disbelief, “Did you just– squeak?” 

You groaned, already burying your flushed face deeper into Rio’s chest, making you miss the amused glimmer flashing into Agatha’s eyes, “I did not.” 

“I think you did, my love,” she argued. 

Before you could protest, her fingers ghosted over your side again, near the same spot, eliciting another yelp from you that turned into a real fit of giggles the moment she really started tickling you.

That’s how your little secret stopped being one. 

Back in the present, Agatha felt her heart swell with love at the sight of that familiar dimple appearing on your cheek. Glancing over at Nicky, she realized he had it too, his own showing as a huge grin spread across his lips.  

“Oh, would you look at that!” When her purple joined in, as Nicky suggested, adding a feathery sensation to your already oversensitive skin, it only made you thrash and laugh harder, “Pretty inconvenient for such a powerful witch like you to be this ticklish, huh?” 

“Agatha– Stop it!”

“I don’t know,” she teased, her tone both playful, as she gave you another playful jab at your side. When your laughter turned silent and tears started prickling at your eyes, Agatha’s gaze softened and her fingers slowed down, but without stopping completely. 

“What do you say, Nicky? Shall I let her off the hook?” She asked, glancing over at the boy, who had been watching the entire thing with a grin on his face. 

The boy closer to the two of you, coming into your line of sight. You thanked the Dark Mother when he gave Agatha a nod of his head as a response, making her stop her innocent, yet disarming assault right away. 

“You okay, momma?” 

You weakly lifted a thumb up, voice a tad breathless as you tutted, “Y-yeah— peachy.” 

When Agatha got off you, you propped yourself up and leaned on your elbows, finally allowing yourself to catch your breath, “I’ll get you two for this– just you wait.” 

“We will be ready,” Agatha mused.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could formulate another retort, she leaned back down again, her hands slipping to your hips, not to tickle this time, but to steady herself. Her face hovered a few inches from yours, her long hair falling like silk across your shoulders. 

The playful gleam in her eyes shifted into something else, a much tender look, that made your breath hitch and your heart jump in your throat all over again, “that was mean, you know–” your flushed cheeks betrayed just how much you weren’t really complaining about what happened.

Agatha tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow, “I’m sure I can make it up with you quite nicely–”

“Oh, can you?” 

Humming softly, her lips found yours in a slow, unpretentious kiss, that put a huge smile on both your face and Agatha’s. The world stopped for a moment– the sounds around you, the voices inside your head, until an exaggerated groan pierced the moment. 

“Ew, moms!”

You broke the kiss with a quiet chuckle, much to Agatha’s displeasure. She let out a dramatic sigh and leaned her forehead against yours, unwilling to let go of you just yet, “You should know Nicky, when two people really love each other–”

“Agatha!” You cut her off, a blush rising to your cheeks. “We are not doing this right now.” 

Agatha pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly holding back a grin as she glanced over at your son, who didn’t seem very keen on learning about that just yet. “Right. That’s a story for another time.”

[mvmnbnv]

another thing that makes me worried for how they handle this narrative is the things they say regarding the characters.

the question surrounding jinx is "can a monster be forgiven?" and the one reason they give for her being a monster is...her blowing up the council of piltover. the reason they give for why vi leaves her and decides shes a monster is because of that act. not killing firelights, not working with silco, not almost killing vi directly, which could all have been valid reasons. no its all about what she did to piltover...

she has Vi try to take her out because of that action. Vi despises her enough to attempt to kill her based on...*checks notes* sticking it to their oppressors? like i get caits mom died so that might mean something for vi because someone she knew was affected but still...there are plently of other reasons for vi to be upset like i mentioned.

Then the way they talk about caitlyn and vis relationship after creating everythng we've seen. saying things like vi defers to cait and that she trusts her, and that we'll be happy with their relationship and that its a beautiful thing that they themselves are happy with. after everything cait has done to vi so far...she ultimately gets rewarded with getting to be with her while jinx had vi leave her and try to kill her. this "can a monster be forgiven?" question isnt posed to caitlyn, and she still gets vi at the end of the day, and no matter what amount of suffering and development she had to go through to get there its still unsettling. she has vi's trust, her undying love (even while its unrequited) after showing that once her side of the isle fights back she'll see all of them as less than human, including her.

if jinx and vi do make up, good for them. but my point is that its weird that an attack on piltover is what drove them apart while a piltovan literally not even seeing vi's humanity anymore and questioning it because she wont let her endanger a child still gets her love, even after all the red flags that'd let anyone know irl that that is someone you shouldnt be involved with at all as soon as they start to show you how they really think when things get rough. in the end and is seen as a beautiful relationship for her to be in. this kind of writing makes no sense to me, and it makes me nervous. again this is just going based on what theyve been saying, but if they can manage to figure it out in the show then okay.

[spiegelgestalt]

Vi stands for Violence

One of the more ironic things in Arcane is that Vi is running around everywhere judging because they are violent and mean and idk not good enough and she’s arguably one of the most violent characters and without a doubt one of the most destabilizing forces in the entire show. (Sorry Vi fans – I say this with love but homegirl is really kind of terrible).  And the reason for that is that Vi kinda wants to be a hero in the traditional sense. She wants to do everything on her own. She wants to defeat the bad guy. She wants to save the damsel in distress. And she wants everything to be black and white.  In a lot of shows she would have thrived. But she is sadly in a show which looks you straight in the eye and says: Wow you managed to beat Sevika up. Awesome! And now? How did this help anyone? Here the damsel in distress you were trying to save is beating you over the head with a stick. Such a nice Saloon western stand off and nothing changed. No one cheered. The day wasn’t saved.

Deeper analysis under the cut

Vi’s original sin is being unwilling to see the perspective of others. She’s the oldest. She knows best. You can see that in arc 1 in season 1. Milo was correct: powder wasn’t ready. Powder messed up. Vi didn’t want to hear it because she loves Powder and that’s why Powder isn’t allowed to be criticized until Vi explodes on her in the end of the third episode. And theres something interesting about the fact that Vi apparently can’t think of Powder as a flawed person – either all she does is understandable and excusable or she’s a terrible Jinx who needs to be punished/stopped/killed. And you see the signs early on. In the “enemy music video” you see Vi screaming at Powder and shoving her, you see it at the end of episode 3, and you now see it in action in arc 1 of season 2 – Jinx doesn’t have the attitude that Vi thinks Powder should have (i.e. siding with the enforcers/Piltover against Silco - why would she do that?; accepting Vi and being grateful that she’s back) Vi trys to pick up the status quo before Vanders death. Jinx wont let her. Jinx wants to have a conversation. Both her elaborate traps remind you of the past and they remind you of the fact that Vanders death happened. Vi sees them as slights against herself and not as conversation starters. Because that’s not something she wants to think about (and notice that her mind goes immediately to her abusive behavior; because those challenge her self concept as the hero of the story). She doesn't want to admit that Powder = Jinx = Powder. Because that would mean to accept shades of grey. It would mean letting go of her anger (or at least accepting her anger) and accept that stuff changed things are complicated and people are flawed.

And she does the same thing everywhere else:  Silco caused Vanders death – ergo Silco is the cause of all evil: he’s the cause for change, for drugs, for powder being weird, for Zaun not being what it once was, for her not having a place to come home to etc. etc. I

It's even more evident with Sevika. Many have noted that Sevika hasn't actually betrayed Vander but has acted in Zauns best interest. But Vi doesn't want to even think about it that way. Sevika's to blame for Vanders death. As is Silco. (as is Powder) I dare anyone to look me in the eye and tell me that Vi accomplished anything by fighting Sevika. That was pure lust for vengeance. Especially the second time. But she messes up the most with Jinx. I find it fascinating that after Sevika is defeated and Silco is gone all of Vis anger concentrates on Jinx who refuses to become her precious treasure who needs to be protected- ergo Powder must be dead. And I’d argue that Vi is in search of a Damsel in distress and she isn’t finding anyone. Ekko is the leader Vi wants to be, Caitlyn is becoming more dangerous to Zaun by the day (and refuses Vis council) and Jinx is Jinx. Add some real resentment over Vanders death that Vi hasn’t worked through yet and it kinda makes Vis action make sense. Especially when there’s a cute blonde enforcer who admires what Vi’s doing and thinks it’s heroic and great she beat up all the bad guys in Zaun.

And one more thing. Vis attachment to Caitlyn is very similar to Powders attachment to Silco (-the sexual attraction of course). Bear with me here: who’s the first person who showed Powder kindness after the disaster: Silco. Who’s the first person who showed Vi kindness: Caitlyn. Both are charismatic leaders and both are very close to the people who destroyed their families. Vi and Jinx are more similar than you might think.

[syrupfog]

Sometimes Usopp has nightmares.

Not ones of his mom dying— no, those are no more than a dull ache now. But nightmares of being thrown at the feet of the man who single handedly started off the worst week of his life. Made him feel useless and broken.

Franky.

Usopp doesn’t think Franky bothers to remember how they met. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not important, right? They’re on the same team now, on the WINNING team. Franky built them the best ship in the world, and even made Usopp a tribute to Merry with the mini merry.

But sometimes at night, he’s trapped in that moment again, where he’s thrown at the feet of the man who was head of the Franky Family, who looked down on him like he was dirt, and scoffed when Usopp demanded their berri back.

And it happens all over again; getting attacked, hit again and again until he feels the crack of his bones and darkness billows into his vision, until the last thing he sees is Franky, behind that iron mask he wore, looking down at Usopp with, somehow worst of all, INDIFFERENCE.

And Usopp wakes up with a gasp, clutching his heart, sweat pouring off of him, only to find Franky snoring peacefully in the bunk below him.

And somehow that. That hurts.

It shouldn’t. They’ve made amends. They’ve reconciled. Franky has time and again wept with him and for him.

But that moment started off the worst week of Usopp’s life, and Usopp cannot help but wonder if everything would’ve gone down differently if Franky’s goons hadn’t touched him. If he’d had the same time to process as everyone else, had heard the news with everyone else.

Would he have still left the crew? Fought Luffy?

The fight still haunts him. He’s always been a useless failure of a pirate, but—

Usopp’s just not sure why Luffy even let him back.

And as his thoughts spiral and his pounding heart rate slows, Usopp blinks crusted tears from his eyes and wishes, DESPERATELY wishes, that he could have just BEEN Franky from the beginning.

He’s good with his hands. Maybe if he had just started studying to be a shipwright they never would’ve gotten to that point. Franky’s all but replaced him on the ship anyway, hasn’t he? He’s like everything that Usopp is, but better.

Stumbling out of his bunk, trying and failing to be quiet about it, Usopp slinks out of the bunk room and onto the deck. It’s a night so foggy that not even the moon lights their path. The lanterns hung on either side of the door to the kitchen the only things casting hazy light.

Which is why he jumps out of his skin when Brook appears in front of him like a ghost in the night.

“Yohohoho,” Brook laughs softly. “I’m sorry to have startled you, young master Usopp! I was simply out for a midnight stroll!”

Usopp blinks. “You’re not on watch?”

“No, it is our Captain’s turn right now. He’s up in the crow’s nest. I was thinking I might play him a tune— I’m not in need of much sleep these days— but perhaps you might be in need of it a bit more than him?”

Usopp doesn’t feel in NEED of a tune. He feels in need of sticking his head in a bucket of ice water, perhaps, to get his thoughts out of the dark place they’re spiraling towards. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Brook. “Sure,” he says. “What have you got cooking up?”

Brook’s violin is out in a heartbeat— although he has no heart— and after a few tuning notes, he begins a slow, deep rendition of Bink’s Saké. Usopp recognizes the melody but Brook has managed to turn it almost into a funeral dirge. Something mournful, crying out.

He feels like he’s intruding just by listening to it.

When the song is finished, Brook seems to breathe out (can he do that?) and with his breath his whole skeleton collapses down, like a marionette with all but one of its strings cut.

“I think, sometimes,” says Brook, “that I am not worthy of being the one who survived.”

Usopp wants to jump to his defense, tell him that Brook is NEEDED and NECESSARY and they COULDN’T DO THIS WITHOUT HIM.

But he remembers how empty those words sounded in the moment as Chopper yelled them, as Usopp left the crew on Water 7. Like empty appeasing platitudes.

“I think…” Usopp says, slowly, carefully, “that worthiness isn’t something that matters, in the end.”

He’s sitting on the deck, the chill numbing his feet. Brook goes to sit, gingerly, next to him.

“I think that the only thing that actually matters are the choices you make— and not EVERY choice. But the most recent choices.” He peters off for a moment. Brook looks especially creepy in the fog. “Whatever happened that led to you being here doesn’t matter. What matters is your choice now. And tomorrow. What matters is continuing on.”

He doesn’t believe it, not really. His choices haunt him. Every lie haunts him.

“I don’t make good choices,” he concedes, looking down at his calloused hands. “But I want to. I’m trying.”

Even if he doesn’t want to keep trying, sometimes.

Brook leans back, silent as a ghost for a moment, and then, quietly, “I know you are, master Usopp. You are not as lost as you think.”

Usopp doesn’t say anything after that.

Brook doesn’t either.

The morning comes with hot sun and the pounding of feet across the deck. Usopp wakes with a crick in his neck and shade over his eyes.

He blinks, inhaling the scent of pancakes. As his vision clears, he realises he’s only able to have slept so long because a straw hat had been placed over his head, hiding his face from the worst of the morning sun.

Usopp groans.

He pulls it lower, hiding the heat in his cheeks

“It’s the choices you make today,” he tells himself. “Not the old ones. Just the ones today and tomorrow and tomorrow.”

Because maybe if he tells himself that everyday, someday he’ll even believe it.

And until then, he can lie.

[prof-peach]

Bit ooc but I have a question. How you do go about planing out your PLA comic? Like how do you actually turn your ideas/ storyline into comic form? Is it chapter to chapter or do you have the whole idea already planned out? Trying to find my own way in comic making so I’m just wondering if you could give any advice. Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable answering

So, at first this was al i could think to send.

because its incredibly accurate to my process.

Jokes aside, a lot of how i work is back and forth chaos, fighting with ideas until im happy with them. I will start with a list (usually not written down because im unhinged and keep a ot of it in my brain) and organise it in a way that makes sense to the situation, in this case workign with a game with an established plot...not that its a very strong one.

with a set of ideas, and a game to work around i will ramble and rant to a few choice people who i bounce well off, and also stare into space for hours on end building the ideas. This process can be days, it can be years. For context, i have some notes from 2019 about things i wanted to include that are still relevant. I have been scheming how to break and rebuild this OC for ages. Theres no correct time frame, so long as you simply do the work.

Once i have a fairly loose plan, i start to solidify the benning and the end. What is required to make a character compelling, what makes them believable, what makes them human in a way that we recognise. this isnt always a positive thing, people like to call characters who do bad things problematic, but its human nature to make mistakes and be damaged or difficult, the process of the story is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, this hits even harder, as im trying to tell a story from the perspective of someone fundamentally broken, so showing those breaks and cracks has to be done wisely.

This is the point where i make notes about things that need to change from the start to the end. And ill say one thing, this story in particular, I have not solidly planned the middle. I am allowing space for me to come up with new ideas at points. Being locked into a dead set of ideas can be quite limiting, and as creators we consume and process things constantly to generate new stories. Id be a fool to make a plan and stick to it. everything i do is vague guidelines.

However, I know exactly how the story ends in Hisui, and where it goes to from there. And i think me personally knowing the end goal makes it easier to plot steps towards that, and some of those steps are anything but progressive.

If nothing else, the end was the only thing i saw clearly, and it has only become more complex and loaded and emotional as the rest of this has fallen into place. If you can see the goal, you can work out how to get there with time.

Regarding the chapters, i tend to draft plan up like 3-4 of them at a time, and then go in order to sketch out one after the other, so i have plenty of time to change things while i adjust. its constantly a process of seeing what you make, seeing issues, and scrapping whole parts just to redraw something better or new, unique even. I dont think a single page ive posted has resembled the very VERY first draft thumbnail ive made, and thats just how i do. Every panel, how big they are, the angle you hand the viewer, the way you light things, the expressions, this all dictates SO SO much.

Taking time over it is kind of the job, and let me stress, this is normally a job done by a team, especially the highly popular comics. one inks, one colours, one shades, one handles text, one edits, theres so many people behind it, so dont be bothered by the pace at which things are made if youre working alone like i am. One person means longer production times, if you can, spread the workload out, but its not required. Its why i always say it doesnt matter how long it takes to make, so long as youre still making.

I think its also worth noting, comics are consumed quickly, the bakcgournds and small details can be lost in the ace of the storytelling, pick and choosing your battles is wise, save your time on panels where you want the reader to shift along quicker, keep that pace high, and add in more detail and depth to panels you want to champion or get the viewers to hang around on more. its ok to let go of a "perfect" image in favour of getting content out, if youre being driven nuts by it. Again, time be damned, be happy with it. And if you can let go of petty details, id suggest doing it when possible, so long as it doesnt effect the storytelling.

I mean what else can i even say. This work is a passion project, I love it, more than i can even put into words, and i think you kind of have to, to make comics without monetary motivation. sure you can get lucky and find ways to make it big, but for most of us, its the love of the story. So maybe try not to be your biggest hater, its easy to slip into the behaviour, so try be gentle on yourself and the process. I should take that advice myself haha! but i really do mean it. This is HARD work, so be kind to yourself over it.

anyway, with a rough idea, a bunch of sketches, and time, they get inked and fussed over, i make a billion changes to layout and story, and eventually posting can happen but not after fighting with the monster that is creating. Idk what else i can say. This is not work for the feint of heart, but anyone can learn to do it.

Good luck, comic artists can always use it!

[starbabyg]

Frat Boy! Jack Hughes headcanons

Literally so in love with the idea of Jack being a cute college boy just living his best life, gonna make a frat boy! Jack series soonnnn <3 def gonna make a pt. 2 just wanna roll out some content to get me back in the writing mood

Honestly probably isn't officially in a frat, he just chills with the guys in frats bc Jack's just friends with everyone

Always sporting a backwards cap cause fawkk it looks so yummy on himmm

always late to class but always finds a way to sit next to you

he likes how you're kind enough to catch him up and copy your notes

he secretly does it on purpose just so he has an excuse to talk to you

loves him some tequila and hennessy 👅👅

literally the most chill guy on the planet til he gets alcohol in his system

had to be drunk to confess that he likes you

"Y'know I really like that you're so nice to me. Like realllyyyy like it."

sooo touchy touchy when he's drunk

a sneaky flirt

literally just finds you at loud parties just so he can talk directly in your ear, so he can not-so-accidentally brush his lip against your ear

and omggg don't let him need to pass by you

one of those guys who does the "Excuse me sweetheart," while he puts his hands on your hips

of course he makes sure you're into it, the last thing he wants to be is a creep

For some reason you take a chance on this all american boy, even if the two of you might not seem all that compatible on paper

In reality the two of you become best of friends.... who also kiss and make out and hook up

You two think it's a big secret, that everyone just thinks you're just close friends. But let's face it, everybody knows the two of you are far more than friends

Everyone just thinks it would be funny to let y'all think that people are clueless.

"soooo you're coming to my game today, right??"

always makes sure you're in the crowd, always makes sure you have a seat right in his view

if you're not, he def crashes out and plays as violent as possible

"did you hear how Jack was breaking sticks and fighting everybody??" there would always be gossip after these games

def asks you to come to his place and try his cooking

which isn't the best but isn't the worst, but you definitely help him in the kitchen

always comes to class with your favorite drink

literally knows your order by heart now

idk it's just so cute how he's such a playboy in everyone's eyes but he's so head over heels for you

[enigma-the-mysterious]

AITA for trying to accomplish my father's dreams and hurting my best friend in the process?

Alright, here we go. So, I (30M) have been working on a pretty intense task for the last few years. I made a promise to someone very dear to me—my father, to be exact—that I would do whatever it takes to accomplish it. To do this, I had to take some drastic steps. We’re talking undercover stuff, working within a system that’s more rotten than an overripe jackfruit, all to get closer to taking down the enemy from the inside.

To accomplish this mission, I needed a special promotion. I have been putting myself through hell and back, but those racist assholes at higher up kept passing over me to promote Mediocre White Dude #57. Then a few months ago, I finally, FINALLY made some solid progress when my boss's wife guaranteed me the promotion if I could track down and arrest some anonymous dude who was proving to be a security issue for my boss. Pretty straightforward, right?

Now here’s the issue. At about the same time a few months ago, I met this guy; let’s call him A (26M) for now. My work-life balance had honestly been, well, shitty to say the least, thanks to my father's mission, and I barely had the time to socialize and make any meaningful connections in the city I moved in. Meeting with A had been a chance encounter too. Long story short, we clicked instantly and became fast friends. He is a great guy all around— smart, funny, passionate, good natured, kind, helpful— just about everything you can possibly wish for in a friend (although he could be a little naive sometimes).

But here’s the kicker: a few days earlier, I found out that A has been lying to me about... basically EVERYTHING! ALL this time. He is not from the city; the people he claimed to be his family are not even related to him. Even his name isn't A, it's B! But what's worse is that he is exactly the guy I was supposed to arrest. And he was on a mission too. Except his mission was not targeting my boss, it was to rescue someone— his sister M (9F) to be exact— my boss and his wife had kidnapped and enslaved (long story). Yup, that’s right, we were on opposite sides without even realizing it.

Things escalated quickly. I... well… I had to make a choice. I chose to betray him to keep up my own cover and stick with my father's mission. And yeah, it was brutal— there was a literal fight to the death involved. I tried to convince him at first to surrender without fighting, but of course B didn't listen and refused to back down. I can’t even begin to explain how much it hurt to turn on someone I came to respect, even love…. uhh…. like a brother, of course.

And then, to rub salt to the wound, once I arrested him, my boss (FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK DIE BITCH) ordered me to flog B publicly till he fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Yeah, those were his exact words, that bastard! I felt like I had no choice, so I did what I was told. And it was one of the worst days of my life. I kept asking B to kneel so I could end the torture, but he is one stubborn and tough motherfucker and decided he would rather suffer through a public torture session than kneel. My dickface boss and his bitch wife weren't satisfied with how little blood I was drawing out of B, so they kept escalating the torture until B couldn't take it anymore and fell unconscious.

I ended up hurting him so badly, both physically and emotionally. It is fucking me up, honestly. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even get out of my bed right now. I honestly feel like dying.

So, AITA for betraying and hurting my best friend to accomplish my father's mission? I did what I thought was necessary to save countless lives, but I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I went too far.

Edit: No, B did not know that I worked for the people who kidnapped his sister. He did not befriend me to take advantage of my position, as some of you have been implying. He did not, I repeat, he did NOT betray me. If anyone has betrayed and wronged him, it's me!

Edit 2: No, I didn't tell B my real intentions and my father's mission. Didn't you read the post? I am working UNDERCOVER!

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hiii I loved it duff platonic but would you do one that romantic??

Summary: The Outsiders with a "Duff"!Reader (romantic)

Warnings: mentions of bullying

Author's Note: I believe that I have never met anyone that was actually ugly, everyone is beautiful, because beauty is subjective.

PONYBOY was more of a personality man than looks one. He knows you aren't 'conventionally' attractive, but you have these quirks that made him swoon, and your joyful smile was enough to have him tripping over his feet. He loves how your personality is so enchanting, and it reminds everyone that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. He never has to stick up for you because people are usually so charmed by you that Ponyboy stays out of it. He's so happy with you. He finally found someone who could read, take walks with him, and be domestic with.

JOHNNY seriously thinks that you're a gorgeous girl. He's always there to cheer you up when you're feeling insecure or even when you're not. He holds you as if you were a pretty piece of fine China and makes you feel so special. There's not an outfit you feel ugly in when you're around him! You two are such a power couple too because his love language is words of affirmation, and you blush every time he compliments you, and everyone thinks it's so cute.

SODAPOP doesn't think he's seen a prettier girl than you. He actually brings you in every once and a while to the DX because you attract customers. They love chatting with you, and you exude such a lovely aura. He does have to teeter on the edge of physical confrontation to the drunk guys that come around the shop to piss you off, but they get scared off easy. He loved you a lot, and he realized how little beauty means in the end. Sandy was pretty but terrible to him, but you made your beauty known through so many different ways that he was utterly entranced.

STEVE couldn't believe he bagged you. So what if you didn't "fit" into the norm? He thought you did. He looked at you as if you were a direct descendent of Aphrodite. He keeps pictures of you everywhere and shows them off to everyone. He gets aggressive with people who try and make fun of you, and he usually wins if they pursue a fight. His family loves you and can't wait until you're a permanent fixture to their holiday dinners.

TWO BIT also thinks of himself as a duff. He thinks you are genuinely a very pretty girl, and he feels sorry for every man who's missing out on your charming personality. His sister loves you, and treats you as if you were already her sister. Abd he talks about you any chance he gets, gushing over your amazing personality and cuteness.

DARRY doesn't give two shits about what others think about you and about how you look. He still wants his kids to look like you, and he's literally counting town the days he can propose to you. He doesn't get physical over you, but protective. He prefers his hand on the small of you back or your waist at all time.

DALLAS tries to act like he's doesn't like you a lot but he does. He doesn't ever ask you out or anything near it for the first year and a half of knowing each other. Then he would take you places and count it as a date unbeknownst to you. Hes worried how you two would affect each other. But he's waiting for the perfect time to ask you out.